Ohhhh Yoouu, Thank You Very Very Much! I Love You Too

Ohhhh yoouu, thank you very very much! I love you too ❤️

When It Rains

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! PWP, mostly porn but some plot, unprotected PIV(Don't do this IRL, be safe, make smart choices), kissing, fingering(f receiving), cream pie, flirting.

I'm trying to practice smut more, be kind. This is for @undercoverpena's April Showers prompt!

Thank you so much to @notjustjavierpena for helping me with the moodboard and the grammar stuff, @strang3lov3 for editing and leaving encouraging comments, and @beefrobeefcal for also betaing! Don't know what I would do without you lovely people! ❤️

@jay-zzle is my Spanish expert and dear friend who has helped me with a lot of my translations. Plus she's also one of the main reasons I'm trying to learn Spanish 🥰

divider by @saradika-graphics

You’ve been assigned the stakeout with Javier Peña at a nightclub, where it’s been rumored that some of Escobar’s sicarios frequent regularly. It’s not a problem per se, but it could just be a tad distracting considering the circumstances. No one, not even Murphy, has seemed to catch wind of what has been going on between the two of you; the late-night meet-ups, the storage closet, the file room, hell - there was even one time late at night in the office the three of you share. You’re professional though, work always comes before play. That’s been the rule since the beginning. 

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” Javi comments, pushing his head to the car’s window, and looking up, “We could definitely use it.”

You hum in agreement, watching the nightclub like a hawk. As you listen to the pulsing music radiating from the club, watching people file in and out of the building, none seem to be any of Escobar’s crew just yet. The night seems to be growing darker as the clouds glide across the sky, covering the bright moon's light. Soon enough, small drops of rain begin to fall, turning into fat drops within minutes, downpour to follow.

“Fuck,” you hiss, gripping the steering wheel and peering out the dash window, “Of course.”

“Nothing wrong with some rain,” Javi smirks, looking at you.

“Except for the fact we can’t see shit!”

“Maybe we could do something else with our time?” Javi suggests, laying his arm against the back of the bench seat and scooting his hips forward to get more comfortable. His hand creeps onto your shoulder, rubbing small circles against the bare skin there, skimming past the hem of your tank top.

“Javi,” you scold, shrugging your shoulders to get your point across,  “No, we’re working.”

“Can’t see shit in this rain,” Javi grumbles, crossing his arms across his chest, “Least we could have some fun.”

“Maybe it’ll die down,” you suggest, looking at him. He matches your stare with those pleading eyes of his. Those dark eyes, the way they make you want to melt every single time they land on you.

It’s been 20 minutes and the downpour hasn’t relented. After seeing how you wouldn’t be doing something else with your time like he suggested, Javi’s beginning to become restless.  

“When it rains it pours, hermosa,” Javi says, grinning at you. Your pulse jumps at that word. Hermosa. He knows exactly what he’s doing. That’s how it always starts.

“Javi,” you warn, reminding him again, “We are working. You know the rules, work then play.”

He moves closer to you, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “We’ve played at work before, cariño.” Goosebumps pebble across your skin. You hope he can’t see them with how dark it is. You crane your head away from him and grab the binoculars from the dash, choosing to ignore the burning desire between your thighs. You just need to focus on work. You feel Javi lean back in the seat, his eyes boring into the side of your head. You put the binoculars against your face, grunting in annoyance when you still can’t see anything.

“Bebé,” Javier says, grabbing the binoculars from your grip, “Let’s call it night, hmm?”

He throws them into the back seat with a smirk, leaning closer to you, grabbing the back of your neck, and gently urging you toward him. His index finger sweeps against your cheek, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. He smiles warmly at you before dipping his head to meet your lips. Your hands rest against his chest, fingers fiddling with the open V of his button-up. 

You moan against his mouth when he licks your bottom lip, allowing him access to slip his tongue inside. Your tongues caressing each other, your hands move to the nape of his neck. Your lips make their way to his jaw and down his neck, your teeth lightly scrape his pulse point.

“Mira que duro me pones(look how hard you make me),” Javi says, pulling you onto his lap, grinding against your center to let you feel his growing bulge. “Te deseo(want you),” he growls.

You let out a faint gasp. Javi has a firm grip on your thighs to keep you against him, one hand finding its way to your center, palm pressing firmly against your clit through the denim of your jeans. You moan against his throat at the sensation.

“Javi,” you whimper as he flicks the button of your jeans open and begins to tug on them impatiently. “Fuck, Javi. I gotta get my damn shoes off first.”

He grabs your jeans, helping you out of them after knocking your shoes off. Javi brings his hand back to your center, rubbing precise circles against your clothed clit, moving down to pull your panties aside. Javi hums, capturing your lips again, tongue tangling with yours, enjoying feeling the slick against your slit.

“So wet,” he says, teasing two thick digits against your entrance. You hum with a nod of your head, crying out when he pushes them into your wet heat.

“Javi,” you moan, putting your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips in time with his fingers. “Fuck.” Beginning to feel the coil in your belly tightening.

“¿Así, bebé?(just like that, baby?)” He asks, moving his thumb to massage small quick circles on your clit. You whimper his name when he curves his fingers just right, hitting that spot he knows you love. His mouth leaving open mouth kisses along your neck, reaching your pulse point he begins to suck lightly. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening more, your walls beginning to flutter against his fingers every time he hits that spot with the pads of his fingers.

“Eres mía(you’re mine),” Javi whispers against your neck.

“So close,” You whine, moving your hips faster, his fingers sinking in deeper with each roll of your hips. He moves his head from your neck to look at you, gripping the back of his neck, crashing your mouth into his. Javi moans, beginning to feel your walls clamp around his fingers. The coil in your belly snaps, shooting white-hot lightning through your entire body. Your hand pulls onto the hair at the nape of his neck, causing Javi to let out a guttural groan, pulling you back down from your high.

“Fuck me,” you sigh against his lips.

“That’s the plan, cariño(honey),” Javi smirks, kissing you again, scooting to lay his back against the seat.

Your hands slide down his chest, popping open the buttons of his shirt. You smirk, leaning into his collarbone and placing soft kisses before biting down gently.

“Fuck, bebé(baby),” Javi says sucking in a breath, moving his hands between your bodies to fumble with his belt, “Te necesito(need you)”

You lift up, swatting his hand away to work his belt and jeans open. He lifts his hips and helps you lower his jeans, his stiff member slapping against his stomach.

“Javier Peña,” you tsk, shaking your head at him, “Commando? Did you miss laundry day?”

“Knew about this assignment for weeks now. Asked to be paired up with you,” Javi smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. “Figured this would happen.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You laugh, playfully smacking his chest.

“Awe, come on now, chica sucía(dirty girl)” Javi says, placing your hands on his chest, “You know it’s—“

You grind against his cock, hands pressing firmly against his chest and he lets out a groan.

“That’s one way to get you to shut up,” you grin, slowly grinding your wetness along his shaft, the tip catching your bundle of nerves with every roll of your hips. Javi shifts up grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you to his lips in a hungry kiss. He moves his hand down to line his cock up to your entrance and you slowly sink down on it, taking it inch by inch. You're no stranger to Javi’s cock but each time feels like the first with how thick he is.

“Estás tan apretada, mi amor(you’re so tight, my love)” Javi growls, against your throat, “No pares(don’t stop)” holding onto your hips as you sink further down on him, ass cheeks finally resting on his thighs. You kiss him, both of you taking a minute to savor the feel of one another, Javi gently rubbing his fingers up and down your spine with one hand while the other holds your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” Javi murmurs, caressing his nose against your cheek before capturing your lips again, moaning into the kiss as you tentatively roll your hips. His hand settles on your lower back, letting you take control at a slow tempo, letting you enjoy the way his cock massages your inner walls. You moan feeling your nipples beginning to harden between your layers and his chest.

“Javi!” You gasp when he snaps his hips holding onto your lower back firmly.

“Need to see you,” Javi huffs, moving his hand from your face to your shoulder and pushing you to sit up, breath hitching as you swallow more of his length into your core. He rids you of your tank top and pushes the cups of your bra down. You begin to lightly bounce on his cock, moaning at the feel of his hands on you, fingers from one hand beginning to pinch your left nipple while his other hand slides down your ribs, gripping your waist. “Eres mía(you’re mine),” he growls. You can feel your climax nearing, your thighs beginning to shake, feeling the heat running through your body as you bounce.

“Want to take you out,” Javi grunts, your walls begin to tighten at his words, “Make sure that ev-fuck-everyone knows you’re my girl,” he rambles, gripping your waist tighter, snapping his hips into you. “Eres mía(you’re mine).”

“Javi,” you cry out, wanting all of those things and more, your walls fluttering around his shaft, “Fuck, Javi- yes, yes, yes, yes!” Your walls clamp down on him, milking his cock while your vision blurs.

“Fuck,” Javi whines, hips stuttering, emptying himself inside you. He sits up, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you closer to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him softly, leaning your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. Javi looks into your eyes and grins as his softening cock slips out of you.

