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devilmademewriteit · 11 months

Note

thinking about jealous reader and jealous javi

Jealous Girl

gif via @javier-pena

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

warnings: roughy sex/smut (fem penetration) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; dirty talk; jealous!reader; jealous!javi; sort of dom!javi; allusions to reader having long-ish hair; pet names (baby, babygirl, hermosa, cariño); slut-shaming (reader uses the word ‘whore’); dubcon (no explicit consent, Javi is… forceful).

no use of y/n in this fic

thx 4 the drabble / short fic request!! once again this is FERAL !!! feel free to keep sending me lil drabble requests. they’re so fun to write while I work on my longer fics.

reminder that I am not using the taglist for these, but you can turn on notifs & join the list in my pinned post for my longer works !

-em <3

—

“You broke it off with me, baby, remember?”

What does it matter? What does it matter when you lock eyes with him getting head in his car, parked in some barely-hidden side-street, one block away from your dad’s salsamentaria?

What does it matter when, ten minutes later, he finds you, alone in the back room of the store, forcing back tears of frustration as your shaking hands busy themselves with fresh inventory?

You spin around, prepared to bark curses at him for trespassing into sacred, employee-only territory. He’s leaning against the door, beige suit-jacket a little roughed-up, hair slightly out of place.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying your freedom,” you reply coolly, mirroring his pose against the far wall.

He smiles. You’d known him long enough to recognize that condescending expression — the wolfish twitch of his mustache.

Toying with you for sport.

“And you’re not?” Javi asks, the casual raise of his eyebrows deceptive compared to the darkness overtaking his gaze. “Everybody’s seen you, y’know, leaving bars half-naked with guys twice your age.”

Always an opportunist, the agent pushes on, taking advantage of your stunned silence. “N’ you used to be so shy, babygirl.” A chuckle. “The fuck did I do to you, huh?”

You stammer, wanting to tear into him for his crudeness (though he was right — mixing the breakup with tequila hadn’t failed to strip you of your inhibitions), but the man denies you the chance, gliding forward in a slow, wide step.

Softly. “You wear my gifts for them? Let ‘em fuck you in all those lil’ lace sets I got for you?”

He’s close now, and you’re beginning to see red. This was part of the reason behind the break-up in the first place — neither of you knew how to manage overwhelming care without dousing it in cruelty.

Those long-awaited fighting words finally manage to breach the threshold of your lips. “Yeah, actually, I do,” you drawl, arousal levelled by a red-hot rage coiling tighter and tighter within you, “Ruined a couple pairs.”

“Bullshit.” His consonants slice through his vowels, accusatory and harsh. “Bet that pussy doesn’t even get wet after bein’ trained by me, does it?”

Try not to choke on your snarl, girl. “‘Least I don’t have to get head a block down from my ex’s shop — z’that the only way you can still get hard, Peña?” You muster up a daring smirk, shouldering his challenge head-on. “Hoping you’ll see me walk by so you can finish inside your whore?”

Bull’s eye.

“Don’t act like you give a single fuck where I’m gettin’ my dick wet, cariño.” Every inch of him bristles something fierce, but with skill and practice, he keeps his anger in check — maintains the upper hand — looming over you to consecrate the threat.

“Just pissed that I’m fuckin’ another bitch’s throat when we both know that’s what yours’s made for, right?”

The coil snaps.

Before you can stop it, your hand is in the air, gunning straight for the tan skin over his cheekbone.

In a blink, he’s strangling your wrist, holding back your palm from making punishing contact. The following pause is thick and heavy, quickly overflowing with Javi’s rage-soaked hunger. Dark and dangerous, the man hones in on your glare—

And speaks, voice low.

“Y’know, I let her swallow my load—”

“Let go of me.”

“—but you can take the next one.”

And then he flips you over, brushing off your indignant whine, flattening your back against his chest. Javi is strong (he always has been) and there’s no point in resisting (there never was). He’s unzipped himself, hiked your skirt up, wrenched your panties to the side and forced himself inside you in a matter of seconds.

Dear God, forgive me for getting my fix.

A big hand wraps around your throat while unforgiving arms form a prison around your body. He tilts your head back to face him, savouring your tightness, your suffering, and the strangled moan of pleasure dripping from your lips with his hips’ every rough throw.

“Always gonna belong to me, huh?”

His whisper settles over your skin, heightening that already-unbearable bliss. Your muddled mind and slackened mouth scramble to form words beyond full full full, yes yes yes.

“F-fuck you, Peña—” you spit through clenched teeth, squeezing your eyes shut in concentration. You fingertips grow sore, pressed to bruise along his forearms. “You’re worse than me—you-you know it.”

Javi responds with a tightened grasp and diligent, skilled digits falling to manhandle your clothed breasts. “Yeah, fuck you, too—” and it’s strained, etched with long-awaited relief, “—fuckin’ spoiled—jealous brat.”

An all-encompassing jolt to your system — he’s found that aching bundle. He carves words into your sensitive clit: you were never going to be anything but mine, mine, mine. The arch in your spine deepens; the back of your head falls helplessly against his collarbone. And despite yourself — despite his venom — you grin, catching the broken hallelujah underpinning every vowel, every touch of his desperate, repressed desire.

It’s a symphony you both sing, a thought hanging so heavy in the room it almost becomes a tangible part of your filthy entanglement.

“If I can’t have you, baby, no one else in this world can.”

—

#javier peña x you #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier peña x female reader #javier pena smut #javier peña narcos #javier peña fic #javier pena x y/n #javier peña x y/n #narcos fanfiction #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal x you #em’s answering machine <3

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oliviajdjarin · 5 months

Text

Javier Pena: Blowing Off Steam

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Summary: During one of the most important meetings of his career, Javier is relentlessly distracted by the drive over.

Excerpt: "That's the spot, isn't it hermosa?" he said into your ear. The smell of your sweat mixed with your perfume as well as the small groans you were releasing only spurred him on more. "Think you're in control, thought you had me."

Your eyes fluttered closed and your jaw began to tremble, digging your nails into his bulging biceps seemed to be the only thing giving you any sort of relief.

Neither of you heard the partition clicking shut.

He smiled at your state, kissing the crown of your head. "You do have me, cielo. But tonight I have you."

Warnings: making out, heavy touching, smutty smut smut, dirty talk, my attempt at Spanish, unestablished relationship, swearing, italicized=flashback/past, I am positive this doesn't actually work with canon, Javier is a simp.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: I don't really know what to say besides I missed this with every part of me. Please enjoy this brain rot that has gotten me through the last three months.

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

General Masterlist

(gif from pinterest you cannot convince me that isn't a hickey on his neck bfibrifbiri)

Javier's taste buds were coated with a delightfully devilish mix of Cheval Blanc and red lipstick as he sucked in your heated breaths.

Your thighs fit so fucking perfectly in his hands as he gave them a squeeze. Your bare, sweaty skin squeaked against the leathered seats in response.

"Javi," you whined, and he shushed you gently. The streetlights passing by illuminated your smooth skin like music, and he was tempted to pull away only to stare at you.

Another whimper from your swollen mouth persuaded him against it.

He moved his teeth down your throat, pulling you impossibly closer to him. He could feel the heat of your core against him as you began to grind into him slightly, god did it make his lower stomach pulse.

He switched to the left side of your neck, pushing you against the car door ever so slightly as he cut his vision to the driver. The man's bald head had remained facing forward, his skin a deep tan. He figured limo drivers had to deal with this sort of bullshit all the time. A part of him enjoyed the fact that another man was learning just how liquid you were for him.

A bigger part of him fucking hated it.

It was this millisecond of inner turmoil that gave you the upper hand - pulling his mouth from your throat and bringing it to your own, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, sliding your hand down his pants, tracing his happy trail as your fingers cupped him so fucking flawlessly -

"Agent?"

Javier sucked in a breath. His palms had practically soaked through the menu in his hands.

"Ye-yes?" he said, clearing his throat.

The Colonel scoffed. "Your head is not where your heart is, Peña."

"Fuck off," he whispered back, and stuck his nose back into the menu.

Carillo had called a meeting about a possible promotion for Javi, suggesting he was "too acquainted" with the night life of Colombia to be sitting at a desk all day. He felt Javi was needed on the ground, working within the system than around it. A true DEA agent, rather than a glorified secretary.

Hence whatever the fuck this dinner was.

Javi was surrounded by his superiors, men and women he had never seen nor met before, as well as what had to be hundreds of dollars in booze. The menu before him had words he had never even heard of before, as well as prices that seemed to stretch off the page if he unfocused his eyes.

He was the furthest out of his comfort zone that he could have ever imagined, while consecutively borderline emotional at the favor Carillo was doing for him. He was dealing with more emotions than he had allowed himself to in years.

You had looked too pretty that night not to blow off some steam.

-he could have come right then and there. He felt your smile against his lips as he jumped at the feeling, before practically melting into your hands. He could barely kiss you through his panting.

"Sensitive," you whispered as you dragged your teeth down his jawline, paying particular attention to the crease between his bone and his neck. The two of you had done this enough for you to know all his weak spots.

He gripped the fabric of your dress as you did before sliding his hands underneath it, resting his hands on your ribcage. You sighed at the feeling.

"I'm sensitive?" he whispered, moving his hands all the way up to cup your breasts. You tucked your face more into his neck as he did, but continued to trace his head and dick. This flipped the switch on him once again, chills etching themselves down his spine, and a renewed heat boiling his organs -

Javier came back to a woman whose name he had long forgotten asking him a question he absolutely did not hear.

But, he flashed his charming smile anyway.

"Yes ma'am," he said, and despite the woman's efforts, a faint blush crawled up her neck.

"And what makes you say that?" she said in reply.

He could feel Carillo's smile.

"Just a gut feeling," Javier said, and to his surprise, she smiled.

-that finally caused something in him to ignite. He felt out of body, watching himself as if from he was a fly on the ceiling remove his dominant hand from your breast and bring it between your legs. He only took a few seconds to enjoy the wetness that had culminated there before he teased your opening.

Your jaw fell open, giving him ample opportunity to stick his tongue down your throat as he finally fingered you up to the knuckle.

Your body convulsed against him, any and all air escaping your lungs the very second he began to pump in and out of you. It was messy, it was desperate, but god was it everything -

"And how exactly was that handled, Agent...." the man paused, before snapping his fingers in recognition. "Peña. Agent Peña."

Javier swallowed. "Well, we could never have pulled it off without the Colonel, as well as our other agents."

Javier had never spoken so out of his ass in his life.

"I was just a puzzle piece," he said before taking another sip of his bourbon.

The man appeared partially pleased, but unconvinced.

"And how exactly do you plan on being less of a puzzle piece going forward, Mr. Peña?" The man said this as he leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands onto the table.

Every eye at this goddamn table was on him, and for some reason, it made him think of you once again. The way you would whisper in his ear. Your unwillingness to appear afraid. You had told him once you couldn't afford to look afraid in a city like Bogotà.

"It's better to look stupid than afraid. It would eat me fucking alive," you had said.

He decided to take a page out of your book for once.

"I plan on being the person placing the pieces, sir," Javier said. "I can only do that by being more active in the streets. Fieldwork, groundwork, whatever you want to call it."

Javier leaned forward, mimicking the man's position almost exactly.

"How else can I see the full picture?" he asked.

The man's skin was as red as his wine, while his colleagues were as shined as gold.

-and more, prompting Javier to do what he seemed incapable to avoid doing whenever he was with you: lose complete control of his mouth.

"That's the spot, isn't it hermosa?" he said into your ear. The smell of your sweat mixed with your perfume as well as the small groans you were releasing only spurred him on more. "Think you're in control, thought you had me."

Your eyes fluttered closed and your jaw began to tremble, digging your nails into his bulging biceps seemed to be the only thing giving you any sort of relief.

Neither of you heard the partition clicking shut.

He smiled at your state, kissing the crown of your head. "You do have me, cielo. But tonight I have you."

You rocked up and down onto his fingers, whining into his ear as he used his middle finger to pump, and his thumb to caress your clit. He took the one he had around your neck down to your thigh, tracing the muscles, invigorating what you were already feeling between your thighs. It rose up and up to your breasts, forcing you to cup and play with them.

He smiled again, removing the hand from your thigh to bring it up to one of your breasts. He fondled one, while you fondled the other.

"Didn't know you could get this bothered from just my ha-"

"Shut the fuck up," you said and kissed him so hard your teeth clashed -

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Agent Peña," said the blushing woman from before. "I look forward to working with you in the future."

Javier was no dummy. He could very easily read between the lines of what she was implying. However, due to how much he could not get his mind off of you - despite the fact that he finally got the job he had been dreaming about since he was a little kid - he had a feeling that he would only disappoint.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, and shook her hand firmly.

He said his goodbyes to his superiors before following Carillo outside the restaurant. The two men sat there, waiting for their individual limos to arrive.

Where the DEA got the money for shit like this, Javier had no idea.

Carillo patted Javier on the back in congratulations, which was more affection that Javier had ever seen the man give to his own wife, and Javier gave him a nod in return.

