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poohbea · 2 years

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𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃.

beelzebub | smut, fluff |

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏 : 1.6k

— 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : the ingredients to make a darkness of devil cake are as follows: flour, eggs, butter, oral... wait that doesn't sound right.

𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙎 : light biting, food play, oral (f receiving), semi-public oral sex (you're in a shared kitchen so), voyeurism (meaning someone does walk in on you and watches - take a guess who's kinky enough to do something like that), praise, marking, pet names, just beel being beel

𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀 𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈 𝙋𝙊𝙊𝙃 : the way i procrastinated with this fic omfg. idk why this was difficult to write, but i tried, not my proudest work but this one has been sitting in the drafts for a long time and i needed to feed the beel food play agenda. again this is my poor attempt at getting out of my writer's block so forgive me if it's quite mediocre. we were going so well in the beginning and then sorta just fell off...cri

WARNING: this is smut, so please ensure you have your age visible on your account before interacting. Minors (below 18+), ageless and blank blogs will be BLOCKED

Hope you enjoy ♡ reblogs are greatly appreciated

“Is the icing almost done?” Beel asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. He watches you whisk the chocolaty cream in the large bowl, stopping to dip your finger in before raising it to his lips. He moans as his tongue envelops the digit, sucking the sweet treat greedily, teeth lightly nipping at your finger.

“Is it good?” You chuckle, watching him with a smile.

“Th’o good.” He mumbles with your finger still in his mouth.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Beel.” Your finger is released with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting the digit to his tongue.

“Sorry,” A bashful expression takes over his handsome features. “It tastes really good.”

You watch him examine the expanse of your neck briefly, nose subtly inhaling your sweet aroma. “You okay?” He nods at your question, but his gaze is still focused on the curve of your neck, the way your skin pulsed under the heat of his body that was still pressed flush against your back.

Absent-mindedly, he licks the juncture where your throat meets your jaw, unable to resist the temptation of the tantalising warmth so close to his taste buds. “Shit.” If he thought the icing was delicious then you were something else entirely. A unique array of flavours that he’d been dying to discover the day you moved into the House of Lamentation.

“Beel.” You whimper, fingers laced through his apricot locks as he sinks his teeth gently into your skin.

The Avatar of Gluttony heard none of it as he continued his exploratory assault, pathing from your jaw to your shoulder, all the while pressing your hips against the countertop with his own. He couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t. Not when something so delicious melted on his tongue with such allure, when you, his unofficial cooking partner, were moaning his name so delicately he could’ve sworn it was all in his head. That your ass in his palms was some kind of food deprived hallucination, that he was daydreaming like he always did. But the heat of your skin was undeniable, the clawing of your nails against his scalp as he indulged in you, unmistakeable.

“Fuck.” You sigh, reciprocating the rock of his hips into yours, the growing ache between your thighs making it increasingly difficult to think straight. “Beel.”

The demon stops to turn you around, immediately delving into your lips, tongue parting them as he tastes you further. “More.” He growls between breaths, fingers digging into your hips. “More.”

“Beel, we’re supposed to be baking.” Your laugh partially breaks his starved frenzy, hands cupping his face when he finally pulls away.

He rests his forehead against your own, breath heavy and pupils blown as they threaten to break your resolve. “The cake’s fine.” His gaze shifts to the oven behind you, two large cake pans filled with a black batter illuminated by the light above. “They’ve only just started to rise.”

“That’s not the point, Beel.” You giggle, with the lick of your lips, an action he followed intently.

“I can’t help it.” His nose brushes yours as he speaks. “You just taste so good.”

Admittedly you didn’t know how to respond to that. Shyness evident as he trapped you between him and the counter, silent but gaze alight with one clear intention. Eat. It was enough to give you goosebumps.

“Can…Can I try something?” He whispers in a low baritone.

With a bashful nod as permission his hands find purchase on the back of your thighs, wrapping them around his waist before lifting you effortlessly onto the counter top. Then his gaze settles on the icing bowl and your heart lodges itself in your throat.

“Beel…” You whisper nervously, toying with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “It’s for the cake.”