“I’m serious, corazón,” Javi says, “Want it all.”

“Me too,” You nod, a grin stretching from ear to ear on your face.

“Peña?” You hear the radio chirp against the dash, Murphy beginning to call for you as well. “Anyone there?”

You giggle as Javi leans over, keeping a grip on you in his lap to reach the receiver. “Peña here.”

“The hell are you guys?” Murphy asks, “It’s been raining like cats and dogs for a fuckin’ hour, and no word from either of you!”

“Heading back now,” you say, shaking your head and laughing.

When It Rains

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! PWP, mostly porn but some plot, unprotected PIV(Don't do this IRL, be safe, make smart choices), kissing, fingering(f receiving), cream pie, flirting.

I'm trying to practice smut more, be kind. This is for @undercoverpena's April Showers prompt!

Thank you so much to @notjustjavierpena for helping me with the moodboard and the grammar stuff, @strang3lov3 for editing and leaving encouraging comments, and @beefrobeefcal for also betaing! Don't know what I would do without you lovely people! ❤️

@jay-zzle is my Spanish expert and dear friend who has helped me with a lot of my translations. Plus she's also one of the main reasons I'm trying to learn Spanish 🥰

divider by @saradika-graphics

You’ve been assigned the stakeout with Javier Peña at a nightclub, where it’s been rumored that some of Escobar’s sicarios frequent regularly. It’s not a problem per se, but it could just be a tad distracting considering the circumstances. No one, not even Murphy, has seemed to catch wind of what has been going on between the two of you; the late-night meet-ups, the storage closet, the file room, hell - there was even one time late at night in the office the three of you share. You’re professional though, work always comes before play. That’s been the rule since the beginning. 

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” Javi comments, pushing his head to the car’s window, and looking up, “We could definitely use it.”

You hum in agreement, watching the nightclub like a hawk. As you listen to the pulsing music radiating from the club, watching people file in and out of the building, none seem to be any of Escobar’s crew just yet. The night seems to be growing darker as the clouds glide across the sky, covering the bright moon's light. Soon enough, small drops of rain begin to fall, turning into fat drops within minutes, downpour to follow.

“Fuck,” you hiss, gripping the steering wheel and peering out the dash window, “Of course.”

“Nothing wrong with some rain,” Javi smirks, looking at you.

“Except for the fact we can’t see shit!”

“Maybe we could do something else with our time?” Javi suggests, laying his arm against the back of the bench seat and scooting his hips forward to get more comfortable. His hand creeps onto your shoulder, rubbing small circles against the bare skin there, skimming past the hem of your tank top.

“Javi,” you scold, shrugging your shoulders to get your point across,  “No, we’re working.”

“Can’t see shit in this rain,” Javi grumbles, crossing his arms across his chest, “Least we could have some fun.”

“Maybe it’ll die down,” you suggest, looking at him. He matches your stare with those pleading eyes of his. Those dark eyes, the way they make you want to melt every single time they land on you.

It’s been 20 minutes and the downpour hasn’t relented. After seeing how you wouldn’t be doing something else with your time like he suggested, Javi’s beginning to become restless.  

“When it rains it pours, hermosa,” Javi says, grinning at you. Your pulse jumps at that word. Hermosa. He knows exactly what he’s doing. That’s how it always starts.

“Javi,” you warn, reminding him again, “We are working. You know the rules, work then play.”

He moves closer to you, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “We’ve played at work before, cariño.” Goosebumps pebble across your skin. You hope he can’t see them with how dark it is. You crane your head away from him and grab the binoculars from the dash, choosing to ignore the burning desire between your thighs. You just need to focus on work. You feel Javi lean back in the seat, his eyes boring into the side of your head. You put the binoculars against your face, grunting in annoyance when you still can’t see anything.

“Bebé,” Javier says, grabbing the binoculars from your grip, “Let’s call it night, hmm?”

He throws them into the back seat with a smirk, leaning closer to you, grabbing the back of your neck, and gently urging you toward him. His index finger sweeps against your cheek, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. He smiles warmly at you before dipping his head to meet your lips. Your hands rest against his chest, fingers fiddling with the open V of his button-up. 

You moan against his mouth when he licks your bottom lip, allowing him access to slip his tongue inside. Your tongues caressing each other, your hands move to the nape of his neck. Your lips make their way to his jaw and down his neck, your teeth lightly scrape his pulse point.

“Mira que duro me pones(look how hard you make me),” Javi says, pulling you onto his lap, grinding against your center to let you feel his growing bulge. “Te deseo(want you),” he growls.

You let out a faint gasp. Javi has a firm grip on your thighs to keep you against him, one hand finding its way to your center, palm pressing firmly against your clit through the denim of your jeans. You moan against his throat at the sensation.

“Javi,” you whimper as he flicks the button of your jeans open and begins to tug on them impatiently. “Fuck, Javi. I gotta get my damn shoes off first.”

He grabs your jeans, helping you out of them after knocking your shoes off. Javi brings his hand back to your center, rubbing precise circles against your clothed clit, moving down to pull your panties aside. Javi hums, capturing your lips again, tongue tangling with yours, enjoying feeling the slick against your slit.

“So wet,” he says, teasing two thick digits against your entrance. You hum with a nod of your head, crying out when he pushes them into your wet heat.

“Javi,” you moan, putting your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips in time with his fingers. “Fuck.” Beginning to feel the coil in your belly tightening.

“¿Así, bebé?(just like that, baby?)” He asks, moving his thumb to massage small quick circles on your clit. You whimper his name when he curves his fingers just right, hitting that spot he knows you love. His mouth leaving open mouth kisses along your neck, reaching your pulse point he begins to suck lightly. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening more, your walls beginning to flutter against his fingers every time he hits that spot with the pads of his fingers.

“Eres mía(you’re mine),” Javi whispers against your neck.

“So close,” You whine, moving your hips faster, his fingers sinking in deeper with each roll of your hips. He moves his head from your neck to look at you, gripping the back of his neck, crashing your mouth into his. Javi moans, beginning to feel your walls clamp around his fingers. The coil in your belly snaps, shooting white-hot lightning through your entire body. Your hand pulls onto the hair at the nape of his neck, causing Javi to let out a guttural groan, pulling you back down from your high.

“Fuck me,” you sigh against his lips.

“That’s the plan, cariño(honey),” Javi smirks, kissing you again, scooting to lay his back against the seat.

Your hands slide down his chest, popping open the buttons of his shirt. You smirk, leaning into his collarbone and placing soft kisses before biting down gently.

“Fuck, bebé(baby),” Javi says sucking in a breath, moving his hands between your bodies to fumble with his belt, “Te necesito(need you)”

You lift up, swatting his hand away to work his belt and jeans open. He lifts his hips and helps you lower his jeans, his stiff member slapping against his stomach.

“Javier Peña,” you tsk, shaking your head at him, “Commando? Did you miss laundry day?”

“Knew about this assignment for weeks now. Asked to be paired up with you,” Javi smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. “Figured this would happen.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You laugh, playfully smacking his chest.

“Awe, come on now, chica sucía(dirty girl)” Javi says, placing your hands on his chest, “You know it’s—“

You grind against his cock, hands pressing firmly against his chest and he lets out a groan.

“That’s one way to get you to shut up,” you grin, slowly grinding your wetness along his shaft, the tip catching your bundle of nerves with every roll of your hips. Javi shifts up grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you to his lips in a hungry kiss. He moves his hand down to line his cock up to your entrance and you slowly sink down on it, taking it inch by inch. You're no stranger to Javi’s cock but each time feels like the first with how thick he is.

“Estás tan apretada, mi amor(you’re so tight, my love)” Javi growls, against your throat, “No pares(don’t stop)” holding onto your hips as you sink further down on him, ass cheeks finally resting on his thighs. You kiss him, both of you taking a minute to savor the feel of one another, Javi gently rubbing his fingers up and down your spine with one hand while the other holds your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” Javi murmurs, caressing his nose against your cheek before capturing your lips again, moaning into the kiss as you tentatively roll your hips. His hand settles on your lower back, letting you take control at a slow tempo, letting you enjoy the way his cock massages your inner walls. You moan feeling your nipples beginning to harden between your layers and his chest.

“Javi!” You gasp when he snaps his hips holding onto your lower back firmly.

“Need to see you,” Javi huffs, moving his hand from your face to your shoulder and pushing you to sit up, breath hitching as you swallow more of his length into your core. He rids you of your tank top and pushes the cups of your bra down. You begin to lightly bounce on his cock, moaning at the feel of his hands on you, fingers from one hand beginning to pinch your left nipple while his other hand slides down your ribs, gripping your waist. “Eres mía(you’re mine),” he growls. You can feel your climax nearing, your thighs beginning to shake, feeling the heat running through your body as you bounce.

“Want to take you out,” Javi grunts, your walls begin to tighten at his words, “Make sure that ev-fuck-everyone knows you’re my girl,” he rambles, gripping your waist tighter, snapping his hips into you. “Eres mía(you’re mine).”