It was then that Carillo began to chuckle.

"Cual es tu problema?" Javier asked, slightly aggitated.

Carillo shook his head. "You could have at least attempted to hide your way of blowing off steam, Pena," he said, gesturing to his own neck.

Javier must have reddened, because Carillo only laughed harder.

-so hard he was shocked one didn't chip. The two of you stayed that way for some - grinding and kissing and pulling at each other - before the limo finally pulled up to his destination.

You pulled away from him as you felt the limo lurch into park. You looked behind him, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the restaurant Javier would be dining at. You then smiled at him, wiping at his face and his hair, as well as straightening out his lapel.

"You should have warned me," you said to him, "I would have gone easier."

He smiled. "No, you wouldn't."

You smiled back, giving him one last kiss. It was deep, but deep in a way that meant more than goodbye. He couldn't afford to look more into it than that.

"Good luck," you whispered, and he nodded before exiting the vehicle. He saw you wipe at your own face through the window, as well as give the driver your address.

He watched you drive away, his heart shifting from a delightful flutter to an anxious one.

He watched his limo pull up behind Carillo's, sucking in the last of the chilled night air.

"Good luck, Peña," Carillo said as he walked to his car, a slight slur in his voice from all the bourbon. "Go and fucking celebrate."

Javier grinned as he opened his limo's door, exhaling in relief at his prayers of having a different driver being answered. The driver didn't even turn around as he said in a thick Colombian accent, "Where to?"

Javier knew exactly where he was headed.

He was going to fucking celebrate.

Tag list: (if you would like to be added please let me know :)

@lovesbiggerthanpride @paintlavillered @xocalliexo @c4psicle @joelsflannel @thesmutslut @untitledarea @daphne-turner @queerponcho @leahkenobi

#javier pena smut #javi #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #din djarin x reader #the last of us fanfiction

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senorabond · 7 months

Text

Rumor Has It (Peña x f!reader x Pike)

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 1 Summary: You've recently transferred from a promising job in D.C. to Texas when DEA Special Agent Javier Peña approaches you with his current case. Rumor has it you have an in with the FBI art crimes unit, and the DEA could use your skills and connections on a suspected narcos money laundering case. You need to do well on this case to prove yourself, but you're not sure Marcus Pike will even help after the way you left.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Mature-to-Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex and masturbation (f), previous sexual relationship, office romance, references to gossip and slut shaming, sexist/patriarchal bullshit, daydreaming about "little Peña"

Reader/Character Notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.4k

a/n: I started writing this thinking it'd be a quick and dirty PWP, but then the plot took over and I'm not sorry. Time/setting is pretty loose. This wasn't "officially" beta'd - all errors and weird formatting are my own. However, a very special thanks and kisses for @azure-waves and @kilamonster for reading early versions of this! 😘 Additional author's notes at the end.

Masterlist

Rumor Has It: Chapter One

Javier Peña thinks he’s hot shit. He struts about the office like he runs the place and conducts briefings like he's holding his own personal court. It'd be easier to chalk it up to pure ego and ignore him if he didn't actually have such an impressive resume to back it up. Unfortunately, that means putting up with yet another cocksure male flirting and fucking his way through the office your respective agencies share. At least he's easy on the eyes.

Since moving to Houston six months ago for a new position with the U.S. Customs and Border Protection, you'd clocked at least four broken hearts in Agent Peña's wake. In his defense, there are far more smiles than tears in the women's restroom when his name comes up in whispered conversation. You haven't heard this much gossip about a single guy since your senior year of high school when it was rumored that three cheerleaders got knocked up by the same football player as a pregnancy pact. For the record, only two girls were actually pregnant, and the alleged father ran off with the team’s water boy a few years out of college. They made a cute couple.

Favorite topics of conversation among Peña's admirers are his tight pants, who he's purportedly slept with, how good he must be in the sack, and contending reports of how big his dick actually is. Just that day you overheard one guy in the breakroom swear to a colleague that he'd seen ‘little Peña’ twitch while the DEA agent was briefing the latest developments in his investigation. You barely managed to hide your snort in your coffee, but had to admit the mental image was intriguing.

While not morally opposed to sleeping with somebody in the same office (that'd make you a hypocrite), you personally wouldn't want to risk the potential fallout of fooling around with someone as high profile as Agent Peña. The unfortunate reality is that women always bear the brunt of those consequences, and you aren't interested in putting your career on the line for a good dicking. As much as you may desperately need one.

You'd been out a few times since moving to the area, but calling those disasters “dates” would be too generous. One such encounter seemed like it was going well, until the guy answered a call from his mother, got into a shouting match with her over the phone, then cried over the bread basket. You promptly excused yourself and blocked his number from the cab ride home.

Since that night, the only dates you’d had were with some quality home entertainment and your trusty vibrator. The Magic Wand hadn’t failed you yet. Last night you enjoyed a delicious orgasm while watching a particularly excellent video featuring two men worshiping a woman’s body. That lucky bitch. It’d been way too long since you’d gotten laid, and it was starting to take its toll. Even with the regular, self-attained orgasms, you'd begun losing focus at work. Your mind frequently wanders into sexy daydreams about impossible scenarios in the war room.

At your desk, you think back to what the guy said in the breakroom about little Peña and giggle to yourself. That'd be a sight to see, and would certainly liven up a boring case briefing. Your thoughts drift, and a fantasy begins to take shape.

Agent Peña stands at the end of the conference table, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. One hand on his hip holds his charcoal suit jacket back; the other gestures behind him to the slides displaying the latest developments in his investigation. The lights are dimmed but his signature tight pants don’t leave much to the imagination. Your gaze takes him in slowly, lazily almost. Expressive eyebrows give way to deep set brown eyes. An aquiline nose slopes to meet his trademark mustache, and his lips make the perfect pout as he speaks. The broad motherfucker has a chest and shoulders for days, and his neck is almost too big for his collared shirt. When he moves his arms, the sleeves of his suit jacket are drawn tighter around his biceps. Down, down your eyes go, over the plane of his abdomen, past the unobtrusive belt buckle, and settle on the obvious bulge down the left side of his crotch. You can’t help but admire the outline of Peña’s cock; it twitches, and saliva floods your mouth as you squeeze your thighs tightly, your body responding of its own accord. Agent Peña’s timbre changes and you realize he’s said your name - you look up at him like a deer in headlights. “Like what you see?”

You hear your name again, but his mouth hasn't moved beyond a knowing smirk…

“Hel-lo?” You shake yourself out of your daydream only to realize somebody has actually been saying your name.

To your abject horror, the real Javier Peña stands next to your desk, a manila folder in his hands and a quizzical brow lifted in your direction.

“What? Yeah? What do you want?”

The questions fly out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. To further your mortification, you can feel heat blooming across your chest and face. He knows - he has to know - what is going through your head. Someone must have turned on the heat in the building, it's sweltering all of a sudden.

Peña shifts his weight onto his left leg, his right knee bent slightly. “I’m Javier Peña with the DEA -”

“I know.” Again, with the blurting.

“Right.” He works his jaw slightly. “I was told you were the one to come talk to.”

You focus on the manila folder in his hands and refuse to let your traitorous eyes dip any lower. They're just hands, for Christ’s sake. Large, strong hands.

“Yeah? About what?” Is your voice breathier than usual?

Peña fidgets with the folder, then leans over and drops it in front of you. His thumb swipes at the corner of his mouth and he places both hands on his hips. There’s an agitated tension in his stance, and he shifts from foot to foot like a horse ready to bolt.

“You’re with Customs,” he says, as though his meaning was obvious.

It's your turn to lift a brow at him.

“Yep. That I am.”

It’s easier to pull yourself together with something tangible in front of you to focus on. You flip the folder open and start leafing through its contents. There are copies of bank transactions, transcripts from what you assume are wiretaps, and surveillance photos featuring two Latino men in well tailored suits outside a storefront, one of them holding a briefcase. This was business, this was work – you could do this.

Peña clears his throat and smoothes down his mustache, the fingers of his left hand drumming on his hip. You wonder if he’s always this twitchy or if something could be making him nervous.

“My investigation is centered around these two men,” he waves a hand vaguely at the photos. “They run the stateside money laundering operations for some heavy cartel hitters, but they like to throw in some legitimate business dealings as well just to muddy the waters.”

He pauses to clear his throat.

“Uh huh…,” you prompt, looking up in time to see him tugging at his fitted collar. This was starting to get interesting. It’s obvious he came over to ask for your help with his case, but he seems to be doing everything he can to avoid saying those three little words, ‘I need help.’ What a typical man.

Leaning back in your chair with the folder and its contents in hand, you find it much easier to take in the man standing before you. It's no longer like staring into the sun, however sexy that sun may be. The Great Javier Peña, reduced to an average fed. You can’t help but be a bit disappointed.

Peña sucks in a breath like he's going to keep speaking, then wordlessly proffers his hand to ask for the folder. You pass it back into his hands and keep your expression neutral. Flipping through the photos, he finds what he's looking for and places it on your desk.

“That was taken outside an art gallery in Dallas. I think they know we’re closing in on some of their more lucrative sources of income and are trying something new.”

You look more closely at the photo in front of you and nod. “Art classes?” The second the joke leaves your mouth you cringe inwardly. Peña’s jaw twitches as his eyebrows scowl a fraction of an inch closer. Not the time or place.

“The gallery is run by a couple in their sixties, Frank and Harriet Mansford. I think they’re working with these guys to make some kind of art deal.” You gesture to the chair opposite your desk and he accepts the invitation to sit down.

“So, tell me, Agent Peña – where exactly does Customs come in? How do I fit into this picture?” Leaning forward, elbows propped on your desk, you fix Peña with what you hope is a confident stare. His fingers worry over the corner of his chair’s armrest.

“Narcos have gotten more sophisticated in their laundering operations, but this wouldn’t be the first time they’ve used art sales to clean their money.” His gaze is steady, but his fingers continue on their restless path.

“Unless they’re smuggling stolen goods into or out of the country–”

“They are,” Peña interjects. “I believe they are.” He lets out a frustrated breath. “I don’t have the evidence yet, but I’ve already been looking into this gallery. They specialize in European art – so they’re likely getting at least some of it from abroad. And an international sale would make the paper trail harder to follow.”

“As long as they’re legitimately purchasing or selling the artwork–” You hold up a calming hand as the agent makes to interrupt again. “Agent Peña, I’d like to help, but unless their crimes touch the border, it’s out of my jurisdiction.”

“I know. But that’s not the only reason I’m talking to you.” Peña takes a deep breath like he's gearing up for something and you brace yourself.

“I don’t know anything about art, ma’am.” He gives you the closest thing to a self-deprecating grin you think he’s capable of. “I’ve been trying to get the FBI’s art squad on this, but I can’t even get someone to take my calls – I don’t have an in.” He glances surreptitiously to see if anybody else is in earshot.

Your gut does an anxious flip. Please, don't let this be going where you think it’s going. He licks his lips and hesitates, avoiding your eyes.

“Word is you might know somebody in D.C.”

Your heart stutters. Shit.

Sounds like Peña isn’t the only subject of rumors around here.

---

Great, just great. You left D.C. to get away from people treating you differently because of who you choose to sleep with, but it looks like the rumors followed you all the way to fucking Texas.

You take a good, hard look at the man sitting across from you. For a moment, you seriously consider telling him he can go fuck himself. While social blackmail isn’t something you’re willing to tolerate after everything you’ve done to start fresh, you don’t want to miss your first real opportunity to get involved in a case since arriving in Texas. Javier Peña may be a god amongst mere mortals in this town – you’d learned enough about his career to know it wasn’t all bullshit – but you weren’t going to let him get away with using you for your contacts at the FBI. Well, contact – singular.

“The ‘word’ is?” You quote back at him icily. “And what word is that, Agent Peña?” Leaning back in your chair, you cock your head to the side a bit and rest your elbows on the arm rests. His mustache twitches the slightest bit at this change in your body language and tone of voice, but he doesn’t respond. You might be overplaying your hand here, but you’ll take that risk to find out how far he’s willing to go with this approach. Not wanting to be the first to break, you let the uncomfortable silence stretch.

Right when you start to think you’ve missed the mark and he’s going to walk away without another word, he nods, eyes never leaving yours. Mirroring your pose, he tents his fingers and licks his lips again. You force yourself not to look at his mouth.

“I’m not stupid,” he states. Here it comes. “I know what people say about me around here.”

Wait, what? Schooling your features, you decide to see how this plays out.

“I know you haven’t been here very long, but I’m sure you’ve heard some of the office gossip already.” He shifts in his seat and hikes his pant legs up, casually propping one ankle on a knee. You pride yourself on not looking at his crotch.

At that moment, a woman walks by your desk and gives the two of you a thorough once over. You stare her down until she meets your eyes, the smirk forming on her lips immediately dying. She scurries away and you turn back to find Peña giving you a bit of a smirk, and a certain glint appears in his eyes.

“Agent Peña–”

“Javi, please.” The balls on this guy.

“Agent,” you repeat purposefully, “I’m not sure what, if anything, you know about me.” You pause to take a steadying breath, but Peña continues in earnest.

