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#narcos fic
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Dámelo- Javier Peña x f!reader
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Main Masterlist | Javier Peña Masterlist | read on ao3
Summary: You want more. Javi wants to give it to you. You just have to give him something first.
Rating: E for EXPLICIT MDNI 18+
Word Count: 751
Warnings: mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, aftercare. reader is able-bodied but otherwise undescribed.
Notes: huge shoutout to my love @pr0ximamidnight for the title! Also today is her birthday so everyone wish her a happy one! And thanks as always to my wife @wannab-urs for beta reading!
“Please, Javi. Please touch me.” You beg him while panting heavily. You can barely see him through the tears blurring your eyes. He sits back on his heels, naked with his cock bobbing heavily in the space between you. Your legs are spread, knees pointed at the ceiling. Javi’s eyes are trained on your fingers desperately rubbing your clit. 
“Not until you come for me. I know you can do it.” he replies, tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips. 
“I need more, baby. Please!” you whine, working your fingers even faster. 
“You want me to help you, hermosa ?” He bats your hand away and leans in close. So close, you can feel his breath tickling your hair. Just when you think he’s going to reward you with the touch of his wicked tongue, he spits. Directly onto your engorged clit. Your moan cuts through the silence. Javi grabs your wrist and brings your fingers back to your clit. “There’s your help. Better use it wisely.” 
You groan in frustration but do as he says. You work your wrist in tight, firm circles and you can feel yourself there, right on the edge. You look over at Javi and he makes eye contact with you. There’s a dark glimmer of mischief in his eye. 
Without breaking his gaze, Javi raises his palm and spits into it, twice. He wraps it around his shaft and begins stroking. The sight alone threatens to topple you over. He can tell you’re close. He can always tell. 
“That’s it, baby. Let it happen.” He seems to match his strokes to your own rhythm. He leans forward and braces his hand on your inner thigh. The touch alone drives you wild. But then he squeezes, panting as heavily as you now, fucking his fist. When your legs begin to tremble and your moans become more erratic, Javi leans over you. He props himself up with one hand, his cock is so close to where your arousal leaks out of you, you can feel the heat from his hand that is still stoking it. He leans his face close to yours and captures your lips in a kiss. He scrapes his teeth gently along your bottom lip. 
“That’s my good girl.” he growls and you are gone. 
You clamp your thighs around his middle, bucking and squeezing him as your orgasm crashes through you. You start to move your fingers when he stops you. “Keep going.” he commands. Your clit is puffy and sensitive but you keep going. Only a few seconds later, javi comes with a stilted groan. He covers your sex with his warm release, spurt after spurt. 
His cock is still twitching against you when he reaches his hand under your knee and pushes it up, opening you further. He stuff two fingers inside of you, immediately finding the spot he knows so well. Javi wants one more. And you will give him anything he wants. Your fingers are sticky with his come and you are nearing overstimulation, but you persevere. You’ve lost all sense of time, but it can’t be more than a minute or two before your cunt is squeezing his thick fingers.
“Yes, baby. Give it to me. Give it all to me.” 
When he can tell you’ve had too much, he removes his fingers from you, and moves your hand from your clit. He joins you in laying on the bed, head on his own pillow. He grabs you by the arms and brings you close. Hugging you tightly to his chest, he strokes your shoulder with one hand and lights a cigarette with the other. 
You wrap an arm around him and kick the cover around until you can grab the corner of it with your other hand. Javi holds his cigarette between his lips and rights the blanket until it covers you both. You snuggle into his side, reading your head on his chest. You can feel his heart still thumping. 
Javi stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray on his nightstand. He presses a soft kiss into your forehead and squeezes you tighter. “Don’t fall asleep,” he warns. “We still gotta clean up.” 
“I’m not sleeping, just resting my eyes.” you protest. But comfort and exhaustion overtake you. Javi laughs lightly when you begin to snore. Once, he’s sure you are asleep, he untangles from your grip and goes to the bathroom. He returns with a wet cloth and slowly, quietly, cleans you up.
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swiftispunk · 1 year
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let me | javier peña x f!reader
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part two
pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader
summary: reader is inexperienced, javi helps you out. you know, like a gentleman. 
rating: 18+ (no minors please)
warnings etc: filthy smut, unprotected p in v sex, masturbation, fingering, oral (f receiving), loss of “virginity,” soft!javi, also rough!javi, smoking, alcohol, choking if you squint, mentions of torture (oops), also mentions of drugs. probably bad spanish (please correct me). NO USE OF Y/N.
A/N: guys. idk guys. idk what this is. in my mind, javi is just a very experienced and attentive lover and that’s why this exists. honestly they should have never let me watch narcos (it’s me, i’m they).
word count: 4.9k
The after-work drinks had led where they so often do: you and Peña, alone at a bar not far from the embassy, locked in a war of words after the rest of your colleagues had called it a night.
“It’s really not any of your business, Peña.”
“Javi, baby.”
“Sorry, Javi. And I’m not saying anything else.”
“That’s fine, you don’t have to. I mean, it’s obvious. Can’t believe I didn’t see it before, honestly.”
“How is it obvious?”
Tonight, somehow, the conversation has landed on your sex life, a topic you’d rather not get into, seeing as you’re not exactly what you - or anyone else for that matter - would call “experienced.”
You’d made the fatal flaw, after your third beer, of letting that fact slip. Now Peña, ever the opportunist, is pressing you for details. 
“I’ve fucked a lot of whores, baby, so believe me. I know a virgin when I see one.”
“Oh, really?”
“Mhmm,” he hums, swigging back a mouthful of his beer. 
“What makes you so sure?” you challenge him, fighting for your life to maintain the upper hand in an argument you are almost definitely losing. 
“Princesa, it’s written all over you.”
“I don’t see how.” 
You’re being coy, but of course he’s right. You hate to admit it because it feels embarrassing, even more so knowing Peña’s...colourful history. You’ve heard all about his escapades through the other women at the embassy, and he isn’t exactly quiet about it himself. Half his intel came from the women he’d slept with, and he had no shame admitting that. 
It’s not like you’re against the idea of sex or anything, you’ve fooled around here and there. You just...never got around to crossing that one particular threshold. 
But you’ve definitely thought about crossing it with the sensuous man sitting across from you now.  
Javi leans back in his chair, the fabric of his tight shirt stretching deliciously over his tan chest. It takes all your strength to keep your eyes on the beer bottle in your hands and not on his neck, where the thinnest sheen of sweat is glistening in the Colombian heat. 
“The way you are with me, for one thing,” he drawls, lighting a cigarette and taking a languid pull. 
Fuck.
“What - I don’t -”
“You can deny it, querida, but I’ve got eyes,” he says matter-of-factly, like he’s assessing the evidence of a crime scene. “All jumpy and nervous around me like a teenager or some shit. It’s alright, es linda.”
God-fucking-damnit. He’s right again, much to your chagrin. You know you haven’t been subtle with the way you’ve been pining after him, but still. Of course he’s noticed you blushing and bumbling violently every time he so much as greets you with an “hola, querida” or places a hand on your lower back when he passes you in the office. 
Not that he hasn’t been taking complete advantage of your obvious crushing, openly flirting at work or insisting you stay for “one more drink, hermosa,” at work functions like this. 
That’s why you can’t bear to tell him the truth. 
He smirks while you fumble for your words, and yeah, you’re definitely not winning this argument. 
“Look, Peña, I -”
“Javi.”
“Sorry, Javi -”
“And there’s that,” he interjects, leaning forward and pointing at you accusingly with the cigarette trapped between his fingers. 
“What?”
“You give in so easy, querida,” he practically purrs, leaning even closer to you across the little table, your body responding to the proximity, blush flooding your cheeks and heart beating out an unsteady rhythm. “No fight in you at all. You know what that says?”
You shake your head no.
“It says you’re dying to get fucked.”
His bluntness catches you off guard, and your breath leaves you in a quick exhale as you back away from him, far enough to get some air. 
Then the truth is pouring from your lips before you can stop it. 
“Well it hasn’t been for a lack of offers, okay?” you say, flustered and frustrated. Over Javier Peña. What else is new?
“Oh, I’m sure,” he reassures you, but you can see the triumphant glint in his eyes that he’s got the admission from you. Javi stays right where he is on the edge of his chair, so close your knees brush. He takes another long drag off his cigarette, the smoke filling the hot air around you as he exhales. 
“Or for lack of wanting to, actually,” you admit. 
“What’s stopping you?” he asks, with what sounds like genuine curiousity. 
“I don’t know, Javi, work...life...things got in the way.” It’s not untrue; cushy government jobs like yours didn’t come easy, especially not the ones that see you working with the team in charge of taking down the biggest cocaine empire in history. Distractions in your personal life had never been an option. “You might find it hard to believe but there are more important things in this world than fucking.”
“Sure,” he says agreeably, with another drag of his smoke. “But if you had offers - and it’s obvious why you’d have offers, hermosa - why didn’t you?”
He sounds so earnest, like he’s really trying to understand. It’s that sincerity that keeps the truth coming before you can stop it.
“They just weren’t the right people,” you shrug. It really was that simple. You had just...never wanted to settle. 
“So let me ask you this,” he says, putting out his cigarette and silencing you with a hand on your knee under the table. 
Fuck fuck fuck. 
“What’s stopping you right now?” he croons. “If I’m offering.”
You can hardly breathe as his gentle touch inches up your leg, his long fingers finding their way just under the hem of your pencil skirt. Your skin tingles at his touch, his palm still somewhat cold from the beer he’d been holding a moment ago. 
You can’t speak or even move as his hand moves further up under your skirt, sliding between your legs, pinky finger just caressing the edge of your underwear, dangerously close to the spot you know has started to become wet with arousal. 
He’s never been this overt with you before. 
“W-what like -,” Your voice comes out weak, betraying you as you try to keep it together “- you seriously think you’re the right person, Peña?”
“Has anyone ever even made you come, cariño?” he implores, ignoring your question.
You swallow harshly as you battle with yourself to keep your composure, answering his question with another question. 
“Um - you mean - besides myself?” 
Javi grins like the devil himself, dark brown eyes glinting with menace as his fingers twitch knowingly closer to the edge of your panties. 
He’s enjoying this.
“Sure, besides yourself. But put a pin in that, querida.”
Had his hand felt cold a moment ago? Now it feels hot as a branding iron on your thigh, snaking completely between your legs and forcing you to uncross them. 
“I - I don’t want to say,” you lie.
His gaze locked tightly with yours, Javi squeezes your inner thigh then, feather light but with enough force that you gasp loudly and your entire body tenses.
He isn’t smiling anymore.
“Dime,” he commands you. 
You suddenly imagine yourself as some sicario he’s interrogating for information, his grip on your thigh its own form of cruel torture, eliciting confessions from you like a criminal under the knife. 
“N-no,” you stammer dumbly. “No one but me has ever...”
“Ever...?”
Fuck. He wants you to say it. His thumb strokes the sensitive skin between your legs, coaxing the words out of you with ease.
“No one but me has ever made me come,” you say in a rushed breath. 
He spreads your legs a little wider, and you don’t fight it. 
“Are you turned on right now, hermosa?” 
You nod wordlessly. What’s the point in lying now? You’re so wet anyway, you’re surprised the entire bar can’t sense your arousal. 
He chuckles darkly, finally sitting back and taking his hand away with him. You take a breath for what feels like the first time in minutes, body aching from the need to have his touch back. 
“Como dije, too easy,” he says, dropping the dark edge in his voice and lighting another cigarette coolly. 
“Javi -”
“Finish your drink, querida.”
-
For the second time that evening, you find yourself alone with Javi.
Only this time it’s on his couch, and instead of beer, you’re clutching for dear life to a crystal glass of bourbon as Javi brushes your hair off your shoulder to delicately kiss your neck.
Somewhere between the teasing in the bar and the teasing in his car, you’d agreed to let Javi “fix your little problem” (his words, not yours). Not that it had been a particularly hard sell. But now it’s actually happening and you need to at least attempt to set some ground rules. 
“Javi, wait.”
“Mmmm?” He doesn’t move away from you, his breath sending shivers down your spine as you struggle to remember what it was you’d been trying to say.
“I’m...not one of your whores,” you say breathlessly.
“Lo sé, hermosa.”
“And I waited a long time for this,” you manage.
He continues kissing along your jaw, simultaneously snatching the drink from your hands and placing it on the table in front of you. 
“Say what’s on your mind, baby.” You hear the implication behind his words: it’s now or never. 
With every ounce of willpower you have, you push him off you with a hand on his chest, partially exposed under his beige shirt, to look him in his smoldering brown eyes. The sight of him nearly takes you out, his lips parted and brows furrowed, the gleam in his eyes nothing short of hungry.
“I just want to make sure you know what this is,” you say firmly, feigning enough bravado to take on Escobar himself. “This is for me.”
Javi smirks, seemingly endeared by your efforts to take control of the situation.
“Corazón,” he hums, brushing both his hands over your cheekbones softly. “How little do you think of me? Hm? I’m not gonna use you. I want to help you.”
You can barely choke out a breathy, “Good,” before his lips are on yours, silencing you for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He kisses you deeply, slowly but assuredly, his tongue finding its way into your mouth with no resistance from you. 
His breath is warm and all-encompassing, the taste of beer and bourbon mixed with cigarette smoke lacing his lips as they move competently against yours. He’s gentle, to your surprise, his hands still resting on either side of your face, holding you steady as you lose yourself in him.
He kisses you like that for what feels like hours, taking his time, letting his hands tangle in your hair as yours feel their way along his muscled arms.
With your head spinning from just his kiss, you can’t contain your moan when he trails one hand over your clavicle and under your collared shirt, fingers ghosting just over your breast. You gasp for air when he breaks the kiss, moving to graze his lips over your chest and up your neck, across your jaw and finally behind your ear, where he stops.
“You said you’ve made yourself come, right?” he whispers hotly in your ear, his hand over your breast finally squeezing with the faintest pressure.
You nod. 
“Words, hermosa,” he presses you, gently tugging at the thick hair at the nape of your neck with his other hand, tangling his fingers in there. 
“I’ve made myself come,” you say shakily, daring yourself to look at him.
He licks his lips and removes his hand from under your shirt, letting it run over the front of your body, where he uses it to hike your skirt higher up on your thighs, revealing your panties underneath. 
“Show me,” he commands. “Show me how you play with your pussy. Show me how you like it.” 
His words send sparks flying to your core, but you don’t have time to absorb them, because then he’s ducking back to crush his mouth to yours again, guiding one of your hands between your legs with his own. 
You whimper as you feel how soaked you are through your underwear, which causes Javi to smirk as he kisses you. His hand hovers over yours as you circle your clit through the fabric till you’re floating with the sensation of it, giving in to the feeling of Javi against your mouth and your own hand against your clothed folds.
He pulls back after a moment, helping you wiggle free from your underwear and spreading your legs wider so you’re fully on display for him.
“Bonita,” he whispers, taking in the sight of you, skirt hiked up to nearly your belly now, wet cunt glistening in the low light of his apartment. “Fuck,” he growls, voice dripping with awe and arousal. “Keep going, pretty girl.”
His encouragement keeps you from feeling embarrassed, even as you dip two fingers inside yourself, how you would if you were alone.
“Yeah, baby,” Javi groans. You chance a glance at him to find he’s palming himself through his tight jeans, watching you like a warrior lusting for battle. “You like that? Want someone to fill that pussy up, don’t you?”
You can only respond with a soft moan, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself in the feeling and the sound of his voice. You’re distantly aware of him leaning over you, unbuttoning your shirt and palming your tits through your bra, sending a new wave of pleasure through you while you fuck yourself with your fingers.
You’re so far gone that you aren’t prepared for the moment he shoves your hand away, pinning it on the couch beside you, suddenly replacing your fingers with his mouth. 
“Fuck, Javi!” you cry as his tongue darts into your cunt before licking up towards your clit, where he mimics the small circles you’d demonstrated with your fingers just moments before. 
He moans against you, igniting another new sensation, sending electric shocks through you, a tightness starting to build deep inside your core.
But then he’s slipping two fingers inside you, two fingers that are much thicker and longer than your own. His tongue keeps working circles around your clit, distracting you from the slight pain of his fingers spreading you open. But the pain is quickly replaced with pleasure when he hooks them inside you just so, reaching a new spot that has you flying, squirming under him as your orgasm threatens to overcome you.
“You taste so good, hermosa,” he groans, pulling his mouth away to kiss at your inner thighs, nipping the skin there ravenously. “Has anyone ever eaten your pussy like this, baby?”
“No one like you, Javi,” you promise him, gazing down at him fully clothed between your legs, your wetness caught in his mustache, his fingers still hooked inside you like an anchor. 
“I want you come on my mouth, can you do that for me, cariño?”
You nod furiously in response and Javi grins up at you before diving down to circle languidly over your clit with his tongue again, fingers fucking in and out of you, unrelentingly, till there’s only him, him, him, inside you and around you, making your head spin and your toes curl. When you come, you arch up off the couch, crying out a string of expletives mingled with his name. It’s miles beyond anything you’ve ever made yourself feel with just your own meager fingers.  
Javi doesn’t pull away or slow his motions as you finish, lapping you up greedily, only backing off when he feels your hands in his hair, a silent plea as the sensation starts to feel like too much.
“Oh…my god,” is all you can say when the wave finishes passing over you.
“Good?” he asks then, gazing up at you as you try to catch your breath.
“Yes, Javi, fuck, so fucking good,” you keen, waves of pleasure still sending shockwaves through you as Javi moves up your body to reunite your lips with his. You taste yourself on his tongue when he licks inside your mouth, and fuck, that’s new. 
“You’ve kind of got a mouth on you, don’t you?” Javi observes after a moment. You had been cursing a little more than you usually did, but what did he expect after he’d made you come like that? He really must have just seen you as some fucking prude at work.
“What can I say, Javi?” you lilt, indulging him. “You made a chica mala out of me.” You hope Javi will appreciate the seductive edge you’ve adopted in your post-ograsm haze. 
“Listen to you, baby,” Javi whispers with a smile, cupping your face with his hand, letting his thumb glide over your lips and coax your mouth open. “Sweet girl.” He leans in to kiss you again, like he can’t help himself.
He kisses you like that for a long while, and then you can’t wait. You start to fumble with the belt on his jeans, signaling how ready you are for what you know is coming next. 
“M’not gonna take your virginity on the goddamn couch, querida,” he says against your mouth. 
“Then take me to bed,” you all but beg.
He growls and the butterflies in your stomach dance at the desperate sound. It occurs to you then that maybe he wants this as much as you do, the hard line of his cock in his jeans alone a clear indication of that. You eye it with a mixture of fear and exhilaration, which he catches, grinning at the need written all over your face.
He helps you off the couch and guides you to the bedroom by the hand, a move that feels chaste, all things considered.
In the bedroom, Javi’s mouth finds yours again, intoxicating you with his kiss so you hardly notice him removing your shirt, sliding your skirt down your legs and unhooking your bra behind you. But then he pulls away to assess your naked body and your diffidence flares in your exposed state. 
But Javi wastes no time putting you at ease.
“You’re fucking perfect, cariño,” he breathes, his hands moving up your sides to grab your tits with wonder, his eyes glazing over and cock twitching at just the sight of you. You’re blushing like a teenager again at his reverence, as if he hadn’t just eaten you out in the living room.
“Javi -,” you gasp, when he ducks down to kiss one of your nipples hungrily. “Why are you still wearing all those clothes?”
“You want them off, mi amor?” he teases, punctuating the question with a squeeze of your ass. “Get on the bed.”
You don’t argue. You lie back on the bed so he’s standing over you and you watch with nervous fascination as he undoes his belt, his eyes never leaving you. 
“Touch yourself,” he instructs you gruffly. Again, you don’t argue. You’re not sure you’d deny him anything now.
You run your fingers over your throbbing cunt, still so sensitive, while Javi unbuttons his shirt. He tosses it aside before sliding his jeans and boxers down, his rock hard cock springing free, confirming a rumour you’d heard but never known for sure:
Javi is big.
Well, fuck.
Your eyes widen as he strokes himself a few times at the sight of you still playing with yourself, while you try to contain the sudden flood of anxiety threatening to take hold of you. You have no doubt Javi is the right person to do this for you, but the sight of his size has your nerves flaring all over again. What if you couldn’t do it?
Perhaps sensing your unease, Javi climbs up the bed so you’re face to face, stroking your cheek lightly with his fingers and planting a tender kiss to your lips.
“You still want this, baby?” he breathes.
You nod, head swimming with a confusing mixture of need for Javi and fear of failing.
He tuts, brushing your hair off your face with the softest of touches. “Need to hear you say it, mi amor.”
You take a deep, steadying breath, willing yourself to be calm. Javi’s done nothing but take perfect care of you so far, and you’ve waited too long to back out now. 
“I want you, Javi,” you say with as much conviction as you can muster, and it’s true, even if the slight quiver in your voice reveals your true consternation. 
He nods once before moving in to kiss your mouth, and you think you’ll never get tired of the feeling of his lips on yours. He kisses you until the nerves are melting away, peeling back layers of unease with each brush of his hands on your tits, every gentle pinch of your nipples, every indent of his fingernails on your hips. 
He takes his time, getting you soaking wet as he works over your body, finally sliding his hand down between your legs to insert a finger inside you. 
“I’m gonna get you ready for me, okay, sweet girl?” His voice is like honey in your ear, sickly sweet and sultry as he adds a second finger. “Relájate.”
Relax, you tell yourself. 
And it’s surprisingly easy to do, as his fingers spread and move inside you, coaxing you open in preparation for him. You moan at the feeling, and Javi moans with you, like he can feel it too. Your nerves start to feel like anticipation, your desire to have his cock inside you taking over. You can feel him, hard, pressed against your side, and your want very quickly turns to need. 
“Javi,” you groan. “I’m ready, please, fuck me.”
You can see the need in his own eyes looking back at you, his response nothing more than a soft grunt as he moves on the bed to position himself between your legs. He runs the tip of his cock through your wet folds, the feeling of him grazing your clit drawing out a loud moan from you. The lingering pleasure distracts you momentarily from the very real sting of him slipping the tip of his cock inside you. Your breath hitches then, and so does Javi’s.
“Fuck me,” Javi snarls followed by a litany of curse words in Spanish you don’t recognize. “You’re so fucking tight.”
He has to work hard to focus on you, staying completely still while you adjust to his size. 
“Open your eyes, hermosa,” he implores you, voice strained. You hadn’t even realized you’d closed them. You force your lids open to look up at him, his strong arms on either side of you, his expression a combination of pleasure and concern for you. “Are you good?”
You’re not so sure. It hurts, there’s no getting around that. You can feel his cock stretching you open, splitting you apart at the seams and it’s too much, too overwhelming, too unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.
But it’s not...bad. In spite of the pain, your body is begging out an incessant plea to your mind: more. 
“I’m good - I just - need you to move.” 
You think it’s true. Already the pain is dissipating back into pleasure, and you want to feel more of him. You want to be full of him.
Javi dips to kiss you as he slowly, devastatingly, pushes his hips forward, his length gradually filling you inch by inch, till he’s almost all the way inside. Never taking his eyes off yours, he pulls out nearly completely, thrusting back in at the same pernicious pace. You throw your head back when he bottoms out, finally feeling all of him inside you, a fullness unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.
Fuck the pain, you decide then.
“More,” you beg out loud, letting Javi hear your inner pleas. 
Javi groans and begins to thrust in and out of you in earnest then, maintaining a slow but steady pace, till your head is spinning and the ache subsides. Then it’s just good, the feeling of him inside you, the constrained look of ecstasy on his face, his body over yours like a safe haven.
“Is it everything you hoped for?” he teases as he fucks you, the huskiness in his voice driving you wild, causing heat to rise in your core again.
“Shut up and don’t stop,” you try to tease back, but you sound so breathless as the pleasure in you mounts, giving you away.
“Mouthy,” he chides you, biting down gently on your earlobe. “Think you can come again, mi chica mala?”
“I think - I - yeah, just -,” he shifts his hips slightly so he’s hitting that spot in you again, thrusting into you over and over at an devastatingly unhurried tempo - “right there - fuck!”
You don’t stand a chance when he starts rubbing his thumb over your clit, the rhythm of his hips picking up speed as you cry out, your second orgasm edging closer. Javi’s movements are so certain, so meticulous, so competent, and you think it must have been worth the wait if it meant your first time got to be this. 
“Javi, fuck, I’m gonna -,”
“Come for me, hermosa, come on my dick,” he instructs you as the warmth builds in your core and reaches a fever pitch, your entire body jerking as you come again, soaking and squeezing his cock as you do. “Good girl,” Javi praises you while you come, his movements never ceasing as he fucks you through it, losing himself in the feeling. “That’s so good, baby.”
You feel tears sprout at the corners of your eyes at the overwhelming euphoria of it all. Unconsciously, your hands trace Javi’s chest, his arms, his back, anywhere you can reach to feel more of him. His movements, still so methodically slow, become less precise and more hasty as his own climax approaches.
“M’close, hermosa, where do you want me?” he whispers, voice wavering.
“What do you want, Javi?”
He chuckles once minaciously. 
“You don’t want what I want, sweet girl.”
“Try me, Peña,” you say, hoping the use of his last name will bring out the reaction you’re looking for. 
It works, or at least, he seems to clue in to what you’re trying to do. His eyes go dark and you see something shift in him.
“You call me Javi when I’m fucking you, sweetheart,” he says in a voice you haven’t heard him use with you yet. He’s been so careful, so restrained with you so far. But you want to see the real Javi, the one who’s “fucked so many whores that he knows a virgin when he sees one,” the Javi who’s been teasing you for months, the one who’s got his cock in you so deep right now that you’ll let him take you how ever he wants.