“Javi,” you cry out, wanting all of those things and more, your walls fluttering around his shaft, “Fuck, Javi- yes, yes, yes, yes!” Your walls clamp down on him, milking his cock while your vision blurs.

“Fuck,” Javi whines, hips stuttering, emptying himself inside you. He sits up, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you closer to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him softly, leaning your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. Javi looks into your eyes and grins as his softening cock slips out of you.

“I’m serious, corazón,” Javi says, “Want it all.”

“Me too,” You nod, a grin stretching from ear to ear on your face.

“Peña?” You hear the radio chirp against the dash, Murphy beginning to call for you as well. “Anyone there?”

You giggle as Javi leans over, keeping a grip on you in his lap to reach the receiver. “Peña here.”

“The hell are you guys?” Murphy asks, “It’s been raining like cats and dogs for a fuckin’ hour, and no word from either of you!”

“Heading back now,” you say, shaking your head and laughing.

Oh this is so sweet!!! 😍😍

what comes after (frankie morales x f!reader)

summary: frankie comes into your life when you’re least expecting it, and you end up falling harder than you thought possible for him. will past heartbreak hold you back from true happiness?

warnings: age gap (28/38), asshole ex-boyf behaviour, infidelity (not by reader or frankie), kinda anxious!reader w commitment issues, soft!frankie, kissing, alcohol, cigarettes, smutty thoughts & happenings, mention of protected piv, cursing, benny being annoying, food, tiny mention of blood & vomit, reader has a tattoo and wears skirts & dresses, 18+ mdni.

notes: if you felt frankie morales’ shirts, they’d be made of boyfriend material. the super sweet, amazing, hot kind. i said what i said.

thank you to my bestie & beta @macfrog 💛 i love you, babe. this fic wouldn’t be here without you. tysm for holding my hand throughout; everything i have is yours, now & forever.

You first meet Frankie Morales in a club.

You’re with Kimmy: your best friend since hazy summer days consisting of scraped knees and jelly shoes. You’re also exhibiting typical break-up symptoms: not sleeping all that well, feeling distanced from yourself and the life you knew before your ex-boyfriend.

It’s Kimmy’s idea - go out, get drunk, fuck around and forget.

You were hardly one to argue, especially when she put it like that.

You’re dressed in a meagre scrap of satin; backless and skimming the tops of your thighs, Steve Maddens from eBay on your feet. You like how it all looks on you, sad that your favourite things have languished at the back of your closet for far too long.

You both forgo jackets, hoping to spend the extra cash from the cloakroom on vodka. You giggle together, arm in arm, floating past security in a cloud of perfume and last-minute tequila shots.

This is how it should be. This is where you belong.

The thumping bass soothes your soul, neon colours swirling behind your closed lids. You tip your head back, hands thrown in the air as you and Kimmy move in time - a routine you’ve had down since you were old enough to be in these places.

You garner jealous glares and longing stares; none of it bothers you. Nobody can touch you, not when they don’t know you. Then, and only then, would you worry.

You both head to the bar after a while, sweat shimmering on your exposed skin, holding tight onto one another as you squeeze through the throngs of people. You fight for a space, bar top sticky against your elbows as you wait to give your order. Bursts of laughter and flirty chatter soon come from beside you: without a doubt, you know what’ll come next.

Kimmy always gets hit on when you go out together. You’re not upset by it - you’re the quieter one by nature, happy to let her take the spotlight. Besides, up until recently, you’d been spoken for anyway. You turn to see your friend enamoured by a good-looking blonde guy, and she giggles in your ear that his name is Benny, and he’s an MMA fighter.

You stifle a laugh, watching as he tips his head to you in greeting, leaning in close to snatch Kimmy’s attention back. You try - and fail - to get the bartender’s attention, debating whether to head back to the dancefloor alone.

Then, you notice him.

Hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, throat bobbing as he swallows his drink down. His cap sits low on his head, dark curls spilling out underneath. He glances at you; you turn away, embarrassed to be caught staring. You feel the heat of his gaze; look back to see his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he studies you shyly.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

Dark eyes, thick lashes, curved nose. Strong shoulders and a wide chest beneath his jacket; black and silver hair littering his jaw, save for a few patches here and there. He looks a little tired, out of place, kinda like he’d rather be anywhere other than here.

Older than you, for sure.

Sexy as hell.

He makes an apologetic gesture, rolling his eyes towards Benny, who has his tongue down Kimmy’s throat enthusiastically. Your best friend is responding just as eagerly, and you slide round them, approaching the man you’ve been side-eyeing.

You introduce yourself, and he does the same in return: Francisco Morales - Frankie, he shrugs.

You push past the awkwardness threatening to hold you back, righting your shoulders and try to emulate Kimmy. Stupid idea, in hindsight.

You find out Frankie’s a retired pilot, now the co-owner of a local hardware store. He tells you he and Benny were part of a bachelor party, made up of best pals since their military days. They happened to be the last ones standing, something that seems to surprise him as he says it.

Frankie asks about you: if you’re from around here, what you do for work. You watch him nodding intently as you talk, his eyes to travelling down to your cleavage when he thinks you’re not looking, slow smiles at your responses.

He leans close to hear you over the music, nose bumping your temple to talk to you. “You smoke?”

He smells earthy; musky cologne, a little sweat. You shake your head, but tell him you’ll tag along anyway. You check in with Kimmy, tell her where you’re headed as she drags Benny off to the dancefloor, agreeing to meet back at the bar in twenty.

You follow Frankie down the stairs, admiring his broad back in the dim lights as he offers you his hand to hold. “Wouldn’t wanna lose ya,” he chuckles, and you feel butterflies in your belly as his hand swallows yours, large and warm.

He lights up a smoke when you’re safely outside, offering it to you anyway, and you decide to take him up on it. God, what’s happening to you? You don’t do this. You haven’t done this since.. Nope. You’re not letting your mind wander there. Not now.

You hate how turned on you are by such a simple gesture: watching Frankie’s thick fingers languidly flick the lighter, cigarette dangling from his plush lips, dark eyes looking down at you.

“You both come here often?” he asks, exhaling smoke into the frigid air. You laugh, knowing honesty is probably the best policy. “More than I’d care to admit.”

Frankie grins again; his face so open and inviting. “Can’t say the same for us,” he tells you. “Will gets married next month, and it was Benny’s idea to bring him here tonight. That fucker didn’t think to plan anything else. So, the rest of ‘em got too drunk and crashed out at Santi’s.”

“So what I’m hearing is, you’re the sensible one?” you tease, goosebumps erupting over your bare arms as the trees shiver above you both. “Uh, kinda,” Frankie admits, scrubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I don’t drink. This isn’t my usual idea of a good time.”

You digest this information, not wanting to probe. “Plus, ‘m probably too old,” he sighs, and you feel your eyebrows raising. “No age limit in a place like this,” you tell him quietly, and he stares at you again for a moment: eyes flicking between your lips and back up to hold your gaze. “Guess not,” he concludes with a slow grin, making your stomach flip over itself.

You feel yourself sobering up, rubbing your arms as the embers from your cigarette glow in the darkness. “You cold?” Frankie asks, and you shake your head. You smile at his generosity, the way his face has changed to being genuinely concerned. “We’ll be heading back inside soon, anyway.”

He shrugs off his jacket, offering it to you. “By my watch, we still got another fifteen minutes ‘til you said we’d be back. I wanna make the most of them.”

You try to refuse at first, but as soon as it’s draped round your shoulders, you embrace the warmth gladly. You sneak a glance at the curve of his biceps, thick forearms, narrow waist; and avert your eyes hastily.

Frankie tells you more about himself: thirty-eight, an ex-serviceman, set up the hardware business with his buddy Santiago - one of the no-hopers of the evening. You, in turn, tell him about your administration job in the city, how it barely covers your rent, let alone any future hopes and dreams.

But you get by, you have fun, and that’s all that matters.

You decide to omit any would-be sob story about your ex-boyfriend, the way you’d had to find a place to live within weeks due to exactly how you’d broken up. You don’t want to frighten him, and you feel out of practice with flirting: a winter coat you haven’t worn for months, potential compliments and pick-up lines forgotten like screwed up receipts in the pockets.

Frankie nods his head as you talk, crushing the end of his cigarette beneath his boot. “So you’re a live-in-the-moment kinda girl,” he concludes, and you find yourself smiling. “Guess I am”.

“What about you? Free spirit?” you ask teasingly, and his shoulders roll again. “Trying to be,” he says, laughing softly, tugging his cap off his head to run a hand through the mess of curls underneath.

Oh, you’re actually enjoying this.

Frankie’s so sweet, but you know there’s something a little deeper and darker below the surface; you can tell by the way he looks at you, his eyes tracking down to your mouth, the skin you have on show. You’re suddenly, savagely glad you wore this dress tonight.

“C’mon,” Frankie murmurs after a beat, motioning to take your arm again. “Better see what kinda carnage they’re creating in there.”