“I know you worked with the FBI art squad on a number of cases during your time in D.C. that resulted in the arrest of several high-profile members of a forgery ring smuggling pieces into the country for sale on the black market.”

You blink. That wasn’t what you were expecting. At all.

He keeps talking. “But that was only in the last year or so. Before that, you worked your way up as a field agent and investigator at major ports of entry, developing a specialty in high-value contraband.” Peña slowly runs his palms over his thighs; the man is in perpetual motion.

As you listen to Javi rattle off various highlights and accolades that sound like they came directly from your personnel file, you notice the change in his demeanor and tone. He speaks matter-of-factly like he’s reciting a brief, but there’s a hint of something else in his tone besides simple curiosity.

“And then you landed the D.C. assignment. From what I hear, you could’ve been running that unit in a few years, but instead you took a boring ass admin job out here.” He gestures vaguely around you. This is where he’s comfortable – when he’s the one in charge, telling you what’s what.

“You’ve sure heard a lot about me, Agent Peña.” Your tone is cool and measured.

“Why?” He leans forward and braces his elbows on spread knees. His piercing eyes level with yours, pupils wide and locked in.

“‘Why’ what?”

“Why’d you leave D.C.?”

A glance out to the common area nearby confirms there’s nobody within earshot, but you still lower your voice when you say, “You already seem to know everything there is about me.” Pausing, you feel your pulse flutter in your neck. “I would think you’ve heard that part as well.”

He’s testing you. That’s how guys like him operate. They pin you down to see if you’ve got enough in you to fight back. Fighting back is what earns their respect. The smile Peña gives you is subtle, edging on mischievous.

“I’ve heard plenty on that topic,” he confirms with a gentle nod. “There are a few prevailing theories.” He counts off the rumors on his fingers and glances up to see your reactions to each.

Pissed off the wrong politician is met with an eye roll.

Moved here for a boyfriend – “...or girlfriend?” Javi checks – earns an exasperated sigh.

“You fucked your way around–” Javi stops abruptly when an indignant sound escapes your mouth. This reaction sends Javi’s eyebrows dancing.

Kicking yourself, you decide there’s only one course of action: honesty. Keeping your voice low, you lean over your desk and Javi follows until your faces are barely a foot apart. You force yourself to look directly into his eyes as you say your piece.

“I didn’t ‘fuck my way around’ anything. Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I had a consensual relationship that never once interfered with our professional conduct or the work at hand. Got it?” Javi doesn’t speak, but there’s a glint in his eyes as they roam over your stony expression, lips pursed in a contemplative pout.

“Once the rumor mill starts, it’s only a matter of time before the woman is left to deal with the consequences – not that I’d expect you to care about such things.” You practically spit the last words out before you can stop yourself.

The air stills between you. Peña nods as if to himself, then leans even closer, until you can smell his spicy cologne. “Let’s set the record straight about one thing right now, Agent.”

You swallow thickly and look anywhere but at his eyes – the long line of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the stubble on his cheek. His voice drops into a deeper register when he says, “I don’t give a shit who you choose to fuck or not – as long as it doesn’t get in the way of me getting the job done. We’re all adults here and can make our own grown-up choices.” He raises a finger, and points first to you, then himself as he speaks. “My one rule is: I don’t judge you, you don’t judge me.”

He pauses, giving you a second’s reprieve. “Are we on the same page now?”

You nod once, gritting your teeth at his condescending tone. Back in a normal register he says, “Good. Now about this investigation of mine…”

Peña retreats and gestures at the case documents underneath where your arms were folded on top of your desk. You look down, having almost forgotten his whole reason for being here in the first place.

“Agent Peña…” you start, and again, he interrupts.

“Please, I asked you to call me Javi.” The fucker winks at you – winks.

“Javi,” you grind out, playing his game. “I don’t know what you think I can do for you, unless this whole thing is to try and get me to –”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” His voice is a rumble in his chest. “Don’t insult me like that, and don’t insult yourself.” Javi points at the desk. “I came here asking for help because you’re a damn good agent with experience in this shit. If you want to show this office that you’re not going to back down from another fight just because some dickless piss-ant is spreading rumors, this is your chance.”

You let his words sink in and hate that he’s right. You did back down from the fight in D.C., the second it got difficult. Your pride was wounded and you ran away with your tail between your legs at the first opportunity. With a steadying breath, you sigh and start organizing the documents and photos.

“I’ll take a look at everything and see what I can come up with.” Peña begins to stand, and you cut in, “But I can’t promise I can get you in with the FBI.”

You haven’t spoken to Special Agent Marcus Pike since you left D.C. six months earlier. If you were honest with yourself, you missed the time you two spent together, even when you weren’t having amazing sex. Getting takeout from his favorite Thai place and watching an old movie, or reviewing case notes over pizza after hours in the war room. Marcus was the most decent guy you’d ever known, and you hadn’t even answered the few times he called to check in your first couple months in Texas. It’d serve you right if he refused to speak to you ever again, if you could swallow your pride long enough to call him up.

“I’ll take whatever I can get at this point.” Peña sticks a hand out to shake. You join him on your feet and grasp his hand firmly. Some of your confidence was returning.

“I never pegged you as the desperate type, Javi.” You hoped your smile was enough for the agent to hear your words as the playful banter you’d intended. Fortunately, he huffed a quiet laugh and nodded appreciatively, boldly letting his eyes wander over you. The heat of his gaze leaves pleasant tingles in its wake.

“I’ll swing by tomorrow to talk about next steps.”

The agent departs, and you sit back down at your desk with a long sigh. As you watch the man walk away, your reverie from earlier comes back in startling focus with new details. You think back to how commanding and gruff his voice had sounded with his face so close to yours. The scent of his cologne lingered – spicy, with a hint of citrus and something else you couldn’t identify. How his thick fingers splayed over his hip or massaged the arm of his chair as he spoke. The crease in the middle of his bottom lip when he swiped at the corner of his mouth.

Clearing your throat, you try to focus your attention on the stack of papers and photos in front of you. You couldn’t let your libido cloud your judgment now that you had a real case to sink your teeth into. You’d always prided yourself on your ability to compartmentalize, but your head was still swimming after the man had been in your cubicle for, what – ten minutes?

You’ve certainly got your work cut out for you.

***

Washington, D.C.

6 months earlier

“You don’t have to do this.” Marcus stands next to your desk as you finish packing your few personal belongings into an empty cardboard box. “I’ll talk to my guys, you don’t need –”

You still him with a hand. “Marcus, please. I’m choosing to do this; it’s a really good opportunity.” You hope he believes that.

Marcus sighs and rubs a hand over his face. After looking around to check that you and he were alone in the emptying building, Marcus leans into your space. “You’re telling me this has nothing to do with us?” His voice is deep, intimate.

He’s close enough for you to feel the warmth emanating from his body, and you catch a whiff of the aftershave that always leaves you feeling a bit heady. How is it still so strong even after a full day’s work? The frisson you experience whenever your bodies are in close proximity hasn’t diminished in the slightest, even after months of fucking on the sly.

You’d both maintained your professionalism at the office; you respect each others’ boundaries and careers too much to get sloppy in the workplace. The only thing that changed around the office since you started sleeping with Marcus was the other agents. Their eyes followed you around the office, conversations sputtered to a halt when you entered the breakroom, and snatches of whispered conversation filled your cubicle when they didn’t know you were there.

Clearing your throat, you force your eyes to meet his intense gaze. “Yes, Marcus, that’s what I’m saying.”

Marcus is a great agent, and an even greater guy. You know he’d want to stick up for you – as a fellow agent, and as a friend – but it’d only make things harder for you. Already your caseload had begun to dwindle and you were being consulted less and less often on issues squarely in your area of expertise. After several fruitless conversations with your supervisor, you weren't about to sit around and wait for your career to die – no matter how mindblowing the sex was.

The box is packed with your personal belongings and an assortment of stolen office supplies as your last petty ‘fuck you’ to the endemic sexism and double standards that plague federal law enforcement.

“Hey,” Marcus takes your hand in both of his and strokes his thumb over your pulse point as he perches a hip on the corner of your bare desk. “I can tell there’s something more to the story, and you obviously don’t want to tell me what it is so I’m not going to push…”

You roll your eyes at him teasingly and he huffs out a laugh, then pulls you closer so your hand is in his lap. He keeps stroking that sensitive part of your wrist and something in you thrums to life. “But?” You look at your joined hands. “I know there’s a but in there.”

“But – you know you can always talk to me. About whatever.” He shrugs a noncommittal shoulder and you step even closer, bracketing one of his legs between your own. His breath falters a bit as you turn one of his large hands over and graze your fingertips across his palm with a featherlight touch.

“If you ever need anything, please…” His voice drops into the register you only ever hear him use in private.

Fuck it – you’d been so careful and were still dealing with the consequences. Might as well have a little fun on your last day. You place a firm hand on Marcus’ thigh and glide it up to his hip.

“There is one thing I need right now.” You feel a bit giddy at your recklessness, but any nerves you might have are quelled when Marcus runs the tip of his nose up your jawline to your ear.

“And what’s that? Hm?” He inhales your scent and hums with pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you shift your hand at Marcus’ hip to his crotch. When you feel how hard he already is you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose at your touch, then lets out a groan in your ear at your gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you need.” His five o’clock shadow rasps against your sensitive skin as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth.

“I need you to show me that evidence locker you haven’t shut up about since we met.”

Chapter 2

NOTE: The term “war room” originally described the place military leaders discussed tactics and strategies. It’s frequently used now in federal government, law enforcement, and business settings to describe any room used to strategize and plan – it could have various technologies (computers, A/V, video-teleconferencing, etc.) or be a plain old conference/meeting space with whiteboards.

Additional Author’s Note: I'm finally forcing myself to post this fic I've been working on in an attempt to get over my fear of people reading my work. It's the first fic I've written in the Pedroverse, and quite possibly the only fic I've ever posted publicly as an adult. I would love to know what you think! I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading!

#senorabond writes #javier pena x reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #narcos fic #the mentalist fic #peña x f!reader x pike #rumor has it fic

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pedroshotwifey · 8 months

Text

Joel Miller Fic Recs

Closer by @beardedjoel Completed Series - Neighbor!Joel x F!Reader

Pretty Little Wife by @beardedjoel One shot collection - Husband!Joel x Housewife!Reader

Belong to Me by @chloeangelic Ongoing Series - Linecook!Joel x Waitress!Reader

Dad's Best Friend Joel Miller by @notjustjavierpena One shot collection - DBF!Joel Miller x Bratty!Reader

Brat Tamer Joel Universe by @chloeangelic Completed Series - Brattamer!Joel x Bratty!Reader

Love's gonna get you killed by @pascalisbaby One shot series - jackson!joel x f!reader - Joel's kinda mean but it's ok bc we love him

Daddy Joel One Shot by @toxicanonymity One shot - Joel Miller x f!reader

Sundown by @bageldaddy One shot - Joel Miller x fem!reader

Going For a Ride by @palioom One shot - DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

You're a Mansion With a View by @atticrissfinch One shot - Joel Miller x fem!reader

Darkness on The Edge of Town by @romanarose Series - Joel Miller x reader

Yes, Mr. Miller by @pedropascallme One shot - dom!joel x sub!reader

Treat You Right by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin One shot - boyfriend's brother!joel x f!reader

Oh Honey by @lincolndjarin Ongoing series - Monster!Joel Miller x Mortician!reader

VS, Bath & Body Works, Spencer's, GameStop, Halloween Special , and Massage Chair by @strang3lov3 Series (Can be read as stand alones) - Joel Miller x f!reader I CANNOT get enough of these two!! One of my favorite series by far for sure... The chemistry Bug gives these two is absolutely astonishing. Lots of laughs from this one as well!

Tommy's Hard Day by @toxicanonymity One shot - Joel Miller x fem!reader x Tommy Miller (Reader is free use aka Joel and Tommy don't touch)

Kinktober Day Nine by @corazondebeskar-reads One shot - Joel Miller x f!reader

Black Mail by @milla-frenchy One shot - Joel Miller x f!reader x Javier Pena

Just This Once by @talaok One shot - Joel Miller x fem!babysitter!reader

Strawberry by @joelsgreys One shot - Joel Miller x sub!fem!reader

Little Rabbit by @velvetmud One shot - Joel Miller x f!reader

Texas Hold 'Em by @sweetercalypso One shot - Joel Miller x afab!reader

2003; A DBF Odyssey by @macfrog One shot - dbf!Joel Miller x fem!reader

But I'm Better, Blood Flow, and Daddy's Girl by @bunnysbrainrot One shot series - dbf!Joel Miller x fem!reader

You Know You Never Stood a Chance by @corazondebeskar-reads One shot series (ongoing) - qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

Something Wretched About This by @covetyou Series (complete) - Joel Miller x f!reader

Wild and Unruley by @clawdeewritesfanficOne shot - Recently Divorced!Joel x afab!reader

Drive In by @hotgirlbedtimescenarios One shot - Joel Miller x f!reader

Never Pegged You for a Quitter by @seventeenpins One shot - sub!Joel Miller x tess x f!reader

Sticky by @ezrasbirdie One shot - Subby!Joel Miller x reader

Doing the Work by @jksprincess10 Drabble - Joel Miller x f!reader

Talk Me Down by @hellishjoel One shot - Therapist!Joel Miller x f!reader ...I don't want to talk about how much this called me out.