“I’ll only use a little.” Those puppy dog eyes he throws you are all too convincing, his pout enough to melt even the coldest of hearts. How could you say no to that face?

He’s silent when you let out a soft sigh, curiously awaiting your response. “Fine.” And almost as if on cue he perks up, his proverbial tail wagging in excitement. “Just try not to make a—” Before you could even finish your thought the sound of tearing fabric echoes through the kitchen. Your gaze lowers to find your skirt in disarray and your underwear now in tatters, its remnants pooled on the apex of your thighs. “Beel!”

Admittedly, he only meant to pull them off you, but the demon obviously didn't know his own strength as he tore right through the flimsy cotton. Why did you even bother to wear something like this if it broke this easily? “What?” He asks innocently, pulling the rest of it from between your thighs.

“I liked those.” Now it was your turn to pout, palm smacking his muscular shoulder as a weak form of punishment.

“You didn’t need them anyway.” He dips slightly to tuck his hands behind your knees, before proceeding to rise again to make you lay back on the counter. Drawing your thighs to your chest, he spreads you wide to give himself a perfect view of your pussy. “Wow.” He mutters to himself, marvelling at the meal so graciously being offered to him.

“Don’t just stare at it—!” You yelp at the sudden heat against your clit, his tongue gliding slowly through your folds, savouring the flavour he’d so patiently waited for.

“Mm.” He moans, kissing the crease of your thigh tenderly, all the while observing that pleasured look on your face. “So delicious.”

“Bee…” Using one hand to mindlessly play with your pussy, the other dips into the chocolate buttercream in the bowl beside your waist. His stomach growls as he spreads the confectionary over your clit, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth when your pussy clenches around nothing as a result.

He silently offers you the residual icing, fingers grazing your lips, his heart races at the sight of his digits slipping past them, your tongue warm as it swirls around each fingertip. “Taste good?” He mimics you, finally withdrawing from your mouth.

“Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.” Your lightheartedness makes him smile, those violet eyes admiring you lovingly before retreating between your legs again, returning to the task at hand.

Your hips jerk in his palms, his hot tongue lapping greedily at your clit. “Fuck.” You gasp, tugging his hair in encouragement. Each flick of his tongue lit a new flame in the pit of your stomach, the heavenly sweetness of the frosting mixed with your arousal only making him dive deeper.

He’d soon become lost in the warmth of your core, every sense overcome by you and you alone. Your moans and pleas, the softness of your skin, your scent and that taste. Fuck, your taste. It was a unique mix of sweet and savoury, one that was growing increasingly addictive the longer he remained there.

“Shit, Beel!” He can’t help but nip at your skin, thighs the victim of many a hickey, but purple was always a pretty colour against your complexion anyway.

“S’tho good.” Your gasp bounces off the walls as he dips his tongue into you, nose now flush with your delicate clit, the action making your spine arch.

“Don’t stop, please. Beel, don’t—“

“Hey, do you guys smell something burni—oh!?” Your oncoming climax is cut short by Asmo’s sudden intrusion, his voice snapping you out of the pleasured daze Beel had so effortlessly pulled you into.

“Oh, shit, Asmo it’s— ah!” Unbeknownst to you, Beel was unfazed by his brother’s presence, the new development actually driving him further. “Beel, wait… stop.” It was no use, even as you tried to push him away he just pulled you right back, strength far surpassing yours.

“No, no, please continue, don’t let me stop your fun.” Asmo giggles, perching himself on the table top beside your head. “My, my, and I was under the impression that our beautiful little human was a prude. Yet here you are, spread so nicely on the kitchen counter no less. Does she taste wonderful, Beel?”

The glutton mumbles an incoherent response against your clit, the vibration making your thighs shudder. “This isn’t— fuck. This isn’t funny Asmo.”

“Oh, I agree, my sweet. In fact I’m quite jealous, I wanted to be the first to get a taste of you. But, I guess it wasn’t meant to be.” His pout only incited butterflies in the pit of your stomach, those devilish eyes eating up the scene unfolding before him. “Come on Beel, make her cum already, I’m dying to hear what she sounds like.”