You follow him, slipping his jacket from your shoulders as you go. You’re sad to say goodbye to it: it smells so good, a woodsy scent you hope will linger for a while to come.

You’re soon plunged back into a different kind of darkness: the club is sweaty and warm, but you find the lights give you nothing other than a headache this time around. Kimmy is still wrapped around Benny, the two of them entwined in an embrace so bold you can’t even look at Frankie.

He wraps his arm around you regardless, indicating a booth in the shadows. “Wanna grab a seat?”

You find that you do. Very much.

The conversation flows easily, you sipping on a vodka tonic whilst Frankie nurses a rootbeer. You talk about your lives a little more: favourite bands, foods, beach spots. You notice your shin knocking against his; you rest it there, enjoying the feeling. You can’t help but watch his throat as he drinks, the thick expanse of smooth skin visible above the neckline of his shirt. Frankie, in turn, compliments you constantly, albeit a little bashfully.

He’s so fucking cute.

Before either of you realise it, it’s 2:00am. Benny and Kimmy stumble over like a couple of teenagers, and you welcome your friend back into your arms, lipgloss kissed off and shoes held in her hand. Benny drunkenly teases you both, shoving his friend lovingly, and you notice the flush blooming on Frankie’s cheeks, the way he clears his throat, legs untangled from yours.

“You girls want a ride home?” Frankie offers, and the four of you head out to the parking lot. You hear Benny and Kimmy making plans, swapping numbers, sharing kisses. You feel suddenly awkward around Frankie since his abrupt change in body language. You find yourself wishing - again - for the confidence of your best friend.

You take the front seat next to him, trying to ignore the noises coming from the backseat; all teeth and tongue and hushed laughter. Frankie switches on the radio, Alexander O’Neal crooning softly in the cab. You stare out the window, city lights blurring in the darkness.

The journey to your place is only half an hour, but every minute stretches out languidly as you glance at Frankie handling the wheel. The way he spins it, thighs nestled beneath.. Maybe it’s because you haven’t had sex in a while, but goddamn. Every movement he makes does something to your insides.

It falls quiet in the back after a while: you turn to see Kimmy slumped on Benny’s shoulder, the two of them snoring quietly, open-mouthed. She’ll kill you in the morning for it, but you take a quick snap on your phone anyway, dying inside at the fact your first night out as a single woman has ended up like this: her asleep on her would-be paramour’s shoulder, you in the front with some insane crush on his friend.

“Thanks for this,” you offer to Frankie, clearing your throat. “S’okay, means I know you’re home safe,” he shrugs, and you stifle a laugh - you only met him a few hours ago. “You don’t need to worry about that, Frankie,” you tell him, and he chews his lip. The scruff along his jaw and sweet curve of his nose shine in the silhouette from passing headlights, and you cross your legs deliberately.

“I didn’t mean to - y’know, be so awkward back there,” he confesses, and you stay silent, hoping he’ll say more. “I’m just used to Benny giving me shit about women, telling me not to get my hopes up ‘n all that. This doesn’t really come naturally to me, so.. I’m not.. Fuck. ‘m sorry - I’m useless at this,” he sighs, slumped in his seat.

You can’t help it. You giggle, and then Frankie’s laughing too. You hold your finger to your lips, indicating your two sleeping friends behind you.

You place your hand over his, feeling the rough skin stretched over his knuckles. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” you tell him. “Benny clearly doesn’t know shit, anyway. I’ve, uh, really liked getting to know you,” you squirm, feeling a little unease settle into your belly at how childish you sound.

You have liked it. You swore to yourself you weren’t looking to date so soon after having your heart trampled on; that you’d keep it close, under wraps, nurture it back to full health before you pulled it from your chest again.

You weren’t expecting to meet Frankie.

Yet, here you are. Offering yourself up to him, because something tells you he’s worth it. Drawn helplessly to him: a moth to a flame.

“Me too,” Frankie tells you, turning the bend that leads towards your apartment. You both grin at your quiet, shared admission, and you hate that you have to say goodbye. “This is us,” you say, and Frankie pulls over, leaning across to shake Benny awake.

You catch the sliver of skin above his waistband as he stretches, the soft belly nudging at his shirt, the edge of his boxers, the bulge beneath the material. Gotta be the vodka, you remind yourself, tearing your eyes away from him. All four of you climb out, Frankie asking if you have your keys, taking Kimmy’s shoes from you so you can search in your purse.

Your friends are in their own world - Kimmy has Benny pinned against the passenger door, toying with his shirt collar, telling him she’ll give him a call in the morning. You roll your eyes at Frankie, wordlessly apologising for the stall. He laughs it off, hand on your lower back as you approach them.

You don’t miss the small gesture.

“Kim, babe? Frankie probably wants to head off now,” you tell her gently, taking her hand. “Aw, fun sucker,” Benny teases, and Frankie tuts in annoyance. “Whatever, man,” you tell him lightly, and Kimmy gives him a final kiss goodbye. You turn away, Frankie’s hands back in his pockets, just like they were a few hours ago.

“There any hope in asking for your number?” he asks, brown eyes wide and kind. You swap digits, and he leans forward to kiss you on the cheek. Frankie lingers a fraction longer than you expect him to, and you’re so close to tugging his lips to yours. It’s the closest you’ve been to him all night, and you want more.

He pulls away before you can change your mind.

“I’ll call you,” he promises, and you feel the kind of excitement that has long laid dormant inside you. You’re seeing Frankie again. The first rays of light on your face after too long a spell in the dark.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Things burn out between Kimmy and Benny at an impressive speed. She’s at your apartment two months later, laid on her back on your bed, throwing out cheap insults you know she doesn’t really mean.

“There’s just no… what’s that thing?” she groans in frustration. “Spark?” you offer helpfully, sorting through your closet. “Yes. I mean, the sex is insane, right? But we have nothing in common. He doesn’t even try to get to really know me. Plus, I went to watch him fight, and it made me want to hurl. All that blood...” she makes a vomiting noise, and you throw a sock at her. Lovingly.

“Kimmy, you didn’t even give him time to prove himself,” you laugh, and she glares at you. “I know my worth, babe,” she sighs, flopping back down onto your sheets. “Amen, sister,” you murmur, throwing an old shirt of your ex’s into the trash pile. “Anyway, I’m starting to think I chose the wrong guy that night,” Kimmy goes on, and you pause.

“You mean Frankie?” you ask, and she hmmms in response. “He was gorgeous. It’s a shame, though. I saw him at the fight, said he’s seeing someone. Benny said he’s down bad,” she laughs, and you feel the band of tension round you snap in relief.

Down bad, huh? Interesting.

You figured you were having that kind of effect on him.

Frankie had texted you the very next morning, asking how you were feeling and if you wanted to head out for a drink sometime. You were seized with momentary panic: it’s too soon. You’d sworn yourself off of any meaningful connection, any risk to your dented confidence and wounded pride.

You were quick, however, to remind yourself of those brown eyes, warm hands, quiet laugh. Too quick.

You’re vaguely aware of Kimmy saying your name impatiently, bringing you back to the present. “Huh?” you mumble, and she stares at you. “Where’d you go? Don’t tell me you’re giving that fucking loser another second of your time,” she raises her brows, indicating Tyler’s shirt on the floor.

“I’d rather die,” you sigh dramatically, and Kimmy nods in approval. “That’s my girl. So, I’ll come over for drinks later before we head out?” she asks, and you give her the thumbs up. “Sounds good to me.”

Kimmy flashes you her signature grin: megawatt and sparkling, the one that landed Benny and several other unsuspecting people in the years you’ve been friends. She heads out, music blasting from her convertible as she goes. You shake your head fondly. You love that girl.

You’ll tell Kimmy about Frankie. You know you will. Eventually.

God, Frankie. You lay back on your bed, staring at the ceiling as you try not to spend every fucking waking moment thinking about him. He’s infectious, though: he makes you laugh, treats you so good, takes care of you, calls you his cosa linda, fucks you like nobody ever has before.

Your first date was a few days after you’d met him.

Nothing spectacular, just pizza at a place nearby Frankie swore was decent. And hell, he was right. You shared a greasy pepperoni, cheap but delicious. You didn’t care where you went with him; both of you were open about the fact you didn’t have much money. You’d never been less bothered about it in your life.

Frankie tells you - between bites - how all the cash he has goes back into the business he shares with Santi, how hard they can find it to compete with the big chain stores. He’s a little more guarded discussing his previous life as a Delta Force operator: you note the pain that clouds his eyes as he skims the surface of it, wordlessly refusing to delve any deeper.

So, you don’t push him. You let Frankie take your hand as you exit the pizzeria, thumb rubbing circles over your skin, soft kiss to your temple as he takes you home and tells you how much he enjoys being with you, asking when he can see you again.

Frankie’s happier when the two of you are at the beach the next weekend, drinking Coke out of glass bottles, stretched out on a fraying picnic blanket, talking about everything and nothing. He pulls you into the water with him, holds you against his chest, kisses you deep and slow, salt on your lips and your fingers in his curls.