Yes, Mr. Miller? by @romanarose One shot - dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Piss Kink by @pedge-page One shot - Joel Miller x fem!reader Usually not my thing but.. holy fuck.

Pretty Little Thing by @hellishjoel One shot - dbf!joel/brat tamer!joel x f!reader

Stepdaddy by @chloeangelic Series (complete) - Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader

UPDATED 12/3/23

#fan fiction #pedro pascal #ao3 #smut #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou #fic rec #joel miller x reader

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osped · 5 months

Text

JOSE PEDRO BALMACEDA PASCAL

HIS CHARACTERS

🌟 Good Morning, Bachelor Nation! 🌟 by @elvinaa

You have a big ass by @pedros-husband

How about 7 Pedros for a minute each? by @oonajaeadira

scary movie typa guy ; genre of movies pedro boys are into by @creedslove

Having Triplets: by @absurdthirst

PEDRO PASCAL

reader calls, telling him they had to go to the emergency room by @judysxnd

he hated the feeling or thought of reader ever leaving ; protective pedro ; blind date ; comforts him ; none of that really matters ; him just loving being a girl dad ; pedro x sick!reader ; whole pregnancy by @talaok (at this point I sould've just put her masterlist link here, lol)

it's not that kind of cold shower (pedro x gn/m!reader) ; 🎯MASTERLIST🎯pedro pascal x gn/m!reader by @pedge-stuff

PERO TOVAR

Pero Tovar and his Guerrera by @prolix-yuy

friend sets Pedro and (y/n) on a blind date by @talaok

take my hand - pero tovar x fem!reader by @pedrito-friskito

Temple of Love ; Grumpy Pumpkin by @sirowsky-stories

OBERYN MARTELL

Window Shopping by @the-dendrophile-bookdragon

Birfday - Oberyn by @writeforfandoms

MARCUS PIKE

I’m Here by @davnittbraes

Forgive These Bones I'm Hiding (Part 2 of 2) by @whataperfectwasteoftime

JAVIER PENA

I know that I shouldn't... but I love you. by @odetodilfs

Nᴏᴛ Iɴᴛᴏ Bᴏʏs (Jᴀᴠɪᴇʀ Pᴇñᴀ) by @obsessedwithpedritoofc

Crossroads (Javier Peña x AFAB!Reader) ; Narcos Masterlist by @ithebookhoarder

wait, what? by @plentyoffandoms

Trick and Treat by @jobean12-blog

tolerate it [javi peña x gn!reader] by @mandoalorian

quickie at the party ; LA LLUVIA 🌧️ by @creedslove

JOEL MILLER

the sun will shine again by @foli-vora

loads of hickeys by @talaok

doing a million steps nightly skin care routine ; The Millers 💖 by @creedslove

Joel Miller Masterlist by @jobean12-blog

sated by @softlyspector

Feral Masterlist by @ohraicodoll

"a gentle hand" — joel miller by @louswrld11

All Good Things [a Joel x f!reader fic] by @criticallyacclaimedstranger

a sheep in wolf's clothing by @jupiter-soups

Halloween Special by @strang3lov3

I wanna show you off by @joelscurls

crying for the first time ever by @joels-shitty-puns

grumpy!husband!joel by @cruelfvkingsummer

JAVI GUTIERREZ

Skinny Dipping by @second-axis-point

Kinktober Day 13: Javi Gutiérrez w/overstimulation and bondage. by @odetodilfs

DIN DJARIN

In The Silence by @dindjarindiaries

D.D. - "Then we'll find out together." by @missredherring

Uncut by @beskarandblasters

the cantina by @spctrsgf

trying boba tea for the first time by @toxic-seduction

50. Nothing is wrong with you. 55. I’m not going anywhere. ; Soft!Din by @ezrasbirdie

Familiar & Unfamiliar by @theidiotwhowritesthings

DIETER BRAVO

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #10: Dieter Bravo - A Kiss While Baking by @something-tofightfor

DAVE YORK

Surrogate Love {Dave York x F!Reader} by @absurdthirst

FRANKIE MORALES

Broken by @musings-of-a-rose

sweet treat (frankie morales x f!plus-size!reader) by @mrsmando

Kɪʟʟ ғᴏʀ Yᴏᴜ (Fʀᴀɴᴋɪᴇ Mᴏʀᴀʟᴇs) by @obsessedwithpedritoofc

Telltale Heart by @astroboots

fading ; something new [plus size fem reader] by @ezrasbirdie

MARCUS PIKE

pretending to be him ; RE-ENCOUNTER 🎨 by @creedslove

used by you by @foli-vora

SILVA

Tʜᴇ Oᴛʜᴇʀ Mᴀɴ (Sɪʟᴠᴀ) by @obsessedwithpedritoofc

PS : I reblog all this amazing fanfic on my other tumblr account on @uwiuwi. I just like to reread, but it got me so stressfull when my main blog so full with reblogs, so I make this masterlist for my future self. I hope none of the authors of the fanfics I put in here mad. Sorry and Thank you for your hardwork guys.

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tieronecrush · 9 months

Text

꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter two: lips of an angel

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 5.1k

a/n: thank you @northernbluess for beta-ing this series for me <333 love you bestie, the only one i'd wanna be a sister wife with

To: TheOnlyAngel

Subject: Nice To Meet You?

Hey,

I got an email that we were matched for Sweet Temptations. I figured I would reach out and introduce myself, maybe get to know you a bit if you are alright with that.

Feel free to call me Javi. I am honestly not sure what else I’m meant to do in an introduction like this. I promise I am normally much smoother than this, or at least more human and less awkward.

It’s nice to meet you, and to be matched up with you, Angel. If that’s what I should call you?

From: TheOnlyAngel

Subject: Re: Nice To Meet You?

Hi Javi!

It’s nice to meet you too, and hopefully, we get to meet in person. These first emails are always awkward no matter how many I’ve sent or received, so please be assured that, honestly, that was one of the better ones I’ve gotten. :)

I normally like to ask what you’re looking for out of this “arrangement” (I hate calling it that, it sounds so impersonal) and maybe you can tell me some fun facts about you if you want to share!

I can go first for the fun facts:

Green is my favorite color

I unironically love the song MMMBop by Hansen (which is unexpected if you saw the rest of my tape and CD collection)

My current favorite movie is Romeo + Juliet that came out a couple of years ago cause Paul Rudd <3

That’s about all that I can think of as I sit in bed and type this so hopefully that is sufficient enough!

TTYL Javi,

Angel

To: TheOnlyAngel

Subject: Re: Re: Nice To Meet You?

Hey Angel

Paul Rudd is pretty likable, I’ll give you that. Is he your type? Cause I hate to break it to you sweetheart but I don’t really look like him. Both have dark hair but that’s about where the similarities stop. And Romeo + Juliet huh? Must be a bit of a romantic.

And MMMBop…it is catchy. I have to stop myself humming it at work these days.

As for what I’m looking for, I guess I just want someone to spend some time with. Whatever comes of it, comes of it, but I don’t want to really have any expectations. Just wanna get to know you, Angel.

Took me a while to think of some fun facts:

I grew up on a cattle ranch right on the border of Mexico in Southern Texas

When I was little (like 9/10 years old) my primos dared me to enter a rodeo for Mutton Busting (chasing a sheep around to try to catch it)

A CD of Selena stays in my car at all times, and yes, I know all the words

Hope those were fun enough for you, Angel.

And I hope you have a good day today.

The emails continued for about a week and a half, Javier slowly became more comfortable with the virtual communications. Angel was bubbly, and sweet, always asking him questions and always interested in hearing about his day or what his favorite book was. It was either his loneliness or a newfound desperation that had his heart skipping when the sound of new mail pinged from his desktop.

It felt a bit strange to have such normal exchanges with Angel and be reminded of the circumstances with his bank statement for the charges that the service takes monthly. With how personable Angel has been even via email, he finds himself forgetting what exactly brought them together. Maybe all the mystery and excitement will wear off when the two of you meet, but something deep in his gut is telling him that isn’t going to happen.

He drags himself away from his desk, no response from Angel yet today. All he can think about is how he hopes there’s a new message when he comes back, gathering his things to head to the lecture hall for the third week of Sociology of Deviance.

In the beginning, he thought this class was going to be a chore to do. Stuck onto his schedule last minute, had new material to cover, and had an annoying Dean of Faculty checking in on him much more often because of it. However, a handful of sessions in, he’s got a bit of a skip in his step to rush over there, the familiar jump in his stomach when he thinks about you.

The pretty fall floral dresses you’ve started wearing with the change in weather, large cardigans pulled over the top. You’ve worn a few flannels over your shoulders, clearly oversized and he feels a prick of jealousy whenever he sees you in them.

Do you have a boyfriend? Are those shirts his?

What would you look like in one of his button-downs?

Christ, the thoughts won’t stop no matter how hard he tries. Another reason why he is attempting to completely throw himself into this new “arrangement”, hoping it would be a means to an end to his crush on his student.

That’s what it is. He has a fucking crush.

He hasn’t had a crush in years.

Laying everything out for the class session, he starts writing the discussion points on the board. At the sound of the door violently swinging open and a rumble of loud footsteps rushing, he looks over his shoulder to see you, belongings in your arms and clearly flustered. His jaw drops open to ask if you’re alright, making a burning flash of eye contact with you before you drop your head, embarrassed, and find your seat.

Turning back to the chalkboard, he shakes his head minutely, rolling his shoulders before continuing his writing, white powder from the chalk coating his fingers. Instead of his normal thoughts of you, he keeps fighting the urge to ask if you’re okay. In the short time he’s known you if you could even say that about your dynamic, he knows it’s very unusual for you to come in that incomposed. He wipes the residue off on his pants, facing the class.

While he teaches, his eyes continue to wander to you, oddly quiet when you would normally be engaged in the discussion. That kid Alex, obnoxious from the jump, is taking up far too much air time in this class, and Javier can’t help the annoyance on his face as he leans back against the desk, arms crossed over his chest as he waits for this kid to finish his long-winded, and incorrect answer.

You scoff audibly at a point that Alex made, piquing Javier’s attention. The two of you make eye contact again, and Javier suddenly unravels one arm from his chest, holding it up toward Alex.

“Excuse me, Alex, I respect your points but I think there might be some counters to your arguments. I want to be able to hear them before we move on,” Javier calls out your name, and his head snaps to you, nodding encouragingly, “What were your thoughts?”

“Oh, um, I was going to say that I don’t think that socioeconomic or social standing is the only explanation for the makeup of the prison system. And I think it’s pretty naive to think that it’s only rich people that get off with less severe punishments.” Javier watches your shoulders tense a bit at the obvious eye roll from Alex, the pen in between your fingers bouncing with nerves.

“Do you mind expanding on that? I’m interested in what you think is another reason,” Javier holds eye contact with you, the slightest smile on his face to reassure you to stand your ground in the argument.

“I mean, to me, It’s pretty obvious that the biggest reason is racial discrimination in the legal process. White people dominate the political landscape and the prejudices, even unconscious bias, contribute to the makeup of the incarcerated population. Judges will give favorable or less severe punishments to white defendants, and of course, class biases are a thing, especially because of the cost of criminal defense, but I think the overt, umbrella reason is racial discrimination in the legal process. It’s built into the systems of government, which is pretty depressing…”

You trail off and laugh awkwardly at the silence in the room, some classmates nodding in agreement while some are unphased, uninterested.

“That’s good. That’s exactly what I was hoping would be brought up by someone,” Javier nods to you, pointing in your direction before he rounds the desk to start writing on the board for students to take down in their notes.

In your seat, you start to copy down into your notebook, glancing up to see him look over his shoulder at you. One corner of his mouth lifts, a smile in his eyes as you try to bite back your own grin that threatens to expose how much you enjoyed his short praises.

From: TheOnlyAngel

Subject: Wanna Meet Up?

Hiiii Javi

I’ve had such a shitty day today, but honestly, I was still excited to be able to come home and talk to you. :)

Do you think you’d be interested in meeting in person this weekend? I’m free Saturday night if you are. LMK!

Hope your day was better than mine!

xoxo,

Angel

Plans were made to meet Saturday night around eight o’clock. Javier had chosen a bar he’d become familiar with on those nights when he couldn’t sleep, when the memories of Colombia were too much when he couldn’t stop thinking about those damn boats that were in his backyard.

The place is small, intimate, and quiet enough to hold a conversation — which he knew from the one or two times he’d picked up someone and brought them back to his apartment. There was always some sort of live music, usually some jazz or folksy blues, that could fill any first-date awkward silences.