“Turn over,” he orders you, and without hesitation you’re flipping onto all fours, Javi wasting no time in slipping his cock back inside you. 
“Fuck, Javi,” you moan as he fucks you with new intensity, his thrusts coming hard and fast, his hips pounding against your ass with enough force to knock the air out of you. 
“This what you want, baby, huh?” he grunts as he holds you steady with his big hands on your sides, reaching under you to palm your tits before pulling you upright so your back is flush against his broad chest. He holds you there while he fucks you punishingly, skin slapping on skin obscenely, his heavy breath tickling your ear as his hands trail over your chest and very lightly over your throat. 
You can’t find the words to answer him, and for once, he doesn’t make you. He just keeps fucking you at that same tenacious pace, his breath growing more ragged and his moans more disjointed.
He doesn’t warn you when he’s about to come, just suddenly pushes you off him so your face is flush against the mattress, his strong hand on the back of your neck forcing you to stay put there. He pulls out and you hear him stroke himself ferociously until his hot come is coating your ass and back and he’s moaning out another string of curse words you can’t make out. 
It sounds like a fucking symphony to your pleasure-drunk mind.
“Goddamn, hermosa,” you hear him sigh when he finishes, releasing his hand from the vice grip it has on the back of your neck, pulling you up by your arms so you’re sitting back on your knees. 
“You good, baby?” he breathes in your ear and you hum a quiet “yes” in response.
You really, really are.
With a firm hand on your chin, he tilts your face back to kiss you again, a kiss that feels so familiar now that it’s like coming home. He wraps his arms around you from behind, ignoring the sticky come between your bodies, his embrace a stabling ballast as you both catch your breath.
“Thank you, Javi,” you whisper after a long moment, letting your head fall back lazily against his shoulder. You don’t know what compels you to say it, but it’s true. Also, you haven’t exactly made it this far before; was it customary to express gratitude after getting your brains fucked out by your co-worker?
Javi just snickers lightly and presses a gentle kiss to your neck.
“Anytime, hermosa,” he says. “But next time, we’re finding something to do with that mouth of yours.”
Your tummy flutters at the thought of “next time” and you smirk up at him.
“Well lucky for you, I do have some experience in that department,” you assure him.
END.
7K notes · View notes
joelsgreys · 11 months
Text
Just Friends (Javier Peña x Female Reader)
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Part 2
Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.
Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader
Warnings/Tags 🏷 18+ only, minors dni. reader is in late 20’s; reader is an agent for the DEA; established friendship, idiots in love lust, overprotective/slightly jealous Javi; Javi is his canon manwhore self, reader is a virgin, talks of virginity loss and her desire for no strings attached sex, a bit of pining and yearning, lots of pet names, a couple insults, friendship fluff; touching, groping, dry humping, reader gets off, Javi does not. I know, I know. I will make it up to him in part dos. this does not follow the timeline of the show accurately, Messina is in the picture, Connie is still around. reader is bilingual, no descriptions of her race or ethnicity mentioned though. *translations at the end.
Word Count: 7.9k
A/N: This took me forever to edit and post because I’m scared lmao.
thank you to @cutesyscreenname for encouraging me to write this idea. I owe you cherry gansitos!
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You observed your own reflection in the full length mirror in front of you and let out a curious little hum as you lifted the short, scarlet red minidress, holding it right up against the length of your body. You then held up the second dress that you had clutched in your opposite hand, a stunning, satin black midi number whose length was a lot longer than the first option, the hem of it falling down to your calves.
It appeared rather innocent, modest enough while it was still on the plastic hanger, but it fit you beautifully, just like a fucking glove. The bodice of the garment cinched at your waist and it was tightly fitted, hugging the curves of your upper body so closely that it looked and even felt like something of a second skin whenever you wore it. The billowy skirt of the dress flowed out around you, darling and sweet at first glance, however it came with a borderline dangerous slit in the side of it that stopped about two or three inches above the middle of your thigh near the hinge of your hip. It exposed the entire length of your leg whenever you walked, danced, or moved around in it—Murphy had once referred to it as the infamous femme fatale dress, telling you that it was a far, far more dangerous weapon than your gun could ever be. 
You were fairly certain his remarks had something to do with the fact that you’d worn the dress on a number of different occasions while you were out on the job, going undercover in Bogotá for the US Drug Enforcement Administration. 
As the only female agent on her team in Colombia and a younger, very beautiful female agent at that, Messina found herself using you to her advantage quite often these days. She would send you out all over Bogotá in that very same black dress with the hope that it would aid you in luring in members of the Medellín drug cartel in efforts to capture their leader, Pablo Escobar.
Tonight, however, you weren’t going undercover.
You were doing something much more frightening than mingling among some of Colombia’s most dangerous men. 
Far, far more daunting than that.
You were going out on a date. 
“I like the red dress the best,” Javier’s deep voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He had mentioned to you earlier that day that he was going to some lounge with Murphy for a smoke and some drinks after work hours since it had been a long, draining week for him at the office; Messina had stuck him with an endless amount of tedious paperwork to do and it had just about driven him insane, but nothing a pack of cigarettes and some bourbon couldn’t fix. With the soft, Latin cumbias playing from the old stereo perched on top of the white oak dresser beside you, you had completely missed the sound of the front door opening and closing when he’d gotten home.
You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there in the open doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Javier’s dark brown eyes were fixed intently on you, a small, devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he casually leaned up against the door frame of your bedroom. Well, technically, it was actually the guest bedroom of his apartment unit that he’d let you take over several months ago. The housing department of the agency had placed you into a unit in the building across the street from his, right next door to Murphy and his wife, Connie. It had been a special arrangement requested by your diligent supervisor in an effort to make sure that no one found themselves in a compromising situation—she trusted you enough not to get any dumb ideas, but she didn’t trust Peña as far as she could throw him. It wasn’t very far.
While it had certainly been quite nice, and even kind of comforting at times to have Steve and Connie as your neighbors, you’d expressed to Javier one night over dinner at his place that you weren’t all too fond of having to live alone. Without an ounce of hesitation on his part, Javi offered to have you move into his spare bedroom that very same evening after you were both done eating, but only on the condition that Messina didn’t find out about the new living arrangement. She would wring Javier’s neck with her bare hands if knew that you two had been sharing his apartment this entire time. 
Hell, she would wring yours too. And you were the favorite child of sorts. Less annoying than Murphy and certainly a lot less problematic than Peña. 
She only liked you because she never had to worry about you. On or off the job.
But even though you were Messina’s number one, her star player, that would do absolutely nothing to spare you from her wrath if she ever came to find out that you were living with Javier Peña. She wasn’t a fan of just how close the two of you had become over the last several months; she’d told you herself that she much preferred it if you kept your distance from him while you were off duty. One wrong move on your part or Javi’s and it was game fucking over. Messina wouldn’t hesitate to send one of your asses packing, back home to be assigned somewhere else, somewhere far away from the other.
Pursing your lips together lightly, you turned your attention back over to the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, you lifted the red minidress up against your body once more to get another good look at it, as if you hadn’t just been staring at it for the last five minutes before he’d appeared. “I don’t know, Javi. I don’t like this one all that much to be honest. I’m not even sure why the hell I let Connie talk me into buying it in the first place. She said it was cute,” You remarked, tilting your head slightly to the side. You wrinkled your nose at the diamond cut out design in the sides of it. Whoever designed it must have not had enough money to spring for more a teensy bit more fabric. “But it’s kind of tacky. And it makes me look like a whore.”
“Mm yes, but a very beautiful whore,” Javi stated, his smirk widening as he drank in the gorgeous sight of you before him. He licked his lips, openly admiring the way you were clad in nothing but one of his shirts, his pink button up with short sleeves that you had once told him you loved so much because it was your favorite color; you’d sneakily stolen it out of his closet on laundry day a couple weeks back while all of your clothes had been in the washing machine and had never given it back to him. Not that Javier even really wanted it back at this point—his shirt looked a million times better on you than ever it did on him. Seeing you in it did inexplicable things to him and he fucking loved it when you padded around your now shared apartment in nothing but a pair of panties and his pink shirt. He took another glimpse at you, nearly foaming at the mouth at how it fit your frame, how the hem of it fell to the tops of your smooth thighs, the material hardly doing anything to cover up the tantalizing curves of your hips and your perfect ass. “Hermosura. The most beautiful whore in all of Colombia.”
You narrowed your eyes at him through the mirror, wishing you had a free hand you could flip him off with. “Gee, thanks for the compliment, Peña. You are always such a fucking charmer, aren’t you?”
“Oh, come on. Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. I’m just messing around with you. You know I don’t think you actually look like a whore—and trust me, I know what a whore looks like,” he responded with a deep and hearty laugh. He uncrossed his arms, allowing them to fall down to his sides as he pushed himself away from the door frame. He sauntered his way further into your bedroom, uninvited. “I’m being serious about the dress, though. Go with the red one. El vestido rojo. It’s perfect. Besides, that color would look gorgeous on you, cariño. I bet it would look almost as good on you as pink does.” He laughed again as he added, “Nice shirt, by the way.”
Your annoyed expression immediately softened into one of guilt. “I’ve been meaning to give you your shirt back,” You told him, sheepishly. “Te lo juro, Javi.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Javier snorted, waving off the little white lie. He finally forced himself to tear his attention away from you and glanced around, observing the current state of your room instead. It looked like a tornado had hit the inside of your closet; dresses, jackets, and high heeled shoes were strewn all over the place. He wasn’t all too surprised by the mess. He knew you like he knew the back of his own hand by now, and this was typical of you when you were searching for the perfect outfit to wear on a free night out in the city. “I don’t remember you telling me you had any plans tonight, bonita. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with the chismosas of the office? Or are you going out for a girl’s night with Connie?”
You momentarily hesitated.
“Actually, I have a date.”
Through the mirror, you saw the smile fade from Javier’s face almost instantly.
Here we go, You thought inwardly to yourself.
“You have a date? With who?” he demanded. 
Reluctantly, you turned around to face him. “You know Valeria, don’t you?”
The color drained from his face.
“That’s the translator who works up on the third floor, right?” He touched his hand to the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her around a couple of times.”
You almost laughed at the manner in which Javier tried playing dumb. 
Of course he knew Valeria. 
He had fucked her three weeks ago.
Javi had tried to keep it on the down low, but loud mouthed Valeria would brag to anyone who would listen all about how Agent Peña had fucked her in her office one evening while they’d been working late together and everyone else had gone home. Not that Javier even needed her services as a translator, he’d just needed an excuse to find himself in her office after hours so he could get his dick wet.
For some strange reason, you felt oddly fucking generous and decided to let Javier have this one, playing along with him and his sheer stupidity. “Yeah, her. She has an older brother who’s visiting the city for a few days. His name is Diego. He’s an immigration attorney who is here on business in Bogotá. She offered to set me up with him,” You explained, keeping everything as brief as possible. “I’m meeting him for drinks tonight.”
Javier frowned. “Have you met him in person?”
“Well no, but Valeria showed me his picture and she told me all about him. It’s not like he’s just some random ass guy I met on the street, Javi. He’s her brother, she advocated for him,” You tried to reason with him, knowing all too well where this conversation was heading. Sure, it was nice to know that Javier cared about you enough to be concerned about you meeting up with someone who was essentially a complete stranger, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself. You’d spent many evenings sitting right in the laps of the violent criminals who worked for Escobar—a blind date with a coworker’s brother was nothing for him to make a fuss over. “I really don’t think that I have anything to worry about with him.”
He rigidly shook his head. “Look, no offense to Valeria, but I don’t like the idea of you running around this city at night with some fucking prick that you’ve never even met before. And before you throw all that undercover bullshit at me, just know that it’s not the same thing. You aren’t going out on the job tonight. You’re not going out with your team on standby to watch your back, you’re not going out with me and Murphy armed and ready to jump into action if things head south. What if something happens to you?”
You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the complete and utter ridiculousness of his drama king antics. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Peña. Diego’s not a member of the fucking cartel, he’s a lawyer. And besides that, you’re acting like I can’t take care of myself.”
“Listen, I know damn good and well that you can take care of yourself just fine, muñeca. But still, that doesn’t make me feel any better about this whole arrangement.” Javier’s hands went to his waist and he let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head once again. “I’m going to need to meet this guy before you go out with him. I don’t care whose fucking brother he is—whichever way you try to spin it, the bottom line is that he’s a still a fucking stranger and I want to check him out for myself before I let you go out with him.” He saw the mischievous twinkle in your eyes and peered at you suspiciously. “Please tell me he’s coming to pick you up here at the apartment.”
You laughed. “Of course not, Javi. I’m not stupid. I already knew you would behave like this. I knew you would go straight into overprotective mode, just like you always do. I didn’t want you scaring him off, so I’m taking a taxi cab and we’re meeting up at the bar instead.” You easily clocked the all too familiar glint in his eye and smiled sweetly at him. “And don’t even think about trying to guess which one it is so that you can show up and keep tabs on me the whole night. There are thousands of bars in this damn city and I can promise you that you’re not smart enough to figure out which one we’re going to, Agent Peña.”
Annoyed by the smugness in your tone and the way it was starting to get under his skin, Javier’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He watched you walk over to your closet, subtly swaying your hips to the music as you pulled out yet another dress to add to your rapidly growing list of options.
He could feel the envy prickling at each and every last single nerve ending in his entire body, his frustrations stewing at the mere thought of you going out with another man. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to shove the feeling down knowing damn well that he didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not when you two weren’t anything more than just friends.
If you’d just been a coworker, it would be different. 
Javier would gladly, happily, risk mixing business with pleasure as he had so often done in the past with several secretaries—and a translator or two—in his time. But no matter how hard he’d tried over and over again to place you into that box, into that category, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.
You weren’t just his coworker, you were his friend.
His best friend.
For as much shit as he gave you, you mattered to him. You were important to him, way too important to ever risk fucking up your friendship by fucking you. 
Still. Javier would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it. He thought about it all the damn time. When he discovered that fucking himself into the palm of his hand and moaning your name quietly over and over again under his breath didn’t quite do the job for him anymore, he would find himself standing outside of your bedroom prepared to say fuck it all and make his move on you. But then it happened every single fucking time without fail—as soon as he lifted his curled fist to knock on your door, he started to remember things. 
He’d remember the way you could so easily make him laugh with your clever and quick witted sense of humor. He remembered all those late nights you two would spend together lounging on his brown leather couch in your pajamas watching old, poorly made slasher films while indulging in the greasiest, unhealthiest takeout Bogotá had to offer. He remembered how you could read him just like a fucking magazine, how you always knew when something was wrong—and how you would always somehow know exactly what to say and do to comfort him whenever he needed it the most.
He would remember how you’d come to feel like his home away from home. 
And then he would drop his hand right back down to his side, whirl around on his heel, and march straight back into his bedroom where he had little choice but to go back to fantasizing about what could never be between you and him.
Snapping himself out of his own train of thought, Javier carefully stepped over the mountains of clothing and shoes on the floor and made his way over to another pile of dresses that were draped over the foot of your bed. He caught a glimpse of the lingerie set on top of them, brand new with the price tag still attached to the fabric; the set was black, made of delicate, see through lace that would leave very little to the imagination when you put it on. He picked up the thong, hooking the thin elastic of it around his index finger. “Something tells me that you’re not planning on coming back home tonight.”
“What are you talking about?” Confused, you turned around and gasped, dropping the dresses in your hands. “Javier!”
“Are these even going to cover anything up?” he teased you with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement as they darted between the thong and the lower half of your body. “Falta mucha tela, cariño.”
You rushed up to him and made a dive for the underwear. “Give me those!”
“How come you don’t ever wear anything like this around the apartment, hermosa?” Javi dangled them above your head and out of your reach. “All I ever get to see you in are those cotton panties, the ones with polka dots on them.” He glanced down, getting an eyeful of you and the aforementioned polka dot panties. “Kind of like the ones you’re wearing now—”
“Javier, cut it out!” You placed a hand on his shoulder as the other continued grabbing for the lingerie. “Come on, stop being such a fucking asshole!”
Although he could have easily enjoyed taunting you for hours and hours on end, Javier knew you wouldn’t hesitate to have your knee meet his balls. Not wanting to risk ending up on your floor curled up in pain, he eased up and handed them over to you. 
“Idiota!” You hissed at him, furiously snatching the underwear out of his hand. You stomped over to your dresser and shoved them into the middle drawer, slamming it closed so hard the old stereo nearly went crashing to the floor. “You can be a real fucking douchebag, Peña.”
Javier wasn’t bothered by the insults; he’d grown used to those—however any trace of playfulness vanished as the reality began to set in for him. The reality of you sleeping with another a man tonight. “Wait a minute, are you really planning to fuck the guy?” He didn’t even make the attempt to mask the disappointment that laced his tone. “I mean, you haven’t even met him yet. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, querida.”
“You sound awful judgmental for someone who brings home a different escort every other fucking week,” You snapped at him, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, and speaking of escorts, I had the pleasure of meeting Alessandra in the bathroom this morning. She asked if I had a tank top that she could borrow since apparently you got too eager and ripped her shirt off last night.” You tilted your head, squinting at him as he started shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “If you happen to go back to her for a second round, tell her that I want it back. Washed.”
Javier grimaced, looking down at the floor. “Shit. I thought she would be gone by the time you woke up,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Lo siento, bonita. I’m sorry.”
You blinked. “Sorry for what?”
He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.
Javier wasn’t all too sure, actually.
He didn’t have anything to apologize for, not really.
He was a single man who could do as, and who, he pleased.
Yet he still felt like a pile of dog shit knowing you’d encountered Alessandra while he had still been asleep.
You would never admit it, but Javier knew that to some extent, it hurt you to run into the women he would bring home. As if having to hear him railing them on the other side of your bedroom wall for hours wasn’t bad enough, having to meet them the following morning and seeing them half naked with their smeared makeup and disheveled hair from the previous night’s activities only made it so much fucking worse. 
Having read his mind, you sighed and offered him some reassurance. “It’s fine, Javi. We both know that you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” You said, prompting him to look back up at you. You pointed a finger at him. “I do want my shirt back, though. And then maybe I’ll be nice and give you back yours.” 
You expected Javi to scamper off to his room with his tail between his legs in shame. It was what he usually did—he’d avoid you for about a few hours until the dust settled, and then everything would go back to normal. Instead of running off, he stood there and spoke again. 
“Are you really going to have sex with this guy?”
You tried to ignore how disheartened he sounded.
“I don’t know,” You confessed, quietly. “I want to have sex with him, but I don’t know if I’ll actually have the fucking balls to go through with it.”
“Por qué? Estas nerviosa?”
Though Javier hadn’t been poking fun at you, you couldn’t help but feel irritated with him for asking you if you were nervous; because you actually were nervous, and him asking you only made you even more fucking nervous. “And so what if I am a little nervous?” You challenged him, lightly. “Sorry that we’re not all just confidently fucking our way through this city like you are, Peña.”
“When’s the last time you had sex, anyway?”
“None of your fucking business, that’s when,” You quipped.
“That’s not fair.” Javi pouted at you. “You know when the last time I had sex was.”
“Not by choice,” You retorted. “You’re right on the other side of my paper thin wall and I left my Walkman in the office.”
Javi waited expectantly for an answer. He wasn’t going to drop the subject, and you knew that.
“You’re such a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?” You muttered. Feeling a burning heat flood to your face, you decided to give him just about the most generic answer there was in order to get him off your back. “It was a long, long time ago.”
“Okay, but how long ago?” He pressed, curiously. “Are we talking weeks? Months?”
Your stomach began to churn violently, the hidden secret you’d kept to yourself for your entire adult life now at risk of being exposed. 
“I-I really don’t remember,” You stammered out in response, averting your gaze away from his. “Can we not talk about my sex life, please? Besides, it’s getting late and I still need to take a shower and get ready for my date tonight. So if you would just kindly fuck all the way off, that would be great.”
Javier took a step back and there was a very brief moment where you had been certain you’d just narrowly avoided what could have been a painful, humiliating conversation. However, just as he was about to turn to leave, Javi’s eyes widened as it slowly clicked into place for him. 
“Wait a minute—are you fucking serious?”
You groaned. “Javier, please don’t. For the sake of what’s left of my sanity, please don’t,” You nearly pleaded him, wishing that a large, Twilight Zone style swirling vortex would open up in the middle of your floor and swallow you whole. 
“You’ve never had sex before,” he realized. “Have you?”
Your face felt like it had caught on fire.
Not knowing what to say or even do, you clasped your hands together and wrung them anxiously in front of you. 
Of all the people to find out your secret, it just had to be Peña.
“Cariño, are you really a virgin?”
Surprised, you looked up at him. 
Javi wasn’t teasing you or being a dick about it.
He seemed genuinely perplexed by the fact that you’d never had sex before. Not that it made it any less mortifying.
“Yes,” You admitted, exhaling the breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. “I’m a virgin, alright? There, are you satisfied?”
“But how? Going undercover? And informants—”
Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but you don’t always have to fuck your informants to get what you need out of them, Peña. It’s not a requirement. I use my brains, not my body.” 
“You’re shaming me for using my body?” he joked lightly, hoping it would further ease the awkward nature of the conversation—for your sake, not his.
“Just a little bit.” You offered him a small, crooked smile and felt your tense shoulders finally begin to relax. “You’re probably going to think it’s stupid or maybe even crazy, but the truth is that I’ve always wanted to wait and give it to the right man. Maybe even to a man that I’m in love with. But with the way my romantic life has been going, it just seems like that’s never going to happen for me.” You shrugged. “I just want to lose it already, Javi. I’m almost in my fucking thirties—either I lose it now, or I may as well throw in the damn towel and join a convent.”
“You would look kind of cute in a nun’s habit,” Javi mused, thoughtfully.
You shot him a glare, but felt the corners of your mouth threatening to turn up into another smile. 
After a long minute, Javier broke the silence that had fallen over the both of you. “So then, Valeria’s older brother is the man you’re going to lose your virginity to? Tonight?”
“That’s the plan. He’s only here until the end of the week. It’d be no strings attached, so it works out perfectly.” You anxiously chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But only if I can find the courage to actually go through with it.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Not knowing what to do.”
Javier quirked an eyebrow.  “It’s not exactly rocket science, querida.”
You resisted the sudden urge to go up to him and backhand the stupid smirk right off of his face.
“Could you please just take me seriously for one second, Peña?” You huffed out in frustration. “I’m just really fucking nervous about it, alright? What if I can’t—what if I’m not good at it?”
Javi’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth and he stifled his laughter. “Preciosa, you’re being kind of…” He trailed off, trying to choose his next word carefully.
You lifted your chin. “Kind of what?”
“Ridiculous. And before you come over here and start pummeling me to death with those little fists of yours...” He stopped and held up his hands in defense. He took a second or two to let eyes glaze over you from head to toe. “I’m only saying that because you’re fucking gorgeous, muñequita. Any man would be lucky to have a night with you. You have nothing to be afraid of.”
“It’s not about how I look, Javier. It’s about how I perform.” You felt your face grow hot for what had to be the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. Never did you think this would be a conversation you’d be having with him of all fucking people. “I listen to the way those women you bring home—I hear what they do to you. And I hear how much you like it.”
His lips parted slightly. “And you want to do that to him?”
“I want to make him feel good.”
Javier’s jealously simmered in his veins. But what could he do?
Nothing, that’s what. Just like him, you could do as, and who, you pleased. But if he could just get his hands on you first, at least to some extent, it would help ease the blow. He saw nothing wrong with blurring the lines, so long as he didn’t cross them.
Javi hummed. “If you really want to know how to make a man feel good, I can help you.”
“You can help me?” You repeated. “How?”
“By showing you a thing or two.”
You let out something mixed between a scoff and a laugh.
“I am not having sex with you, Peña.”
He tossed you an innocent look. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all.” He crossed the bedroom and walked over to you, reaching for your hands. He took them in his own and then started pulling you towards your bed. “If you’re really that worried about not knowing what to do, I can give you a few pointers. And calmada, querida. Our clothes stay on,” he reassured you before you could open your mouth to protest. “Just think of it as a friend helping out a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”
You chewed on your lower lip. “I don’t know about this, Javi.”
Javier’s thumbs softly smoothed across the back of your hands. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Right now, I’m not so sure that I do.” You paused long enough for him to throw you an exasperated, almost offended look. You rolled your eyes at him and nodded your head. “Yes, of course I trust you, Peña. I trust you with my fucking life. Literally, I put my life in your hands at least once or twice a week.”
“Then let me help you, hermosa.”
You inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled it softly. “Fine. But remember, our clothes stay on—” You were cut off, all the air leaving your lungs as Javi yanked you forward, slamming you against his chest. You looked up at him, ready to give him a piece of your mind for knocking the wind out of you, but as his eyes met yours, words failed you and all you could do was stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights. 
This could not possibly end well.
And yet here you were, going along with it.
He snaked an arm around your waist, holding your body flush against his. Feeling how tense you had become, stiff as a fucking board, Javi gave you a light shake in an effort to get you to loosen up a bit. “First thing is first, you need to relax. There’s no need to overthink this, cariño. Especially not with me.” He reached up with his opposite hand, letting his index finger feather along your jawline. He then slipped it underneath your chin, lifting it ever so slightly and forcing you to look right into his rich pools of espresso. “I mean it. It really wouldn’t take much for a beautiful girl like you to drive me—I mean, drive him wild.”
You tried your hardest to keep your voice from trembling, but between his touch and being in such close proximity, you were finding it a hell of a lot more difficult than you’d imagined. “Show me, Peña. What drives you—I mean, what’s going to drive him wild?”
“Well, it always starts with the right kiss.”