You sleep together for the first time that night.

He’s so fucking meticulous about it: taking your clothes off slowly, savouring how bare and messy you are for him at the end of it, his tongue and teeth and lips driving you insane. You cling desperately to the sheets below you as Frankie makes your toes curl, your back arching as you reach to tug at his hair; his name a broken, groaning, loud mantra from your lips as your legs shake around him.

Frankie gets off on your pleasure, tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth, eagerness like you’ve never encountered in your life. It’s a revelation. Once you start, you can’t stop. He’s big; so much more to take than you ever have before, a sweet ache between your thighs for days after.

Soon, he’s over at your apartment most evenings. He drops by with burgers after work one Friday night, and you sit cross-legged on the floor eating them straight out of the paper, sharing fries. Eighties music and golden light flood the room as the sun slides away; Frankie reaching out to swipe some ketchup from your bottom lip, sucking his thumb into his mouth afterwards, cargo shorts snug around his thighs.

It takes every ounce of your self-control not to ask him to fuck you right there and then.

Frankie asks about the tattoo he’d seen on your sternum the night before, a delicate fine-line inking of your star sign. “You believe in all that?” he smirks, tossing a fry into his mouth. “You don’t?” you raise an eyebrow, and he holds his hands up in defence. “S’long as we’re compatible, baby, I’ll believe whatever you tell me.”

Frankie spends the rest of the night showing you just how compatible you both are: hot tongue dragging over the ink beneath your breasts, nipping at the pillowy flesh he finds there, fingers digging into your ass as he pushes inside you, the two of you groaning in unison. He stays in your bed till the morning, shy smile and a dimple in his cheek as he leans over to kiss you.

“Can I take you out today?” he asks, looming above you, dark hair peppered with grey sticking out at odd angles. You think about combing your fingers through it, smoothing it down, worrying quietly about the level of intimacy you’re already sharing with him. “Sure,” you smile, and watch the creases beside his eyes deepen as he grins.

Frankie takes you on his favourite hiking trail, the two of you taking it slow, talking at length about your families as the route grows steeper. You discover he and Santi have been best friends since childhood, their mothers close since forever. You, in turn, tell him you don’t speak to your father much, but you dote on the child he has with his new wife: your baby sister.

Frankie squeezes your hand a little tighter, interlacing your fingers together. “Must be hard for you sometimes,” he says gently, and you think about it for a moment. “I mean.. I wonder why me and mom weren’t enough for him, sure. But as soon as that kiddo smiles at me, I forget all about that. She’s worth it. Even if he isn’t,” you tell him, and Frankie hums in agreement, kissing your temple.

Again, you’re rocked by the intimacy of the gesture, the way both of you have fallen so easily into soft touches and lingering glances. You know it’s naive, but you feel like you’ve known Frankie forever, like you’ve woken up to those dark eyes and broad shoulders your whole life.

One morning, on your way into the city, you decide to stop by Frankie’s hardware store with a coffee for him. Santiago finds you first, embraces you warmly, says he’s heard a lot about you. He has a twinkle in his eye as he wraps an arm around Frankie’s shoulder, hand on his chest affectionately as he introduces himself properly.

Warmth spreads through you watching how people adore him. You remember Benny’s easy teasing, how affectionate Santiago is toward him. Frankie walks you back to your car, pushes you gently into the door, taking advantage of the empty parking lot. His tongue is in your mouth, palm cradling your jaw, heat pooling in your belly. He makes that soft little groan, the one that drives you insane.

You pull away.

“You’re evil for that, Morales,” you scold him, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. “You’re the one showing up to my place of work in that goddamn skirt,” he sighs, eyes narrowing under the brim of his cap; fingers finding the band of your panties, pulling and releasing them with a gentle snap.

You’d forgotten how much he’d liked that particular skirt: you remember Frankie on his knees below you the week before, unzipping it slowly, hands dragging across your thighs. His pupils blown apart with lust as he gazed up at you; messy kisses on the bare curve of your hip, a bite that made you gasp his name.

“Mierda,” he’d moaned. “You’re a bad girl.”

Frankie repays the favour a few days later: calling by the office with your lunch, leftovers from the dinner he’d made the night before. Your team teases you when you come back sweaty and rumpled after your hour break - little do they know, he’d fucked you in the back of his truck and pocketed your underwear for good measure.

It’s brazen, bold, and fun. Just like wearing his cap whilst you rode him one time had been: his fingers digging into your waist, urging you on, telling you how fucking good you looked, that you’re his princesa.

Last night, he said he wanted to take you some place nice to eat, that he had some extra cash with nothing he’d rather spend it on than you. You’re happy anywhere with Frankie: kissing in the bed of his truck, his arms around you in the shower, wandering hand-in-hand around the farmers market, dipping your toes in a freezing cold lake together.

But, it is nice to be wined and dined sometimes. You can’t even remember the last time it happened.

The place was fancy, kitted out in low-lighting and jazz music. You wore a lemon-yellow dress: all laced-up bustier and draping skirt. You’d thrifted it, squealing at the price tag and texting Kimmy instantly. She said it’d be a crime to leave it behind, so it was yours for keeps.

You’d felt bashful watching Frankie’s eyes widen when you opened the door, looking good enough to eat in a white shirt, taut across his broad frame. No Standard Oil hat that evening - your heart melted envisioning running his fingers through his curls, floppy across his forehead. You’re fucking stunning, he’d murmured, grin warm across his features.

He’s not your boyfriend, though. A fact you’re continually reminding yourself of.

You don’t even know if you’re exclusive: Frankie never mentions anyone else, doesn’t even talk about himself all that much, unless you prompt him. His focus is all you, all the time.

Don’t you deserve that? After what you’ve been through? You deserve to enjoy the company, the sex, the feelings brewing below the surface.

What are you so afraid of?

You think of him now as you dress, the memory of his hands on you burnt into your brain, seared into your subconscious. Kimmy texts to say she’s on her way over, and you clatter downstairs in your heels, flicking the music stations over and pouring two large glasses of wine, trying to push Frankie and your worries to the back of your mind. For now.

The club is packed out.

Busier than it was when you were last here; people crammed into the booths and across the dancefloor, posted up against the bar. You and Kimmy haven’t let go of one another all night; borrowing lipliner and gum in the bathrooms, hand-in-hand as she orders shots that sizzle in your throat.

You’re stood not far from where you first encountered Frankie, and your mind drifts to what he might be doing. Snoring, you think. Lying on his back, hand flat on his chest, sparse hair you can feel on your cheek beneath it. You check your phone: 11:23pm. There’s a text from him.

Have a great night baby. Let me know if you need me x

You know he means if you need a ride home, someone to call in the cab. Yet, panic bubbles inside you at the sentence, threatening to spill over, poisoning your blissful tipsy state. A legacy left by your ex-boyfriend, the fear you try to squash down each time Frankie takes your hand, presses his lips to yours, makes your back arch beneath him.

Do you need him?

Of course not. It’s not like you’re in love with him or anything. Right?

Tyler devastated you. You remember your legs trembling as you sat on the side of the bath one night as he slept, curiosity getting the better of you. His phone was in your shaking hands as you scrolled through scores of messages between him and his work colleague, Melissa.

He’d been your boyfriend for five years. You were ready to move in together, take his last name if he asked. Yet here he was, hanging you out to fucking dry; telling Melissa everything he wanted to do to her, had done to her, how horny he was for her. You were so fucking embarrassed, especially when he’d tried to convince you it was all in your head. How foolish you’d been.

Kimmy had distracted you through it all, kept you going. You’d put in work yourself, piecing your life back together: the person you were before Tyler, sitting with the feelings and letting them wash over you till they didn’t sting so bad anymore.

Frankie frightens you. He could pull a single thread and you’d unravel, back at square one on a boardgame nobody wants to play.

Had it all been too much? Too fast?

“Hey, babe!” Kimmy pulls on your shoulder, and you’re spinning out of your reverie. “You see Sarah’s here?! Sarah from high school?” she tells you excitedly, and you smile weakly. “Shit, no way,” you manage, and you’re pulled over into a group of girls you haven’t seen for years; all air kisses and squealing over an engagement ring.

Something you could have had.

“Kimmy,” you shout over the music, hand on her arm. “You okay if I take five outside?”

She nods, and you follow the same path Frankie led you down all those weeks ago; his hand clasping yours, eyes twinkling in the low lighting.

You feel so strongly that Frankie won’t hurt you, yet your mind’s so corrupted by what Tyler did to you: waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to reveal his true colours.

Yet, you think you’ve seen them already.

The blue ocean Frankie held you in, kissing you deeply as his fingers dug into your thighs, holding you close. The orange sky of the sunset from the bed of his truck, wrapped in blankets as he told you the craziest shit he’d seen as a pilot. The thick green of the forests you’ve hiked in together, the way he’d drag you by the hand when you were puffing out of breath because you just had to see the view.