In his last email to her, Javier told Angel that he’d be in the back of the bar, at a table for two, wearing jeans and a red short-sleeve button-up shirt. He makes sure to arrive first, getting there a bit overly early at 7:30 to snag a table and order himself a drink to calm his nerves. Pounding the glass back on the bar top, he orders another whiskey neat to nurse until she arrives.

This is a different feeling than he’s had before a date. Nerves aren’t normally his thing when it comes to women, but something about this night feels higher stakes than before.

Get it together, Javi. It’s a date, if it goes horribly, you don’t have to do it again. Plus, she doesn’t even need to be interested in you, this is her job.

When you arrive at the tiny, hole-in-the-wall bar, you nod thanks to the man holding the door for you, rolling your eyes when you get a comment from him that you didn’t ask for.

“Nice tits, sweetheart.” He slurs and sends you a wink that is definitely more of a blink. You slip past him without issue, scanning the small area for the man with dark hair and a red shirt on. At this point, with how many times you’ve done this, you’re normally not nervous to meet these men in person. It’s something you’re obligated to do, like showing up for any other job, and that’s how you treat it.

But this time around, something’s different. Talking with Javier has actually been….nice? He’s responsive and wants to get to know you, never taking more than a day to get back to you. He’s asked you more questions about yourself than anyone else has before and he always, always wants to hear about your day. If you weren’t careful, you could see yourself getting attached.

Well, getting attached if he’s anything like you’ve imagined him. Or who you’ve imagined him to be.

The only red shirt you can spot is on a man sitting at a table toward the back, facing away from the door and toward the stage in the corner where a jazz trio is playing a low, crooning song. Biting back a smile, you start to make your way over to him, admiring him from behind.

It’s broad shoulders and a strong neck, muscles flexing as he adjusts in his seat. His dark, chocolatey hair is combed nicely, so much so that you can’t help but have the thought of running your fingers through it and messing it up.

Dressed in a black dress with blotted red lips, you weave in between people, ignoring anyone else as you keep your eyes on the man you’re here to meet. Javi stays facing forward, watching the band play even as you stand behind him, cheated to his side a bit. Holding your breath, you lean closer and tap him on his shoulder.

“Um, excuse me, Javi?”

At the sound of his name, Javier turns over his shoulder to his right, a smile on his face already from the honeyed kindness in her voice. She did really sound like an angel for a second there before he realized where the sound was coming from.

“Yeah, I’m Ja—“ The sound stops in his throat when he is facing you. Your supple lips with the dainty Cupid’s bow, rouged cheeks, and gentle smile; normally in a nice dress or cardigan in class, but here you’re wearing much less material, more of your skin on display.

What would it be like to kiss it?

No. That is not ever going to happen.

Those doe eyes hold an innate tenderness that he couldn’t imagine ever being privy to, but here he was, under the stare of those and it was making him sweat. He can only imagine what he looks like to you at the moment, eyes wide and mouth blubbering to speak like a fish gasping for air.

You recognized him at the same time, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back the word vomit threatening to come out. If it did, you know you would end up spilling how honestly excited you are that the man you’ve been emailing with has turned out to be Professor Peña. You’ve harbored a bit of a crush on him for the last few weeks, ever since that smile he gave you when you introduced yourself after the first session. It had been burning moments of eye contact, and those gentle encouragements from him.

Hell, after class this week when he praised your counterarguments, you thought about his voice saying “That’s good” over and over while you laid in your bed that night, coming with the image of him over you in record time.

The first word out of his mouth is your name, tone flicked up at the end in a question. He grumbles to himself as he moves to stand up, forgetting his drink on the table.

“Fuck, this is bad…” He whispers under his breath, shaking his head at himself as he runs his hands on the sides of his jeans. “I’m so sorry.”

He steps back to further the distance between you two, awkwardly avoiding your eyes as he attempts to recover his professionalism.

“It’s alr—“

“I had no idea it was you. This is completely inappropriate, I apologize. I should leave, uh, and I completely understand if you need to change out of my class. I know it’s past the cut-off date, but I would help if you needed—”

“Javi — can I call you that?” He considers it for a moment before nodding, rigidity evident in his body, “Javi, it’s alright. You don’t need to apologize, neither of us knew before this moment…But I do have to say, I wouldn’t tell.”

“Uh, I’m sorry — what?”

“I wouldn’t say anything. If you wanted to sit down and have a drink, or a few, and get to know each other like we planned to, I wouldn’t say a word. Even if you weren’t interested after this, I promise, the secret’s safe with me.”

Javier can’t deny how much he was looking forward to meeting the woman he was emailing with. And he can’t deny that he’s had his eyes on you since that first meeting. Hell, he can barely control his thoughts around you.

Of course, it had to be you. The two people he can’t get out of his head have turned out to be only one person, and of course, it’s you.

“If it informs your decision, I would love to get to know you more, Javi.”

He stutters through his thoughts out loud before resigning with a sigh, taking a breath as he forms his response, “Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“Definitely. Wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. Now, may I join you?” You gesture to the empty chair and Javi nods quickly.

“Yeah, of course. Here, let me get that.” He visibly relaxes a bit, falling into a routine he knows well. Rounding the small table, he pulls your chair out for you before settling in the seat opposite. Shortly after, a server comes around and takes your drink orders, Javier looking to you to go first. After the order is placed, the server leaves the two of you in silence at the table.

Another beat passes before Javier speaks, saying what you both are thinking, “Sorry, I just, cannot believe it happened to be you.”

“Why’s that?” You ask with a lilt of humor in your voice, sitting up in the chair to move toward him, “Don’t think I would be into all this?”

“Yeah, I guess so, but—Actually I should not say what I was about to say,” he chuckles and shakes his head.

“Oh, c’mon, what were you gonna say?”

“Nope, definitely not going to tell you, sweetheart,” he smirks at you and then adjusts in his seat awkwardly, “Oh, ‘m sorry, I shouldn’t have sa—“

“Javi. It’s fine, just relax. You’re not making me uncomfortable at all if that’s what you’re worried about,” you give him a sincere smile, reaching across to hold his arm that’s lying on the table, “It’s actually kind of nice to have those nicknames coming from you and not some other creepy men who contact me.”

“Why’s that?” He echoes your question from moments before, eyebrows raising in curiosity and the same smirk growing on his face, glancing down at your hand on him.

“I shouldn’t say what I was about to say,” you attempt to imitate his voice, laughing at the end when he gives you a look that says ‘Really?’.

“I don’t sound like that, cariño. But that’s a good try. Now what is it that makes me nicer than the other men you’ve seen?”

‘That’s a good try.’ This man.

“And how do you know that? I could be nailing what you sound like to other people. You hear your voice differently.” You poke his arm pointedly, moving your hand toward your lap again. Before it leaves the table, Javier stretches his arm across, catching your fingers with his. He holds them loosely in his, running his thumb across your knuckles as he keeps eye contact with you.

“I’ve heard my voice enough in press conferences that were televised, angel. I don’t sound like that,” he uses his free hand to take a sip of his whiskey, “And don’t try to change the subject. I wanna know what you are gonna say.”

“I could say the same thing to you. We both have our secrets tonight,” you take a sip of your drink and shrug, “You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

“Nice negotiating, cariño, but I think I’d have to have a few more of these if I was going to share mine.” He raises his glass a couple of inches off the table, the amber liquid sloshing around before he sets it down again.

You’d say anything to get him to keep giving you praise like that all the time.

Grabbing your own glass, you lift it to him and smile, “Well, only one of these and I’ll be spilling all my dirty secrets.”

Javier’s jaw notches to the side as you say that, biting his cheek before he takes his hand from yours and runs his thumb across his bottom lip to the corner.

Inside his chest, he feels his heart beating faster and feels his blood rushing south, that same damn smile of yours that you give him from rows away in class doing the same damn thing it does to him there.

Half of him is wondering how he can make you smile like that all the time.

The other half wants to wipe that smile off of your face and have you whimpering.

What would you look like under him?

Jesus Christ, he’s way far gone.

Javier’s had three more whiskeys on top of his previous three. You’ve had about four drinks yourself.

The evening has devolved into something much more casual, breezy; conversation has flowed between you two, finding things in common and swapping stories that have the other laughing. From the serious professor in class, this more easy-going Javi is refreshing to see and definitely makes your crush a lot worse, somersaulting stomach and warm, syrupy flood across your whole body.

The subject has returned to the evening’s secrets, you asking him again to share what he was going to say.

“Please, Javi, it can’t be any more embarrassing than what mine is. I’ll tell you what I was gonna say if you promise to tell me.” You extend your arm, fingers closed into a fist beside your pinky.

He looks at your hand, debating internally before deciding ‘fuck it’ and links his little finger with yours.

“I promise, cariño,” he smiles and nods for you to share, “What are you dying to tell me so that you can hear what I was gonna say?”

“The affection from you is nice cause, I don’t know, you feel…safe. When I first started, I was getting some weird men that wanted to meet, and—This has just been fun,” you resign with a soft smile, “Plus it helps that you’re hot. Got the whole smoldering cop with the porn stache thing.”

“Smoldering cop with the porn stache? I didn’t realize that was a thing,” he laughs, the crinkles next to his eyes deepening before he takes your hand lying on the table, “I’m glad this has been fun for you. After all that shock and awkwardness at the beginning, I think it’s been really nice to get to know you, angel.”

“Alright, I shared my little secret, you share yours now.”

Javier sighs, his thumb rubbing back and forth across your skin. He takes a moment to speak before he meets your eyes, a resistant smirk on his face, “You are really gonna make me say this?”

“You pinky promised! I didn’t make you do that, there’s no coercion here, Javier.”

“Fine, fine. You’re too quick, cariño,” he squeezes your fingers with his, “I was gonna say before that I couldn’t believe it happened to be you ‘cause—It’s stupid, really, but I’ve had a bit of a crush on you since that first class, querida.”

“A crush? The sexy Professor Peña has a crush on me?”

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. Can’t keep ‘em off of you, cariño. Too beautiful. And you’re fucking on it all the time, so goddamn smart. I really am convinced you should be teaching for me,” he glances down sheepishly, feeling exposed from his tipsy confession.

The surface of your cheeks heats up, feeling a tingle down your spine when his eyes meet yours again. Leaning forward across the table, you bite your bottom lip as you drink him all in.

“D’you think I’ll ever be able to properly pay attention in class again after that?”

“You better, sweetheart. Just cause I’ve got a crush on you doesn’t mean you’ll get a good grade. Not gonna go easy on you. Fair’s fair.”

“Mm, I don’t mind it hard. I prefer it that way, actually. Makes it much more satisfying when you finish.” Your tongue wets your lips before you take your bottom one between your teeth, watching as Javier’s eyes darken at your double entendre.

He shakes his head, giving you a knowing look about your mischievous word choice, “Better be ready for a challenge then, angel.”

“Always, Peña.”

It’s late now, verging on turning into Sunday; the hours flew by with each other. Javier noticed the time on his watch, the crowd in the bar was sparse in spots that were full when he got there. When he looks at you, your eyelids look heavy, and those normally wide and bright eyes, eager and excited, look drowsy and content, so close to slipping closed and turning your mind off for the night.

“You ready to head out, angel? We’ll go find you a cab.” He asks with a subtle smile on his face, scooting out of his chair and standing, offering a hand to you.

“Yeah, m’ready.” You rise after taking his hand, hiking your small rectangular bag over your shoulder and stepping closer to him as he switches which hand is holding yours. Right in right, he grips yours from the outside of your palm, fingers lacing together as he presses his left into the small of your back, weaving between the patrons and out the front door.

The air is crisp when the door breaks open, cool air surrounding your warm, alcohol-blanketed bodies. Javier's touch still surrounds you, your right shoulder pressing into his chest when you turn to say something to him.

He takes a step back, allowing you the space to rotate fully in his arms, meeting his eyes and feeling a grin toy at your lips.

“Tonight was nice.”

“It was. Think I should be saying thanks to you. M’glad you had me stay.”

“Yeah? Well, m’happy to hear that cause I was gonna say, if you wanted to keep this up — meeting up, the arrangement all of that — if you wanted to keep it up for the semester, I would happily keep the secret. Y’know, you help me, I help you kind of thing. We just have fun.”

Javier considers the offer, ticking his jaw as he debates internally. On one hand, it’s a massive risk. The two of you could be seen out with each other, or if anyone noticed anything different in class, it could jeopardize his job, and possibly your degree. But on the other hand, if every night with you is like this one, he’s hard-pressed to say no. You’re funny and intelligent and beautiful — sure, there’s the element of how you two met and what happens behind the scenes, money taken out of his account monthly and forwarded to you through the service — but with the way you’ve had his heart pumping from your sweetness and his cock half hard at how turned on you have him constantly, he really can’t find a fuck to give about the risk.

“Alright. If you are in for it, I definitely am, angel,” he grins at you, his tongue poking out to wet his lips when his eyes flit to yours, the faint red lipstick of yours still holding strong.

“Good, Javi. That’s good,” your voice is a purr, a smug smirk playing at your lips when he leans in closer, walking you back towards the brick facade of the bar. His knees nearly give out when he hears those small praises, already waiting for the next time you speak them to him.

“Can I…?” he trails off, the tip of his nose only an inch from yours.