You quickly shook your head. “Javi—”
“Kiss me.”
Had he lost his fucking mind?
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” You echoed your thoughts
“Just a friend helping out a friend,” Javi reminded you in a murmur. “Remember?”
You should have said no. You should have decked him for even suggesting such a thing.
Instead, you gave him a small nod. You rested your hands delicately on his hard, lean chest and tilted your head upwards, lightly pressing your lips to his for a split second before quickly pulling away.
“There.”
“That was fucking pathetic,” Javier laughed softly, his warm breath fanning over the tip of your nose. “You’re not kissing your abuela, you know.”
You smacked his chest. “Javi! Leave my grandma out of this.”
“You have to kiss a man like you actually want him, querida. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”
Your throat went dry as his grip around your waist tightened. He moved his other hand away from your chin and it went to the back of your neck, gingerly tilting your head up towards his. Your heart hammered almost painfully against your ribcage, beating way too hard and way too fast for him not to feel it against his own chest. You had to silently remind yourself to breathe as Javi inched his face closer to yours, slowly. You knew that he was doing it on purpose, moving an agonizingly glacial pace to allow your anticipation to build; all the while his dark eyes were staring deeply into the depths of your very fucking soul, causing a fire to set ablaze deep in your lower belly.
Your thighs clenched together involuntarily as the tip of his nose skimmed a spot near the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing the underside of your jawline.
God, he was fucking good. 
“Javi…” You uttered his name weakly.
You needed to stop this. Javier was your friend—friends didn’t do shit like this.
Javi sensed your reluctance. “It’s alright, mi vida,” he whispered, uttering an affectionate pet name that he’d never used before. He gave you a small grin as he moved in to finally close the small gap of space between your faces. His lips met yours and every ridiculous cliché of sparks flying and fireworks exploding occurred the moment they did. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, gently coaxing its way into your mouth to begin a slow, sensual dance with yours. Cupping the back of your neck, he tilted your head up a bit further, granting himself better access to your mouth so that he could fully explore it inch by inch. 
There was kissing other men.
And then there was kissing Javier. 
Whimpering, your body melted against his as he swelled your lips with a kiss that was slow and sensual, yet somehow still hungry and possessive at the same time. Javier’s hands travelled down to your hips, his fingers skimming the hem of his shirt that you wore. He took the opportunity to sneak them underneath the garment, allowing them to meet the warmth of your skin. 
Gasping, you jerked back and pulled away from him. 
“Javier!” You squeaked out his name breathlessly, furiously swatting his hands away from your sides. You glared at him. “I thought we agreed, our clothes fucking stay on!”
“Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was taking any of your clothes off.” Javier reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. He then took a step backwards and gestured towards your bed. “Lay down.”
Your mouth fell open at his request.
“W-what?” You sputtered out, your eyes wide. 
“You heard me. Get on the bed and lay down.”
Javi reached down, sweeping your pile of dresses off of the bed and onto the floor. 
“Why? What are you going to do?” You questioned him, shuffling anxiously from one bare foot to the other.
Javier rolled his eyes and let out a small, impatient sigh. “Just do it, hermosa. You can trust me.”
Swallowing harshly, you obeyed him and walked around to the side of your bed, taking a seat. You inhaled another deep breath before bringing your legs up and laying back, your head resting against your decorative pillows. You nervously tugged and pulled at the hem of his stolen pink shirt, trying to cover yourself up as best as you could as you laid there, sprawled out before him; however Javier had other plans. He climbed onto the bed after you, positioning his body so it hovered over yours. He nudged your legs apart with his knee, settling himself right in between your thighs. He grabbed one of your legs and hiked it up around his waist, putting the two of you in a very, very dangerous position. His fingers remained wrapped around your thigh, his touch burning right into your soft flesh as he held your leg in place around him. 
“Don’t be shy, muñequita.” His voice had gone low and husky. He trailed his hand further up your thigh.
He grinned, feeling satisfied with himself when he felt the goosebumps erupt across your skin.
“Shut up, I’m not shy,” You fibbed, prompting him to chuckle.
“Mentirosa.” Javi’s hand abandoned your leg and he brought his hand up to the side of your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip. 
“Kiss me,” he commanded, gently. “And this time, kiss me like you mean it.”
You reached up for him with trembling hands and grabbed two fistfuls of his pewter blue, button up shirt. You pulled him down towards you and lifted yourself up slightly off your pillows, crashing your mouth against his. You allowed yourself to finally release any fears that you might have had before and kissed him greedily and with fervor, as if it would be the very last time you’d ever get to kiss Javier Peña—because it very well could be the last time you would ever get to kiss Javier Peña.
You kissed him deeply, going on until your lungs began to burn—you only broke away from him once they started screaming, demanding oxygen. 
Tearing yourself apart from him, you released his shirt and dropped back down onto your pillows, breathlessly asking, “Better?”
“Oh, so much better. Good girl, mi muñequita linda,” he praised, grinning again as he caressed the silkiness of your cheek. He lowered his head and lips ghosted over yours for a moment before he moved them down your neck, feathering kisses to any exposed skin peeking out from underneath his shirt. His hand found your breast and he groaned realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it. He kneaded the perfect, soft mound of flesh through the thin fabric, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers. He bucked his hips into yours, causing a loud moan to escape from your lips the second you felt his hardened cock through his tight, light blue jeans. He caught sight of the way you blushed at the sound that he’d elicited from you and his grin widened. “Noises like that? The louder the better. So don’t hold back, preciosa.”
“What else can I do to make you—to make him feel good?”
Javier dipped his face right into the hollow of your neck, thinking it over for a moment. “A woman who takes control can be very sexy. I like it—I bet he’ll like it if you get on top.”
“I think I can do that.” Biting your bottom lip, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back, sliding yourself out from underneath him. You guided him to lay back onto your pillows and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. 
Shit. Javier cursed inwardly.
Maybe he’d been in over his head with this idea.
He knew at some point he’d have to stop it from going too far—but would he be able to?
“How do you like it?” You asked him, shyly. This time, you hadn’t bothered to correct yourself. 
You didn’t want to know how to please another man.
You wanted to know how to please Javi.
Even if you’d never get the chance to do it.
“Depends on the mood,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders in the most nonchalant manner that he could muster under the circumstances—as if his cock wasn’t rock hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans and begging to be inside you.
“Te gusta despacito?” You start to rock your hips back and forth against his, slowly. “Do you like it slow?”
Javier’s breath hitched in the back his throat. At this point, there was no doubt about it—you could feel him underneath you, throbbing. “Sometimes,” he managed to choke out in reply. “Like I said. Just depends on the mood.”
“Or what about like this?” You grinned down at him, gaining a sense of confidence as you started to move faster on top of him, finding your perfect rhythm. You could see and clearly feel what you were doing to him. Knowing that you were having this kind of effect on Peña was nothing short of a fucking dream come true. 
His hands went to your hips, holding on as you picked up the pace, grinding your clothed core down against his bulge. 
You could feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking your panties; you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d leave behind a wet spot on his jeans. “How am I doing?”
“Fucking amazing, muñeca,” he answered, earnestly. His long, thick fingers dug into your sides as he suggested, “It helps if you put on a little show while you’re up there, too.” He then pictured you in that sexy black lingerie set you’d bought; he imagined what it would be like to slip that tiny little thong to the side so you could freely ride his cock. The mere thought had him seeing stars.
“A show, huh?” You smirked and popped the top two buttons of your shirt—his shirt—exposing the smooth valley between your breasts to him. “I think I can do that too,” You giggled, pulling the fabric to the side, just enough to give him the tiniest glimpse of the soft curves of your chest but not enough to expose yourself completely. 
“Hermosa,” he couldn’t help but groan out. It took every ounce of strength he had inside him not to reach up and tear his shirt right off of you so he could see all of you. 
You grabbed his hands from your hips and slowly began guiding them all around your body. You started by placing them on your breasts, giving him permission to cop another feel before moving them slowly down the lengths of your sides and placing them on your bare thighs. From there, you picked up Javi’s hands once more and placed them behind you, allowing him to take two generous handfuls of your ass. Your hands then abandoned his and you placed them on his chest, supporting yourself as you continued to roll your hips against his, riding him through his jeans. You tossed your head back and closed your eyes; the friction of your clit against his pelvis even through all the clothes felt like absolute heaven, and you let out a lustful moan that bounced off of your bedroom walls as you continued to drive your hips harder against his own.
Realizing that this was no longer a lesson and you were actually pleasuring yourself, Javier groaned again. He moved his hands back to your hips and found himself bucking his own hips upwards to meet you halfway—he abandoned any and all worries about taking it too far. He wanted you to come. 
He needed to see you come.
“Javi,” You gasped his name, moaning again.
“That’s it, muñeca,” he rasped out. “Just like that, baby. Keep going. What a good girl, what a good fucking girl.”
Any and all common sense had been washed away by pleasure and by your need to reach that sweet, sweet release. 
It was so close. You felt him right there, right between your clothed folds, and all you could do was imagine what it would be like to have his cock fill you up and stretch you completely. 
His name began to slip from your lips, rolling off of your tongue over and over again with such ease.
Your movements fell in perfect sync with his.
You went down, he went up.
You pulled, he pushed.
No doubt about it, Javier was trying to get you off.
Somehow, you find a voice that speaks in between all your pitiful little pants. 
 “J-Javi, maybe we s-shouldn’t—”
Javier quickly sat up and wrapped one of his arms around your waist. He slammed your mouths together, silencing you mid sentence. He thrusted upwards, and you whined into his kiss, rubbing your clit against his bulge even harder. 
The beginning of your orgasm coiled up tightly in your belly, and you knew it would spring forward any second now.
“Javi, I’m so close—” 
“It’s okay, hermosa. Come for me,” he mumbled into your mouth.  “I’ve got you.”
Your arms found their way around his shoulders and you buried your face into his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, your loud cries came out muffled against his collarbone as you unraveled, coming undone with one last cry of his name.
You slumped forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you fought to catch your breath, the pleasure still pulsing between your thighs.
Javier’s other arm curled around you and he said nothing as he held you. 
Once you’d finally started coming down from your high, your eyes flew open and a chill went up the length of your spine.
What had you two just done?
Still straddling his lap, you pulled back. “Javi—”
Without warning, Javier flipped you over so you were on your back underneath him once again. He hovered over you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he dipped his head and captured your lips with his one final, deep and sensual kiss. 
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about tonight,” he murmured once he had pulled away. “You’re fucking perfect, mi vida.”
He touched the tip of his nose to yours before climbing off of you.
“I fucking hope this guy realizes what a lucky son of a bitch he is,” Javier said quietly before turning on the heel of his boot and walking out of your bedroom, leaving you laying there with your mouth parted open in complete shock.
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Translations
Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. - It’s just a little joke, doll. No need to get offended.
El vestido rojo. - The red dress.
Te lo juro, Javi. - I swear to you, Javi.
Chismosas - Gossipers
Falta mucha tela, cariño. - There is a lot of fabric missing, darling.
Mentirosa. - Liar.
Te gusta despacito? - Do you like it a little slow? 
6K notes · View notes
mypoisonedvine · 11 months
Text
𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭 || (kinda)dark!javier peña x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || he's your dad's best friend, he's a narc, he's the guy you've been calling 'tio' most of your life... so he's not the guy you want to run into when you're out partying a little too hard.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 6.5k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || dubcon smut (18+ only; oral f receiving, unprotected sex, reader is under the influence and under duress), age gap (not specified but it's big lol but they are of course both adults), dad's best friend trope, pseudo incest (reader calls javi tio/uncle but they are not related), drug use, jealousy, unprotected sex, orgasm control, rough/aggressive sex, we're talking complete total and permanent gut rearrangement, crying during sex (from overstimulation not like, being sad), hair pulling, 'sir' kink (briefly), creampie, basically just a kinky filthy mess idk what else to say
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The bass was so loud you could feel it in every part of you— like your own heartbeat, but everywhere. The throbbing music, the heat, the sweat; it was an overwhelming experience, even before you took the pill… but now, it was transcendent.
Everything was lit up in electric colors, neon pink and green blending together into some impossible color you couldn’t describe; the dancers around you had their arms raised in the air, jumping and swaying with the music, and it reminded you of the waves in the Caribbean Sea— you know, the ones you never had time to go see even though you lived just a few miles from the beach.
Frankly, you didn’t have time for this either: you should be studying for midterms, but the stress of college was becoming overwhelming and you were reaching a breaking point.
Or, maybe you already had, considering this was your coping method. It wasn’t your usual approach, but you hadn’t needed anything this drastic before. Maybe it was because you weren’t just escaping from the stress of school, but from the tension at home with your parents.
Perhaps what was most frustrating about that situation was that you were pretty sure they didn’t even realize how badly they were driving you insane… especially your dad. He didn’t see any problem with the fact that he tried to control every aspect of your life, regardless of your age. You could appreciate them not wanting you to do anything dangerous or harmful— you could even understand the whole ‘my house, my rules’ thing to an extent— but it went too goddamn far every day. You couldn’t go anywhere else without being questioned, yet you couldn’t exist at home without being criticized.
That was why you were here, and here, you weren’t being critiqued or belittled or micromanaged— actually, you were very… well-received, to put it lightly. You’d caught more than a few glances this evening, and now you were getting more than that: they were dancing with you, pressing against you… touching you.
It should’ve felt wrong, but you’d been craving approval of any kind, and the lascivious looks up and down from the guy in the indigo silk shirt felt like a compliment when you had a couple drinks in you.
A hand covered in gold rings groped your ass, and you hummed through a wide smile. He spoke into your ear, but even so close you couldn’t hear anything— it didn’t matter, anyways; you nodded, dazed. You figured the pill was enhancing, if not creating, whatever connection you felt with this stranger, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care how risky it was to go home with him, either, you just needed to feel tonight.
The voice in your ear mumbled something about how sexy you are, and you were about to melt into the arms of whoever it was— but then you heard another voice, just behind you. This voice was familiar; this voice spoke your name, and you turned around sharply.
"Tio!" you gasped as Javier glared down at you; you'd never felt so small in your life. He could do that so easily, but usually by giving you a big bear hug or calling you niña; this was a less pleasant method. “I— what are you—?”
“Work,” he answered shortly, yelling just to be heard. “You shouldn’t be here.”
No, you shouldn’t be anywhere that Javi was working, but you especially shouldn’t be here— a nightclub, known for wild hook-ups and party drugs. Dancing with guys. Wearing a dress you picked out specifically because you liked the way it showed off your… everything.
“What would your daddy think if he saw you like this?” he growled, grabbing you by the arm, and you whimpered but gave in to him— no point arguing, or denying anything, now.
He dragged you through the club, out the back where you could talk without the music drowning everything out. It was still loud until the metal door shut on its own behind you— and even still, you could hear the thumping of the bass, catch a few notes of the melody here and there, but you weren’t really focused on that with Javi giving you the glare of a lifetime.
“Never thought you were that kinda girl,” he frowned.
“I swear, I don’t usually do this, I just… I…”
“You what?” he snapped.
“Sorry, I…” you trailed off again. “Kinda out of it right now, and you’re so… that light’s really bright…” you complained as you squinted at the streetlight behind him.
He grabbed your face suddenly, forcing you to look up at him; you couldn’t believe how he could basically hold your entire face— and control your entire body— with one hand. He used his thumb and pointer finger to hold one of your eyes open wider; you winced and tried to move away, but he managed to get a decent enough look anyways.
“Are you fucking high?” he realized with a snarl.
“I— just one pill,” you whimpered.
“What was it?”
“I… I don’t know for sure…”
“Jesus,” he sneered, dropping your face and crossing his arms. He looked away from you, shaking his head, then put his hands on his hips in that disapproving way he did so well. “What were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I just never get to do anything fun— don’t you need to be wild sometimes, do something a little misguided?”
“A little misguided— taking drugs from strangers, from men, letting them… touch you like that…” he shuddered as he said the last part.
You gulped, looking down at the ground. You were kind of hoping he hadn’t seen that, somehow…
Grabbing you by the arm again, he all but threw you in his truck; shrinking in the seat, feeling quite shy despite how you’d been acting just a few minutes ago, you watched him walk around the back in the mirror so he could get in the driver’s side.
There was silence as he started the truck and put an arm around your seat to back out of the alley, silence as he started to drive, silence as you went back and forth between looking over at him sheepishly and staring down at your hands in your lap.
But when you looked out the window at the passing scenery, you narrowed your eyes. "You're…not taking me home?" you realized.
"And give your dad a fuckin' heart attack, you coming home at this hour— dressed like that?"
Your heart sank with guilt.
"No, I'll figure out what to do with you later,” he decided. “I'm guessing you snuck out?"
"I… told him I was staying with a friend…"
"Then he must not be expecting you until morning. You can stay at my place."
"Thank you, Tio, I swear I don't usually do this, thank you so much—"
"Hey. I didn't say I wasn't gonna tell him the truth when I bring you back tomorrow."
You swallowed, glancing out the window as your eyes stung.
~
He sighed as he shut the door, and you sheepishly crossed one arm over your stomach to hold your elbow.
Last time you were in his apartment, it was for some dinner… thing… anyways, your parents were there, as were a bunch of other people they worked with, and you were sure the whole thing would be incredibly fucking boring. It was, for a while, until Javi broke away from the others to talk to you— and he made you laugh, he spared you all the dumb questions about how college was going and talked to you about real stuff: music, dreams, life. You always felt like you could talk to him about the things you could never talk to your parents about…
But you didn’t want to talk to him about this. Especially not when he put his hands on his hips and gave you that stern glare.
“What the hell did you think you were doin’ in a place like that—?” he began but you interrupted with a sigh.
“I’m sorry— I just needed a- a release! You know?” you tried to justify.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes before he glanced away from you; you, meanwhile, looked down with shame. You never expected to feel so guilty for this— if anything, part of you had fantasized about your dad finding out just so you could tell him off in the argument, explain to him that it was his overbearing nature that drove you to something so risque. Of course, now that the likelihood of that argument actually occurring had skyrocketed, it didn’t sound so appealing. “Your dad’s gonna have a cow,” Javi warned you.
“I know! I know,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands for a second. “But I’m an adult! I should be able to do what I want!”
He scoffed a bit, and you frowned defensively. He obviously resented those times you referred to yourself as an adult— even if he couldn’t deny it, he always acted like it didn’t really count. You weren’t a ‘real adult’ yet in his eyes, still being in college and a bit starry-eyed according to some, and that always bothered you. It’s not that you thought you really had it all figured it out at this age, it’s just that you wanted more respect and more acknowledgement of your efforts.
The look on Javi’s face made you pretty confident you wouldn’t be getting much of that tonight. "Just don't tell him, okay? Please, Tio…"
"I won't tell your old man what you're up to," he promised, and you sighed. "But you need to."
"I— I can't," you whimpered, "he'll lose his shit! You know how protective he is…"
"Clearly he's got a good reason!" Javi snapped, and you spun around— you couldn't look at him now, not after he saw you like that.
"He's gonna kill me," you whimpered, defeated.
He stepped up behind you, wrapping one arm over your chest and holding your shoulder. “S’gonna be okay, sweetie…” he mumbled to you. “He’s not gonna kill you— he loves you."
"But he thinks I'm still a little kid," you explained with a pout.
"He can't help that," Javi laughed softly, kissing the side of your head. "You're grown up now, but you're still his little girl…"
You smiled a bit. "You really think I'm grown up?" you asked weakly.
"Yeah," he assured, "not sure how it happened, but you are— still young, of course."
You laughed a bit, relaxing in his embrace, soothed by the familiar smell of his aftershave and his strong hand rubbing your shoulder. Without either of you saying anything, the air somehow shifted… perhaps because of the way he moved his head, and you could tell that he was looking down at you. Perhaps because he let out a long sigh through his nose that fanned over the top of your head.
His voice was as low as a whisper when he spoke again. "Can't believe how grown up you look dressed like that…"
The fingers of his free hand traced over your thigh, even starting to move inwards, and out of both nervousness and ticklishness you clamped your legs together.
"Aww, don't be shy now," he pouted. "You'll be a whore for all those guys but you're playing innocent with me? Don't even try it, baby, I know what you want…"
You sighed out a long, shaky breath as you relaxed your legs so he could reach between them. It didn't really feel real, especially when you shut your eyes— then it could be anyone touching you.
"I know what this sweet little body needs," he continued, almost whispering as he spoke in your ear, making it impossible to forget it was Javi behind you. "Those little boys can't take care of you… need a real man to treat you right."
"Tio," you gasped as one finger just barely brushed over your panties, "d-don't—"
"Don't what, sweetie?"
"Don't… touch me like that," you breathed. "It's wrong…"
"But you like it so much," he noticed with a smile right beside your ear. "You like the way Uncle Javi is touching you— you like all this attention from your Tio, huh?"
Too afraid to respond to that, you shut your eyes tight as you felt him rub you through your panties more firmly, pulling up the bottom of your dress enough to expose the white cotton covering you.
“Still a good girl underneath your slutty outfit,” he smirked.
“What— what are you do—?” you began to breathe out, until he ran the blunt edge of his fingernail over the seam of your lips through the fabric— when he traced over your clit, your whole body jolted.
“Oh, babygirl,” he cooed, “you know what I’m doing. Say it.”
“You’re… touching me…” you panted out, rocking your hips as he began to rub slow circles against your panties— each with more pressure than the last.
“Where?” he prompted, his voice rough and echoing against the curve of your neck, which he began to kiss passionately a moment later just to make it that much harder for you to speak.
“My… fuck, my pussy!” you managed to get out, and he groaned with pride as his teeth brushed against your pulse.
He suddenly let you go and spun you around, pressing you to the wall and then pressing himself to you in turn. The hard bulge against your hip made your walls throb, but his face made your heart drop— you couldn’t forget it was him, and it felt so fucked up knowing he had just done that to you. You opened your mouth to tell him this couldn’t happen, that it had already gone too far, that you needed to somehow forget this ever happened.
But no words came out; they couldn’t, when he delicately lifted your chin so you had to stare right at the darkness in his eyes.
He moved closer, closer, until instinct forced your hands to jump up to his chest— god his chest, it was so firm and tanned and you swore you could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt— and stopped him from kissing you. “What’s the matter?” he asked softly.
What kind of dumbass question was that?! What’s the matter? Your Tio Javi, your dad’s best friend since forever, the guy who bought you your first bike and taught you how to whistle— that guy, calling you a whore and kissing your neck and touching you down there?! God, you knew you were messed up over this because you were mentally referring to your equipment as down there, like you were a little kid again.
But by god, you were not a little kid. Clearly, he knew that better than you thought he did. But you couldn’t believe this was really happening— it felt like a dream, but too terribly real.
What’s the matter, he asks, like you couldn’t spend all night listing everything wrong about this. You only gave him one reason aloud, though: “My dad will kill me.”
He smirked, a short laugh coming more out of his nose than his mouth. “Only if he finds out,” he replied. “Are you gonna tell on me, niña?”
Though very little, you shook your head.
“Are you gonna tell him that I brought you here and touched you like that?” he continued, voice lower and rougher, fingers dancing over your hip again. “Are you gonna tell your daddy how you got on your knees for me, let me fuck you like a whore, creamed on my cock over… and over…”
You shuddered as he left the softest trail of kisses up your neck.
“...and screamed my name until you lost your voice?”
"Fuck," you sighed, melting into his arms as he held you at your waist— his hands were so big that you felt especially delicate when he held you. "Javi, we… we shouldn't…"
"But you want to so bad, sweetie," he noticed with a fake pout. "You're a half-second from begging me to teach you how grown-ups fuck, I can tell."
Your thighs clenched together and he smirked.
"Just kiss me," he encouraged softly, lifting your chin with his fingers. "Just kiss me, baby, and I'll show you. I'll give you whatever you want."
You hesitated, looking up at his warm brown eyes, admiring his face and lingering over his lips… they did look perfectly kissable…
Shutting your eyes, you leaned forward and kissed him; instantly, he turned it from an innocent peck to a hungry gnashing of lips and teeth, his tongue dominating your mouth and muffling your moans.
His hands ran all over you and he started to guide you to walk with him— he turned you both and walked backwards down the hallway, dragging you until you toppled into his bed together.
"Lay back, baby," he instructed as he climbed over you, "your Tio's gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetie… gonna fuck you like you need, I promise."
He sat up, almost making you want to chase for more of that kiss, but he reached up under your dress and pulled your soaked panties down your legs.
"Oh my god, look at this cute little pussy," he purred, spreading your lips apart and tracing up the seam of your cunt to find your bud. He traced it gently with his thumb— even the softest, slowest circles over it made you shiver and whine. "Sensitive, too. Poor baby, need me that bad?"
He crouched down lower, and you whimpered with anticipation. "Javi…" you mumbled nervously.
Before he even put his mouth on you, he leaned in close and took a deep breath through his nose. "Smells fuckin' perfect," he grunted, and you moaned just because he said that. "Can't wait to taste you, niña, been waiting too long…"
You wanted to ask if he'd been waiting longer than just tonight, but you were distracted by the wet, sloppy kiss he gave you, right on your aching clit. Instantly your back arched and your mouth fell open into a silent scream.
He was painfully, infuriatingly good at this— like second nature, he just looked up at you and watched while his tongue traced your clit exactly how you needed. You could just tell he did this all the time, that he had made his fair share of women scream and sob and beg with that tongue; you writhed and whimpered, shutting your eyes tight so you wouldn't have to see him looking up at you anymore.
He devoured you with wide, hungry licks, his mouth overwhelming you and his nose poking at the apex of your mound. You could feel his long sigh fan over your sensitive skin when he kept his mouth wide open, lapping at you desperately; you’d never seen him this… lacking in composure. This animalistic. It made you feel hot all over.