The dark brown of his eyes; ones you swear are flecked with molten gold. The pink of his lips; the way they curve into a smile when you open the door to him. The yellow of the sunlight that creeps through the blinds in the mornings, your naked body pressed to his, sore and sweaty and satisfied. The black sky you first spoke to him under, littered with faint stars, just like it is tonight.

Each time, you worried the water might be too cold, hike too steep, sunset too boring. Frankie kept proving you wrong: every experience more vibrant, saturated and warm than the last. You owe it to yourself - and to him - to trust him.

You call him without hesitating, shivering on the sidewalk. Frankie answers on the second ring.

“Hey, princesa. You okay?”

“Yeah,” you smile, feeling your anxiety dissipating a little at the sound of his voice, velvety and deep. “I, uh, think I’m just about done tonight, though. Was thinking about calling a cab home.”

You hear him moving, shifting in his sheets. “It’s up to you, but I’d rather come get you. Can drop you straight home, ‘f you want,” Frankie offers, and you bite into your lip to stop your grin from widening. “So you know I’m home safe?” you manage to tease, recalling the conversation you had the night you met him.

“Think I’m pretty much qualified to worry about that now,” Frankie chuckles lowly through the phone into your ear. “Can stop for some fries, and you can stay here?” He offers, and you close your eyes, thinking there’s nowhere else you’d rather be in the world than right there.

To your horror, you feel tears threatening, and you swallow thickly to force the emotion back down. Frankie notes your silence. “Sweetheart? What’s up?” he probes gently, and you tap your foot in annoyance at yourself for worrying him, taking a deep breath.

“‘m all good, baby. Promise. See you in twenty?” you ask, and Frankie tells you he’ll see you soon, as quick as he can. “Kimmy need a ride?” he asks, and you make it your mission to go inside and find her.

You spot her easily, tell her an abridged version of your plans. You decide now isn’t the time to tell her about Frankie: not in a club full of people who remind you of Tyler, when you’re teetering on a knife edge with your emotions.

She asks if you’re alright, if you mind her staying out: they’re talking about an after-party somewhere, booking Ubers to the suburbs. You tell her it’s not your vibe - not tonight - but you can see she wants to carry on. She won’t, though. Not without checking with you first.

Kimmy promises to call you in the morning, that you’ll go and grab brunch. “You sure you’re okay, babe?” she asks one final time, squeezing you close. She makes you swear to let her know when you’re home safe, and you request the same.

Frankie’s there waiting for you when you leave the club, just like he said he would be.

He’s leant up against his truck: long legs in denim jeans, an old flannel stretched across his shoulders. He’s smoking languidly, gaze on you beneath the cap he never takes off. That smile you’ve come to know and love unfurls across Frankie’s features as he reaches for you, pulls you into his arms.

“Hi,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “You look so beautiful.”

It’s such a simple phrase. But it means so much more to you coming from Frankie: older and kinder than anyone you’ve been with before him.

Your fingers grab at the collar of his shirt, your lips finding his. You slide your tongue into his mouth and he responds, huge hands sliding to your waist and squeezing. You moan a little as the kiss deepens, and Frankie pulls back, eyes searching your face.

“Hey, hey. Everything okay?” he asks, taking your jaw in his hands, thumbs stroking your skin gently. “There’s, uh, some stuff I wanna tell you about. From my past, I mean,” you sigh, watching the crease deepen in Frankie’s brow at your words. “You’re fucking married, aren’t you?” he grimaces. You smack him lightly on the chest and he chuckles.

“I’m serious, Frankie,” you huff, and he relents. “I.. Didn’t have a good experience with my ex. Cheated on me with his colleague, gaslighted me about it; the works. I guess you could say he wasn’t a good guy, right? And I think I’m kinda fucked up as a result,” you tell him, voice trembling. Frankie’s eyes are wide and pleading, but he’s quiet, waiting for you to continue.

“I don’t wanna carry this on without you knowing that some things might be hard for me. If I ever hold back a little bit, come across like I don’t trust you..” you trail off, fingering the button of his shirt awkwardly. “Baby,” Frankie grips your wrists, “you don’t gotta explain anything to me. Not now - not ever - not if you don’t want to. But you should know, none of this is your fault.”

“So, we take it day by day. We keep talking, keep being open, you let me know if something’s too much, or I’m not giving you enough. You know what I mean?” Frankie asks, tilting your chin to look at him. His thumb swipes away a stray tear from your eye, and he kisses you softly; barely there before he pulls away.

“Living in the moment, right? I told you I was gonna try,” he chuckles weakly. “I’m not going anywhere, mi amor. I like you too damn much,” he admits.

You kiss him again, taking his cap in your hand so you can feel his curls, pressing your lips to the bare patch in the scruff along his jaw. With Frankie’s hand in yours, the pain begins to fade away. You’re sure it won’t be long till it’s gone forever. You smile at him.

“Let’s go home.”

This was hilarious and such a good read! 😍

the retreat: masterlist

a Max Phillips/fem!reader fic

Rating: E (Explicit, 18+ only!)

Summary: Working as Max Phillips’ executive assistant sounded like a great job until you found out how much he sucks. Literally. (This is an attempt at comedy but also it’s based on a weird-ass movie so I’m sry if it makes no sense)

Warnings: see individual chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Extras!

Bonus doodles

Even MORE doodles

Why Maxie bites where he does (request)

Maxie monograms you (based on ask)

Now complete! (Season 1, anyway.)

Tagging the usuals under the cut, let me know if you’d like to be added/removed! 💕

tags: @ezrasbirdie @danniburgh @purplepascal042 @pascalslittlebrat @mothandpidgeon @wyn-n-tonic @mesmorales @charnelhouse @bubblyani @pedro-pastel @221bshrlocked @dindaddy @supernaturalgirl @yespolkadotkitty @foli-vora @romanosgirl1978 @kesskirata @chattychell @spideysimpossiblegirl @keeper0fthestars @northernpunk @daisy-plier @blackberries45 @princess76179 @littlebopper96 @frostsoldier @mrsparknuts @drinkingwhileblogging @theamuz @sarahjkl82-blog @miulola @poenariuniverse @maievdenoir @wheresarizona @maxwell--lord @hnt-escape @freeshavocadoooo @feministfanboi @green-socks @pinkie289 @leto-duke @mandocrasis @thepoisonofgod @babiiface95 @thisshipwillsail316 @absurdthirst

Ah snap! So good it needed a name change?! Thank you Beef! ❤️❤️❤️

When It Rains

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! PWP, mostly porn but some plot, unprotected PIV(Don't do this IRL, be safe, make smart choices), kissing, fingering(f receiving), cream pie, flirting.

I'm trying to practice smut more, be kind. This is for @undercoverpena's April Showers prompt!

Thank you so much to @notjustjavierpena for helping me with the moodboard and the grammar stuff, @strang3lov3 for editing and leaving encouraging comments, and @beefrobeefcal for also betaing! Don't know what I would do without you lovely people! ❤️

@jay-zzle is my Spanish expert and dear friend who has helped me with a lot of my translations. Plus she's also one of the main reasons I'm trying to learn Spanish 🥰

divider by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

You’ve been assigned the stakeout with Javier Peña at a nightclub, where it’s been rumored that some of Escobar’s sicarios frequent regularly. It’s not a problem per se, but it could just be a tad distracting considering the circumstances. No one, not even Murphy, has seemed to catch wind of what has been going on between the two of you; the late-night meet-ups, the storage closet, the file room, hell - there was even one time late at night in the office the three of you share. You’re professional though, work always comes before play. That’s been the rule since the beginning. 

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” Javi comments, pushing his head to the car’s window, and looking up, “We could definitely use it.”

You hum in agreement, watching the nightclub like a hawk. As you listen to the pulsing music radiating from the club, watching people file in and out of the building, none seem to be any of Escobar’s crew just yet. The night seems to be growing darker as the clouds glide across the sky, covering the bright moon's light. Soon enough, small drops of rain begin to fall, turning into fat drops within minutes, downpour to follow.

“Fuck,” you hiss, gripping the steering wheel and peering out the dash window, “Of course.”

“Nothing wrong with some rain,” Javi smirks, looking at you.

“Except for the fact we can’t see shit!”

“Maybe we could do something else with our time?” Javi suggests, laying his arm against the back of the bench seat and scooting his hips forward to get more comfortable. His hand creeps onto your shoulder, rubbing small circles against the bare skin there, skimming past the hem of your tank top.

“Javi,” you scold, shrugging your shoulders to get your point across,  “No, we’re working.”

“Can’t see shit in this rain,” Javi grumbles, crossing his arms across his chest, “Least we could have some fun.”

“Maybe it’ll die down,” you suggest, looking at him. He matches your stare with those pleading eyes of his. Those dark eyes, the way they make you want to melt every single time they land on you.

It’s been 20 minutes and the downpour hasn’t relented. After seeing how you wouldn’t be doing something else with your time like he suggested, Javi’s beginning to become restless.  

“When it rains it pours, hermosa,” Javi says, grinning at you. Your pulse jumps at that word. Hermosa. He knows exactly what he’s doing. That’s how it always starts.