“Would you… shit, I’m gonna cu—ah!“ You miss the way Asmo smirks when you finally fall over that edge of euphoria, your free hand unintentionally grasping his wrist while the other combs through the ginger locks of the demon between your thighs.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let it out.” The Avatar of Lust coos through the height of your orgasm, caressing your hair softly. “Breathe, angel.”

It was forgein, this feeling in your chest. Never before have you experienced such casual voyeurism, and surprisingly you didn’t hate it as much as you thought you would. Maybe it was because you felt so comfortable with them, the power of mutual trust overshadowing your feeble inhibitions.

A bubbly laugh sounds when you’re finally able to think again, body a puddle on the wooden bench, your muscles finally relaxing. “What?” You ask, out of breath.

“Nothing, you’re just cute when you make that face. Isn’t she Beel?”

The man in question finally raises to his feet, lips glossy as he offers you a warm smile. “Of course.” There’s a moment of silence before Beel frowns, nose scrunching with each audible sniff of the air. “What’s that smell?”

“Oh,” Asmo chirps. “You smell it too? It smells like something’s burning. Are you making anything?”

Both you and Beel lock eyes, expressions morphing into ones of fear. “The cake!”

tags: @okhotel, @sakinotfound, @xharia, @hoohoohope

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promisingyounglady · 2 months

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accident. | JP x Reader

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

SYNOPSIS: we all make accidents. javier forgetting to pick you up at the train station was an accident. you forgetting to bring an umbrella was an accident. throwing a knife at your husband? you’re going to have prove that one was an accident to him.

WC: 3.6k

WARNINGS: SMUT, angst, mentions of weapons and knives, reader throws a knife at javier *just read you’ll find out*, implied age gap, established relationship, javier is a bit older than reader, domestic au, slight dom!javi, mentions of food and cooking, profanity, bratty!reader, reader is mean but javier can be meaner, floor sex, creampie, unprotected sex, spanking, handcuffs, cum eating, brief oral (f recieving), slight non-con, rough sex, praise, degradation, post-sex sweetness, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE: obsessed and mentally ill. so here’s slightly dom!javi with a ton of angst

A headache ensues in Javier’s mind.

He tries to combat it with the clouds of smoke rising through the air, the comfortable scent of tobacco and cigarettes filling his nose as he takes a drag from the stick perched in between his blistered fingers, this inhale, longer than the last.

Today had been shit. It really had. All day he had been cooped up in the office with stacks of paperwork almost taller than himself, tossed onto him and Murphy's desk by the higher ups, a high demand for deadlines with their patience being low.

Javier had been sitting in his office for almost seven hours straight, looking at papers with tiny writing and filing reports with pen until sensitive pink blisters formed around a hand that should’ve been driving and carrying a gun today, out in the field on a mission another team had instead been tasked with.

He’s getting old for this stuff, and he knows its true when he feels a strain in his back from shifting in his seat.

Maybe that’s why they shoved the paperwork in the old man’s hands.

Javier leans forward, grabbing his almost empty pack of cigarettes from his desk, deciding a fourth one was necessary for tonight.

“Javier,” a voice calls for him, looking up when he sees the new secretary holding the phone facing her chest. “You’ve got a call”

“From who” he says gruffly, brows furrowed. He lights the cigarette with his lighter, tossing it onto his desk and taking another puff.

“It’s your wife,” The secretary states. “she’s asking what you want for dinner.”

Javier stops in the middle of flicking the ashes, letting the cigarette sit warm in his fingers when he turns his head so he could see her correctly.

Your sweet voice calls out through the receiver, a chill running down Javier's spine when he makes out that it really is you.

“Yeah, Sherry, it’s fine if he’s busy, just let him know I called. Tell him dinner’ll be late tonight, at around 10.” you piped up sweetly, saying goodbye to your husband's secretary before hanging up the call.

She leaves after telling him what he already heard, but Javier is quick to immediately put out the burning cigarette and quickly grab his coat, making his way out the office.

“Peña, Where are you going? We only got a few more stacks left” Murphy calls out, hair in a mess from the many stressful tugs and his own cigarette nestled in between his fingers.