Maybe the only thing more embarrassing than how quickly you barrelled towards your peak was how easily he recognized it.
"Wanna come, baby?"
He only broke away from you just long enough to groan it out, and then he was right back to making you squirm and sob. "Yes, fuck, please!"
"Beg," he ordered, muffled by your clit in his mouth, eating away at you mercilessly.
"Fuck, Javi— please make me come with your— with your tongue, I— I've never come from that before, fuck it feels really good… please…"
He hummed around you, suckling harder at your throbbing bud.
"Oh— f-fuck, I wanna— please," you choked, "I'm so close…"
You felt him smile, and then you felt him do this thing with his tongue that made your thighs quiver around his head.
"Please, can I?" you whimpered.
He pulled away, but you could still feel his breath fanning over you and it made your walls tense up. "I like you asking for permission," he praised, "do it again."
"Please let me come," you groaned, arching your back when he latched onto you again. "I'm so close, just don't stop, please don't fucking stop—"
He didn't, which you took as permission— not that it really mattered since it was inevitable now with or without his blessing— and you shut your eyes tight as the electric feeling danced all over your body. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you only caught one more glimpse of him staring up at you with a scalding heat in his eyes.
Instantly it became too much, the sensations his tongue delivered to your clit painfully forcing your whole body to spasm. Gasping, you grabbed at his hair and sputtered out: “Stop, stopstopstop—”
He broke away and dropped your hips back down onto the bed, his smile glistening with your come. An instant later he sat up to start opening his belt, that grin turning suddenly into a snarl. You looked up at him with wide eyes, still trying to catch your breath, dizzy even as you just laid there watching him lick your wetness off his lips. “Need to fuck you,” he said, simple as that.
You still couldn’t really believe this was happening; the effects of the pill were mostly faded, but this felt like some bizarre dream anyways. Seeing him like this was just beyond surreal.
“Flip over— hands and knees,” he instructed firmly while he unbuttoned his jeans. You wanted to remind him that this was insanely wrong, that you thought of him like family and thought he saw you the same way— but then you remembered that what you’d done tonight was wrong too, and that he was your only hope of getting away with it and avoiding being locked in your room for the rest of your life.
"Shouldn't you… shouldn't we use a condom?" you suggested softly, and he smirked a little.
"We don't need that," he assured.
Doing as you were told, though it took some effort on shaky legs, you stared down at Javi’s bed under you— you’d seen it before, even slept in it before (though when that happened, he always took the couch), but it felt incredibly different now.
Speaking of things that felt incredibly different: getting fucked by your tio. He held your hips and pushed his cock into you, and you whimpered loudly as the stretch challenged you right from the start. You heard a soft moan from behind you, a needier sound than you expected from him, but it was drowned out quickly by your own cry as he buried himself in you completely. “Mm,” he hummed, fingers digging deeper into the plush of your ass as he stayed still for just a moment. “That’s good…”
Shivering, even though you were hot enough to sweat, you hid your face with a quiet whine right as he started to thrust— with a lot less patience than you expected.
"You're not embarrassed, are you?" he wondered, petting the back of your head as if trying to coax you out of the pillows. "Actin' all shy… what have you got to be shy about? Getting fucked on all fours like a slut, the fuck you acting innocent for now?"
"Please just slow down—" you gasped, reaching back behind yourself to try to grab his thigh.
"Hell fucking no, this is what you wanted," he groaned.
Whining, tears stung your eyes and you just tried to hold onto the bunches of his sheets in your fists.
"Wanted me for a while, didn't you? Dressing up all sexy when I came over for dinner, showing off how much you've grown… didn't even wear a bra, I could see your tits getting hard, wondered if it was because you were turned on. Turned on by your Tio…"
You weren't blind, you knew Javier was attractive, and you knew he did well with women— but you honest to God never thought about him like that. He was just your Tio Javi.
And now he was pushing you down between your shoulder blades to shove your face into the bed. Whimpering, you gave in, but the angle forced his cock even deeper and made you arch your back up with a yelp. "Shh shh, no baby, need to take it all," he scolded you softly as he pushed your back down. "Need to keep that ass up for me— show Tio that ass, good girl…"
It was hard to stay like this when it meant letting his cock hit way too deep— it hurt, and you sobbed with every thrust. "Please, s'too much, I need a break—"
"A break? We just started," he laughed. "You can get a break after I come, but you're gonna be in this bed all night showin' me why I should keep your secret."
"God, you're just so deep," you whined, "it hurts…"
"Yeah, but it feels good too, doesn't it?"
Even though you somehow felt guilty, you nodded.
"Yeah," he encouraged again, "you like getting fucked like this, baby. Never had your whole pussy used? Never had a cock this deep?"
So deep that it shot up your spine and made the back of your eyes burn? No, you'd never felt this before; you sobbed with pleasure, already totally overwhelmed.
He grunted as he increased his pace, already picking up speed each time his hips collided with yours; the bed was creaking a bit, too.
"Fuck," you gasped, toes curling. His cock’s fat head was pressing into something so painfully deep inside you, and just as much as it made you want to beg him to give you a little mercy, it made you feel like screaming for more and praying this could never end.
You heard him grunt as he fucked you even faster; he must have heard you sniffling, in turn, tears falling from your eyes near-silently as the pleasure overwhelmed your body. "What are you crying for? Never had a big dick like this, huh?" he chuckled. "Then just say so."
"I never… I-I've never had a… a dick this big before…"
"Mm," he hummed with approval, grabbing a handful of your ass and tilting his head so he could get a better view of his cock plunging into your hole. "Never been stretched out like this? That's too bad, I can tell you fuckin' needed it. Went out tonight cause you needed some dick, huh? Well you got more than you bargained for, honey, it's too much for this little pussy isn't it?"
"Yes!" you sobbed.
"Can't take all this?"
"Yes, Tio, please—"
"Don't tell me to slow down again," he warned. “I know what you need, sweetie.”
He grabbed you by your hair and forced your head back. "Ow!" you yelped instinctively. "Fuck, Javi!"
"Act like a slut and you're gonna get fucked like one," he reminded you, a frustrated sigh falling from his mouth. His pace quickened once more, thrusts coming faster until the sound of his hips and thighs smacking against your ass filled the room.
"I'm sorry," you choked, "I'm sorry, okay?"
"For what?"
"D-doing drugs," you listed, "going to clubs— acting like a s-slut…"
"Fuck," he grunted, "it's okay, baby, I'm gonna— god— gonna make it all better… gonna teach you how to be my good girl, okay?”
You whimpered as you nodded. “Please…”
Another tug on your hair made you whine and arch your back, letting yourself go a bit more limp in his grip as each thrust rocked your body. “First,” he began, “you need some discipline.”
The hand on your hip let go to give you a sudden spank on your ass; you yelped and jolted, the pain somehow only adding to your pleasure a second after the initial sting had faded.
“Your daddy never gave you enough of that— discipline,” Javi chuckled, “I warned him he was gonna spoil you. Guess I was right, look at you now?”
He smacked your ass again, hard enough that you cried loudly— probably loud enough for the neighbors to hear. That thought made your face burn with embarrassment. Anyone who shared a wall with Javi had probably heard his bed partners before, heard women screaming his name— why did that thought make you feel sick and sad and empty?
Of course, you were anything but empty, you were full to the brim and it felt like he might split you in half each time he pressed his hips to yours. “Once you get some discipline,” he continued, “you need to start doin’ what you’re told.”
“Y-yes, sir,” you choked out. You almost screamed when the hand that had been holding your hip slipped down to search between your legs; he grunted a bit as he roughly found your clit and rubbed it in fast circles.
“Then you need to learn some manners,” he continued, “like sayin’ thank you when I touch this pretty pussy for you.”
“Thank you,” you blurted out, your voice hoarse and wobbly— even weaker than you felt. Your hips were instinctively trying to buck away, running from the amount of raw sensation forced upon you, but you were trapped by the strength of his arm.
All at once it all changed: he slowed his pace, though he went just as deep if not deeper with each movement; he leaned down and pressed his chest to your bare and sweaty back, putting his lips against your ear; he kept touching your clit, but the circles were slower, smoother… sweeter. “S’that better, sweetie?” he whispered roughly. “Is that how you need it?”
Biting your quivering lip, you nodded; you fought another wave of tears that burned at the back of your eyes, but you were less embarrassed to cry now than you thought you would be. You’d cried in front of Javi before, plenty of times— skinned knees, dumb boyfriends, failed tests, he’d been around for plenty of that. Obviously, this was much more vulnerable than anything that had come before, and yet it felt bizarrely natural… he pulled out this side of you so easily, a side you didn’t even know existed.
“Such a good girl,” he cooed at you gently, kissing the curve of your jaw, and you finally stopped trying to stop yourself from shaking (it wasn’t working anyways). “So good for me…”
Everything was so blurry now, you barely even noticed him guiding you to lay down and roll over: you just noticed him pulling out, and pouted a little as if you actually thought he might just stop completely for no reason.
Noticing your displeasure, he smirked proudly. "Just wanna see that pretty face, sweetie," he soothed. But when he pushed back in, the new position made everything feel new— and, somehow, even more perfect.
"Fuck, Javi, s'really deep…" you mumbled, though it was deep in a different way than before— not as painful, yet even more mind-numbing.
"Uh huh?" he taunted. "Never had somebody fuck you right, baby?”
You shook your head. You had no idea it could be like this— you thought it was normal not to come, for the guy to jackhammer for a few minutes and leave. You didn't even know you could make noises like this…
"Say it again," he encouraged with a moan, watching your face intently.
"It's really… really deep…" you breathed, legs shaking as he held your hips down and tried to get even deeper; he started to grind up against you to force every last millimeter inside, roughly rubbing his pubic bone on your sore clit.
You squealed, barely able to take all this sensation, and he flared his nostrils. "What's really deep?"
"Your cock," you clarified.
"Whose cock?" he taunted.
"Yours, Javi, fuck! Stop asking me questions when I can barely fucking think!" you whined, and he laughed as he returned to his original motions.
“Just one more,” he promised. “Gonna come for me, niña?”
“Yes, yes,” you admitted through a choked sob.
He leaned down, blanketing his body over yours. "Call me Tio when I make you come," he whispered his demand in your ear, and you shuddered.
Each thrust was faster than the last, harder too, and you sobbed as heavy pulses of pleasure took control of your body. "I'm so close, I'm so fucking close," you panted, unable to speak above a whisper.
"I know, I know," he soothed, kissing your face with more tenderness than you expected or felt you deserved.
"I— please—"
"Shh, you're doing so good…"
It all collapsed at once. "I'm— fuck, I'm coming! Tio, I'm coming!"
He growled and latched his lips onto your neck, fucking you through it; your pussy pulsed in an erratic pattern, a new slickness coating him and running down your thighs. You would've been self-conscious about staining his bed if you had any room in your brain for it— but you couldn't think about anything, you even forgot to breathe for a couple seconds. "Good girl," he groaned, "coming nice and hard for me. Good fucking girl."
Suddenly, your arms wrapped around his shoulders— his broad, heavy shoulders, barely damp with sweat— and your shaking fingers dug into his skin. You hugged him tightly, maybe to keep yourself grounded as convulsions rocked through you, maybe for a little comfort through such an excruciatingly ecstatic sort of feeling.
When it all seemed to gather right in your gut, it finally slowed down and you went all but limp under him— though your arms stayed draped over his neck.
"Fuck, Javi," you moaned lowly, his thrusts faster and less even as he looked down at you with an exhausted smile of his own.
"Fuck, I wanted to make you come again," he admitted, "but I can't last much longer— you're too fuckin' tight, baby, little pussy's too fuckin' good, gonna make me come…"
"Please," you whined, partially out of submission and acceptance of your desire to make him come, partially out of excitement for a chance to breathe after he finished.
"Gonna come inside you," he warned suddenly, and you gasped.
"Wait, pull out," you pleaded, a small bit of your sanity coming back as the height of your pleasure had passed, "come on my face o-or something…"
He grinned when you said that, and you sort of regretted it. "That's cute," he decided, "but I wanna fill this pussy— see you nice and stuffed with my come— and I know you want that too, baby…"
You whined, hating how right he was, but you panted as you tried not to let the pleasure completely override your logical reasoning. "But I'm not— I don't—"
"I'll get you a pill in the morning," he promised, his voice rough and needy as he fucked you even faster— he hissed in his breaths through his teeth, almost snarling at you. "Fuck, I'm so close— tell me who owns this pussy now, princess."
"Yours, Javi, it's yours," you sobbed, hating how true that really was. "Yours to fill— you can come inside me, Tio, nobody's ever…"
You didn't even finish the thought, and he moaned as his grip on your hip tightened. He seemed pleased by the fact that you'd never been creampied before, even more excited to empty himself into you. "Beg," he ordered.
"I— I want you to come," you blurted out, not really sure what you were doing and struggling to put a thought together anyways. "Please, I want… want it inside—"
"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," he rushed, and a moment later he stopped as deep as he could go, letting you feel every pulse as he filled you.
You gasped, almost wanting to squirm away out of instinct and try to stop him from filling you, but he held you down and kept you helpless.
"God, yes," he moaned in a breath, grunting as he started to grind his hips on yours to get himself that slightest fraction of an inch deeper.
He let his weight relax onto you and though it made it tricky to breathe, you just accepted it, finally shutting your exhausted eyes.
You were probably more than half of the way to sleep when he brought you back to reality by carefully rolling off of you; you winced as he pulled out, first from the soreness and then from the gush of sticky heat you felt coming out a moment later…
Javi stayed on his side, propped up on one bent elbow, and looked down at what you could only assume was a completely gaping pussy— and all his come leaking out.
He swiped two fingers through the mess he'd made, letting them linger on your throbbing clit until your hips jolted away; smiling, he brought the fingers to his lips and tasted his own come from your hole. "Fuck, Javi," you sighed, taken aback by the erotic, sudden gesture.
"You wanna taste too, princess?" he smirked, moving his fingers back to your pussy— but this time he didn't just scoop up what was leaking out. No, he suddenly slid two fingers into your incredibly sore cunt, making you wince from the sting and watching your face carefully with a sigh.
When he pulled his fingers out, after twisting them around inside you for a moment, they were coated in both of you. His free hand held your chin and tilted your mouth how he wanted it, guiding you to take both his fingers onto your tongue.
"Lick it off— good girl, like that…"
His praise made your exhausted walls clench just one more time.
"Taste how good we are together, baby?" he cooed. "You did so good for me… I haven't come like that in a long time."
I haven't come like that ever, you wanted to reply, but your mouth was full. When his fingers were cleaned off, he laid down beside you and wrapped you up in his arms. The strangeness of it hit you again: you, him, naked in bed… you still couldn't quite believe it was real.
"How much sleep do you need before you can go again?"
You widened your eyes and looked at him, amazed to see that he clearly wasn't joking. "Again? Javi, I'm gonna be sore for weeks already—"
"You're young, you can bounce right back," he promised, "I bet in a couple hours your pussy's gonna be even tighter than it was when we started."
You bit your lip. "I guess I can— I mean, maybe one more time, if you let me sleep a little first…"
He smiled and kissed your head, making you sigh and hide your face in his neck. He smelled the same, that's what was so weird— he smelled like he always had, the same aftershave as you remembered from all those years ago, and now you were naked and sore and used. "Okay, sweetie, get some sleep," he offered. "I'll wake you up when I'm ready to give you another load— I bet you're gonna like the way I wake you up, too."
As he chuckled lowly, kissing your neck right by your ear, you shut your eyes and tried to ignore how bizarre this was so you could rest.
His fingers gently tickled your thigh, tracing random shapes that left goosebumps behind, and whispered praises in your ear to lull you to sleep. "That's my good girl," his low, gentle voice blended in with the growing darkness of slumber.
Even mostly asleep and exhausted like you'd never been before, you got the sense that being his good girl was on ordeal that lasted more than just one night. In fact, you hoped it did.
5K notes · View notes
joelscurls · 4 months
Text
give in to temptation
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pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader
words: 5.5k
summary: you're in a relationship now — a good, healthy relationship — that doesn't stop you from texting your ex Javi late at night.
warnings: 18+ minors dni, post Narcos s3, porn with plot, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit smut, sexting, infidelity (I do not condone cheating, but unfortunately it's hot when it's with Javi), reference to masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, use of pet names (cariño, querida, baby, etc.); lmk if I missed anything!
a/n: hi! enjoy 5kish words of dubious morals bc I couldn't get this idea out of my head :)
Humidity clings to the walls, bedsheets strewn across your legs damp with sweat. You kick at them aimlessly, and the cotton grips tighter to slick skin.
In the curve of your palm rests your phone, ringer switched off and brightness turned all the way down — the last thing you want is to wake your boyfriend, dozing next to you as you text another man.
Your fingers are clammy where they wrap around metal, sweat pooling in the divots between your knuckles. 
This is wrong; you know it’s wrong, just like every time preceding this one. But the guilt does nothing to slow the adrenaline racing through your veins. If anything, it makes your heart thump harder.
That, and the words pixelated on the tiny screen of your flip-phone.
Javi [2:03am]:  I’ve been thinking about you all day, cariño. Got me so hard.
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You’d met Javier Peña just over a year ago. 
A young woman alone at the bar, you’d drawn him in like a moth to a flame. He had dark brooding eyes and a savior complex that’d been made more apparent with each story he’d shared about his time as a DEA attaché in Colombia, from which he’d recently returned.
Do you miss it? you’d asked, nursing a martini.
Like hell, he’d said. But I have nothing left to give.
I don’t know if I believe you, you’d countered with a wink.
Not an hour later, you’d found yourself in his living room, dress hiked up to your waist as he devoured you. 
Sex with Javi was easy, mindless. For a while, his body served as a refuge for you after shitty days at work and arguments with your overbearing mother. A lone beacon in the fog, he was always more than willing to help you forget the stressors in your life. And your own name.
It was passionate, and filthy, and sticky — left your legs trembling and your head dizzy — each and every time. 
With him, you didn’t have to talk. Didn’t have to think. It was just sex, with no strings and no labels. Your relationship, if you could call it that, was perpetuated by the transcendent pleasure you felt in the spaces between words, when your mouths were preoccupied.
But when your birthday came and went and you found yourself another year older, an aching feeling settled in your gut — a feeling that time had begun to pass more quickly than it used to. And on its heels came the desire for something more, something you knew Javi was not willing to provide: a relationship.
The decision to end things was mutual, amicable. It was the easiest “breakup” you’d ever gone through. Maybe because it wasn’t a “breakup” at all.
A few weeks later, you’d met Nathan, a law student with a polite disposition and an eagerness to settle down. He’d treated you well, the type to open doors for you and ask about your day. On all fronts, he was a good man — a little boring, but good.
After a month, you made it official. After two, he moved into your place.
And you stopped thinking about Javi, about the way his large hand had fit perfectly around your throat, the way he’d been able to coax you to orgasm in two different languages. No, you only thought about the man in front of you, the one with the steadily growing collection of argyle ties and the unstamped passport.
Sex with Nathan was admittedly different. He didn’t make you cum as quickly or as easily; your body didn’t crave his with the same amount of fervor it had Javier’s. But it was loving, sweet, what any woman would want…should want.
And it was normal that you thought about your ex sometimes when your current partner laid his weight on top of you, that you imagined a different mouth slotted against your neck or on your tits. Because certainly, everyone did that every once in a while. It was harmless.
As long as you never uttered his name out loud, he’d remain only in your head, lost to time to exist there forevermore.
But then came the day in the grocery store, on your date to the cereal aisle to restock Nathan’s favorite, bran flakes. He’d materialized like a ghost of good sex’s past.
You didn’t dare speak to him, didn’t trust yourself to. Under the bright fluorescent lights, you’d felt your palms begin to sweat, your throat constrict, eyes glued to the selection of boxes in front of you. But while Nathan debated between store brand and name brand, you’d snuck another cautious glance at him.
Javi’s expression was unreadable. He’d looked between you and Nathan as if he were trying to solve a rubix cube. One he was becoming increasingly frustrated by. He’d gripped the handle of his shopping cart so tightly, the skin on his knuckles appeared near translucent.
And then he’d disappeared, tiny wheels on the carriage screeching, noise barely audible over your pulse.
The first text came later that night.
Are you seeing someone? it’d read.
Yes, you’d replied. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. 
You’d quickly established ground rules: messages would only be exchanged after midnight, never two nights in a row, no calls, and — most importantly — Nathan would never find out.
Okay, Javi had said. Just one more rule: don’t use his name with me.
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To your right, Nathan snores, the singular catch of an inhale in his throat, and the noise jolts you, face heating as if you’ve been caught.
Then he shifts, turns on his side, away from you. You feel a strange wash of relief. A semblance of privacy that you shouldn’t be after.
You respond to Javier with your tongue between your teeth.
You [2:04am]: thinking about me doing what?
Javi [2:06am]: Riding me. Your tits in my face. My hands on your ass.
 Your breath catches, attention abruptly pulled to the incessant throbbing between your legs.
You definitely shouldn’t sneak to the bathroom and touch yourself. Shouldn’t send Javi a grainy photo of your fingers in your panties. Shouldn’t make yourself cum with your ex-lover’s name on your lips.
Not for the third time this week.
But when your cunt inadvertently clenches around nothing, your judgment is suddenly clouded.
With one last glance at the sleeping form beside you, you clamber to your feet and tiptoe down the hallway, wetness dripping down your thighs as you go.
The bathroom door closes with a quiet click. You fumble for the lightswitch, eyes reflexively squeezing shut when the room brightens. 
You hover over the sink, steadying yourself against porcelain with one hand while you type furiously with the other.
You [2:10am]: yeah? you wanna suck on my tits?
The mirror parallel you reflects something out of a thriller, your pupils fully dilated and your forehead glistening with sweat. You almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at you in all her depravity.
You slump to the floor. Rest with your back to the side of the tub. 
Javi [2:11am]: Dying to. Always felt so fucking perfect in my mouth.
Desperate fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, into your panties. The phone balances precariously in your other hand, thumb stumbling over buttons on the keypad.
You [2:12am]: I miss your cock.
Javi [2:13am]: That’s right, querida. Best you ever had, huh?
You [2:13am]: Yes. Always made me feel so fucking good. 
Javi [2:15am]: Fuck. Are you touching yourself?
You swirl two digits at your entrance, amply coating them in your slick before dragging them up to your swollen clit. You can’t stifle the moan that slips past your lips.
You [2:16am]: yes
Javi [2:16am]: good girl
The phone distractedly tumbles from your grasp, clinking against tile as you begin to work yourself toward the brink.
And then — there’s a knock on the bathroom door.
The room spins, walls suddenly shrinking in on you as you wrench your hand out of your panties. Nathan’s voice on the other side is muffled, by the exhaust fan and by the ringing in your ears. But you can just decipher his words, his voice laden with sleep.
“Babe? Are you okay? I thought I heard-“
“Fine, I’m uh, I’m fine,” you say, scrambling to your feet, wiping wet fingers on your shorts.
The doorknob jostles, and it dawns on you then that you’d forgotten to fucking lock it.
 “No! Don’t come in,” you sputter. The door hitches, less than an inch cracked. “I just had a stomach ache, but I’m okay now. I’ll be back in bed in a minute.”
“Oh.” He yawns. Pulls it shut again. “Okay.”
You brace yourself against the sink, struggling to slow your racing heart. 
With a flush of the empty toilet, Nathan’s footsteps recede down the hall and out of earshot. You wash your hands, then, fingers shaking under the stream of lukewarm water.
You dry them hastily, not bothering to pick up the towel when it slides off the rail and onto the floor.
You [2:21am]: gotta go. sorry. 
Javi [2:22am]: ???
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Nathan is far too kind the following morning. He sets a plate of buttered toast and a mug of peppermint tea out for you on the kitchen table, and presses a nauseatingly gentle kiss to your forehead as you eat.
His amber eyes scan you like he’s searching for any indicators that you’re still hurting, fingers anxiously carding through his sandy hair.
You’re sure he’s clocked the dark circles marking your undereyes — not that he knows the real reason for them.
“I’m fine,” you promise when you feel him staring.
“Are you sure?” he probes. “The noise you made was…intense; you sounded really pained.”
Pained? Not exactly.
“I know.” You stuff the last bite of toast into your mouth. Tilt the empty plate toward him.
“But I’m okay; see? Even have an appetite this morning. It was just a weird bug or something.”
The lie burns on the way out, scalds your throat. But Nathan buys it. Doesn’t ask any further questions.
Still, he tells you to take it easy today on his way out the door.
You can’t look him in the eye when you insist that you will.
You call out of work, too sick with self-loathing to show your face in the office. Instead, you mope around all day, attempt to distract yourself with the overflowing hamper of laundry in the closet.
It’s futile though, your brain paralyzed by thoughts of Nathan finding out about the affair, and the clothes remain unwashed.
He returns that evening with a plastic bag in his clutch, the local pharmacy’s logo printed on the front.
“Here,” he says, pulling out a brand new heating pad. “I realized last night that we didn’t have one of these laying around.”
You know, at that moment, that you need to end things with Javi.
Nathan is good to you. He loves you with actions, not just words. Thinks of you before he thinks of himself, in every situation. And you — you’re cheating on him. Taking advantage of him. Not even trying to be what he deserves.
You’ll try harder. To love him, to think of him. No longer will you give in to brainless, animalistic needs. Surely, you can mimic the passion you have with someone else if you just try. 
Try, try, try. You can do it.
Sleep evades you that night, coming in brief stints and leaving you breathless when you wake. 
In those conscious moments, the analog clock in the corner of the room taunts you, glaring red neon making your head pound.