“Javi,” you warn, reminding him again, “We are working. You know the rules, work then play.”

He moves closer to you, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “We’ve played at work before, cariño.” Goosebumps pebble across your skin. You hope he can’t see them with how dark it is. You crane your head away from him and grab the binoculars from the dash, choosing to ignore the burning desire between your thighs. You just need to focus on work. You feel Javi lean back in the seat, his eyes boring into the side of your head. You put the binoculars against your face, grunting in annoyance when you still can’t see anything.

“Bebé,” Javier says, grabbing the binoculars from your grip, “Let’s call it night, hmm?”

He throws them into the back seat with a smirk, leaning closer to you, grabbing the back of your neck, and gently urging you toward him. His index finger sweeps against your cheek, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. He smiles warmly at you before dipping his head to meet your lips. Your hands rest against his chest, fingers fiddling with the open V of his button-up. 

You moan against his mouth when he licks your bottom lip, allowing him access to slip his tongue inside. Your tongues caressing each other, your hands move to the nape of his neck. Your lips make their way to his jaw and down his neck, your teeth lightly scrape his pulse point.

“Mira que duro me pones(look how hard you make me),” Javi says, pulling you onto his lap, grinding against your center to let you feel his growing bulge. “Te deseo(want you),” he growls.

You let out a faint gasp. Javi has a firm grip on your thighs to keep you against him, one hand finding its way to your center, palm pressing firmly against your clit through the denim of your jeans. You moan against his throat at the sensation.

“Javi,” you whimper as he flicks the button of your jeans open and begins to tug on them impatiently. “Fuck, Javi. I gotta get my damn shoes off first.”

He grabs your jeans, helping you out of them after knocking your shoes off. Javi brings his hand back to your center, rubbing precise circles against your clothed clit, moving down to pull your panties aside. Javi hums, capturing your lips again, tongue tangling with yours, enjoying feeling the slick against your slit.

“So wet,” he says, teasing two thick digits against your entrance. You hum with a nod of your head, crying out when he pushes them into your wet heat.

“Javi,” you moan, putting your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips in time with his fingers. “Fuck.” Beginning to feel the coil in your belly tightening.

“¿Así, bebé?(just like that, baby?)” He asks, moving his thumb to massage small quick circles on your clit. You whimper his name when he curves his fingers just right, hitting that spot he knows you love. His mouth leaving open mouth kisses along your neck, reaching your pulse point he begins to suck lightly. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening more, your walls beginning to flutter against his fingers every time he hits that spot with the pads of his fingers.

“Eres mía(you’re mine),” Javi whispers against your neck.

“So close,” You whine, moving your hips faster, his fingers sinking in deeper with each roll of your hips. He moves his head from your neck to look at you, gripping the back of his neck, crashing your mouth into his. Javi moans, beginning to feel your walls clamp around his fingers. The coil in your belly snaps, shooting white-hot lightning through your entire body. Your hand pulls onto the hair at the nape of his neck, causing Javi to let out a guttural groan, pulling you back down from your high.

“Fuck me,” you sigh against his lips.

“That’s the plan, cariño(honey),” Javi smirks, kissing you again, scooting to lay his back against the seat.

Your hands slide down his chest, popping open the buttons of his shirt. You smirk, leaning into his collarbone and placing soft kisses before biting down gently.

“Fuck, bebé(baby),” Javi says sucking in a breath, moving his hands between your bodies to fumble with his belt, “Te necesito(need you)”

You lift up, swatting his hand away to work his belt and jeans open. He lifts his hips and helps you lower his jeans, his stiff member slapping against his stomach.

“Javier Peña,” you tsk, shaking your head at him, “Commando? Did you miss laundry day?”

“Knew about this assignment for weeks now. Asked to be paired up with you,” Javi smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. “Figured this would happen.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You laugh, playfully smacking his chest.

“Awe, come on now, chica sucía(dirty girl)” Javi says, placing your hands on his chest, “You know it’s—“

You grind against his cock, hands pressing firmly against his chest and he lets out a groan.

“That’s one way to get you to shut up,” you grin, slowly grinding your wetness along his shaft, the tip catching your bundle of nerves with every roll of your hips. Javi shifts up grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you to his lips in a hungry kiss. He moves his hand down to line his cock up to your entrance and you slowly sink down on it, taking it inch by inch. You're no stranger to Javi’s cock but each time feels like the first with how thick he is.

“Estás tan apretada, mi amor(you’re so tight, my love)” Javi growls, against your throat, “No pares(don’t stop)” holding onto your hips as you sink further down on him, ass cheeks finally resting on his thighs. You kiss him, both of you taking a minute to savor the feel of one another, Javi gently rubbing his fingers up and down your spine with one hand while the other holds your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” Javi murmurs, caressing his nose against your cheek before capturing your lips again, moaning into the kiss as you tentatively roll your hips. His hand settles on your lower back, letting you take control at a slow tempo, letting you enjoy the way his cock massages your inner walls. You moan feeling your nipples beginning to harden between your layers and his chest.

“Javi!” You gasp when he snaps his hips holding onto your lower back firmly.

“Need to see you,” Javi huffs, moving his hand from your face to your shoulder and pushing you to sit up, breath hitching as you swallow more of his length into your core. He rids you of your tank top and pushes the cups of your bra down. You begin to lightly bounce on his cock, moaning at the feel of his hands on you, fingers from one hand beginning to pinch your left nipple while his other hand slides down your ribs, gripping your waist. “Eres mía(you’re mine),” he growls. You can feel your climax nearing, your thighs beginning to shake, feeling the heat running through your body as you bounce.

“Want to take you out,” Javi grunts, your walls begin to tighten at his words, “Make sure that ev-fuck-everyone knows you’re my girl,” he rambles, gripping your waist tighter, snapping his hips into you. “Eres mía(you’re mine).”

“Javi,” you cry out, wanting all of those things and more, your walls fluttering around his shaft, “Fuck, Javi- yes, yes, yes, yes!” Your walls clamp down on him, milking his cock while your vision blurs.

“Fuck,” Javi whines, hips stuttering, emptying himself inside you. He sits up, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you closer to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him softly, leaning your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. Javi looks into your eyes and grins as his softening cock slips out of you.

“I’m serious, corazón,” Javi says, “Want it all.”

“Me too,” You nod, a grin stretching from ear to ear on your face.

“Peña?” You hear the radio chirp against the dash, Murphy beginning to call for you as well. “Anyone there?”

You giggle as Javi leans over, keeping a grip on you in his lap to reach the receiver. “Peña here.”

“The hell are you guys?” Murphy asks, “It’s been raining like cats and dogs for a fuckin’ hour, and no word from either of you!”

“Heading back now,” you say, shaking your head and laughing.

Okay but listen, won’t even lie. This is the first thing I have ever read you’ve done and that ending?! I was flailing like dear ol’ Kermit!

trepidation

Part of @iamasaddie writing challenge 2.0

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: Angst!/fluff/smut (fingering). Jackson Joel. General theme of reader being in an abusive relationship/marriage with OC - reader's bruises are mentioned; References to (reader's husband's) alcoholism and reader's disordered eating - Joel feeds reader; Secret relationship/affair. Please let me know if I’ve missed any! word count: 2.2 k summary: Your time with Joel had been an escape, a place for you to rest and be free from the terrors exerted on your body and mind. But you know things must come to an end, and have accepted what this might mean for you. What you don't yet know is that Joel has his own interpretation of 'ending things'. A/N: This is well truly me finally dipping my toes into writing again! Angst is not a genre I feel too confident in, but I've appreciated this challenge so much. By no means my personal best, but getting it done, and writing about these topics, has been very important to me, so I am extremely grateful to @iamasaddie for organising this writing challenge, giving me a prompt and a deadline, which I desperately needed, and @noxturnalpascal for pointing me this way. Not greatly edited at all, nor beta'd, so please let me know your thoughts.

Just one moment could be the end of everything, and you chuckle internally at the uncertainty of whether that is a good or a bad thing.

Just one shift in your husband’s pattern of behavior, one moment of not tolerating staying at home watching crappy TV and instead venturing out and joining the majority of Jackson’s population for movie night at the community center. 

One peek inside the kitchen area, most likely for some of Tommy’s home-brewed whisky and it could all be out in the open. At the same time as panic rises within you at the thought of a confrontation, you feel an almost callous sense of relief. This may be the one fit of rage you would not survive, but at least it would be over. 

Because it wouldn’t take more than a second for him to work out that the conversation you and Joel are having right now is anything but innocent, though to any of the residents, Joel is simply keeping you company as you make mountains of guacamole, having volunteered to help with snacks in order to get out of the house. 

You’re cutting the avocado meticulously, slowly, just like you do at home - an act of domesticity that always calms you as you imagine blending into your surroundings, a strategy which seems to make your husband view you as part of the furnishing at home, and grants you momentary relief from his tirades and threats as you meekly provide for him.  

Sometimes, in your stronger moments, you ruminate on the knife in your hands.