“You can kiss me, Javi.”

Without wasting another second, he catches his lips with yours, gentle at first with soft, delicate kisses exchanged. His tongue slides along your bottom lip, a breathy whimper parting your mouth enough for him to lick into it, melting his tongue with yours. One of his hands moves to hold your jaw, the other stagnant at your hip. A step closer brings him flush against you, quiet moans muffled into each other’s mouths.

The roughness of the brick is harsh against your bare skin on display, the contrasting sensations pooling arousal in between your legs. Javier tastes like tobacco, whiskey, and mint gum; an interesting combination but an intoxicating one. His hand at your hip moves around to your ass, pulling you off the wall slightly and against him, his growing bulge felt against your torso.

Before the two of you can get completely lost in each other, you pull away, hands on his chest. A taxi pulls up at that moment, honking its horn in question if you need a ride. You wave to him and ask for one minute with your fingers, turning back to Javi standing in front of you a bit breathless.

“I should go. Got some reading to do for this class on Monday that I’ve got.”

“Oh, yeah? Hope your professor hasn’t been killing you with the readings,” he smirks back at you.

“Nah, he hasn’t been killing me but seems like he does really wanna give it to me. Must have some high expectations,” your voice is coated with a lilt of teasing, winking at him as you slip from his arms.

He follows close behind to walk you to the cab, a hand finding your back and dropping down to graze his fingers across your ass.

“Think you’ll have no trouble exceeding those expectations, angel. Plus you could always ask for one-on-one tutoring or some extra credit.” It’s his turn to wink, opening the rear door for you and helping you in.

“Glad I have your confidence, Javi. Here, gimme your phone I’ll give you my number.” You reach out and he fumbles it from his pocket, passing it off to you. The information is quickly entered and saved, handing his device back to him and looking up at him from the seat of the cab.

“I’ll be waiting for a call, Javi. And I’ll see you Monday, Professor Peña.” You give him one last look, giggling as you shut the door and he hits the top of the taxi before you drive away, standing there with an idiotic smile on his face.

Javier grew up religious, his mamá dragging him to church every Sunday. He’s only been back to church at the major holidays he’s been home, leaving behind any spiritual side of him. All the concepts of eternal souls and heaven and hell meant nothing to him.

However, tonight, he felt an inkling to believe that heaven was real, and he had met an angel.

His angel.

tagging those from last time: @northernbluess @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsquill @yazsos @cartoon-garbage04 @sugadolly @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel

IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAGLIST, PLEASE FILL THIS FORM OUT! thank you!

#javier #writing #only angel #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfic #javier peña x afab!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fanfic

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cinematicgf · 1 year

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Te deseo, cariño- soft!javi

Summary: you and javier are sitting in your apartment listening to the blues after he calls to see you on your day off- (yeah that’s pretty much it)

Pairings: javier pena x afab!reader (call girl!reader)

Warnings and notes: no warnings really, soft!javi, fluffy fluff, deep convos ig, call girl/sex worker reader, no use of y/n, making out, mentions of sex work, petnames, listening to the blues baby!!

~ 1.4k

A/N: hi all<3 enjoy this little fluffy Javi drabble. i usually write smut but i couldn't get this idea out of my head. as always, your feedback is always welcome, please like, comment and reblog<3

ps. he’s soooo lana coded, hence the west coast title, good LORD

The quaint sounds of Roy Buchanan settled in slumber around your body. There was gold peeking through the large twin windows of your apartment, a hue on your skin that felt like a flame, but all you could perceive before you in that instance was the seraph draped in your mother’s knitted blanket. Javi seated himself heavily on your couch, two autonomous curls fallen over his closed eyes and majesty at his fingertips. He hummed along to the soft, tragic acoustics of Drifting and Drifting. The raw impeccable talent of the blues singer being appreciated fully in the comfortable silence of the room, both of your exhaling of smoke being the only thing to cut through the silence.

A discarded pack of cigarettes lay on your desktop, a cloud of smoke eased through the empty air of your apartment as you breathed in the relaxing atmosphere of Javier Pena, cigarette dangling from his lips, hair messy and dressed in nothing but unbuttoned jeans, lying soundly with one foot on the arm of the couch and the other planted on the carpeted floor. You were leaning on your bed a couple of feet away, a thin t-shirt halting at your abdomen showing a peak of nipple, whilst your trousers were discarded on the floor, leaving you in your panties. You watched Javi drag from his ciggie, enthralled in the song, a thin layer of sweat coated his tanned bare chest. He had never looked so calm. He spoke outside of a song for the first time since the album began, “What’re you thinking about over there?” He broke eye contact with the ceiling and fixed them on you.

“Nothing. Just listening,” Your answer didn’t change the expression upon his face, so you took it he wanted you to elaborate, “Listening more to you than the record that is… I never knew you liked the blues, you never seem to play them when I’ve been in the car with you, or…. around any of the other girls?”

He shook his head, “I don’t think I would play them around anyone else.”

“How come?” you questioned while your body moved to the edge of your bed to be a bit closer to him. There were still a few feet between you, but the empty space was filled with possibility.

“Well, princesa” he brought his arm up to rest behind his head, “There’s something about them- they feel more… special.”

You grinned a little, before your smile fell. You thought about the tragic lyricism of the album you were playing, the crying of the guitar. You hesitated before asking what had been on your mind. The two of you weren’t seeing each other, as such, but after you had taken a job as a call girl for some extra money on the side to pay for your younger brother’s college tuition, he had seemed to have taken a liking to you, always requesting you when his emotions got the better of him and he needed to let off some steam after an operation went wrong, or when the notorious Escobar case was heating up.

After a couple of months of this, you found yourself staying for longer and longer each night. The two of you lying in bed next to each other, sometimes enveloped in one of his muscular arms, as you listened to music and talked. He had opened up about his dangerous job once he knew he could trust you, and sometimes, even when you had the night off, you would receive a call from him. You weren’t an informant, like so many of your coworkers before you, but you weren’t just another fuck to get it all out of his system either. This was one of those evenings. The sun caressing the edge of Medellin, drowning the city in a hazy hue; threatening another humid night.

He continued, “They’re songs we listen to when I was a kid. They have a nostalgia element linked with them that just… I don’t know… eases me, I guess. It makes me think about my mother, childhood, her and my father dancing in the kitchen on weekends.” He takes another drag of the almost finished cigarette before continuing his reminiscence. “I know you understand, I watch you close your eyes and really take in the melody, hermosa. It eases you too. I don’t want to play it around others because… I don't want to mix the image of them with the image of you when we’re alone.” You found comfort in knowing the music meant something special to this usually cutoff and hardened man. They were some of your most beloved songs and it was an added bonus that your parents didn’t mind the sound of them when they inevitably traveled through the thin walls. You managed to make something of the music and how it sat with you and that was your favorite part of being around him.

“I understand… Javier,” You hesitated again. He turned his head to meet your eyes once more. There was a sadness to them that you had been aware of, sure, but that you had never really looked into until now. “Do you think you’re a lonely person?” you whisper, deciding to just come right out and say what was on your mind.

He sighs heavily and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake in asking him this deeply personal question. You begin to apologize before he cuts you off, “Carino, I’ve still got a lot living to do, I guess… I don’t have much time to dwell on it, work takes up most of my time but… yeah,” He stood up from the couch and sat down beside you on the bed. He smiled at you for a quick second before laying his head in your lap and fixing his eyes on the ceiling again, “but I’ve got plenty of love to dwell in, I just need to find a way to remember that”. You can tell he is thinking about his parents again as the song comes to an end and the next song starts. The guitar cries on.

You watched as his demeanor brightened as he closed his eyes, taking in the melody. His lips twitched into a small smile and his usual frown relaxed as he sunk into you slightly. If your face could glow anymore radiant it’d plaster a silhouette on your apartment wall.

The both of you settled in comfortable silence again as the tune carried around your apartment. You didn’t think you had ever seen anyone so beautiful as the man lying in your lap, eyes closed. You gently raked your fingers through his hair, leaning back against your bed frame.

The sun was perfectly set now, and you could hardly see where he sat just moments ago on your creaky couch. Fleeting moments were contemptuous as they departed, but the present mended all resentment you had for goodbyes. You could see him. I could see his earnestness intertwined with the hard man he had molded into because of his dangerous job. How he hypothesized without fear of irresolution. And how he saw you for who you were, besides being a call girl. Besides being someone to call for a quickie. He saw you as an actual person, someone with interests and a childhood similar to his own.

“I think, you should stay tonight”, you whispered into his hair, placing a gentle kiss on his crown before removing the cigarette from his lips to take a puff. He used the opportunity to lift himself up slightly and place an open-mouthed kiss to your lips, tongue intertwining with yours, the taste of cigarettes and a hint of whiskey filling your senses as you kissed him back, ardently. He cupped your chin, thumb moving to open your mouth slightly wider for a better taste before moving your legs out from under him and settling you at his side. You replaced the cigarette back in his lips.

“I think I’d like that”, he replied without hesitation, eyes closing again as he laced a muscular arm around you and pulled you in to his bare chest. The blues played on as the two of you fell asleep entangled in each other.

#javier pena #javier peña #javier pena narcos #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena fluff #javier pena smut #javier pena fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic #narcos #joel miller #joel miller fic #∘* ✧･ﾟ ➳ audie writes

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 1 year

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Cracking open this beauty from @qrrrk (ILU fren) - sneak peak at chapter 3 of Framing Escobar because I’m a bratty tease.

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ariundercovers · 24 days

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Standstill (Chucho's Version) Pt. X

Pairing: Series - Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!) This chapter is JUST Javi / Chucho father & son realness.

Length: ~1k words

Series Summary: Chucho's been like a father figure to you since he helped you out of a sticky situation on your second day in Laredo. What happens when you finally meet his son, the former-DEA agent, who just happens to ignite you in a way that you haven't felt before?

Chapter Summary: After Chucho drops you off at home, his conversation with Javi.

Chapter Warnings: only plot, angsty fluff, use of spanglish (I provide translations!), javi being a moron

A/N: This is my first time trying out writing in Spanglish for my readers. I have translations written into the text, but I'd LOVE to know how you feel about it - does it work for you? Did it take you out of the story? And, if you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feedback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts! And of course, just lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist, too!

PREVIOUS PART (VIX) HERE

When Chucho gets home, he opens the door carefully, looking around for Javi who is, of course, nowhere to be seen. He hobbles down the hallway, stopping in front of his son’s door, and sighs heavily, shaking his head as he takes a deep breath and raises his fist to rap on the heavy wood.

Javi responds to the knock quickly, opening the door up enough to fully face Chucho with a miserable look plastered across his face.

“Mijo,” Chucho drawls, head cocking to the side. “Qué hiciste?” (what did you do?) Javi just shakes his head, shoulders falling in a somber release of whatever bravado he had been holding onto desperately. He drops his line of sight to the floor and opens up the door a little wider before he flops onto the end of his bed, holding his head in his hands.

“No sé. I don’t know what I did… I don’t know how to fix it. It all happened so fast. I messed up, Pops.” Chucho takes a seat at the small writing desk next to the door and reaches out to clap a hand on Javi’s shoulder, giving it a heavy squeeze.

“I gathered that much, Javier. What did you do?” Javi looks up at him blearily, back hunched uncomfortably, and takes a slow, deep breath.

“She asked me about marriage, and kids, and houses, and I just… I fucking panicked.” Chucho raises a brow at him and chastises him lightly, simultaneously trying to lighten the mood and give Javi something else to focus on.

“Language, Javier.”

“Sorry, Pops. I just panicked. I lost it. I didn’t know how to… Coño. Soy un pendejo, Papi.” (fuck. I’m a moron, dad.)

“Sí, tú eres.” (yes, you are.) Chucho chuckles lightly at Javi’s admission, but pushes it down. He doesn’t need to add insult to injury. “No lo quieres? No la quieres?” (do you not want it? Do you not want her?)

“No, no, no, Pops, I… La deseo. La deseo mucho. Pero me dije a mi mismo… after Mami, you know… I told myself I wouldn’t let myself get to a place where I could feel that pain again. I promised myself I wouldn’t.” (I want her. I want her so much. But I told myself…)

Chucho nods in understanding and lets his hand drop from Javi’s shoulder.

“So you’re pushing her away out of miedo, mijo. El miedo no es forma de vivir.” (fear, son. Fear is no way to live.)

“Qué más puedo hacer?” (what else can I do?)

“El amor verdadero vale la pena. Cada vez. No importa lo doloroso que sea.” (true love is worth the pain. every time. It doesn’t matter how painful it is.)

“Y con Mami? That was worth it?” (and with Mami?)

“I would go through it all over again, for even un segundo más con tú Mami. Por supuesto, it was worth it.” (a second more with your mother. Of course,)

Javi sighs and looks up at Chucho, eyes pleading. “Then how do I fix it? I messed up, Pops. Yo no sé how to fix it.” (I don’t know)

Chucho nods again, reaching out to squeeze a knee, this time. “You’ll figure it out. You love her. I can see that clearly. And she loves you. That’s even more clear to me. If this is meant to be between you two, pa’lante. Pero necesitas hablar con ella. No funcionará si guardas todo dentro, if you hide things from her. That’s how… well, that’s how things ended up the way they did.” (keep going. But you need to speak with her. It won’t work if you keep everything inside.)