After three straight hours of tossing and turning, you decide it can’t wait any longer.
You fish your cellphone off the nightstand. Snap it open.
You [3:23am]: We need to end this before things get ugly.
You’re sure he won’t be awake this late; not without reason. But then — the screen blinks.
Javi [3:24am]: Nothing’s going to get ugly. Please, cariño. 
You [3:24am]: I almost got caught last night. I don’t want to hurt him.
Javi [3:25am]: Can we talk about this? Javi [3:25am]: In person?
Your heart palpitates. For a moment, you swear it stops altogether.
You [3:26am]: What the hell? No Javi, I can’t.
Javi [3:27am]: C’mon. Just talk. Don’t you think you owe me that?
Your eyes flit to Nathan. 
You watch him for a long moment: the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slouch of his shoulders, the gape of his mouth.
He’s well and truly asleep. You’re sure you could sneak away without him waking. Slip out the door and get a cab to Javier’s, talk things through, and be back in bed before the sun rises — before Nathan even knows you’ve left. 
And then everything will be just as it was before you messed this up. You can leave Javi in the past, where he belongs. 
Of course, you’re not just going to talk. Deep in your bones, you know that. Know that when he’s there in front of you, you’ll be too weak to resist any of his advances.
Still, you play coy. Ignore the spring of excitement tightening in your abdomen. 
In a move of finality, one which you know you won’t be able to come back from, you stand. Make your way into your closet to pull some pants and a t-shirt on, your cell phone clutched in your hand. 
You [3:30am]: Fine.
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Javier sends you his address — as if you’d have forgotten it. As if the name of his apartment complex isn’t permanently etched behind your eyelids, along with the wide slope of his shoulders and the plush of his bottom lip.
When the cab pulls up to the curb, the driver is visibly concerned. His bushy, gray brows thread together and his narrowed eyes catch yours in the rearview more than once on the drive across town.
It’s only when you reach Javi’s building and hand over your fare that the man speaks.
“Are you alright, sweetheart? Quite late for you to be out on your own.” 
His voice crackles, the smell of cigarette smoke heavy on his breath, and it’s strangely comforting. 
“Yeah,” you promise as you push the door open and step out.
He rolls his window down, anxiously watching as you maneuver your way to the front door. And then he’s driving off, headlights vanishing into the thick night.
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Javier lets you up on the first buzz. He’s waiting for you in the entryway of his apartment, leaning with a large hand pressed to the doorframe.
Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him: shirtless, bronze skin cast in the dim yellow light of the corridor. 
His eyes rake over you the moment you’re in front of him, lingering when they catch on your collarbone, your breasts, your legs. He looks so imposing like this. You find yourself unable to move; frozen under his silent, lustful gaze.
“Are you — can I come in?” you ask meekly.
He nods then, a slow lift of his chin. Steps backward into darkness. You will yourself to take one step, and then another, following him over the threshold and past the point of no return.
It feels so odd to be here, in his space, with the intention of doing anything other than fucking. If you look close enough, you swear you can make out the shape of your body imprinted in the couch cushions, can hear lingering echoes of climaxes reached with your face shoved into one of his decorative pillows — can feel them, too.
Arousal pulls between your thighs. You ignore it.
You wonder how many other women have been here since you, have taken Javi in their hands or their mouths or their cunts. How many names that aren’t yours has he chanted in the throes of passion? 
And — moreover — why do you care?
You don’t. You definitely don’t.
Javi pours you a glass of wine, fills a crystal with whiskey for himself. He flicks a lamp on, casting the room in an orange glow, and settles into the couch You follow his lead, perching yourself on one of the arm rests apprehensively.
“So,” you start. “About what we’ve been…doing-“
He cuts you off with a quirk of his brow, a flinch of his jaw. 
“Javi,” you try again. “This has to — we can’t-”
“You’re sure you want to break it off, cariño?” His voice comes out low, dark.
And the thing is — you’re not sure. You wish you were, wish you had the strength to tell him definitively that it’s over, to go home to your boyfriend and block Javi’s number on the way out. 
But the flex of his bicep when he hooks his arm behind his head, the knowing smirk playing on his lips, his cock — which you can’t see, but know is long and thick under his jeans — it all makes your head feel heavy. 
You let the weight of it drop between your shoulders, hang there as you silently search for just a particle of sanity left in your being. You come up empty. 
“Fuck,” you hiss, claw your fingers into your scalp. “This is — fuck.”
Leather groans under Javi’s weight. He stands. Steps in front of you.
You don’t dare look at him, not until he pinches your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze to meet his. His eyes are charcoal-black, something devious swimming behind blown pupils.
“Baby,” he croons. “Why did you really come here?” 
You play dumb. “What do you mean? To — to talk.”
His thumb skates along the underside of your jaw, soft and placating.
“We’re not really gonna talk — are we?”
Your head spins, mind clouded by Javier’s words, his touch. You sense yourself losing resolve just as he pulls you upright by both hands. 
You’re so close like this; can taste the whiskey on his breath, can feel the warmth of his exhale against your skin.
His mouth moves to the shell of your ear, voice a mere whisper when he speaks again.
“Wanna know what I think, querida?” he asks, palm flattening at your lower back, pushing you flush against him. “I think you came here because texting wasn’t enough anymore, huh? Think you missed me.”
And the truth is, you have missed him — painfully so. You’ve missed the timbre of his voice, the caress of his hands, the stretch of his cock. All just in reach, tangible for the first time in so long.
Your need for him borders on carnal. The feeling snakes its way up from your stomach into the cavern of your ribcage, splays its weight across your delicate, pounding heart. 
And then the rational part of your brain whirs weakly to life.
What are you doing?
“I have a boyfriend,” you say. You’re not sure who you’re reminding. 
“Mhm,” Javi mutters, deft fingers peeling the fabric of your t-shirt up, up, up your body. You don’t stop him.
“And does your boyfriend —“ he kneels down, presses a kiss where exposed skin meets denim — “make you feel as good as I do, cariño?”
You can’t answer that. It wouldn’t be right. Because any of this is.
“Javi — I,” you try, cut off abruptly by dull teeth in the flesh of your waist. You yelp, the sweet sting quickly dissipating as he pauses. Pulls back. 
“You can say it,” he goads with a wicked smirk. “I won’t tell him.”
“He — no,” the words leave you before you even feel them in your mouth, and then you’re cursing yourself. You can’t take it back — it’s too late. Javi knows, you know. The only one still in the dark is Nathan. 
Javier says your name. His tone is different, soberingly serious. 
“Tell me to stop.” 
Fuck. 
“Tell me to stop,” he repeats, “and I’ll stop.”
“I can’t,” you whisper, so quiet you barely hear yourself. 
“Cariño-”
“I can’t,” you stammer, louder. “I — fuck, Javi. Please.”
“Please?”
He knows what you’re asking for; he just needs to hear you say it.
“Please fuck me.”
In an instant, he’s standing back up, grasping at your sides and impatiently guiding you onto the couch. He brackets you against the cushions, one hand splayed next to your head on the backrest, the other popping the button of your jeans open. 
You lift your ass as he tugs them down your legs, pulls them past your ankles and leaves them in a heap on the floor. And then he’s moving down your body, kneeling at your altar and prying you open for him.
You surrender to him willingly, desperation growing when he pulls your panties aside and gazes at your glistening sex, transfixed by you.
“This gorgeous pussy,” he hums, leaning down to taste you.
“Yeah?” you breathe. “You miss it?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he groans. Dips his tongue into the apex of your heat, refamiliarizing himself with your nectar before licking a languid stripe up to your throbbing clit.
You writhe under him, beg with wordless whines and whimpers for more. He knows your sounds, knows their tells, soothes you with a gentle shh against your cunt. 
His lips wrap around your clit, then, envelope it completely as he starts to suckle, and the sudden sensation makes you buck your hips.
“Javi — fuck, oh — holy-” 
He retreats, mouth shiny with your arousal. “What is it, baby? Your boyfriend doesn’t eat your pussy like this?”
“He doesn’t,” you admit breathlessly. Javi clicks his tongue. Faux-pouts at you. 
His lips reattach to your clit and you curse.
“Fuck, Javi, he — he’s never-“
The half-admission stops him in his tracks. He stares back up at you with narrowed eyes.
“Cariño, don’t tell me he doesn’t go down on you?”
Your face heats. “He — he says he doesn’t like to do it.”
Suddenly, Javi looks livid.
His fingernails dig into the meat of your inner thighs mindlessly. You watch his lip twitch and his eyes roll to the ceiling.
He’s unaffected by much these days — but Javi clearly doesn’t take kindly to a man not pleasuring his woman. Especially when you are the woman in question.
“Pendejo,” he murmurs. 
“Javi,” you whine. “Please.”
Your pleading voice seems to snap him out of it. Or at least remind him of the task at hand.
He returns his attention to your dripping pussy with one final huff. “Gonna take care of you baby, don’t worry.”
You anchor yourself with fingers of one hand twisted in the dark, sweaty curls at the crown of his head. Two digits on the other pinch at one of your hardened nipples, just as Javier begins to swipe his tongue back and forth over your clit.
“Fuck,” you sigh, draping your trembling legs over his shoulders. 
He licks your cunt like he fears you’re going to melt, lathes over your clit again and again with the wide flat of his tongue. The wet squelch of him slurping at you, eager to catch every last drop of your arousal, bounces off the walls obscenely.
You hope, fleetingly, that his neighbors are heavy sleepers. Better yet, that they’re out of town.
Maybe he’s putting in extra effort because he knows now that your boyfriend isn’t doing this for you at home. Or maybe he’s just better at it than you remember. Regardless, you find yourself completely overcome with ecstasy, close to falling apart on Javi’s tongue in a matter of minutes.
As soon as he curls two fingers into your cunt, you’re gone, cumming so hard your vision pulls and your thighs shake.
You sing Javi’s name like a hymn. It rolls off your tongue effortlessly, naturally. Like it’s made for you to recite.
He lets you come down, soothes you with gentle hands stroking along your thighs, soft lips pressed to your sensitive mound. 
When your breathing evens, he lifts off of his haunches, motions for you to lay flat on the couch with your neck supported by the armrest. And then he shucks his pants off, his cock immediately springing up to his stomach, a trail of precum dripping down his navel.
You’d forgotten how gorgeous it was — the heady, pink tip shiny with arousal, veins running along the underside of the thick base prominent. It twitches in interest as Javier leans down to kiss you, prods against your slick inner thigh when his tongue presses into yours.
You hook your legs around his back, desperately attempting to pull him closer, attempting to drag him into your achingly empty cunt.
He grins against your lips, hand moving between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance.
“Impaciente,” he mumbles.
You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please Javi, need it.”
“Yeah?” He pauses with his cockhead right at your seam. “How bad?”
“Fuck — so bad, need it so bad.” Your nails burrow deeper into flesh. He hisses.
“God damn, querida; that much, huh?”
“Yes, Javi,” you groan. “Please just-”
He bottoms out in one deep thrust, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. You moan in unison, his head falling against your shoulder as he slowly begins to move. 
Your cunt sucks him in greedily, clenching around him over and over again. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of his cock nudging your g-spot with every roll of his hips. You wonder how you went so long without this. Fear you won’t be able to again.
He pulls all the way out and snaps into you before setting a new, brutal pace, one that leaves you babbling underneath him. 
The room grows palpably warmer, white heat licking at your neck, your chest, your back — where it sticks to leather. You find yourself lost in the way your bodies move together; a dance you’ve done so many times before; one you’d perfected all those months ago. 
“Shit,” Javi slurs. “Take me so well, cariño. Like you’re — ahh — made for me.”
I am, you want to say. 
“Fuck,” you moan instead, “so good, baby. Feels so fucking good.”
And it does. You’re going to snap soon, going to cum for a second time, soak his cock.
You tighten around him, a silent warning. He slips out and you whine at the loss. But then he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, spreading you wider for him and delving back in at a new angle that makes you scream.
You can feel it building now, like a snowball in your abdomen. You can’t fight it, can barely warn Javi, his name spilling brokenly from your throat as your orgasm crests.
He talks you through it with praises whispered in your ear. So beautiful, princesa — that’s it. So pretty when you fall apart on my cock. There you go; let it all out, baby.
Fucked-out and boneless, you beg for Javi to please cum inside.
He growls, low and primal, gripping tightly to the flesh of your waist as his thrusts begin to falter. “That what you want, querida? Want to — shit — want to go back to your boyfriend with me dripping out of you?”
“Yes,” you chant thoughtlessly, yes, yes, yes. 
“Dirty. Fucking. Girl.” he grits, each word punctuated by a jerk of his hips. 
He spills inside you with his teeth in the crook of your neck. There’s so much of it, filling your cunt, leaking out around his cock and onto leather. It sates you in a way you didn’t know possible, as if your womb needs to be claimed by him and only him. Nobody else will do.
You almost resent the feeling of your eyesight returning and your breaths steadying. You don’t want to come down — not if it means you need to go home.
But the sky outside is turning purple, bruising with the threat of a new day on the horizon, and you know your time together is nearly up.
“Javi,” you mutter, his chest still heaving against yours, cock softening inside you.
“Up.”
He shifts, pulls out in a devastating loss, and retreats to the opposite side of the couch.
You begin to knead the muscles in your aching calves, Javi fumbling with the pack of cigarettes on the side table next to him. He takes one out and lights it, the end glowing faintly.
“What do we do?” you ask. He rubs at the crease in his forehead, definitely set there by years of chasing after drug cartels. Maybe also by running away from meaningful conversation with you.
“You can’t go back to him,” he mumbles.
You scoff. “I can’t? I have to Javi, Nathan is my-“
“Don’t say his name,” he snaps, abruptly ashing his cigarette and turning to face you. He looks wrecked, his eyes wide and his lips downturned. 
“What do you want from me, Javi?” you bite, pulling your panties back into place and reaching for your jeans where they lay on the floor. “You want me to be at your beck and call forever? Cheat on him until one of us dies?”
“I —“ Javi sighs. “No.”
“Then what?” You pull your pants on: one leg, then the other. Pull your shirt back down to cover your breasts. 
“I — want you.”
You nearly choke on your own saliva.
“What?”
“All of you,” he clarifies. “When I saw you with him for the first time in that grocery store — my heart sank. I didn’t — didn't realize how serious my feelings were for you. Fuck, I shouldn’t have let you end things that day.”
He stands. Braces pleading hands on your shoulders. 
“I know I’m an asshole,” he continues. “I thought I could never be someone’s partner. That I wouldn’t…wouldn’t be good. How could I be when I’ve done so much bad in my life?”
You sink into his touch. His words.
“Javi-“
“No, cariño — I need you to hear this. I want to be good for you, know I can be. I’ll do anything. I just — I can’t let you get away again.”
You feel as if you’ve just been struck by an arrow. Or, more accurately, a train. Your bones hurt and your insides twist.
You’re silent for a long moment, watching as his eyes desperately search yours. You know you need to say something eventually, put him out of his misery, but you’re too afraid to find out what happens next.
The undeniable fact that you want to be with him too is almost too much to bear. You’ll have to break it off with Nathan, split his heart in half. He doesn’t deserve it, you think, over and over.
But then, maybe you don’t deserve to remain unhappy. Unfulfilled.
Maybe you need to hurt him once in order to stop repeatedly hurting yourself.
“You’re good, Javier,” you say then. “You’re a good man. You deserve good.”
“Yeah?” his voice cracks. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He retracts them with a deep breath in.
You grab the sides of his face. “Yes. And I — I want you too.”
Javier kisses you, so deep you think your lips might bruise. There’s finality in it — you’re his and he’s yours — and no longer will you pretend that’s not the case.
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He drives you back to your place, unwilling to let his girl get in another cab alone before daylight.
Laredo looks beautiful at dawn, all dozing buildings and empty roads. You pass by your workplace and groan at the realization that you’ll have to be back there in a few hours; you can’t call out again. A stack of unfiled reports will surely be waiting for you atop your desk.
That dread doesn’t last long, though, not when you look to the man in the driver’s seat, the one who makes your mouth water and your heart skip.
When he catches your gaze, corner of his mouth turning up at you mischievously, you know for certain that everything will work out just fine.
Javi turns onto your street slowly, moreso than he needs to, a possessive hand gripping your thigh.
“Will you let me know how it goes?” he asks when the car pulls up to the curb.
“Yeah,” you sigh. “I mean, I think it’s safe to say it won’t go well, but-“
“I know. But if he gives you any more trouble than he needs to, you call me.”
Your eyes flit up to your bedroom window, blinds drawn up and curtains pulled aside. The room is still dark, Nathan no doubt still asleep.
You’ll go up in a second.  After you kiss Javier one more time.
He seems taken aback when your lips catch his, maybe because it’s crazy to do this here, now. But you can’t help it. Can’t keep your hands — or your mouth — off of him now that you have him.
He relaxes into it after just a second, licking into your mouth to deepen the kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to the back of your head to hold you against him.
And then — he abruptly pulls away.
“Shit,” he curses, staring wide-eyed at the window.
You follow his eyeline, freezing when you see what he sees: Nathan, tall and shadowy, looking straight at you.
“Well,” Javi laughs nervously, “I think he knows.”
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end notes: ty so much for reading! pls consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed :)
tag list: @janaispunk @kajashe @amanitacowboy @planet-marz1 @littlegrungegirlaf @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @wethairjoel @catchallfangirl @pamasaur
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endlessthxxghts · 17 days
Text
Bend Over
Javier Peña x afab!reader || W/C: 4.8k
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Summary: Your dresser craps out on you. Your boyfriend, Javier, comes with you to IKEA to buy a new one. Then, he fucks you on it.
Content/Warnings: I think you know what you guys are getting into based on the summary😗. Reader is able-bodied. Slight implied physical descriptors Javi is taller than reader, and the IKEA dresser is slightly bigger/taller than you (everything else is neutral - no size descriptions - ex. "your form", etc.). Pet names (good girl, querida, cariño, baby, baby girl, mama, mi amor). Implied that reader knows Spanish. A little allusion to our favorite contractor, Joel Miller (blink and you’ll miss it). SMUT 18+ MDNI. Public sexual activity (exhibitionism). Finger fucking. Edging. Slight undertones of BDSM dynamics. Javi’s filthy mouth. Thigh riding. Hickey/marking. P in V unprotected sex. Choking. Breeding kink (I’m not sorry). Cum play. Anal play. Brief pussy licking + rimming. Allusion to further sexual activity. I thiiiink that’s it… let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: HIII I’M BACK! I went to ikea to buy a new dresser. And the thots between @javierpena-inatacvest and I ran wild. So, this was born.👹 Also, I no longer have a tag list, but I teased this story TWICE in some WIP tag games, and a few of you were giving me so much love and wanting me to let you know when this story was posted, so I’m adopting the tag list (at da bottom) one last time to say how much I love you all. 🥹 I’m sorry this took me so long. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!!
MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG
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It was supposed to be just a trip to IKEA. It was supposed to be a productive day of building your dresser and rearranging your room. That is what it was supposed to be. 
How it ended up with you getting your guts rearranged on top of said dresser—you’re not so sure. But, considering this is Javier Peña you’re talking about, maybe you have a slight indication of why your day ended up the way it did. 
It was early this morning when your dresser decided to shit on you; all you did was slide the door open, and it completely pulled off of its hinge. Now, you don’t mind a doorless dresser, it’s modern, you tried to convince yourself, but when you pulled out the second drawer and the wood snapped in half, scattering your panties all over the ground—yeah, okay, it was definitely time for a new one. 
You called your boyfriend after you cleaned up your clothes, and asked if he wanted to come with you on your hunt for the new piece of furniture. Why are you even asking? he scolded as he saddled up into his Jeep and made his way to your place. 
He stepped out of his seat in the driver side, rounding the hood to pull you in for a lengthy kiss as he pulled the passenger side door open for you. “Well, hello to you, too, baby,” you giggle as you break the kiss for a breath of air. He leaves a slap to your ass as he guides you by your hips into the passenger seat. He even buckles you in, stealing one more kiss before you two head off. 
You thought shopping for a new dresser would be simple: get in, choose a sizable one that could fit everything your previous dresser could, and also make sure it matches the rest of your room’s theme. Simple, right? Wrong. As long as Javier was involved, he took his sweet time really studying each option you were pointing out—analyzing it to ensure it wouldn’t crap out on you like your original one did. 
“How long did you have this dresser?” He asked as he was pulling into the IKEA parking lot. 
“Mmm, I don’t know,” you thought, “maybe a few years?”
“A few years?!” Javier asked, exasperated. “Where the hell did you find that fucking thing?”
You let a beat of silence pass before you answered. “...I thrifted it,” you admit weakly. 
Javier puts the car in park, his face in utter shock at what just came out of your mouth. “Querida, what-” he starts. 
You pull him in immediately, shutting him up with your lips against his. It works, of course. “Let’s go?” you ask. 
“Y-yeah, vamos (let’s go),” he says, flustered. 
“Javi, c’mon,” you whine, feeling exhausted after his analysis on your third option since the first two didn’t pass the Peña inspection. “Since when were you a contractor? The first two were perfectly fine, baby, it’s IKEA for crying out loud.”
He scoffs. “Living on the ranch with Pop,” he replies to your sarcastic remark. “You and I are both aware I know my way around some handiwork,” he adds as he looks back to you, a shit-eating grin creeping on his face. 
You want to roll your eyes, but you can’t help the way your body ignites to the suggestion laced in his words. “Pendejo,” you mutter to yourself, fighting the heat from making it to your face. 
You walk around some more while your boyfriend opens every nook and cranny of the wooden frame, but then right as you turn your body, you find it. The dresser. HEMNES. You quickly make your way to it, running your hands along the dark brown surface, crouching down to open up and see how much space is in the drawers—which, it’s very spacious. The drawer itself is taller than your waistline, probably reaching just at your belly button. It’s perfect. “Baby, wait, come here! I think I found one!” You call out. 
Javier follows your voice, intrigued by your excitement—you didn’t show this much enthusiasm with the other ones he was looking at. He rounds the corner and is met with quite a view. You are bending over the top of the dresser, on your tippy toes, trying to feel for the depth of the dresser. He sees you settle your hands at the edges of the top and shake it a little, testing out its durability while also unknowingly wiggling your ass. Fuck me, he thinks. Quickly adjusting his pants, he makes his way to you, situating his body directly against yours as he cages you in. 
“Jav-” you softly gasp, not expecting to feel him. Immediately you’re pulling yourself up, still on your tippy toes, but your back is now flush against his chest. 
“Ay, Dios mío,” he grunts as he whispers in your ear, “Querida, please get up.” His hands are on your hips, pulling you away from the dresser. You turn in his hold, a giggle leaving your throat as you look at his stressed out expression, realizing why his reaction was so pained. 
“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask him quietly. “Saw something you like, huh?” You pull him in by his neck, kissing the side of his mouth before you pull away from him completely. Gesturing to the dresser, you ask, “Does this one pass the inspection, sir?” 
He glares at you before he replies. “Yeah, let’s get this one.”
Your eyebrow quirks up. “You didn’t even look at it.” 
“I saw enough, cariño,” he says gruff, looking at the tag on the display and taking note of which aisle the box will be at. 
You know your man well enough to know when he’s turned on, and that little unintentional stunt you pulled when making sure HEMNES was the right dresser for you—oh, it absolutely sent him over the edge. You decided to let him brew in his own arousal until you checked out your purchase, but the moment you set foot in his car again, you were set on starting something you wanted him to finish. 
“Thank you again for coming with me, baby,” you say as he settles back into the driver seat, your hand taking its seat on his upper thigh. 
The muscle twitches underneath your palm. “Mhm,” he mutters, voice wavering at your contact. Just as Javier puts the car in drive, he’s immediately pushing it back to park because your hand slides higher, closer, to the hardening bulge between his legs. His hips softly buck into your grasp; you take one look at him, and you can see the veins in his neck popping. A victory smile graces your face as his turns into a scowl. “What are you doing?”
You feign as much innocence as possible. “What am I doing? I’m just saying thank you, baby, I can’t tell you thank you?” 
“Right,” he says unconvinced. Your fingers continue to draw little shapes across the strained material of his pants. You go to cup him entirely, but the strength of his hand stops you. 
He releases your hand and gets out of the car, the car still running. He is at your side faster than you can take your own seatbelt off. He’s pulling your door open and giving you no chance for debate, his hand wraps around your jaw and pulls you into a bruising kiss—a messy yet calculated dance of teeth and tongue, and in pulling away he’s biting your bottom lip, pulling the sweetest little desperate whimper from your throat. He clocks the way your hips softly grind into his seat. 
“J-jav,” your voice shakes, “w-what are you doing-”
His grip on your jaw tightens, giving you a little shake as he speaks. “You had your fun, cariño,” he breathes. “My turn now.” 
His hand leaves your face and snakes down the front of your body, unzipping your jeans as you just stare wildly at the sight below you, your breathing erratic as your body anticipates his next move. 
“We- we’re in the fucking parking lot still, Javi!” You whisper yell at him, pissed, even though your body is doing absolutely nothing to stop him. He smirks at that fact. You want this. 
“Guess you’ll just have to keep quiet for me, yeah?” His fingers slip past your jeans, past your underwear, and you’re fucking soaked. His middle and ring finger bypass your clit, circling your entrance to gather the wetness accumulating before he comes back up to circle your throbbing bud. 
“Oh, fuck,” you yelp out, your eyes rolling back and your hips pushing into his hand as you hiss out in the pleasure. At your volume, Javi’s quick to stop his ministrations, cupping your mound and squeezing you as a warning. If the space allowed, you know he would’ve slapped your cunt. This alternative is equally as dizzying. 