“my wife.” Javier replies, suddenly not liking the bitter taste in his mouth.

“It’s raining outside, you’re gonna get drenched” the blonde tells him, shaking his head as he took a drag from his own cancer stick.

Javier stops in his tracks, looking outside the window to see his partner was right. It was pouring out there, hardly able to even make out the cars in the parking lot.

Him getting wet was the least of his worries. It was you, he was thinking of.

“Fucking hell.”

You set the receiver down on the living room table. The ticking of the clock resonating in the silent house before a sigh finally escaping your lips.

Droplets of rain water cloud your vision, cheeks pink from the cold as water dripped onto your wooden floorboards.

Fists clench and unclench around the handle of the umbrella given to you by an old lady at the train station.

“A girl like yourself shouldn’t be alone in the rain, mija” she insisted, letting you take her frilly umbrella as her son would pick her up shortly.

Javier was supposed to pick you up too.

But after forty minutes of standing out in the rainy weather under a flimsy roof as you waited for his truck to pick you up, you disappointedly caught a taxi and drove home by yourself

You were returning from your visit to your sick grandmother. You were her only granddaughter who she called the week prior, telling you how she missed you and wanted you to visit.

Javier insisted you went, not wanting to hold you back and assured he would come to pick you up at the station after the weekend spent with her.

What a fucking liar, you thought to yourself.

You quickly undressed your wet clothes, the outcome of having to have walked in rain to find an available taxi this evening.

You're curious to see the look on Javier’s face when you make him beg on his knees and ask for forgiveness. Maybe you wouldn’t even kiss him tonight, thinking in silence as you prepared for dinner.

You definitely weren’t trying to think about what an excellent opportunity this was to be a brat.

—

Javier parks into his quiet drive way exactly thirty minutes before 10. That’s thirty minutes of trying to get on your good graces and pray that he wouldn’t be sleeping outside tonight.

When he opens the door to the house, his heart beats fast. Prepared to see you ready to lash out at him, he’s instead surprised with the aromas of spices and your homemade cooking wafting to his nose, unconsciously realizing that he skipped lunch today from how caught up he was with work.

Picking up your wet jacket from the floor, Javier slots his keys and sunglasses in the bowl by the entrance, hanging his own jacket as well before he makes his way quietly to the glowing kitchen.

The stovepot is on a low boil, and he sees you in a long t-shirt, one that you made sure wasn’t his. Your hair is damp, probably from a shower as you swiftly work your hands away in prepping the vegetables.

Javier mumbles quietly in a gruff voice. “You, uh, left your coat on the floor.”

Thwack.

An aggressive chop at the carrots replaces your words, each cut piercing louder like a gunshot ringing in his ears.

“Hermosa, I am so sorry.“ Javier begins sighing because he knows he fucked up real bad this time.

Thwack. You moved onto the chicken meat.

“There’s no excuse baby, I wasn’t keeping track after being cooped up in the office today.” he sighs, brows furrowing as big brown eyes stared into your back.

Thwack. Thwack.

The DEA agent flinches at the sound of the raw chicken being butchered by your swift, angry hands. You’re not facing Javier directly and yet he can already see your glaring eyes. He sighs, not wanting to fight you. He tries to lighten the mood, voice soft as he comments.

“Qué te ha hecho ese pobre pollo”

You don’t reply, let alone acknowledge your husband, continuing to brutally dice the chicken on the cutting board before turning around to wash your hands.

Javier watches you swiftly work in your kitchen, feeling sorry as he still watches you prepare dinner for the two of you after such a long train ride.

He moves forward, rolling his sleeves as he tries to help you . “Querida, I’ll help with the pot-”

The clang of the knife hitting the cutting board echoes in the kitchen, finally looking up to face your husband. Javier leans back, resting against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and gun holsters unremoved after coming home.

You try to ignore how tired he genuinely looks, reminding yourself you were just the same when standing all alone for that one hour.

“Y’know what Javier?” You begin, eyes watering and nose twitching in anger. Javier stays silent, staring at you with sincerity.