Javi’s eyes snap up to his fathers, and Chucho can only hope that he understands what he really means. He doesn’t think he has it in him to say it aloud, not right now.

“You had no idea, did you, Pops?” He shakes his head side to side, somberly and sighs.

“I didn’t. Maybe if she had talked to me, if she had let me in, I could’ve gotten her help, or something. Tal vez si prestara más atención...” (maybe if I paid more attention…)

“No, Pops. You were always the most attentive husband. Anybody could see that. I could see that. It's part of why I'm so afraid of all this… I don't think I can live up to the standard you set for me. I don't know if I have it in me.”

“You do, Javier. I’ve seen how you are with her. You just have to hold onto it when things get tough, just keep a tight grip and don’t let go. Sé que lo que ustedes dos tienen es real. No dejes que eso pase por nada. Hablar con ella.” (I know what the two of you have is the real thing. Don’t let that go for anything. Talk to her.) Javi heaves out a heavy sigh, shoulders relaxing as he forces himself to sit up a bit straighter, the position starting to pinch something in his back.

“Okay. Sí, Papi. Lo haré. (Yes, dad. I will.) I’ll figure this out.”

“Give her some time, but then you have to step up and own up to it, yeah? Don’t let this one fall through your fingertips. Nunca te perdonarás a ti mismo..” (you’ll never forgive yourself if you do)

“Yeah. I get it. Gracias, Pops.”

“Any time, mijo. I like it when you talk to me. You know you can, whenever you need to, right?” Chucho is trying his best to tread carefully, to not overstep into the love life of his very-much-an-adult son, but he can’t help it when it’s so clear to him what’s going wrong, what potential he might be wasting if he doesn’t get his act together, at least in some capacity.

The truth of the matter is that he’s never seen Javier so happy, so at peace, as he is when you’re around. That means something - it means a lot, really. He just hopes Javi has it in him to fix this.

A/N: I know this is short - but I really wanted to explore this idea and this relationship a little bit more, and it felt right to keep it on the shorter side. I hope you still enjoyed! Next full chapter will be out soon. <3

xoxoxo

Taglist: @amyispxnk @picketniffler @kirsteng42 @vee-bees-blog @samiamproductions @grippysockedtoebeans

(lmk if you'd like to be added!)

#javi peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal #fanfic #javier peña smut #narcos fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #no beta we die like men #writing #pedro pascal fanfiction #chucho #chucho peña

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ozarkthedog · 4 hours

Text

Congrats on the big milestone!! 📷 Been thinking a lot about Javi P smoking cigarettes. Something about the way he holds them makes me 🥵🫠 Please work your magic! @mothandpidgeon

thank you, moth!! and thanks for indulging my javier obsession and driving me up the fucking wall. now have a javier shotgunning blurb as punishment. (sorry the og ask got fucked so i had to make a new post)

18+ mdni. Javier Pena x afab!reader. shotgunning. wrote this with DBF!Javier in mind.

His fingers taste of coffee and ash as he slips two between your lips.

The worn pads of his fingertips slide over your tongue; he chuckles from deep in his chest when you lathe at his digits. "What a natural-born cock sucker." The cigarette he's smoking bounces up and down between his plump lips.

Warmth blossoms in your cheeks; still, somehow, you hold his unyielding stare. "Keep those pretty lips open for me, Gaitita." he grits with a rough tone from years of chain smoking.

He takes a long, winding drag, keeping his keen eyes trained on you like he was in the middle of a stakeout. The orange tip glows white hot like the flame that burns between your legs before he plucks the cigarette from his lips with his free thumb and forefinger.

Smoke pours into your lungs as he slots his lips over yours and exhales the bitterness down your throat. Your lungs burn from the acidity, but his smooth lips are a lewd distraction as they glide softly along your own. He groans deep in his chest when he licks into your mouth and claims another untouched part of you.

When he pulls back, you can't help but move with him, like his shadow under the mid day sun. He places the burning cigarette between his lips before cupping your face with his two giant hands.

"Wanna try smoking it yourself?" Smoke slips from his lips as he brushes a thumb over your cheek. "Those lips were made to be wrapped around something."

Ozzie’s 11k birthday sleepover

#ozzie 11k birthday #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #pedro pascal

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senorabond · 6 months

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Rumor Has It: Chapter 2 (Peña x f!reader x Pike)

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 2 Summary: You’re reviewing the case file Javi gave you when a memory of your last night in D.C. distracts you. After a bit of a brainstorm, you decide it’s finally time to call Marcus back and get his opinion. He always has the right words.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: masturbation (f!reader), flashback, thigh riding, oral sex (f receiving), semi-public/workplace sex (evidence locker after hours), hand on throat for control, Dom/sub dynamic, soft Dom!Marcus, praise kink, you are such a good girl

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem/afab. Marcus is strong enough to lift Reader up onto the edge of a table (no mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color), Reader has hair long enough for Marcus to brush away from face, Marcus is super thoughtful and thorough when planning for sexy times

Words: ~4.5k

Author's Notes: A huge thank you again to @kilamonster for being my wonderful beta, talking me through my fear of posting dirty talk, and letting me bounce random porny ideas off her. <3

Again, there’s no specific time/setting, I just really wanted to get both Javi and Marcus together in the same story. In my mind, Javi is post-s3 of Narcos, and Marcus is somewhere around/after s7ep1 of The Mentalist.

I learned basically everything I know about the court system from true crime TV and podcasts, so the legalese here is purposefully vague. I have no idea what it would take to prosecute a federal case, lol. However, I did find some interesting information while researching art fraud/money laundering! I’m happy to share links to my sources if anybody is interested.

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

Later that night, you sit cross-legged on your bed, the various photos and documents from Peña spread out around you. You can see why he was so adamant about Customs involvement – there was enough circumstantial evidence in front of you for some lower-level courts to convict. Peña doesn’t strike you as the type to take chances though, not at this point in his career. If he’s making an arrest, he wants a case airtight, no room for technicalities or sympathetic juries. He’ll have worked with enough federal prosecutors to know what he needs to put bastards away and keep them there.

You think back to your conversation with Peña for what must be the twelfth time since that afternoon. It’s still difficult to reconcile the reputation with the man. Javier Peña, the senior DEA agent, was by reputation a force of nature; women and men alike wanted him and wanted to be him. He is unapologetically brash, arrogant, and always gets his way. If he believes something is worth getting, he’ll do whatever it takes, even if he has to use less than savory channels.

Javier Peña, the man, is intense, focused, driven, and has some of the saddest, most beautiful, big brown eyes you’d ever seen. He has a level of self-awareness you hadn’t expected. He struggles with asking for help, even if he can recognize his own limitations.

With a sigh, you take the wire transcript in hand and lean back against the pillows propped up against the headboard. The conversation had thankfully already been translated from Spanish with the original attached for reference. You had basic Spanish under your belt from high school and learned some choice slang from friends and exes, but you didn’t know nearly enough to comprehend the entire conversation on paper in front of you.

The men were discussing various works of art and their estimated values at auction and on the black market. One of the men, Castano, was insisting he could simply forge a copy of a famous painting since it was “just a bunch of splattered paint” that “didn’t look like anything anyway.” You chuckled to yourself.

You used to think the same thing about the abstract expressionism paintings you’d seen until somebody actually took the time to explain the meaning behind the movement. Agent Marcus Pike knew a lot about art – it was his job, after all, as head of the FBI’s art crimes unit in D.C. You worked closely with Pike and his squad to close a major case before you put in for the transfer to Texas. The two of you had spent a lot of time together and grown close, developing a mutual professional respect before things had ever gotten personal.

Your thoughts travel back to the last time Pike taught you something about art. It’s a bittersweet thought, since that was also your last night in D.C., and the last time you saw him. You’d come so close to saying more than you were ready to admit, and certainly more than you were ready to hear in return.

With a sigh, you drop the transcript on the bed and fall back onto your pillows. That last night in D.C. was also the last time you experienced an orgasm you didn’t give yourself. More than one, actually.

Your mind floods with images and sensations from that night and, rather unconsciously, your hands begin to retrace the parts of your body Marcus had touched. Fingertips ghost over the crook of your neck and across your collarbone to the collar of your worn t-shirt. Marcus’ t-shirt, actually. You’d stolen it unapologetically when he’d forgotten it at your place and told him it looked better on you anyway. Marcus had agreed, and then shown just how much better he liked it on you.

While your one hand is occupied at your breast, the other busies itself at the waistband of your panties. Eyes closed, you slide a finger over your dampening slit, remembering the path Marcus’ tongue traveled as your breath hitches. God, that man could use his mouth. And he loved to use it on you. You let the memory of that night wash over you…

Washington, D.C. 6 months ago

“There is one thing I need right now.” You feel a bit giddy at your recklessness, but any nerves you might have are quelled when Marcus runs the tip of his nose up your jawline to your ear.