“Open your eyes, baby,” he rasps. Your eyes flutter open. “You see all these people, huh? You want them to see you? See my good girl getting finger fucked in broad fucking daylight?”
“F-fuck, Jav” you whimper, much quieter this time, as your eyes land back on your man’s as you try and grind yourself on him. Javi’s fingers find your entrance then, sliding in with ease as a new wave of arousal pours out of you. 
“Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” His fingers speed up their momentum as he adds his thumb into the mix, hurtling you much closer to your finish line than you anticipated. 
“Baby, I’m c-close, I’m- fuck- I’m gonna cum, Javi, I-” you bring your hand up over your mouth to stifle the sobs that are about to leave your mouth.
“Yeah, baby? Gonna give us a show?” He asks, his breathing just as erratic as yours. All you need is one more little push from his thumb on your clit, and then-
“No!” you cry.
Right as you were about to fall over the edge, Javier completely pulls his fingers out of you, standing up straight as he licks his fingers off. Your hips don’t realize he left you as they buck a few more times, chasing the feeling of what could have been. 
“Baby, please, I was so close,” you heave, your heart rate equivalent to that of a hummingbird. 
Javier leans down into the car, slotting his lips against yours terribly slow; your taste lingers on his tongue. He pulls away. “Sorry, mama,” he whispers. “Only I get to see you fall apart like that.” 
He zips and buttons your pants up, leaving you a stunned, aroused, wet mess as he makes his way back to the driver seat and pulls out of the parking spot, driving back to your place as if nothing even happened. 
The drive home is short, but it feels like the longest drive you’ve ever had to endure. He rests his hand on your thigh the entire time, squeezing you every now and then as his pinky leaves featherlight touches where you need him most. He talks to you during the drive—about what, you honestly have no clue, but it seemed the conversation was enough for him to sustain alone. 
You’re brought out of your daze when his hand grabs your jaw, turning you to look at him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, knowing damn well what’s got your head in the clouds. 
The throbbing between your legs remained consistent—worse, even—on the drive home, so no you’re not fucking okay. You don’t tell him that, though. “Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your vocal cords to string together something coherent. 
He pulls your lips to his—a lingering one, one that has your mind slipping further. Breaking the embrace, he says softly, “Go unlock the door, amor, while I carry the box in, yeah?” 
On wobbly legs, you make your way to your door, missing the hole a few times but eventually the key slides in with ease. You toss them into the bowl on the entryway table, making your way to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water to contain yourself until Javier comes inside. 
Apparently, you’re way more distracted than you thought, because one gulp down and he’s behind you—hands on your waist, mouth on your neck. You set the glass down a little harshly, its weight suddenly increasing tenfold with the way he’s on you. 
“Baby,” you whine, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “Please.”
Your boyfriend is turning you around then, turning you to face him, and his mouth is on yours, licking and sucking as his body pushes you up against the fridge, your head landing with a soft thud as his mouth starts to descend down your neck while his fingers work your buttons and zipper for the second time today. 
He’s pulling your bottoms down to your ankles—they’re loose on your form, so they don’t restrict you too much from opening your legs when he slots his thigh in between you, hitting right against your core. 
His lips never leave you, biting and kissing every inch he can reach while his hands find their home at the globe of your asscheeks, securing his grip as he begins a steady pace of your crying pussy back and forth on his clothed thigh. 
“Just like that, cariño, I can feel you fluttering on me already, holy fuck,” he groans as he continues his assault on your chest, leaving pretty bruises all over the valley of your breasts. “Making such a mess, pretty girl,” he mutters into your skin. 
Your hands snake to the curls at the back of his head, yanking them as he brings you back closer and closer to the finish line. He brings his lips back to yours sloppily, one hand leaving your ass to paw at your chest, his fingers rubbing and twisting at your nipples; they harden in his touch.
Your eyes struggle to stay open, his tight jeans providing the yummiest friction against your clit. “I- I’m gonna- please, Jav, I- I need to cum,” you sob. 
His hand at your chest snakes down your body, following the path to your sex. Just as you think he’s about to slip his hands between your legs, his hand changes direction, both hands going up to grip your waist to stop you from moving. His thigh leaves your core, and you’re fighting—your hips chase his muscle, your fingers scrambling to pull him flush against you, but he doesn’t budge. It’s no use. Your high is gone again, painfully forced back to the start line as Javier bends down to grab your panties and work their way back up your legs. 
You’re a heaving mess, tears falling from your eyes as pathetic little protests fall from your lips. 
Exhausted, you sigh and finally blurt out, “Javier Peña, what the fuck are you doing?” 
You can see the faintest shit-eating smirk fall on his face before he mirrors what you did earlier: feign innocence. “Gotta go build your dresser, mi amor.” 
“I can fucking build it later.” 
“But I’m already here. I’ll do it.” 
“Yeah, but your presence is needed elsewhere,” you say, annoyed. You faintly gesture to your sobbing cunt, silenced by your soaked underwear. 
“But if I’m here, I’ll do it, so you don’t have to,” he says, placing a chaste kiss to the side of your mouth. 
“Javi,” you whine, hoping a thousand different ways of are you fucking serious right now translates to him in the tone of your sexual frustration. 
“Just sit pretty for me while I go do it real quick, okay, cariño?” 
Not giving you the chance to respond, he drags you by the wrist to your bedroom, forcing you to get settled in the reading chair you have in there—a prime spot to watch him get all sweaty as he works. Great. 
You wouldn’t have riled him up if you had known this was the kind of torturous game he had in mind. 
Twenty minutes in, and Javier is sweating alright, but it’s not for the reasons you’re thinking. Yeah, it’s a physical strain building this dresser, but this is fucking light work for him. 
No, he’s sweaty, sticky, and disgustingly hot because his dick is at his full potential, throbbing and leaking at everything you put him through—and everything he put himself through, pulling you to the brink of orgasm twice without letting you fully submit to it. He damn near always gets off when you do, and teasing you like this teases him just as much, if not more. 
He’s almost done, he just has one more drawer to put together and slide into place, but he takes a step back and uses his arm to wipe the sweat across his forehead, his breathing heavy during the action. It takes everything in you not to completely melt at what he’s forcing you to witness, a faint whimper escaping you at the sight of him. 
It takes him barely a minute to get the last drawer assembled before he attempts sliding it into place. It goes in with ease at first, but before it can fully shut, the drawer gets stuck, unable to close by an inch. What the fuck, he mutters under his breath, lifting it up and wiggling to see if it’s just a kink inside the railing. Your jaw falls a little open at the vulgarity of his mouth; you are way too wound up and everything he’s doing right now has your pussy doing backflips, somersaults, cartwheels—you name it. She’s very eager. 
Fed up with the drawer, Javier completely opens the drawer and then slams it shut, using his hips to give the drawer a full-force push. The slam of the wood is deafening, but it does nothing to hide the sweet little gasp that comes out of you, his cock twitching at the sound. 
A high-pitched, breathy squeak of an oh fuck leaves your mouth, and Javier turns to check on you. He sees your fingers skating down your front, running your middle and ring finger over your soaked center, your clit’s fire immediately reigniting at the contact. 
“¿Cariño?” He calls, a sternness evident in his tone. You know not to test that tone. Your fingers’ movements pause, your eyes meet his and they’re dark. “What do you think you’re doing?” Jesus fuck, he doesn’t even know if he has the strength to fuck you like he was planning on, the sight of you touching yourself has a fire igniting through every vein in his body. 
Your eyebrows are furrowed, nervousness written all over your face. “I…um, I-” you start. 
“Get up,” he cuts you off. 
“What?” You say softly, your brain already scrambled eggs and unable to register what he just asked of you. 
His singular eyebrow raises as he stalks closer to you, his hard gaze looking down at you as your pussy cries even more at the attention. Now his command registers, and you’ll be damned if you have to make him repeat himself. 
You remove your hand from your center, lifting yourself off your chair. He snags you by your waist, pulling your body flush against his front as he steals the breath from your lungs, your tongues meeting hungrily. You moan into his mouth, your hands slowly wrapping around his neck, but before you can grip his sweet curls, he’s pulling away from you, your surprised gasps blessing his ears as he flips you roughly but with ease towards the direction of your new dresser, already in its place secured against the wall. 
“Javi,” you whimper again for what feels like the millionth time already. 
“Dime qué quieres, cariño,” (tell me what you want) he rasps in your ear, his hands skating down your front and resuming what you so desperately started.
“F-fuck-” you start, “fuck me, Javi, please, please fuck me,” you beg, your heart stuttering as he dips his middle finger into your entrance.
He kisses your temple as your eyes fall shut, a contrastingly sweet gesture for the way he’s about to ruin you right now. 
“Then bend over.” 
Now that sobers you up a little. You start to crane your neck in his direction. “W-what?” But he’s quick to grab your jaw, bringing your eyes back to your dresser. “Go do what you were doing earlier, baby. Bend over that dresser for me,” he says, soft but stern, then he’s taking a step back, letting you get there on your own. 
So hooked on his body heat, you can’t help the shudder that leaves you, but ultimately you’re making your way to your new dresser—picking yourself up on your tippy toes to lean over the top, just like you were doing with the store’s floor model. “L-like this?” You ask, voice trembling in anticipation. You stick your ass out a little extra for good measure. 
You hear his belt buckle before you register his deep grumble. “Yeah, baby,” he tells you, slowly making his way to your backside. “So good for me,” he breathes, his fingers hooking into the hem of your underwear and letting them fall to the ground. You step out of them, knowing his next step is gonna be to nudge your legs further open—and he does, using his foot to nudge both of yours outwards. 
He runs his middle finger through your slick as he lets his jeans fall, your hips push further into his touch, chasing the pleasure you’ve been buzzing for all morning. 
“Baby, please,” he hears escaping your mouth. 
“Nuh uh, baby,” he tuts, “I told you. You had your fun already, it’s my turn.” 
He runs his fingers through your wet seam, properly soaking his digits before he brings his hand to his own arousal, covering himself in your slick. He groans at the feeling. Javier crowds himself behind you, his tip immediately mirroring the path of his fingers. He catches himself against your clit, and he smirks at the wrecked sounds of your heavy breathing. 
He pushes himself into you, slow and steady, getting you comfortable in his size. His fingertips are digging little bruises into your hips—his way of grounding himself from absolutely pummeling into you from the get go. 
You two have been together for quite some while, but Javi knows he’s big. It’s evident in the way you mewl and convulse every time he’s inside of you. Too big to get used to, yet perfect for the slight tinge of pain he knows you love. 
“Baby, please move,” you pant. 
“You sure, cariño?” He says softly, his dominant demeanor fading to make sure you’re alright. 
You reach back to grab onto his hand and drag it up your own body, settling his long digits around the base of your neck. With a squeeze of your hand over his: “Fuck me, Jav, please.” 
At your queue, he’s pushing himself into you entirely. “Yeah, baby?” He snarls. “Want me to fuck you like this?” His hips form a hard pace, your hips digging into the ledge of the dresser. “This what your pretty little pussy wants, huh? What she’s been fucking crying for, baby?”
“Fuck-” you gasp. “Fuck, yes- Javi, yesyesyes! Amor, please,” you wail, your eyes rolling back as the pressure of his fingers on your neck restrict your blood flow, filling your body with a euphoria only he can give you. 
His eyes scan down your body, taking in every inch of you with nothing but pure adoration. The sweetness fades when his eyes zone in on where your two centers meet. He lets out an audible moan at the sight, sending your pussy fluttering at the sound. “Look at you, bebita, fucking creaming on me, holy fuck,” he groans, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.
“I- I’m close, baby, fuck-” your breath stutters. “Touch me, Jav, I- I need you,” you moan. 
“Shh, I’ve got you, mi amor.” Javi’s hand on your throat leaves you and coasts down your spine, his grip fixing itself on the globe of your ass. 
He reaches down with his thumb to gather some of your slick, dragging it up to your tight, more inexperienced hole. You gasp when you feel it, your ass bucking further into his touch. “Oh, my baby girl likes that? You like your ass being played with, cariño?” He taunts, hooking his thumb inside. “Want to me to fuck you there next time?”
“Fuck- yes- please,” you whimper, your pussy fluttering around him at his words. His other hand snakes to your front and reaches for your clit, drawing tight, calculated circles on you. “Oh, fuck-!” you yell out.
“That’s it, baby, fucking- dámelo, fucking soak me, querida” he forces out between his teeth. Your body twitches in his grasp, knuckles stark white against your dresser, eyes clamped shut as you cry out in the overwhelming pleasure consuming every inch of your body. “Fuck,” he groans, your sounds forcing his balls to pull taut. Javi’s fingers speed up along with his thrusts, hurtling you towards your long-awaited climax. 
It’s overstimulating, him fucking into you so harshly as every nerve ending in your body pops off like fireworks. Yet, you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, the way his pace stutters for barely a second, and you know he’s close. It’s overstimulating, yes, but you want, no, need him to continue, you need him to chase his own finish line—you need him to root himself so deep inside you, you’ll feel traces of him for months on end. 
“You’re close, I can feel it,” you gasp, building your own rhythm of your hips to help him along. “Need it, baby, need you inside of me,” you pant, your voice desperate. You pull yourself off the dresser and push your back into his chest, both his hands leaving your body to grip onto the darkwood, caging you in. 
“Yeah?” you feel his heavy breath fan across your cheek. “Tell me how fuckig’ bad, querida, wanna hear it,” he says, voice strained.
You look back at him as best you can in this angle, your lips ghosting his jaw as the slick sounds of you grow louder. “Need you so bad even plan B can’t help us- God- please cum inside of me, Javier Peña, fucking give it to me,” you beg, your moans echoing the walls and rattling every fibre of his being, pushing his body into a state of pure ecstasy as he begins to empty himself into you. 
“Oh…fuck,” he grunts, his hips coming to a halt as he nearly wheezes through his orgasm. Once the sensitivity calms down, Javi pumps himself in and out of you a few more times for good measure, pushing his load deep inside of you. You can feel the way he slides in with a wet ease, and it makes butterflies in your belly erupt, a small gasp of a giggle, knowing that the soaked sensation isn’t because of solely your own product. 
“Fucking perfect,” he grumbles, slowly pulling himself out of you. He takes a small step back to get a look at your used cunt, puffy and glistening. His mouth literally waters. 
Javi drops to his knees, settling his broad palms on each of your ass cheeks to keep the view of you open for him. Slowly, he leans in, the flat of his tongue running over your delicate pearl through your cum-soaked folds, a mix of you and him blessing each taste bud on his tongue. He hears your breath hitch. 
He brings his tongue back in, collecting up the salty combination, before he’s on you again, mapping out the ring of your puckered muscle before he softly peppers the area in sweet kisses, your rear slightly irritated with his repeated slamming into you. 
He pulls himself away, giving you a moment to turn around; your back is to the dresser now. He places several kisses on your thighs, giving a few more kitten licks to your center before he’s rising to his feet and pulling you in for a deep yet gentle kiss. You can taste both you and him, and it makes your heart want to burst at the seams with warmth. 
“You okay?” He asks softly as his lips break away from yours. 
“Always with you,” you offer bashfully. 
“Good,” he says firmly, kissing the tip of your nose. You hear his hand smack the top of your dresser a few times. “I guess this thing is pretty fucking durable, huh?” 
“Mmmm, maybe. I think it needs to pass one more test,” you tell him. 
His eyebrow quirks up, you can see his mustache twitch, fighting his smirk. “And what test would that be, mi amor?” 
Taking a step back out of his hold, you back up into the dresser again, grabbing onto the ledge and you jump, spreading your legs wide open for him to fit in between. 
You can see the way his eyes flash impossibly darker. He stalks up to you again, his hands squeezing your thighs before he’s back on his knees, his head immediately burying himself in your core. 
Oh, yeah, this dresser passes the test, alright. 
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Tagging those who showed interest when I posted the WIP !! @honeyedmiller , @punkshort , @joels-shitty-puns , @bearsbeetsbeskar , @janaispunk , @starry-eyes-love
If you enjoyed this, come check out my masterlist for more or follow my notifs blog @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to get updated on when I post new stories! Much love💚
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javiscigarette · 7 months
Text
Ease
Javier Peña x f!reader
Requested:
requesting… daddy!javi comforting u after a stressful work day 👀 pls n thank
warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, fingering, squirting, spitting, spanking, a bit ass play (I cant resist), dirty talk, daddy!javi obviously, d/s dynamics obviously, extreme overuse of pet names and I'm not sorry, fluffy Javi deserves its own warning
w/c: 5.3k
a/n: the long overdue Javi fic is finally here lmao I wrote this very quickly and I haven't written for him in a long time so it may not be my best but I'm honestly just proud that I finally got something out :)) pls let me know if you like it!! ALSO! I reached 1.5k followers awhile ago which is just mind blowing so I just wanted to say THANK YOU to everyone who has joined me and continues to support me. This blog and all the friends I've made here have helped me through some pretty rough times and I'm forever grateful AHHH I just you all soo much!!
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You’re not there to greet him when he opens the door. Usually you’d have a glass of whiskey in your hand for him, already a little tipsy from the glass you had for yourself earlier.
There’s a unpleasant shiver that runs down his spine as the thought of you being in some sort of danger immediately crosses his mind. But the sound of you puttering around in the kitchen gives you away. That and the haze of smoke and smell of burnt food wafting through the entire apartment. 
He kicks his shoes off and loosens his tie as he rounds the corner to the kitchen to find you standing in front of the stove, tending to what he assumes is some chicken in a pan. The exhaust fan on the range hood and the ceiling fan are working overtime, pushing the smoke out of the kitchen and through the open window. 
“Hi, bebita” Javi says as he enters the smokey kitchen. You don’t say anything in response, just give him a quick sideways glance before turning back to the stove. 
He crosses the room and moves to stand behind you. Maybe if he had seen the frown on your face, or the way your eyebrows are deeply creased in frustration, he would’ve said something very different. 
But he didn’t see. 
“Dinner smells delicious” he teases, squeezing your hips. He’s expecting a little chuckle from you, or at least an annoyed eye roll with a hidden smile. 
So he’s caught very off guard when you slam the spatula down on the counter with a loud, frustrated sigh.
“Well I’m sorry that I tried to make a nice meal. Guess I’m fuckin’ useless at that too.” 
You try to push yourself out of his grasp, but his grip only tightens. 
“Hey okay okay, easy.” Javi soothes, turning you around so you’re facing him. “What’s wrong, bebita?” he asks, his tone immediately switching from teasing to soft and tener.You puff out a heavy sigh, refusing to look up at him and staring at his white shirt stretched across his chest instead. 
All the thoughts about your horrid day at work that you’ve been trying to block out break the damn and come flooding back into your head; your boss telling you that you fucked up two different major tasks and refusing to tell you how to do them correctly, catching your coworkers gossiping about you in the breakroom, your computer dying right before you could save any of the work you had done for the day, and how you tried to come home and cook as a distraction but you clearly forgot about the chicken sitting on the stove and almost caught the house on fire. 
You hadn’t even noticed the tears welling up in your eyes until Javi is wiping away the ones that have brimmed over and slid down your cheeks. 
“Cariño…” Javi whispers, his tone drenched with concern. That’s all it takes. You instantly break down, falling forward into Javi’s chest as your whole body shakes as you sob, your tears wetting the crisp fabric of his shirt. 
You tell him everything in between wet gasps and uneven breaths, unloading everything at once. He just holds you through it, nodding along and giving you an occasional understanding hum while running his palms up and down your back until you finish talking. 
“Your boss is an asshole” is the first thing Javi says. “Your coworkers too” 
You respond with a pathetic sniffle. “I really fucked up though. And now everyone thinks I can’t do my job” 
"Bebita,” Javi starts, continuing to rub soothing circles on your back. “Everyone has tough days at work. It doesn't define your abilities or your worth. You're so much more than a single bad day."
You sniffle again, still leaning heavily against him for support. 
"It's just... I'm tired of feeling like I'm constantly failing."
Javi clicks his tongue and moves one hand to use two fingers to gently tilt your chin up, making you meet his easy gaze. 
"You're not failing, mi amor. Sometimes things don’t go as planned and that’s okay. You're learning and growing."
You wish he wasn’t so right all the time. Sometimes talking back to the false narrative that runs rampant in your head 24/7 is too much work. 
"I know”  you sigh, wiping away tears with the back of your hand. “It’s just hard not to let it get to me."
Javi's thumb brushes against your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. 
"I understand. Just remember you're not alone in this. I’ll always be here for you, my sweet girl” 
You manage a weak smile, feeling a bit of warmth starting to seep back into your heavy heart. 
“Thank you” you whisper.
Javi smiles warmly, his eyes full of admiration and unwavering support. 
“Of course, baby. I’m here for you always. No matter what.” 
You let your head fall back to his chest and you take a deep breath. He keeps rubbing your back, physically feeling the tension leaving your body as you melt against him. Without your brain in overdrive, you finally register the smell of his faded cologne and his cigarettes sticking to his shirt, the scent immediately washing away more of the tension in your muscles. The warm feeling in your chest starts to spread all the way down to your toes, your whole body feeling 10 times lighter than it did 5 minutes ago as his embrace brings you a sense of solace you hadn’t experienced all day. 
After another silent minute or two, he places a kiss to your hairline before leaning in close, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. 
“You know, there’s another way to forget about it for a little while.”
His low voice alone already has the base of your spine tingling. You pick your head up to meet his gaze, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. 
“Yeah?” you ask, a weak smile slowly spreading across your face.
“Mhmm” he hums, his hands sliding down to your waist and slipping under the hem of your shirt, his warm fingers splaying over your skin. 
"You've had a tough day," Javi continues, his voice a sensual murmur. "And I think you deserve something to take your mind off all that stress."
His words, laden with suggestion, push all the worries out of your body, replacing it with a thrill that courses through your veins. He leans in until his face is inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Let me take care of you, bebita."
All you can do is nod dumbly. Javi grins as he pulls you in closer. His lips capture yours in a slow, tantalizing kiss, his lips soft and warm against yours, the taste of him flooding your senses. His hands slide up from your waist to your rib cage, rucking up your shirt in the process. Every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, drawing you impossibly closer to him. He pulls away just long enough to pull it over your head before his lips capture yours again. 
He wraps one arm around you, keeping you close as his other hand cups your jaw, his fingers curling around the back of your neck as his thumb mindlessly brushes your cheek. Your hands find their way to his back, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. 
He swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and you part your lips with a soft sigh, his tongue immediately sliding against yours. It’s a dance of desire and vulnerability, an unspoken promise that he’s here to take away all of your worries. The rest of the world quickly fades into a distant blur, leaving just the two of you in this electric connection.
 His lips eventually leave your mouth, his breathless chuckle fanning across your jaw at the sound of your quiet whimper. He trails wet kisses along your jaw, down to the side of your neck, each one accompanied by a soft exhale that causes goosebumps to erupt over every inch of your skin. The sensation is exquisite and maddeningly arousing, and you find yourself tilting your head back, giving him better access. 
His teeth gently graze over your pulse point, sending shiver coursing through your entire body. Your heart races as he finds a spot just below your collarbone, nipping and sucking before soothing the dark spot with his tongue. His hands roam your torso, big, warm palms exploring every inch of exposed skin. You can feel the bulge in his jeans rapidly grow against your hip and your core throbs with a dull ache in response. Everything that happened earlier is miles away as you feel yourself relaxing deeper into his embrace, losing yourself in him. 
He pulls away when you whine quietly and looks down at you, his pupils already blown with lust and desire. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear then ducks down to place a chaste kiss to your lips before whispering “Bedroom. Now.” 
You nod and turn to head out of the kitchen, letting out a small giggle when he lands a quick slap to your ass. His eyes are glued to your backside as he follows you to the bedroom, his fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt along the way
You flop down on the edge of the bed with Javi just a few steps behind you. He tosses his shirt to the corner of the room and starts working on his belt as he stalks towards you. You smirk and reach behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra and letting it slide off your arms. Javi licks his lips at the sight of you sitting there in only your soft cotton shorts, looking like he’s about to pounce on his prey. 
He crosses the room until he’s standing inches in front of you, then slips his belt out of the loops and tosses it aside. You reach out, intent on undoing the button and zipper of his jeans but he stops you by wrapping a large hand around your wrist before you can touch him. 
“Nuh uh, baby. I’m takin’ care of you tonight”  
His words send a strong pulse of excitement down your spine and your heart pounds in your chest. He lets go of your wrist and you let it fall limply back to your side as you stare at him through your lashes. 
“Take off your shorts.” 
You immediately follow his command, quickly standing and moving to slide your shorts and panties down your legs so fast that you stumble a bit when they get caught around your feet. Javi reaches out and grabs your arm to steady you as you step out of your shorts and kick them to the side. 
“Good girl” he chuckles, dropping his hand from your arm. You watch with wide eyes, saliva gathering in your mouth as he shuffles out his jeans, his hardened cock gently slapping against his lower abdomen. He catches your gaze and gives you a knowing wink before making his way onto the bed. You stand in place, patiently waiting for your next set of instructions as he props himself up against the headboard. 
“C’mere” he says softly, patting his thigh. You positively beam as you climb on the bed towards him. You face him and you’re about to straddle his lap, but he stops you with a hand on your hip. 
“Turn around, cariño.”
You listen and immediately turn around and sit down between his spread legs, pressing your back into his chest. His cock presses firmly into the small of your back, a warm and welcome presence. With a contented sigh, you lean back and rest your head on his shoulder. 
“You listen so well, baby” Javi rasps, his voice rough with arousal. You only hum in response, your lips curving into a grin as you glow under his praise. He presses a kiss to your temple and his hands find your torso once again, slowly sliding up and down your sides. But he can only resist temptation for so long. 
He uses both hands to cup your breasts and you both let out soft sighs in unison. 