Right now, you congratulate yourself on not having had even just one taste, the control of what you eat a shred of willpower you had carved out in your life.

Joel’s voice pulls you from your thoughts:

‘How’s your week been? Not seen you around much.’

You immediately sense the implication of his words. 

‘ ‘s been fine. Busy.’ you mumble as you turn to place the bowl of food on the table behind you, but Joel stops you, placing a warm hand on your elbow as he shoots a look through the window above the door of the kitchen. He rises from where he was perched on the counter and his broad form covers the window. He slides his hand to your waist and grips you lightly, his deep brown eyes boring into yours. The warmth of his touch reassures you, but you can’t help to check the door for any potential intruders. 

‘I’ve missed you’ Joel says matter-of-factly. You love this about him, the brevity and clarity of his words, devoid of any attempt to manipulate you. He knows how much to say to you, and when to stop and give you space. Usually, it’s this freedom that being with him allows your mind which then restores feeling to your body, too. It’s why since that first night patrol you shared with Joel, you had gone back to him every time the opportunity presented itself, for clandestine meetings at his house when Ellie was on patrol or out with her friends, and your husband so drunk or high he would be too incapacitated to exert his usual torment. 

But you knew it wouldn’t last. You had given up hope for things to go your way long before you had made it to Jackson, safe from the horrors of the world following the outbreak, but not from those inside your own four walls. 

Joel is grabbing the bowl from your hands and placing it down next to you before taking your hand into his, tugging you towards him. You are light-headed, your breath hitching when you feel his breath on your neck as he takes a step closer to you. Fear rises in you, your chest tightening at the lack of privacy the two of you have right now.

‘Joel, I… someone could…’

Joel takes another look over his shoulder, seemingly unperturbed when he hears the sound of gunfire on the screen and jeering from the Jackson crowd. 

‘Shh, ‘s okay, darlin’. Jus’ need a moment with you.’

His hand on your waist slides round your back and digs into your skin as he walks you backwards towards the counter. He kisses you - hurriedly, but long enough that you feel a pinch of what you dare to believe is desperation on his side. You can feel the cool sting of his metal belt buckle against your stomach as your shirt rides up slightly. You know Joel can see your lip quivering.

‘Y’alright?’ he asks softly.

‘Yeah, I…, I just…’ you stutter, blinking away tears.

Your head is beginning to spin now, fear of being exposed and the weight of everything starting to overwhelm you. You had forgotten when you last ate. You hold onto Joel’s shoulders to steady yourself, quickly kissing him because you can’t help wanting to feel his lips again, but immediately have to take some slow breaths. 

You close your eyes as the words tumble from your lips, mixing with Joel’s:

‘I don’t think we can go on like this’

- ‘When’s the last time you ate?’

You both freeze, a look of hurt flickering across Joel’s features for only a second before he gazes down at you with calm determination as he lowers his voice:

‘Right. But when did you last eat?’  He cups your cheek in his hand.With anyone but Joel, you’d start to shut down when the grip on your face becomes firmer. But with him, you give in to his touch further.

‘I don’t know, Joel. Been busy’ you lie. Appetite seemed to have departed days ago. 

‘Well, have something. Now.’ Joel utters as he slides the bowl of guacamole across the steel counter with a screech. His other hand doesn’t leave your face as he grabs a bowl of tortilla chips and dips one into the smooth, fresh guacamole. 

‘Joel’ you say, laughing noiselessly when he lifts the chip in front of your mouth. His eyes bore into you once again, it’s clear he’s not taking no for an answer. You open your mouth and allow him to slip the chip between your lips. You chew awkwardly at first, but soon your taste buds respond to the flavors, the different elements of your mother’s recipe adding a sense of nostalgia. You try to hold back tears but fail, one lone tear running down your cheek. Joel wipes it away with his thumb as he grabs another chip. 

‘And again’ he whispers as he continues to feed you.

You do as he says, allowing the feeling of satiation to grow within you as you trust Joel to keep a lookout. When he does look at you, you can see your sadness reflected in him, though he seems to want to stay strong when he speaks:

‘Just keep eating. Focus on how it tastes, hon. Stay with it, stay with me. You’re safe right now, you’re alive.’

‘Not much longer if he finds out about us, Joel. It’s gonna happen, I can tell.’ 

A dark look comes across Joel’s face. For the briefest of moments, you fear it is directed at you. He moves the food out of the way as he wraps you up in his arms. You smell his cologne and the scent of him, so different from the odor of alcohol and lack of hygiene emanating from your husband. 

Joel is kissing you again, tracing his lips down your neck and collarbone, removing your shirt from your shoulders. Your eyes are trained on the door when you notice him freeze.

You realize he has spotted the bruise on your arm. 

‘Did he do this?’ Joel all but growls. 

The way you rest your head against his is the only confirmation you feel able to give at this moment. You notice the way his hands have balled into fists when you open your eyes. 

‘ ‘m gonna kill him’. 

You smile sadly as you place your hands over Joel’s, clenched tightly, searching for his lips in an effort to appease him. You’ve heard rumors of what Joel is capable of, of his activities prior to arriving in Jackson. But hopelessness has seeped into your bones so much that you never consider him to be serious. Plus, he has Ellie now, a reason to stick around and not risk anything that would take him away from her.

‘Please stop talking like that, Joel. I’ll be alright. But I can’t keep doing this to you. You don’t need to fight my battles.’

‘ ‘s hardly a fair fight’ Joel hisses before pressing his lips to yours again, and not before long he is running his tongue across the seam of your lips. You allow him entry and he kisses you with an urgency you haven’t experienced from him before. 

‘Just stay with me for a bit more. Let me take care of you’ he whispers when you separate to catch your breath. His hand is tracing up your thigh, making you shiver when he reaches underneath your skirt and begins to stroke your clit through your lace panties. You can’t tell yourself you hadn’t dug out your favorite, most well-preserved pair of lace in the hope of seeing him tonight. 

Joel knows you’re short on time, so simply pulls the material to the side. Like muscle memory, his calloused fingers immediately find where you need him most, and he hums when he feels how wet you are for him already. 

He draws small circles with his thumb, sending shockwaves all along your body. You allow your eyes to close, deciding to submit to the feeling entirely. If this is the end, you’re going to savor every second with him. 

Joel pushes against you, and you can feel his cock hardening against you. But you know he will not insist on having you for his own pleasure before taking care of you. You smile when words of praise fall from his lips precisely at this moment. 

‘So beautiful like this, so beautiful. That’s it, let yourself go, darlin, ‘m here.’ 

You gasp at his words as your orgasm blossoms in your core. His voice sounds far away. You feel like you’re floating, not taking his words in fully:

‘Gonna end it, baby, don’t you worry. I got you.’

Tears are now freely running down your face as you thank the stars for at least granting you these last few months with Joel. He places his cheek next to yours, his nose rubbing against the shell of your ear as he begs you to let him hear you come. When you are reduced to nothing but gasps, he moves two of his thick fingers slowly inside you, filling you just at the right moment. 

You collapse against his shoulder when wave after wave of your orgasm overcomes you, washing away all anguish and fear, Joel’s body like an anchor, a taste of a life you could have had, where you spend days together freely, without a constant sense of helplessness or shame, wrapped up in each other with none of the tension that has accompanied your time together so far. A sob escapes you and Joel wraps an arm around you to hold you up as he shushes you with his head on top of yours, his voice drifting over you like a soft blanket.

‘...got you, always got you. There’ll be no more of it.’

You try to gather strength at his words, standing up and wiping your tears as you try to face your final moments together.

‘I’ll never regret what we did, Joel. Thank you for making me feel alive for a while. Whatever happens, it wasn’t your fau-...’

Joel cuts you off with a shake of his head. He runs his hands through your hair before holding the back of your head and placing his forehead to yours. You are crying again, making a mental note to splash some water on your face before you head outside again.

‘I’ll see you in a few days, ok? Just… act normal, head into town every day at least, speak to people. When you get the news, you gotta act shocked, and we have to be careful about seeing each other for a while, ok? Can you wait just a little more, darlin’ ?’

You’re utterly confused. You understand the need to keep your affair under wraps, and not let your emotions show when you will inevitably run into Joel around town. But your head is starting to spin again trying to work out what news you will hear in the next few days. 

Joel is picking up the bowl of chips and guacamole and hands them to you. You take them, slowly, as he pulls on his jacket and runs a hand through his hair. 

‘See you soon. Stay safe until then, okay?’ Joel’s voice seems to break as he kisses you once more.

‘Where are you going?’ you ask him, blinking as you try to understand his abrupt manner. You guess he is trying to rip the plaster off quickly. 

‘Going to speak to Tommy about changing my spot on the patrol rota.’

‘What?’ you thought Joel had understood the need to end this. ‘Joel, we can’t keep doing this… And I’m not on the rota this week.’

Joel has already half turned away from you, staring at a spot on the floor. He squeezes your hand one last time. 

‘You’re not. But your husband is. I’m gonna ask Tommy to put me on with him.’