“Fuck you” you spit, pointing an accusing finger at the man. “fuck you and your fucking DEA work, Javier”

“Mi-”

“I had to wait forty minutes outside in rainy weather, trying to see if every car passing by would be yours.” you said, voice breaking towards the end. You felt uncomfortable waiting by yourself.

Javier shuts his eyes, forehead wrinkling as he tries to calm you down. He draws your name out in a firm but gentle tone.

You ignore him, replacing his words with your attitude. “You always do this!” you exclaim, voice rising.

“Leaving your wife and family second while you think it’s cool to go and chase criminals while risking your goddamn life.” You mutter, glaring at your husband.

“I didn’t want to leave you at the station all alone, honey. I’ve been sitting at my desk since afternoon drowning in paperwork the higher-ups dumped on us” he presses, eyes sincere but patience wearing thin.

You scoff, shaking your head. “So even stupid paperwork makes you forget your wife.”

Javier pinches his nose bridge, his head pounding as he tries to communicate with you.

You go back to cutting your vegetables, mumbling under your breath. “Who the fuck in Bogotá is giving you credit for slaving away all day trying to catch Escobar, hm?”

The words pierce through Javier’s heart.

Your eyes light up in fake sarcasm. “Oh, I bet it’s the fact that you’re too busy being a fucking doormat to all the younger agents at work aren’t you? What, Murphy said he can’t do his share of the work so he gave you his leftovers?” You spit.

“Hey," Javier snapped, gruffly and darkly. He looked at you, eyes narrowed and dark. "Stop it. I've told you."

Anger gets the best of you as you turn to the cutting board. Grabbing the first thing you saw.

A carrot piece shoots in his way. Javier flinches, the food hitting his chest. Your husband stands there, stunned at his wife’s childish behavior.

“Go fuck yourself, Peña” you say menacingly.

“We don’t throw food in this house, mama” he barks, hands on the hips of his belt, gun and badge tucked in his back. He would never use them on you.

A celery stick slaps Javier in the face this time, making his patience hanging on by a thread even thinner.

Maybe he could whip out the handcuffs.

“Dont you fucking call me that!” you said spitefully, throwing anything and everything you could at the man who dodged your attacks.

“Querida!” Javier raises his voice at you, a growl in his words.

You felt the cold, hard material in your hands for a split second before you’re throwing it at him, almost wondering yourself why you were getting so angry at Javier.

You didn’t want to fight this bad, but at the same time you were sick of watching him work himself to death, forgetting about you. This wasn’t the first time he did something like this.

But you already crossed that line. You both stand in silence, holding your breath as you realized what you threw.

Now it was your turn to fuck things up.

Javier’s lip snarls and his mustache is in a scary frown when he shifts his head.

Only a few inches beside his face lands a dull potato knife, wedged in the kitchen cupboards above. It wouldn’t have worked on anything since it was unsharpened and unused, but the tremendous force you had thrown it with allowed it to have been lodged in the wood.

You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth.

You both watch Javier slowly raise his hand, pulling the knife inches beside his head with ease before tossing it into the sink. The clatter of the metal blade hitting the sink rings in the kitchen. A swarm of guilt fills your chest as you stand still in fear.

“Javi… I-I’m so sorry” you say, heart beating against your chest, cautiously awaiting a reaction from him.

Javier dusts off the carrot peels on his shoulder, watching as his jaw tenses but shoulders relax.

“Come here.” he all but says quietly. You see Javier reaching for his back pocket, taking out his gun and badge and placing it on the counter.

That wasn’t what scared you.

What scared you was then seeing Javier pull out the silver handcuffs lodged in his back pocket. Your eyes widened at the sight of him playing around with them.

“Javi, I’ll go get the-“

“Come. Here.” Javier cuts you off, staring at you with dark eyes.

You swiftly shake your head, refusing to go. “It was an accident!” You exclaimed, dashing out the kitchen as you tried to escape Javier who was hot on your heels.

“Honey.” he says in a not so endearing way, a warning edge to his voice.

Tears littered your cheeks, knowing that you pushed Javier’s limits and that he would really punish you for how bratty you had been tonight.