“And what’s that? Hm?” He inhales your scent and hums with pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you shift the hand at Marcus’ hip to his crotch. When you feel how hard he already is you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I need you to show me that evidence locker you haven’t shut up about since we met.”

~~~

Pike stands behind you in the elevator in case you happen upon anybody else working late at the office. The odds are low, except for the contracted private security officers, but you didn’t think they’d want to see Pike’s hardon either. He’s so close, he’s almost pressed against your back while caressing a palm over your ass. You try to keep a straight face, but are practically panting through parted lips.

“You’ve been wanting this for a long time, haven’t you?” Marcus asks, his voice low in your ear as he leans over to push the button for the correct floor. His tone is almost conversational, but you can feel the thread of excitement pulling taut between your bodies. He’d been teasing you with the idea of fucking you in the art squad’s evidence locker for months now, going into great detail about what he was going to do to you – you only had to ask.

You nod silently in response as the elevator doors close, and Pike grips your waist, grinding his erection into your lower back. “Yes,” your breath huffs out. He likes you to use your words, and strokes your arm with an approving hum.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Your nipples harden at his words and your breath comes out shakily.

Marcus was the first person you’d ever been with to call you a good girl. You never thought you’d be into the kind of gentle dominance and steady stream of praise Marcus employed with you, but it made all the right synapses fire in your brain and took the experience to an entirely different level.

You nod again, playing the game, knowing what he wants to hear.

Marcus’ hand splays across your lower belly, the other sweeping gently across your throat and brushing your hair away from your face. He’s pressing into you, the energy coming off him in waves, leaving you feeling heady.

“Say it for me.” It’s spoken softly, coaxing, but still an unmistakable command.

“I’ll be a good girl for you.” Your voice has the slightest waver, but ends strong.

Marcus’ hand on your belly inches lower and heat radiates between your thighs. “I know you will.”

The doors of the elevator open with a ding that makes you jump, and Marcus moves back with a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. Gently, he guides you with a hand between your shoulder blades. You’re on one of the underground levels, where the low ceilings and fluorescent lights are stark reminders that you’re both still in a government building and cameras are watching your every move.

A security guard rounds a corner and Marcus clears his throat, then moves to button his suit jacket, presumably to hide his erection. How he manages to walk with that thing when it’s hard, you’ll never know.

The guard waves amiably. “Good evening, Agent Pike. What’re you still doing here so late?” Of course Pike knows the guard; probably knows his kids’ names too.

“Just had something to finish off first.” Biting your tongue to keep from laughing, the two of you pass the guard. “Oh yeah, tell Rosie good luck at her big match this weekend.” You nearly snort. The men share a brief handshake and you and Marcus round the corner, the door to the evidence lockup just ahead.

The two of you share a heated look and Marcus smirks. He swipes his badge and the door unlocks with a small snick. You’re guided inside a dark room that could be the size of a storage closet for all you can see. Marcus flips one of the light switches, and sturdy floor-to-ceiling shelving units are illuminated on either side, hedging you in like a maze. So far, it looks like any other evidence room, except with mood lighting.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” you mutter, and Marcus chuckles. As he leads you along the shelves towards some unknown destination, long shadows from the meager overhead light throw the long rows and corners into darkness.

He takes your hand and explains, “The lighting, temperature, and humidity are all controlled by a central system. Same kind as in the National Gallery.” You nod, genuinely impressed.

“You don’t keep all your evidence here, right?” The room was large, but most of the shelving space was taken up by various sized crates and archival boxes. Marcus shakes his head.

“Just the very valuable pieces that need to be kept under special conditions. Any other evidence is kept in a regular lockup.” Marcus stops and you come up short, nearly colliding with his broad back. “Oh,” you breathe, peering around him and knowing this is what he wanted to show you.

The maze of shelving units opens up onto what looks like a miniature museum exhibit. Paintings are hung on the walls or staged on easels and covered with drop cloths. Sculptures are on pedestals in glass cases along one wall, and to your right are a few chairs next to an expansive table.

Marcus approaches the paintings and proceeds to carefully remove the drop cloths from each work of art. They vary in style, color, expression, and movement. Some of them are encased in elaborate frames, while others are plain, or bare. Now this is what you’d hoped for after all these months hearing Marcus speak of this place in near reverent tones. This evidence lockup could rival most well-funded galleries and museums.

“Are these all forgeries?” You take a step closer to the nearest painting and inspect it – for what, you’re not sure. “Stolen?”

“A bit of both.” Marcus sidles up behind you. Your voices remain hushed, private, intimate.

Hands casually in his pockets, he takes you on a tour of the evidence on display, telling you a bit about each piece – what made the art valuable enough to forge or steal, and a few particulars about each case. He is in his element here, the picture of quiet confidence. Passion laces his every word and brings a spark to his eyes that you’d only seen a few times before when you were about to crack a case.

You have never felt more attracted to him.

Coming up to the last painting, you cock your head to the side and give it a quizzical stare. It’s abstract, composed of a muted yet warm palette. The paint is blended with no discernable lines or shapes.

“What is it?” you ask, looking up in time to see Marcus’ dimple appear next to his gentle smile.

“What do you see?” Marcus steps behind you again, and runs the tips of his fingers up and down your arms.

“I… I’m not sure. What am I supposed to see?” The texture of the paint is layered in some spaces, and there’s almost an ethereal glow emanating from its contrast of light and dark. You feel a bit embarrassed and uncultured. Maybe if you squint or let your vision blur, like it’s one of those magic eye puzzles that give you headaches.

“What I love about abstract art is that there’s no right or wrong answer. I hated it until we studied it in school. I always thought I was missing something, and got frustrated that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.”

You let out a soft hmm of agreement, but are distracted by Marcus’ voice, hot on your ear, lips close enough to graze the sensitive shell. “It was this quote by an artist, Arshile Gorky, that helped me appreciate it more. To paraphrase, abstraction frees the mind and allows it to explore the unknown. Whatever you see is what you’re meant to see.”

You let your mind rest on his words, buzzing from the energy between you. With a smirk, you say, “I bet you got laid a lot in school.”

Marcus gives a surprised chuckle. “I did alright,” he admits, and you hear the grin in his voice.

Turning to face him, you run your hands up his chest and under the lapels of his jacket to his shoulders. Marcus sighs, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. That spark in his eye is trained on you now, his pupils blown while they skate over your face under hooded lids.

“What’s next on the tour?” Your voice comes out a bit hoarse, his gaze almost overwhelming in its intensity.

Marcus smiles, somewhat mischievously. “Just one more thing. C’mon,” he takes your hand and starts leading you to the large table and chairs. “I think you’re going to like this part.”

Leaving you at the edge of the table, Marcus goes to one of the nearby shelves and pulls out a large cardboard envelope from a box, nearly the size of one of the paintings. With the flip of a switch, the entire surface of the table illuminates, humming gently from the internal fan. He pulls out what looks to be a sheet of dark plastic film and lays it on top of the table, revealing an x-ray image.

Marcus’ face is like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “This is an x-ray of that painting over here,” he points to the abstract work you’d been standing at a moment before. The x-ray on the table is a ghostly, black-and-white rendering of the muted swaths of paint. “And here,” he lays a second image down on the table, “is another x-ray taken of the same painting at different settings.”

You nearly gasp. It’s virtually a different image entirely. The abstract painting has been reduced to a haze, overlaying a distinct pastoral landscape. Leaning over the table for a closer look, you feel a pleasantly warm glow on your face from the lit surface. “What the…” Your eyes snap back to Marcus’ face, which is lit up with what you can only describe as glee.

“So you like it?” His eyes are sparkling and that dimple you love so much has reappeared. “‘Like it?’” You scoff. “I love it, Marcus, this is incredible. But…” you gesture at the images, “What exactly does that mean in terms of evidence?” Marcus comes around to your side of the table.

“The first one is a radiographic image of that painting we looked at, which could have told us if there were any traces of minerals or other elements within the paint used. Modern paint pigments are synthetic,” Marcus pulls the first image closer and gestures to the different shades of gray. “But–” he slides the second image next to the first, with its outlines of rolling hills and fluffy clouds, “Historically, heavy metals were frequently used, like lead and cobalt.”

Nodding along with the lesson, you put two and two together. “So the heavy metals in old paint would show through on an x-ray, even if somebody has painted over it.” Marcus is beaming at you, clearly happy that you made the connection.

“Exactly. And then the synthetic paint could be removed later.” Turning to face you, he rests a hip on the edge of the table. The surface light casts dramatic shadows across the contours of his jaw and nose. You mirror his body language and reach out to poke him playfully in the chest.

“No fair; the FBI gets all the fun toys.” The cool satin of his tie slips deftly between your fingers, and you give it a gentle tug. His gaze is alert and hungry as he takes a step closer, and you can feel your body responding to his proximity once again. Marcus trails a finger across your clavicle that sends a chill down your spine and tingles straight to your nipples.

“Yeah, but if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll share.” Threading his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull, he pulls gently but purposefully until your head tilts back and you’re forced to meet his eyes. A shuddering breath escapes your parted lips. Marcus leans in and grazes his lips against yours, barely a whisper of a kiss. His tongue traces the sensitive inner edge of your top lip and you nearly let out a whimper.

“Go on, then. Ask me.” He nips at your bottom lip. “Nicely.”

“Please,” you breathe. Marcus’ arm encircles your waist, while the hand in your hair grips a bit tighter. He uses a tight hold on your ass to grind you against the firm thigh he places between your own. Your hands grasp desperately onto his shoulders as your knees feel like they’re about to buckle from the delicious pressure.

“‘Please’ what?” Marcus prompts gently. You’re pressing back against his thigh now, too lost in the sensation to respond. He withdraws it suddenly and you’re left clenching, all too aware of how badly you need that pressure back.

“‘Please’ what?” He repeats, more firmly this time.

“Please, Sir.” You correct yourself quickly, and are rewarded with Marcus’ lips against yours and the blessed return of his thigh. He’s a man possessed, and you whimper into his mouth as his tongue licks inside. The next thing you know, he’s got you sandwiched between the table and his thigh now, your skirt hiked up, juices leaking through your panties as you ride the firm muscles of his leg.

“Look at you, just beautiful. You’re so hot like this, I love seeing you lose yourself. Does that feel good? Hm?” Marcus presses his hard cock into your hip and groans. “Jesus, I can feel how fucking wet you are through my pants. Are you going to leave your pussy juices on me, so anybody we walk past can see what a good girl you are for me?”

Your eyes are squeezed shut tight, arms gripping to Marcus for dear life as you continue rutting against him, breath becoming ragged. The friction and pressure are almost too much, you’ll practically give yourself rug burn at this rate. But the onslaught of Marcus’ filthy praise in your ear, his hot, steamy breath against your neck, his tongue on your pulse point – you’re already careening out of control and he knows it.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” Nodding, wordless, you scramble to hold onto him as Marcus scoops up one of your thighs and hooks it over his hip with a grunt. “Then you better ask first.”

“P-please,” you gasp out, “Please, Sir. Please can I cum?” You’re on the precipice, Marcus’ cock almost painfully hard in your hip.

You gasp when he pulls his thigh away, eyes flying open in shock. “Not yet, sweet girl, hold on for me just a little bit longer. You’re going to cum on my tongue first.” Before you have a chance to protest, Marcus hoists you up fully onto the edge of the light table and pulls up a chair to feast on you.

You’re immediately aware of the warmth the lit surface of the table infuses into every part of your body it’s touching. The table itself feels sturdy and solid beneath you, but you can’t fight an initial moment of panic. “Um, Marcus…I don’t know if–” It’s a struggle to concentrate as Marcus noses at your clothed pussy. A gentle double tap to the crown of his head is all the signal he needs to check in.

“You okay? Do you want to stop?” Marcus’ face is flushed, but his eyes are clear and laser focused on you.

“Is this, uh…safe?” You rap gently on the table with a forced air of nonchalance.

Marcus smiles and strokes the outside of your hip and thigh with his hand. “Totally safe. I triple-checked the specs and tested it out already.”

You lift an amused eyebrow at that. “Tested it out?”

Marcus’ eyes go round at the implication, his dominant persona dropped. “Not like that! I mean I stacked a shitload of evidence boxes on it and did a– well, ah– a simulation, I guess you could call it.” His self-effacing chuckle is endearing. He always knows how to make you feel safe and secure during your more adventurous times together. You smile and stroke his hair as he rubs his cheek against your inner thigh, the rasp of his five o’clock shadow sending shockwaves to your pussy.

“I’m very interested in finding out more about this simulation…Sir.” His honorific on your lips is your signal that you’re ready to continue and his grin turns wolfish. With a playful, smacking kiss to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, Marcus slips his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Bracing your calves on his broad shoulders, you lift your ass a little to help Marcus slide the panties the rest of the way off.

“Open up for me, sweetheart.” Gently, he applies pressure to your knees until you’re completely spread out before him. You might be a little embarrassed being on display if you didn’t know how much he loved you like this: open, vulnerable, and completely at his mercy. The expression on Marcus’ face is practically one of reverence.

“This is exactly why I wanted to bring you here,” Marcus places open-mouthed kisses up your thighs, sucking and nibbling his way to your center. It’s difficult not to squirm, he’s got you feeling antsy and impatient. “I wanted to see you lit up and on exhibit for me, like the work of art you are.”

You must be quite a sight to behold with the bright light of the table shining from beneath you. To drive his point home, Marcus dips his tongue to your core and collects your gathering slick on his tongue, spreading it and his saliva up to your clit in a broad swipe. Riding his thigh earlier has left you swollen and sensitive; your back arches off the table and you gasp at the sudden contact.

Marcus holds you open with one hand so his tongue can more freely explore the full length of your slit, while the other alternates between massaging your breasts and rolling a peaked nipple through your blouse. Desperate for more, you unbutton your top enough to pull the cups of your bra down and leave yourself exposed to Marcus’ roaming fingers.

Your whimpers and shuddering breaths combine with the sounds of Marcus lapping at your seeping cunt. His nose bumps against your engorged clit and you gasp, hips spasming. The hand on your breast disappears, and a finger gently nudges your entrance.

“I’m going to get you ready for my cock, baby. Are you ready?” You nod wordlessly, and Marcus eases a digit inside you, watching your expression. “Oh, pretty girl, you’re so good, so wet. So tight, fuck.”

Marcus laves his tongue over your clit and you clench around his finger. “Mmm, you’re going to take me so good, aren’t you?” Soon, he adds a second, working it rhythmically in and out, sucking and flicking his tongue against your clit until you’re panting.

The wet noises made by Marcus’ fingers inside you are practically obscene. When he crooks them at just the right spot, you lose all sense and writhe against him. You can hear a question in his inflection, but the twist and pull of his fingers are distracting, to say the least. He’s leaning over you now, the heel of his palm applying pressure over your clit to replace his mouth.

“You’re doing so well, I know you can do it. You just need to ask me first.” His fingers inside you are relentless, and you can feel the pressure building inside, pulling taut like a rubber band about to snap. Marcus can tell how close you are and stops with his two fingers buried deep inside and applies his other hand to each side of your neck with just enough pressure to get your attention.

“C’mon, sweetheart, focus for me, otherwise I’ll have to stop.” His fingers are barely moving inside of you, just enough to keep you right on the edge. “You know what to do.”

A sob practically escapes your throat. “Please, Sir. I need to cum. Please can I? I want to be good for you.” It’s impossible to keep the pleading from your tone, you’re so close. Your hips are gyrating of their own accord, feebly fucking yourself on his fingers.

Marcus moves his hand off your throat to cup the side of your face and tangle his fingers in your hair. “Mm, do it. Be my good girl and cum.” Marcus leans down for a final taste where you’re stretched around his curling fingers, then settles his lips around your clit. With a cry, you break and see stars behind your eyelids as your orgasm crashes over you.

“Fuck yes, that’s my good girl. So beautiful like this, so perfect. I can feel you dripping into my hand, baby, you’re so wet. Did that feel good? Is that what you needed?” Marcus praises you through it all, stroking your neck, your breasts, peppering kisses over your mound and belly. His fingers retreat, leaving you fluttering in aftershocks, and you watch him lick your cum from his palm and fingers.

“Thank you for being such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I had to taste you at least one more time before you leave...” Reality falls over the room like a weighted blanket, and you let your engaged muscles go slack against the lit surface of the table, suddenly harsh and blinding. You feel exposed instead of exhibited and you squeeze your thighs together as the final flutters of your orgasm subside.

“Hey, come back to me,” you hear Marcus murmur, and feel him turn your face to meet his. He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you taste your tang on his plump bottom lip. He presses his forehead against yours and you share a couple of breaths.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Additional Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! There is plenty more to come (had to). I'd love to know what you thought -- any and all feedback is welcome! I just want to become a better writer. :)

Chapter 3 || SeñoraBond's Masterlist

#pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #javier peña #marcus pike #javier pena x reader #marcus pike x reader #javier pena fanfiction #marcus pike fanfiction #senorabond writes #rumor has it fic

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