“Tan bonita, princesa” he whispers, his fingers finding both of your nipples. A small noise escapes from your parted lips as he feathers the pads of his fingers over the sensitive buds, teasing you until they’re stiffened peaks. He then pinches both, gently rolling them between his thumb and fingers. 
“That feel good?” he asks softly, his lips moving against your temple. 
You nod, letting out an uneven breath as you involuntarily push your chest forward into his touch. He pinches a little harder, pulling a delicate gasp from you. His cock twitches against you in response. 
“Want you to use your words, bebita.” 
You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before responding. 
“F-feels good, Javi.” 
He clicks his tongue and squeezes a little harder again. 
“And what do you call me when I’m makin’ you feel good, princesa?” he asks, his voice dangerously low in your ear. 
Your mouth goes dry and your heart skips a beat in your chest. 
Fuck. 
The stress of your day was already far in the back of your mind, but Javi was intent on erasing it completely. And he knows exactly how to do so. 
“Daddy” you correct yourself, the simple word placing you on precipice of submission “Feels really good, daddy” 
“That’s right, bebita” Javi groans softly, his cock twitching in approval. “Such a good girl for me.” 
He then hooks his chin over your shoulder while you exhale a long, shaky breath as one of his hands leaves your breast and slides down your stomach. You clit pulses in anticipation, but he avoids where you want him most and instead smooths his hand over the top of your thigh. Your chest heaves with every breath as he teases you with gentle touches, getting you all worked up just the way you both like it. 
“You want me to touch you, princessa?” Javi asks, his fingertips dancing delicately on the inside of your thigh. It tickles and you reflexively try to close your legs, but he brings his foot to the inside of your calf and pushes it to the side before placing his foot flat on the bed, keeping your leg firmly in place. “Answer me.” 
“Yes, daddy, please” you whine, your voice coming out a lot more desperate than you intended. 
“Where, baby? Tell me where you want daddy’s fingers.” 
He’s teasing you, but it serves as an excellent distraction –  the events from earlier today are the least of your concerns right now. 
“You want them here?” he asks, his fingers now just barely tracing your dripping seam. “Want me to touch your pretty little pussy? Rub that pretty little clit?” 
You nod fervently and buck your hips up without thinking, your body betraying your patience and chasing after his touch. Javi chuckles darkly and harshly pinches your nipple with his other hand, making you jump in surprise. 
“Tell me, baby. Be a good girl and tell me.” 
You whimper, a hot flush spreading across your chest and creeping up your neck. You’ve been here a thousand times with him, been in far more desperate situations too. But the butterflies still tickle your tummy and the tips of your ears burn with embarrassment. 
“Want…want you to touch my pretty little pussy, daddy.” you murmur, the last of your sentence barely audible. 
He immediately rewards you by dipping two fingers into your slippery folds, groaning softly in your ear when he feels how wet you are for him. “Mmm that’s my good girl. Always fuckin’ soaked for me, huh?” he asks, dipping the tips of his fingers into your hole, gathering your slick and dragging it up to your clit. You nod lazily, your eyes fixed on his hand between your legs. 
He starts with slow, languid circles, his cock pulsing against your back with every small noise that bubbles up out of your throat. His other hand is still occupied with pinching and rolling your nipple. Hot arousal flows through your veins, every nerve ending on fire just from his easy touches. You want it faster, you need more. But you know he won’t give it to you unless you ask. 
“Pl-please, daddy. Faster please” you huff, squirming in his lap as you try to suppress the urge to buck your hips up again. 
“Look at you, princesa. Being such a good girl asking’ nicely like that” Javi whispers, instantly picking up the pace of his fingers and adding more pressure. You let out a long, low moan, the sound of it filling the bedroom. “Sound so pretty too” he adds, pressing his lips to your temple. 
His other hand leaves your nipple and he shushes you softly when you whine at the loss. He doesn’t tease you this time, his hand immediately joining the other between your legs. He keeps his two fingers on your clit, rubbing firm circles just like you asked while his other hand finds your leaking entrance. 
He doesn’t make you ask again before he slides his middle finger inside of you, probably more out of his own desperation to feel you clenching around him. You’re absolutely soaked, you juices freely flowing out of you, down his finger and into his palm like warm honey. He wants to draw it out, slowly work you up until you’re about to snap, but he’s not feeling very patient anymore. 
He slides his finger in and out of you a few more times before adding a second, curling his fingertips. He finds the spot inside of you instantly and you reward him with a loud gasp, your whole body trembling as you relax against his chest. 
“That’s it, baby. Just relax for me” Javi coos, his voice tight and strained as he tries to contain his own excitement. He pumps his fingers inside you, his fingertips nudging against the spot that has your whole body jolting with every pass. Every inch of your skin feels on fire as he works you, lewd sounds filling the room as he plays with your slick pussy. You feel wetness on your back and quickly realize that it’s his precum leaking from his warm tip, smearing against your skin as you squirm around. 
“Mierda, princesa” Javi groans as you clench tightly around his two fingers. “You close, baby?” he asks, already knowing the answer. You answer with a high-pitched whine, throwing your head back on his shoulder. 
“Cum for me, baby” Javi grunts, moving his fingers faster, bringing you to the edge. “Cum all over my fingers and then I’ll fuck you, nice and deep just how you like it” 
His fingers are relentless, rubbing dizzying circles on your clit and punching up into your g-spot. You can’t hold back anymore, rocking your hips and grinding down on his fingers. Your chest burns with every breath you manage to suck in, the hot coil in your tummy wound tightly, threatening to burst at any moment. You open your mouth and try to tell him that you’re about to cum, but every time you try to speak, the only sounds that come out are loud gasps in-between broken moans. 
And then you finally snap. Javi groans as you clamp down around his fingers, so tight that he can hardly keep moving them. He then quickly pulls them out, his eyes wide with amazement as your juices gush out of you, drops of it landing on his leg, most of it soaking the blankets underneath you. 
 “There’s my good girl” he hisses between clenched teeth. He watches intently as you thrash around, the sight of you squirting and the sweet sounds of your moans going straight to his cock as he works you through your orgasm. He doesn’t let up until you come down, whimpering and jolting at his touch. 
You collapse backwards against his chest, your head on his shoulder as you pant and try to catch your breath. He goes back to tracing your seam, his touch featherlight once again. You let out a sigh, your limbs heavy and head fuzzy with pure ecstasy.
He eventually moves his hands away, placing them on your thighs and letting out a low whistle. 
“Did so well, princesa. Look how much you came for me” Javi rasps, nosing at the column of your neck.
You pick your head up, looking down at the aftermath of your orgasm. You laugh breathlessly at the dark spot underneath you and the liquid on Javi’s calf shining in the dim glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Javi’s chest rumbles with his own chuckle as he presses sweet kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. 
He doesn’t give you much time to recover before he taps your thighs and gives you your next command. “Hands and knees, princesa.” 
You’ve barely had time to catch your breath, but your pussy still aches in anticipation of his earlier promise. You take a deep breath and find enough strength to sit up straight. Your limbs are weak and noodly as you crawl over to a dry spot on the bed and get into position, your ass in the air with your face pressed against the soft blankets. 
You crane your neck to watch Javi who flashes you a devilish grin as he assumes his position on his knees behind you. You give him a sweet smile back and wiggle your ass. And he takes the bait, groping your cheeks with both hands before he spreads you open, putting everything on display just for him. 
“Fuckin’ gorgeous, baby.” he growls before leaning over to spit. You gasp and moan softly at the feeling of the warm liquid landing on your asshole and sliding down to pool at your swollen clit. He then brings his thumb up, using the pad to gently rub his saliva against your puckered hole. “So fuckin’ gorgeous” 
“Daddyyyy” you whine pitifully, pushing your hips back into his touch. He chuckles breathlessly and wraps a hand around the base of his cock and lining himself up. 
“You’re so good, baby.” Javi starts as he slides his cock in the mess between your cheeks. “My strong, beautiful, intelligent, good girl.”
Your face heats up at the praise, the words stirring up the butterflies in your stomach yet again. 
“Thank you, daddy” you murmur, the sound muffled by the blankets. Javi just hums and continues to glide his cock through the wetness, addicted to the way whimper every time his cockhead brushes against your swollen clit and your aching entrance. You whimper and wiggle your hips again, trying to get what you want. 
“Repeat it.” Javi commands simply. “Wanna hear you say it” 
You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper again. He’s completely taken over your headspace now, forcing you into a place of submission where there’s no room to think about anything other than him and what he asks of you. This is how he takes care of you, how he can turn every bad day on its head and take away every single one of your worries until you’re a blissed out mess underneath him. And he’s really fucking good at it. 
“I’m your strong, beautiful, intelligent, girl” you choke out, a fresh wave of slick gushing out of you and onto his rock hard cock at the forced admission.
“Forgot one” he breathes, his thumb still rubbing at your tight little hole. You wrack your brain, thoughts moving slower than syrup in your head as you try to remember what he said not even 10 seconds ago. 
“Good.” you say, as soon as you remember. I’m you’re good girl, daddy.” 
“Yes you are, baby” Javi says, notching his tip at your entrance. “So fucking good for your daddy.” 
He pushes all the way in, burying himself to balls deep in your aching cunt in one smooth movement. The sounds you make are obscene as you twist your fists in the blanket underneath him. He’s so deep, you swear you can feel him somewhere near your lungs. Just like he promised. He moans roughly behind you, the feeling on your warm walls squeezing rhythmically around his neglected cock overwhelming all of his senses.
But you don’t let him catch a break. You barely give yourself time to adjust before you take matters into your own hands and start rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his cock. Javi inhales sharply, both hands finding your hips and trying to hold you in place, but you’re not having it. 
“Daddy please–oh shit– please fuck me, need it so bad” you whine as you continue to rock your hips despite Javi’s best efforts to stop you. 
Javi just growls in response, his fingertips digging into your hips as he slides out until just his tip rests inside before slamming back into you. The loud moan that he pulls from you travels as a shiver down his spine and fuels his fire. He quickly finds a steady pace, brutally slamming into you like he’s fucking the stress out right out of your body. You let all the moans and whines and whimpers float freely out of your mouth as you take what he gives you, as he fills you up and stuffs you full over and over and over again. 
“You're so good for me” Javi grunts, gripping your hips and moving them backwards to meet his every thrust. “Feel so fucking good squeezing me like that, this tight little pussy was fucking made for me” 
Your eyes roll back into your head, his words once again turning your brain into mush as he fucks you into another plane of existence. You’re already teetering on the edge of another release, your lower abdomen burning with it, your swollen, neglected clit pulsing and desperate for attention.
And Javi feels it too.
“Already gonna cum again?” Javi asks breathlessly before landing a smack to your ass. You yelp in shock and there’s another wave of your juices leaking out onto his cock. 
“Ohh you like that, don’t you baby?” Javi coos before spanking you again, this time a bit harsher. Your face scrunches in pleasure and words have completely eluded you so you just cry out against the mattress, hoping that and your clenching pussy gets the point across. 
Thankfully Javi doesn’t ask you to answer him. Instead he keeps fucking into you, delivering firmm hits to your ass, completely mesmerized with the way it jiggles as he spanks and fucks into you. He’s just as close as you are, never lasts very long if he’s inside without cumming at least once beforehand. 
He moves one hand from your hip to between your legs, his fingers tracing where you’re stretched out so nicely around his thick cock before they land on your clit once again. You sob as he starts immediately rubbing fast, harsh circles that send you speeding towards the finish line. 
“Oh fuck, daddy! Gonna cum m’gonna cum pleasssee let me cum” 
Javi sucks in a harsh breath, his eyebrows furrowing together as his cock lurches inside of you. 
“Yeah, fuck yeah, baby. Cum on this cock like a good girl” Javi grits out, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenches his teeth together, trying to hold himself together. Your hands scramble against the blankets as he slams into you with newfound vigor, pushing you up the bed with each thrust and making you scream in ecstasy.
“Cum and then I’ll fill you up” he grunts. “I’ll fill you up and fuck it so deep that it’ll be leaking out of you for days, just reminding you of how good you are for me. Always so fucking good baby jesus christ” 
His filthy promises send you flying over the edge. You bury your face in the blankets and scream, your legs giving out from the force of it, your hips dropping to the bed and leaving you in a prone position. And Javi doesn’t miss a beat. He presses his chest against your back, using his freehand to support the bulk of his weight as he keeps working his fingers on your clit the best he can, not letting his pace falter even once. 
The new position shoves his cock even deeper inside of you, punching against your cervix with each thrust as he rearranges your guts. Your only option is to lie there let him drag out your release for as long as possible. 
“That’s it” Javi rasps, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked now. “Sweet little pussy is fuckin’ milking my cock, cariño. You want my cum? Want me to stuff you fuckin’ full?” 
You’re too far gone to respond, reduced to nothing but putty in his hands, your trembling body limp and pliant just for him to use. He can only hold it together for a few more thrusts before he buries himself all the way inside of you, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you.
Staying true to his promise, he fucks you through it, shallowly moving his hips and pushing his cum as deep as possible. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, the sensation of it all pushing you over the edge once again, though you’re not sure if you ever came back from the last one. Javi watches in amazement as you cum again, your voice breaking on desperate sobs while you squeeze around him, truly milking him for all he’s worth.
He moves his hand from your clit once your moans start to die down and then collapses on top of you, carefully though as not to completely crush you. You welcome the weight, a comforting pressure that makes you feel so warm and safe and secure. 
He stays buried inside of you as you both come down. You can feel his heart pounding from where his chest is pressed against you, his warm breath fanning across your neck as you both try to catch your breath. The two of you stay there for a while, basking in the post coitus glow. His cock softens inside of you and he only moves when his cum starts to dribble out of you. 
You whine softly as he moves to sit up, his now soft cock slipping out of you and leaving you feeling empty. But the feeling doesn’t last too long. 
He scoots back so he’s kneeling between your legs, both hands on your cheeks and spreading you open again. You feel his eyes burning holes into your skin as he watches his cum slowly leaking out of you. He doesn’t let it fall too far though, using a finger to scoop up all that’s dribbled out and pushing it back inside. You moan softly at the sensation and it takes everything in him not to fuck you with his fingers once again. 
“Think we need to get you in a nice hot shower” he says, his tone sweet and soft once again as he removes his fingers. 
You turn your head to look at him through hooded eyes, a dopey smile plastered to your face, looking completely fucked out.
“And we’re ordering take out too” he announces, leaning over to place a sweet kiss on your cheek. Images of the burnt chicken sitting on the stove float through your head, along with fuzzy memories of the events from earlier today. But you don’t give a single fuck anymore. Javi thoroughly wiped every ounce of stress from your brain. And now anything that isn’t directly related to you and Javi at this moment, on your shared bed in the dim light of the evening sun filtering through the curtain is far, far away. 
“We’re not getting fucking chicken” is all you say and the sound of yours and Javi’s laughter rings pleasantly through the room and in your ears as content seeps deep into your bones.
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I LOVE THIS MAN okay thank u for reading <333
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thetriumphantpanda · 6 months
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Take The Weight Off His Shoulders | Javier Peña
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Series Summary | Javier Peña has been your dad's best friend for as long as you can remember. He's also been the apple of your eye since you were old enough to know what that meant. Obsessed, some might say, in love is what you'd say. Now, he's back to Laredo for good, single but cloaked in a darkness you want to unravel. Surely, now you're all grown, he'll see you as more than his friends daughter, as someone who can ease his trouble and take the weight of his shoulders.
Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader
Series Warnings | Age gap relationship (12 years), forbidden/taboo relationship, slow burn, mutual pining, outrageous flirting, descriptions of PTSD and panic attacks, soft!Javi, protective!Javi, explicit smut, reader is innocent but not inexperienced, grumpy x sunshine vibes, canon-typical violence, mentions of the drug trade, drug use and drug related deaths and violence, Javier Peña gets his own warning (even more so as dbf - he's gonna be a menace).
Authors Note | I've missed Javier Peña so much so here we fucking go I guess? Huge shout out as always to @morning-star-joy who has been on the receiving end of SO much screaming about these two.
Main Masterlist | Series Playlist
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Chapters
Chapters marked with ** indicate smut.
Chapter One - my lonely days are over
Chapter Two - pining & desperately waiting
Chapter Three - where have all the good men gone?
Chapter Four - one kiss is all it takes
Chapter Five - it's new, the shape of your body **
Chapter Six - get down on your knees and tell me you love me **
Chapter Seven - i only wanna worship you **
Chapter Eight - i don’t really wanna fight, ‘cause nobody’s gonna win **
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen.
Extras
Fic moodboard by @cavillscurls
Fic moodboard by @sawymredfox
Chapter One moodboard by @hellishjoel
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THE HOUNDS OF HELL
written with @milla-frenchy
Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader x Steve Murphy
Summary: you meet two DEA agents in a bar. You drink too much and they offer to take you home.
Warnings: 18+ mndi. Dubcon (alcohol), dark!Javi, dark!Steve, unprotected piv, mfm, dvp, oral (f/m), ball sucking, manhandling, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, manipulation, cum eating, cum play, multiple orgasms. Steve can pick up reader. No age specified
Word count: 4,3k
A/n: @toxicanonymity this is for you🖤💖 It’s our way of thanking you for all the amazing fics you've been gifting us over the past year! We love you!🫶
The title is from the lyrics of Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes
AO3 || Milla’s Masterlist || My Masterlist
*****
You were spending Friday night with your friend in your favorite bar. The air was filled with music and cigarette smoke. You were chatting and drinking when two men approached your table. They asked if they could join you two, the place being packed. You didn’t mind, and they introduced themselves. The man who sat next to you had dark hair and piercing eyes. His name was Javi.
The blonde one, Steve, joined your friend. He had beautiful blue eyes.
Both of them were handsome and seemed nice.
Javi said they were DEA agents and you felt even more at ease around them. Every second man in Bogota was somehow connected to drug dealing and it was nice to meet someone safe. In no time you were talking, laughing and enjoying their company.
At one point Steve offered to buy another round and you agreed. A few minutes later, your friend said that she didn’t feel good. You offered your help but she refused, not wanting to interrupt the fun. At first, you felt a bit uncomfortable, alone with the two men, but as the night progressed you shared more stories, drank more tequila and forgot your concerns. They were good company and pleasant. They showered you with attention, yet weren’t sleazy or inappropriate. Sometimes you would notice their eyes lingering on your lips and chest for a little too long but you felt flattered.
“Vamos a bailar (let’s dance),” Javi suggested and you jumped at the opportunity to move as your head started to feel heavy after all the drinks.
Steve stayed at the table nursing his beer.
“Gonna watch you two for now,” he said with a glint in his eye and gave you a lopsided smile before Javi led you to the dance floor.
***
Soon your hips were seductively swaying to the rhythm of the music as Javi’s gaze was gliding over your lips, down to your breasts and legs. You turned around to show off your ass as your hands slid up and down your body accentuating every curve for his eyes to devour. A second later you felt his hands on your hips, not grabbing you but gently resting there, keeping you close. So close that you could feel his massive bulge brushing against your lower back. The idea of that handsome man getting hard because of you made you gush and you leaned against his broad chest as he wrapped his arms around your middle, a big hand splayed over your belly. Now with your heated bodies flush with each other, it seemed like there was only you and him on the crowded dance floor.
You felt his mustache tickling your cheek, his hot wet breath caressing your neck, and you turned your face to him. Javi’s eyes were obsidian with lust and even the flashing lights over your heads couldn’t push through their darkness. He looked at your lips and in the next moment he leaned in and kissed you, slowly and gently, as if luring you in. The moment his tongue tasted yours, you moaned and felt your cheeks heat up at your involuntary display of desire. You pulled away and turned your face away from him, trying to calm down and taking deep breaths.
Javi turned you around, and everything swayed, thanks to the tequila shots.
“Qué pasa, hermosa? (what is it, sweetheart?). It’s just a kiss. Estás buenísima (you’re so hot),” he whispered against your temple.
You realized that two pairs of hands were touching you. Feeling another broad chest at your back, you opened your eyes and tried to turn around but they stopped you.
“No, baby, stay like this. Wanna dance with you too,” Steve said into your ear and began moving with the music.
His bulge was grinding against your ass making you soak your panties. You were caged between the two man and albeit being nervous you couldn’t deny the growing tingling between your legs. They were hot and you were having a great time. While the music carried you, their hands were roaming your body, not aggressively but in the way that made you want more. At one point Steve’s face happened to be inches from you and your lips met. The kiss was slow and intense and you got lost in it while they both were holding you between them.
Suddenly you felt dizzy and hot so you stopped dancing and said that you needed some fresh air.
Steve walked you out while Javi went to pay for the drinks. Your legs were weak and you felt like you could fall any second.
“I think I should go home,” you mumbled, bracing your hand on the wall outside the bar.
“You ok, baby?” Steve asked with worry in his voice holding you by the waist, “Let’s get you in the car. We ain’t leaving you alone.”
“Take me home, please,” you asked as Steve wrapped his arm around your torso. You two got in the back of the car and a few moments later Javi joined you taking the driver’s seat.
***
You felt shaky and foggy, but happy to finally sit down. Too much alcohol in too little time, and you were clearly unable to drive. You took a deep breath of relief. Two DEA agents as bodyguards in the streets of Bogota, it couldn’t be better.
When Javi started the engine, you asked him to wait a few minutes, afraid of being sick. Steve, sitting next to you, leaned between the front seats to put a cassette into the car stereo and the sound of a bass guitar filled the space of the car. He turned up the volume, and you rested your head on the seat, staring at the streetlights lighting up the night city. Javi was hitting the wheel with his thumb to the rhythm of the music.
You turned to look at Steve, who was moving his head enjoying the song. Sometimes he closed his eyes, that way feeling the music even more. And then he started to sing.
You couldn’t believe how well he sang, couldn’t take your eyes off him. He looked at you and smiled as he was singing, and his blue eyes made you melt. He placed his arm on the headrest behind your head and leaned down to kiss you. Your panties had already been soaked under your short dress, since the three of you had danced at the bar. You felt yourself gushing more while you were kissing.
He smelled of mint, whiskey and cigarettes and was exuding self-confidence. Damn, he was so hot, with his brown leather jacket and jeans. When his lips slid down to your neck, you slipped your fingers into his blonde hair. His mustache was rubbing gently against your skin. You glanced over at Javi who was watching you two in the rearview mirror. He readjusted himself with a smirk on his face, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.
Steve pulled back, his face still staying inches from yours, and asked, “how do you feel?”
“I’m better now. We can go...”
“Great. What’s your address, baby?”
After you told them, Steve gave a nod to the other man and leaned towards you again. Javi started to drive. Steve’s hand rested on your thigh, and you tried not to start rolling your hips while you two were kissing.
"Wait, I feel dizzy...we should…uh…slow down”, you mumbled, trying to blink the spinning away.
“You’re ok, baby. You didn't have that much. Soon you’ll be home, asleep in your bed, ok?”
You nodded, although you weren't sure you drank as little as he said. His lips were on yours again, and his hand slid up your leg. When you moaned against his lips, he slipped his hand between your thighs.
“No wait, I don’t-”
“Ain’t gonna hurt you, beautiful…just wanna have a good time before we get to your place.”
He hissed through his teeth when his fingers reached your pussy. “Damn! You’re soaked, baby. It's a shame we can’t enjoy it. But we’re good guys, aren’t we Javi?”
“Yeah…we’ll keep it in our pants, Hermosa, don’t worry.”
You relaxed, and when Steve plunged his fingers into your pussy you didn’t stop him. You let yourself be lulled by the ride and by his fingers, your head laid back. You snaked your hands under his jacket, and felt his hot chest, his muscles under the shirt. Your eyes rolled back, and you whispered, “fuck…’m gonna…’m gonna come.”
“Yeah, you're squeezing my fingers so damn hard. C’mon, give it to me, baby, you’ll feel better, I promise.”
You noticed him glance at Javi and smile, but your mind was too foggy to react. When you came all over his fingers, you grabbed his wrist to keep them buried inside you until you stopped shaking.
“Fuck…I really think I drank way too much…Shouldn’t have done that.”
You looked out the window, feeling the car slow down, but you didn’t recognize the houses.
“Where are we?”
“Just grabbin’ some stuff at Javi’s…won’t be long. Come on, baby. Can’t stay in the car at night, it’s too dangerous.”
“Wait, no…You said you were bringing me home!”
“And we gonna. Won’t be long, I told ya. Unless you wanna walk home alone, from here? Your choice.”
You sighed, and followed them. You couldn't possibly walk alone, in the middle of the night, in that dress. You stumbled, and Javi grabbed your arm.
“Lemme help you,” he said, smiling.
***
He led you to his apartment, Steve walking in front of you two. Your legs were still trembling from your orgasm and the alcohol in your blood. When you entered Javi’s place, the men glanced at each other and you felt slightly uncomfortable.
“You’re gonna drive me home, right?”
“Sure, baby”, Steve replied.
You shivered from the cold, your jacket was in your car, and your tight dress covered little of your body. Javi poured three shots of tequila, which he and Steve drank in one go. Javi handed one to you.
“Come on, hermosa. It’ll warm you up.”
You knew it wasn't a good idea, but you didn't dare refuse. You drank it, trying not to think about your complaining stomach.
They took off their jackets, and Steve moved closer to you. “Come dance with me,” he said, holding out his hand to you. Javi put on some music, and you mechanically took Steve’s hand. The music was soft, and even though you still felt shaky, Steve held you and you couldn't deny the warmth in your lower stomach. His hands slid down your body, brushing against your back then your hips, his nose buried in your neck. He breathed into you and his soft growls fueled the fire within you. When he moved his body closer to yours, you felt his hard cock. Javi joined you, pressing himself against your back. He was hard too. You let them lead the pace, and their sensual caresses made you forget your discomfort.