You gasp, running up the stairs before strong arms encaged your frame, desperately trying to escape before shrieking in surprise as Javier hoisted you over his shoulder, a loud and painful smack being brought down to your ass by his strong hands. You grimaced, helplessly being brought to the kitchen in swift strides.

”It was an accident, I’m sorry, I was just so angry!” You wailed, groaning as your back hit the carpeted floors of your living room. Your vision was hazy, the dizziness getting to you as you saw Javier leave the room into the kitchen, and come back a few moments later. This time, he was unbuttoning his shirt, his forest of chest hair and strong muscles peeking through.

Javier took a deep breath, eying the way your t-shirt had hiked all the way up so your panties were showing. Your hair spread around your head like a halo, and he noticed how you clenched your thighs together in vulnerability.

“Some accidents need to be punished, baby” he muttered darkly.

You sobbed softly, nose red as you turned your head to the side, looking away from Javi’s menacing look. He didn’t mind, he knew once he was done messing with you, you would be clawing at his chest, begging him to fuck you properly while looking into his eyes. Javier leans down at your level, crawling on your body so he was on top and you were trapped on the bottom. He rips your t-shirt off of you, leaving you in your bare state with panties flimsy enough he could rip them with his teeth. Not today though, he had other things in mind.

He coos at your weak state, dropping his head so he could press a kiss to your sensitive neck, giving a small nip that made you yelp. Two large hands come to play with your nipples, pulling each one hard in between his fingers as you moaned hysterically.

“What did I say about being fucking mean?” He says roughly. He inhales your scent, smelling a sweet sense of fear.

“Carino,” a warm voice calls out, you can feel the grin spreading on Javier’s face. You cry in a mix of pain and pleasure when he flips you on your tummy, cheek pressing against the rough carpet material as Javier slots his hard member encased in his jeans, right by the curve of your ass.

“Answer me, mama”

A clinking of metal makes you cry out in protest. No, you wanted to say, feeling Javier cuff you behind your back like you were one of his petty drug thiefs. But a slap to your ass cheek makes you gasp, eyes shutting as Javier pulls your panties off.

”Being mean gets me punished” you responded softly, a pool of desire aching in your folds as you almost tutted your ass up to show him you were ready. “I’m sorry, Javier” you sniffled quietly, hoping he would hear.

Javier laughs, cocking his head to the side as one hand groped the flesh of your bum, and the other undid his belt buckle. The sound makes your mouth water, wondering if he’ll let you suck him off too for forgiveness.

“So you do know how to be nice?” He groans, giving you no time before his hard members penetrates your entrance, head turning back and eyes rolling when you clenched around his dick so well. “Javier!” You screamed, eyes rolling back in pleasure from the strong stretch.

Your arms ached, desperate for release so you could brace yourself against the floor for every hard thrust your husband would give you.

“Listen carefully, querida” he moans into your ear, humping you as you moaned loudly. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let me fill you up, alright?” When there was no answer, he slapped your cheek again, this time echoing throughout the living room and leaving a red splotch on your ass. “Answer me.” He growled, patience growing thin from your pathetic wailing.

You grit your teeth, hating the fact that you were supposed to be mad at Javier for forgetting about you, and yet here you were receiving back shots with a stinging red ass.

”Yes, Javier” you said back, feeling his girth stretch your walls.

”Good. And once I’m done fucking my pretty wife, you’re gonna suck me off like you mean it. That sounds good mi amor?”

You nodded in return, eyes shut and panting like a slut from the feeling of Javier slowing down his thrusts, deepening every stroke.

“Yes, Javier” you repeated.

He smiled, kissing your neck sweetly, contrasting his hip movements. “Thank you, mama” he replied, cherishing your sweet moans and gasps as he went at a deeper, harder pace.

It’s delirious, the whole situation. You feel as though you’re on cloud nine with the way Javier is so possessive of you, caging you like a butterfly in his garden with the apple of desire.

You felt sinful. You felt glorious. You needed his release to fill you up so badly.

“Javi…” you muttered, tits starting to get carpet burn from being fucked against the ground.

“I know mama, you’re doing so good for me. Taking your lesson so well” he groans, sweat beading at his forehead.

You were aching and begging for orgasm, but feeling Javier rut into you so passionately made it all worth it. It dissolved any anger, any resentment from earlier because you knew how good he could take care of you.

“You’re so fucking mean sometimes, you know that?” he tells you, brows furrowed and concentrated on fucking the daylights out of you. You could feel the handprints marking your hips, wondering how many of Javier’s marks would be on you tomorrow morning.

“I know” you sigh, feeling a slap come down on your ass as you groan louder.

“You’re so fucking stubborn sometimes, you know that too?” you pant, squirming under your cuffs. Javier shudders, your walls sucking him a little too well.

“I know.” He says back gruffly.

Javier feels the knot untying in his stomach, too late to tell you verbally as you felt his warm seed leak inside, cumming first.

“Merida”

You were also close, loving how despite already coming, Javier was fucking you so that you could cum too.

”I’m gonna” you pant, forgetting to finish your words as you felt hot liquid threatening to spill from every stroke he made in your hole.

Javier whispers, pressing ticklish kisses from his mustache to your bare shoulder. “Cum on my cock, baby, you know what to do” he muttered, both of you groaning loudly as both your releases became mixed inside you.

“Oh fuck, Javi!” you scream, hair a mess and pussy aching.

You feel dizzy, used but happy, shivering as a large sludge of your cum spills out and drips down your thigh to the carpet.

Javier is quick to lap you up with his tongue, slotting his face in your ass as he filthily cleans you up.

“Can you get these off me, please?” you ask him meekly, relishing the feeling of your sensitive wrists when they touch the cool air.

Your husband presses a kiss to each one, marking your ass and shoulders with playful hickeys and bruises.

You both catch your breath for a moment, Javier turning you over so you were facing the ceiling, your sensitive tits perking up.

It’s all so sudden but before you two realize it, you’re latching onto each other immediately, hungrily sharing a kiss as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Hermosa,” he tries to begin, before being shushed by you, pulling him back in to lovingly kiss your husband.

Sure, rough sex was great, but god did you love just kissing Javier absentmindedly. You had to touch each other, kiss each other, that was how you two made up.

“Lo siento, hermosa” he sighs, wanting to get lost in your embrace. You smile, knowing that Javier is sincere. “Me too.” You reply, voices hushed as it was now later in the night, the neighbors probably aware of what had happened next door. A moment passes.

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to suck you off?” you asked innocently, gazing up at Javier as your head rested on his chest.

He grins, softly whispering a later as he played with your hair, cock soft against his thigh as your leg nudges it playfully.

He growls, nipping your ear. “Behave” he says firmly, cheeks rosy. This time you listen.

“Who picked you up today then if I didn’t come?” Javi asks, reaching over to wrap a blanket around you two near the fireplace.

You smile, knowing that you can’t always listen to Javier’s warnings. “Just some cute young taxi driver. Asked me for my number y’know” you grinned.

Javier looks down, eyes darkening as he mutters softly. “Unless you’re gonna be a brat again, you better watch yourself” he reaches for your mound, cupping you softly so you moan in pleasure, still sensitive from the previous activities. He hoists you above his stomach, feeling your nails scratch his pudge and bend down as you give him a kiss. “I’m just messing with you” you giggle, a familiar feeling coming back when his bare cock is nestled by your thighs. “He was old. A grandpapi” you said, feeling his hands roam the flesh of your ass.

You press a hand against Javier’s chest, giggling as you peck his jawline. He rolls his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist instinctively.

“I missed you.” he mutters, feeling you up.

You smile, remembering how warm it is on top of your husband before you shut your eyes softly.“Me too.”

You look up, apologizing to him. “Sorry for almost stabbing you with that knife”

You feel the vibrations and sounds of a loud chuckle, Javier holding on to you. “It was an accident” you mumble, circling shapes on his skin. He knows.

You make up for it by leaning in, pressing kisses under the shell of his ear. Whispering how you’ll let him stuff his cock in your mouth again to get even.

Fuck it, he thinks. He’d let you kill him anyday.

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