“You know, beautiful, we’d like to have a good time with you. I think you want it too. Don’t ya?”
“I…I don’t know. I’m not feeling well.”
“I’ll tell you what. We're gonna check if your pretty little pussy wants it. Ok?"
Without waiting for your response, Javi lifted your short dress.
“Look at me, baby”, Steve said, as Javi slipped his hand into your panties.
“Wow, hermosa…you're dripping. This pussy wants to get filled. She wants to take some cocks.”
Steve's eyes were fixed on Javi's, before looking into yours. His gaze was overflowing with carnal desire while Javi was gently running his finger over your clit.
“What do you think, baby? I know you liked it in the car. Want a little more?”
You couldn’t deny that Steve made you come quickly. If he was as good at fucking you as he was at fingering, you were going to have a great time. While you were trying to gather your thoughts, he smelled his fingers covered with your dried cum and licked them.
“Taste her, Javi. She tastes so good.”
Stunned, you felt Javi remove his fingers from your pussy, before licking them too.
“Yeah…wanna eat that cunt now. You’re ok with that, Hermosa?”
You saw yourself nodding, without really controlling your response.
“Come in the bedroom, bebita. Lemme taste you.”
***
You followed them, and Steve led you to the bed where you lay on your back. Javi took off his shirt. He was beautiful. Both of them were.
Javi crawled across the bed to you, pulling your dress up over your hips. He licked your pussy still covered by your panties and you couldn’t help but moan. Steve sat next to you, took off his shirt too, and unzipped his jeans. Javi alternated between running his fingers and pressing his tongue against the soaked fabric. He pulled your panties to the side, and planted a kiss on our clit, making you moan instantly.
“Fuck, hermosa…wanna eat you so bad.”
He traced your folds with his nose, then his tongue. Pointing it at your folds, he spread them as it went through, and you were no longer holding back your moans.
“Wanna let me fuck you a little, before I taste you? Yeah?”
You nodded. The fire in your core was devouring you from the inside and you weren't really in a state to say ‘no’ anymore. When Javi settled between your thighs after taking off his jeans, Steve was already lying naked against you. He let his fingers run over your breasts, your stomach, your hips. Both of them were gorgeous and hot.
Javi took his cock in his hand and rubbed it against your folds to soak it with your wetness. As he nestled his tip at your entrance, Steve placed his fingers on your chin, turned your face to his, and kissed you. When Javi thrust in, you whimpered into Steve's mouth and he smiled. You felt your folds spread around Javi’s thick cock, and it felt good, so good that you couldn't help but moan.
“Oh fuck, you’re tight. Damn…already wanna blow my load into this pussy.”
He thrust in a few more times, growling in your neck each time he bottomed out, before pulling out and sitting down on his heels.
“Want me to fuck you too, beautiful?” Steve asked.
You nodded, and he manhandled you on top of him, your back on his chest, your dress pulled up above your breasts.
“We’re gonna make you feel really good, baby. Trust me.”
Your knees were bent and your feet planted on the bed. He grabbed his cock and pushed it up into you slowly, while Javi's eyes couldn't tear themselves away from your pussy swallowing Steve's cock. “Fuck me, that’s hot”, he said, still looking at the place where your bodies made one.
You felt exposed, fully offered to them, as Steve thrust into you slowly, after Javi had already stretched you.
Your eyes were closed, your body following Steve’s movements, so you didn’t see Javi leaning towards your pussy. When you felt his lips on your clit you breathed out a soft “oh my god”.
Steve said, “I told you we’d make you feel good, baby.”
And damn he was right. Steve’s cock was plunging in and out of your pussy while Javi was sucking on your clit. Sometimes he lapped at your folds, and you knew his tongue met Steve’s cock, his soft skin. It turned you on even more.
They heard you moan loader every time Javi’s tongue moved up from your folds to your clit, as he played with your sensations, swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud. Steve groaned, still fucking your pussy, “Damn, I’m gonna come hearing you whimper like that, baby…”
"Not yet", Javi growled, "We're not done with her.”
He slightly lifted his torso up and asked you, “you’re gonna be a good girl, and cum on Steve’s cock, hermosa?”
You nodded, feeling how close you were from the double sensations. Javi’s tongue dancing over your clit and Steve’s slow strokes in your pussy were making your orgasm build fast.
“Come on, baby”, he said. Be a good girl, and soak my fat cock.”
When the climax hit you, Steve didn't stop talking. Telling you that he was proud of you, that you were taking his cock so well, and that he couldn’t wait to fill you up.
You had just come for the second time that night, and you thought it would be the last. But when Javi pulled back and Steve lifted you up, you realized that you were wrong. Javi lay down on the bed, as Steve took off your dress and said “You’re gonna ride Javi now, beautiful. Make him feel good, ok?”
You straddled Javi, and without hesitation this time you grabbed his cock with your hand before impaling yourself on it.
“Look at you, Hermosa…taking my big cock like a champ.”
Their praise made your head spin, and when Steve stood up and presented his cock to you, you didn't hesitate. You gave it a few licks, before letting him sink into your mouth. You slowed down your movements so you could suck him properly, and his precum was running down your throat.
“Yeah, just like that, baby. You’re so damn good at this.”
You were giving all of yourself, wanting to please him. At the same time Javi’s hands were roaming your body as you were riding him.
“Wanna suck my balls now, baby? Yeah, just like that, fuck…”
Steve held his cock against his lower stomach and jacked off while you licked his sack. You took one in your mouth, then the other, looking into his eyes. His gaze was down at you, as his firm hand kept jerking his cock, until he pushed it down your throat again, holding his balls in his large, firm hand.
“Fuck, Steve, we found a good slut. Ready to take our cocks in her little holes.”
Steve hummed, alternating between slow and deep thrusts in your mouth, and then fucked your throat until you were choking on his cock.
He pulled out and said before getting off the bed, “Fuck her rough now, make her scream on your thick cock. Gotta prepare her for what we’re gonna do next.”
You shivered when you heard him, wondering what he was talking about, but Javi didn’t give you time to think. He gripped your hips, fucking up into your pussy hard and fast.
“Yeah…take it like a good whore. Fuckin’ take it.”
Steve was sitting in a chair by the bed smoking a cigarette and watching you getting pounded. He turned on an oscillating fan standing on the dresser as it got too hot. The air was humid and smelled of sex.
Javi grabbed your neck with both hands, slowing down the pace and instead fucking you deeply, and groaned, “I want you to come on it.”
You didn't have the presence of mind to say that you couldn't come again. Your clit was rubbing against Javi’s lower stomach and, being impaled on his cock, you let your body take over and you came again, hearing Javi growl, “fuck…this pussy’s squeezing me so hard.”
Steve was calmly watching you unravel on Javi’s cock, a cigarette in his mouth and his hard dick in the hand. His thick long member was still glistening with your saliva as he was slowly stroking himself.
When you braced your hands on the bed feeling and looking spent after the drinks and the fucking, Javi sat up and let you rest on his chest. You were catching your breath on his lap, nuzzling his neck, when Steve got up from the chair and came up to the bed. He handed the almost finished cigarette to Javi who took a few drags, holding you against him.
Then the men looked at each other, communicating without saying a word, and Steve slid his hands under your arms lifting you and helping you off the bed. The men were manhandling you as if you were a fuck doll for them to use. You felt degraded but couldn’t help but love it.
You stumbled on your trembling legs and Steve immediately grabbed you by the back of your thighs and picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he searched for your lips with his.
Everything was buzzing around you and you felt like you could fall off him every second. So you embraced his neck tightly with your arms and let him devour your mouth. You couldn’t help but rock your hips and grind your pulsating clit against his soft tummy.
While kissing Steve, you heard Javi get off the bed and stand behind you. His hands grasped your thighs and he whispered into your ear, “ready to take our fat cocks, hermosa?”
When you parted from Steve and looked at him with worry, the man gave you a carnal smile, tilting his head.
“We got you so wet, baby, they’ll slide in with no problem. And we’ll be slow, we promise. Right, Javi?” he said with a smirk glancing at his friend over your shoulder.
“Claro (sure),” Javi chuckled, as Steve’s cock nudged your wet hole.
You moaned when he pushed his tip into you, your thighs spread wide around his middle letting him do it easily.
��Stick it deep inside her. She deserves it,” Javi murmured, his lips brushing against your neck.
You felt Steve’s cock slide into you deeper inch by inch until he bottomed out with a soft ‘yeah’, his fingers digging into your thighs. Steve made a few slow thrusts bouncing you on his cock and you whimpered into his shoulder.
“Stuff her pussy with me, Javi.”
He grasped the back of your neck with one hand and pushed you closer to him, your naked breasts pressed to his chest. Javi was helping to hold you up as Steve’s length was buried deep inside your cunt.
“Got a place for me, hermosa?” Javi murmured and his hand guided his cock to your entrance, already stretched around Steve’s thick member.
You felt him push the tip in and you gasped.
“C’mon, bebita, let me in,” he whispered as his hand slithered between your bodies and he began rubbing your throbbing clit. Your eyes rolled back and Javi finally slid the head in. You felt stretched to the limit as the second cock was spreading your walls wider but the dull ache soon was replaced by pleasure when they started rhythmically rolling their hips. Your moans and their grunts filled the bedroom as their cocks were moving in and out of your crying cunt. Steve’s half lidded eyes were locked with yours.
“Fuck… love your pussy, baby.. ‘s tight.”
“She’s dripping down my balls, Steve. Nuestra putita (our little slut),” Javi said through panting, increasing the pace at which his length was ruining you. Pleasure was spreading through every cell in your body and you were trembling in their arms.
Your cries were getting louder and the men were growling with animalistic vigour, caging you between their sweaty bodies.
“Come again for us, baby, come on our cocks,” Steve encouraged you as his hand grabbed your breast and he twitched your nipple.
“We’re gonna fill you so full, hermosa, you’ll taste our cum on your tongue,” Javi whispered, leaving kisses on your cheek and jaw, still rubbing your clit with his fingers.
Steve chuckled at Javi’s words and they both started moving you up and down their cocks. The gentleness was gone, only feral desire was leading their actions. You felt their members slide against each other inside your dripping pussy, hitting your cervix and massaging your soft spot.
Your climax hit you so hard and you were shaking in their embrace and tears welled up in your hazy eyes. Every part of your body was flooded with ecstasy and your brain shut off while they kept fucking you through your shattering orgasm.
Soon they both followed you. First Steve moaned, closed his eyes and thrust deep and slow into you, shooting the spurts of his warm cum as deep as he could.
“Gonna fill her too,” Javi growled and bit your shoulder before he began squirting his seed making your pussy even fuller. Steve seemed completely lost in the pleasure. They both kept fucking you through their highs and the lewd sounds of squelching mixed with the moans.
When they stilled inside you, you slumped down in their arms completely spent, exhausted, fucked out like never before and they both placed you down on the bed. You all were breathing heavily, bodies sweaty and satiated.
Javi went to get a cigarette and Steve sat down on the bed next to you. He was looking down at you smiling while his hand glided down from your stomach to your puffy folds. You whimpered when his thumb brushed your clit and you tried to close your legs.
“Shh, I won’t, I won’t. Just wanna see you ruining the sheets, baby. Spread ‘em.”
Still catching your breath you opened your legs. You felt a trickle of their cum spill out generously out of your stretched hole and slide down to your asshole. Steve cursed.
“Javi, come look at our messy girl,” he said, his eyes glued to your overflowing pussy. His fingers kept sliding between your folds gathering the pearly liquid and pushing it back inside you.
Javi came up to the bed, his semi hard cock swaying with each movement, and stood there smoking and watching Steve play with your cunt. You felt your core tighten again but couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. The room was spinning when you finally let yourself rest and fell into deep sleep.
***
You woke up the next day in your bed, your pussy sore and your head pounding. Your roommate said that a blonde man had brought you home asleep in his arms early in the morning. You tried to puzzle together the details of the night but all you could remember was the best fucking of your life.
*******
Thank you for reading!❤️
Comments and reblogs will be greatly appreciated!
*****
Other fics by @milla-frenchy and me
Keep on your mean side - Joel x f!reader - dark
The Burglary - Joel x f!reader x Tommy - dead dove, noncon
Bad Girl - Joel x f reader x Tommy - dubcon
*****
Here’re our Steve and Javi fic recs❤️ Check these hot stories out!🥵
The Raid (Javi x reader x Steve) @toxicanonymity
After Hours (Javi x reader x Steve x Carillo) @psychedelic-ink
Crossing Lines (Javi x reader x Steve) @lunitawrites
Lie Still (Javi x reader x Steve) @milla-frenchy
Tag list: @littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring @missannwinchester @iamasaddie @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @nervousmumbling @stevie75 @puduvallee
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Text
Seven
Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader
Rating: Gen (kind of a crack fic if you ask me)
Summary: You and Javi discuss children
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“How many?”
“Hmm?”
“You keep saying children plural. How many do you want?” You asked, flipping through the pages of the magazine idly. You weren’t even reading, just looking at pictures and reading a gossipy headline about some of the other actress.
“Hmmm seven?”
“Fuck no!”
“Why not?”
“Why not? WHY NOT?” You asked, horrified. “Javier, I’m a human being, not a baby making machine. You have a government job and I’m just a lab tech. We will never have 7 kids money unless you pocket some of the cocaine you seize. God, can you imagine if they all wanted to go to law school? Or medical school?”
“I wasn’t thinking that far ahead,” he said, taking the magazine from you and setting it aside. He pulled you into his lap, kissing you neck from behind and making you squirm. “I was focused on how hot you’ll look pregnant.”
“Of course you were. Horndog,” you scolded, pinching the arm that held you close. He hissed, but didn’t loosen his hold, only pulling you in closer.
“Can you blame me? With such a hot girlfriend, a man is bound to let his imagination run wild.”
“Shut up.”
“Five?” He asked, making you angrier.
“Are you trying to have a family or form a basketball team?”
He laughed before kissing her lips. “Four?” He bargained.
“Three is the absolute maximum for me.”
“Then three is good.”
“Yeah?” You asked, softer when you heard the sincerity in the reply that came with no hesitation.
“Mhmm.”
“But everything is up for debate after the first one,” you added, just in case. Pregnancy did not look fun and you didn’t want him holding you to this if you were too fucked up from the first pregnancy to try again. “I might hate being pregnant and never want to have another one again. We might have to be satisfied with one baby.”
“That’s good too, baby. I only want as many children as you’ll give me. Whether that’s one or three or seven.”
“Definitely not seven.” You smiled, adjusting yourself to sit back on the sofa with just your legs in his lap. “And no bargaining on gender either. If we have three daughters, you can’t ask for another one just to try for a son.”
“I would love three daughters. Why do you think I’ll ask you for a fourth one after that?”
“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging. “Men usually want sons. To teach them soccer or go fishing or whatever.”
“I’ll teach our three daughters soccer. Girls have legs. And I don’t care for fishing anyway. If they want to be with animals, they can take care of the ranch.”
“God, I planning my life out with a ranchero who wants a million kids!” You said, laughing.
“You’re just realizing that?”
“Oh god, I don’t know what’s worse— ranchero or DEA agent. Do you like chop wood shirtless or something? Cause I can’t handle that. I will end up having 7 kids if I saw that.”
“You’re mixing up rancheros with lumberjacks, baby. But I’ll learn to chop wood if you want. And I’ll teach our daughters to chop wood too. And how to shoot. And how to fix a car. Teach them plumbing and everything. So that they don’t have to call their boyfriends at midnight to ask them to fix their sink,” he said, making you giggle at the recollection of that night.
“Oh please, you weren’t complaining,” you scoffed, reminding him of the night he came over to fix your sink and ended up staying all night and all day in your bed.
“Exactly. No boy is slithering into my daughter’s bed like that. I won’t allow it.”
You scoffed. Oh you poor little fool… “You think my father didn’t teach me how to fix my sink, Javier? That I didn’t break it just to invite you over?”
“Fuck!”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck. Let’s have three sons.”
.
.
.
Advent Calendar Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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perotovar · 22 days
Text
baby, i'm-a want you — (ch 2) "session two"
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gif by me
pairing: javier peña/joel miller rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 4.3k content: use of a plug, throat fucking, ass eating, lots of spit, gratuitous descriptions of cum, unprotected p in a, creampie, (safe) breathplay, background handjob, cock slapping, one (1) spank, joel's porn persona is a tad mean but it's nothing crazy, shy!joel, javi is a HUGE flirt, smoking, lmk if i missed anything! dividers: @saradika-graphics betas: @qveerthe0ry & @scenaaario (ily angels ♥)
series summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where javier and joel are gay porn stars~
series masterlist | shoutout to this spanish dirty talk reference
for notifications, follow @oakslibrary ♥
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“Fuck.”
Javier hadn’t had to prepare in a while. At least a few months. And the fact that he was doing this for Joel, of all men? He was harder than a fucking rock and he hadn’t even gotten the plug all the way in yet. Granted, he’d purposely chosen a smaller plug so he could still feel the stretch when Joel pushed that thick–
“Mierda,” he groaned, looking over his shoulder to see if he could get a better angle. The plug he chose was small, black, and a little thinner than he would normally go for. It’s been a while, so no matter what, there was a stretch but the lube certainly helped. When his hole finally sucked it in lewdly, he moaned, arching his back like a cat presenting himself to a mate. He grinned to himself and rested his head on his folded arms, ass in the open air of his apartment. 
He wished that his first major scene with Joel wasn’t a scene. He wanted to see if Joel was any different when the cameras weren’t on and he could just be himself. Every time he’s ever talked to Joel, he’d been quiet, with a heavy brow. Javier had been around the block once or twice and he could tell when someone didn’t like him. He’s not sure what he did to get on Joel’s bad side, but he hoped that tension added to the scene instead of making things awkward. And part of him liked the rift. It made Joel way more attractive to him, because Joel was probably the closest the site had to a bear, but not as big. Javier had always wanted to be fucked by one– 
Bzz. Bzz.
Cracking open an eye, Javier looked as his phone lit up next to him. He sighed and started rolling his hips side to side, slowly getting used to the feeling of being filled up again.
R u ready ?
“Who still texts like this, Jesus Christ,” he grumbled to himself. A slow trickle of sweat fell down the length of his back as he started typing a response.
Be there shortly, boss.
Javier rolled his eyes to himself. Max was always on his ass about being on time, but it never bothered him. They couldn’t start the shoot without him anyway. His cock throbbed between his legs, making him curl his fingers around his shaft. 
One quick wank couldn’t hurt right? 
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Joel was panicking, to put it mildly. He showed up to the shoot way too fucking early and now he was rocking a semi in the hallway outside the room they’d be using. They, meaning him and Javier, because of course he hadn’t fully processed that that was still happening. He couldn’t get the image of Javier’s mouth around his cock, that mustache framing it so perfectly. Or his hole being stretched by Joel’s cock, or even–
“Hey, big guy.”
The words sounded like they were coming from down the hall and directly in his ear simultaneously. He slowly looked up to find Javier smirking down at him. Joel swallowed around a lump in his throat and cleared his throat awkwardly. His cheeks felt like they were on fire. Javier looked really fucking good – when didn’t he – with a healthy glow and slightly tousled hair. Had he freshly cleaned up his mustache this morning?
“Joel?” Javier chuckled, a soft smile coloring his features.
Joel cleared his throat again and stood awkwardly. “S-sorry, uh, hey,” he mumbled, looking down at his boots before keeping his eyes off of Javier’s, as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Where ya been?” 
It was meant to be casual conversation, he swears, but he’d lowered his voice and it came out all gruff and accusatory and now he wants to hide in the broom closet. He knows this because the easy, relaxed look on Javier’s changed to one of confusion.
“Uh, preparing. Sorry, I know I was a little later than usual,” Javier exhaled. Guess he was right; Joel wasn’t the biggest fan of his. That’s fine, he was a professional and he could get his job done and go home. “See you in there, hombre.”
Joel blinked a couple times, looking at the empty area of the hallway where Javier was just standing. “W-wait,” he grunted, looking toward the room. Javier was digging into the pocket of the robe he was wearing and lighting up a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from the face of the assistant he was talking to.
“Fuckin’ idiot,” Joel grumbled to himself and stepped inside.
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Javier wasn’t opposed to an audience per se, but he wasn’t expecting one today either. “What are you cabrones doing here?” He smirked, looking at the faces of his coworkers. Not all of them were here, but Dieter, Shane, Dave, Marcus, Din, Steve, Cobb, and Jack were. Everyone was in various positions of comfort, some sitting and some standing or leaning. Except Dieter, who was sitting on Din’s lap comfortably, resting his head on the bulkier man’s shoulder. 
“Wanted to see the show, of course,” Dieter grinned, winking at him. Joel stepped onto the set and saw all the men. He gave Dieter a look, and Dieter responded with a softer smile as if to say, You got this.
Javier rolled his eyes and smiled. “Alright, whatever, you perverts.”
“Alright, people, let’s get this show on the road! We’ve got a longer one ahead of us and I’ve got a date tonight.”
Everyone froze and looked at Max like he grew a third eye. 
Max frowned. “It’s not that rare– Y’know what, fuck you guys. Joel, Javi, get into position,” he grumbled, sitting in his director’s seat.
Javier looked at Joel and snorted, untying his robe. He threw it to their audience like they were a bunch of fans, and laughed when Marcus caught it. Javier winked at him, making the slightly younger man’s cheeks flush.
Joel was doing his damndest not to bust a fucking nut right now because obviously Javier was naked. That was his fucking job. That was his fucking job, too.
“Joel,” Dieter whispered. Joel looked at him, a slightly panicked look on his face. Dieter motioned for Joel to come over to him, so the older man did. “What’s goin’ on, huh?” Dieter asked quietly. Joel looked at Din wearily, who just smiled politely. “Oh, he’s not gonna say anything,” Dieter smiled, leaning over to give Din a quick kiss.
“‘M just,” Joel sighed. “Think he thinks I don’ like him.”
“Why would he think that?” Dieter pouted. When Joel didn’t answer right away, Dieter furrowed his brows at him. “Did you do that grumbly thing you always do?”
Joel mumbled under his breath and looked down at his boots.
“Miller! Get in frame,” Max barked.
Joel sighed and ruffled Dieter’s hair a little. “Showtime.”
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Javier felt like his throat was on fire, tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was having a hard time breathing. Joel’s cock felt so thick and hard inside his mouth and he was more turned on than he’d been in a long fucking time. 
“Yeah, shut ya up real good, huh?”
Javier moaned weakly, big brown eyes glassy as they looked up at Joel’s hard face. He choked every time the head of Joel’s cock hit the back of his throat but he couldn’t give a damn. This was probably the messiest head he’d ever given someone, slobber pouring out the sides of his mouth and down Joel’s shaft. 
Joel’s lines had instructed him to tell Javier to keep his hands to himself, so of course he obeyed. He dug the blunt nails of his fingers into his bare thighs so hard he was afraid that he’d break skin.
“Ain’t such a brat now that y’got a cock in your mouth, huh?” Joel sneered, tugging on Javier’s thick locks. Joel’s eyes were glued to Javier’s plump, swollen lips wrapped so tightly around his cock, that perfectly trimmed mustache framing them so beautifully. A full body shiver zipped down his spine when he saw the glossed over look in Javier’s eyes and tear tracks staining his cheeks. He shut his eyes in bliss and exhaled heavily as his hips moved of their own accord, his heavy balls slapping Javier’s chin lewdly.
Javier let out a low noise, his brows furrowing slightly. Joel looked down, worried he’d pushed too far, but saw that Javier was looking up at him with this fucking look in his eye. Even if Joel was technically in charge, at least in the script, he knew Javier had him hook, line, and sinker right now. And he thinks Javier knows that, too. 
Joel’s hips bucked at the twinkle in Javier’s eye, making Javier choke loudly. Slowly, Joel removed his cock from Javier’s swollen mouth. Loud, wet coughs left Javier’s lips, but he looked at Joel with a smirk on his face.
“Thought you were gonna fuck me, old man,” Javier rasped, sweat dripping down his neck.
“But you’d like that, wouldn’ya?” Joel grumbled. His cock throbbed heavily between thick, muscled thighs and Javier couldn’t take his eyes off it. The twitching made his own cock weep at the sight. “S’what I thought,” Joel hummed, harshly gripping Javier’s hair again. He curled thick fingers around the base of his cock and lewdly slapped the head against Javier’s tear-stricken face. 
Javier’s entire body shivered at the demeaning act and he bit his lip, looking at the hard lines in Joel’s face, and at the gray streaks in Joel’s hair. He was easily one of the most menacingly beautiful men he’d ever seen. He kissed and licked and sucked down the shaft of Joel’s cock until he sucked one of his heavy balls into his mouth. He moaned happily around the sensitive skin and looked back up at Joel through his lashes.
“Fuck me,” Joel groaned, breaking character slightly. He couldn’t fucking help it. Not when Javier was looking at him like that.
Javier made an approving sound and lewdly popped the ball out of his mouth, kissing up Joel’s soft, hairy stomach. “That’s my line,” he improvised with a grin, and sucked a dark mark into Joel’s hip.
Joel almost smiled, but at the last moment, remembered they were in fact not alone and had a script to follow. He quickly hardened his eyes and gripped Javier’s arms and manhandled him until Javier was laying over the arm of the couch, cock trapped between his body and the scratchy fabric.
“That what y’want, huh?” Joel grunted, gripping Javier’s ass in a bear paw. “Want me t’fuck this little ass until ya can’t walk no more?”
Javier moaned and arched his back, pushing his ass further into Joel’s hand and tried to grind against his cock. He nodded as much as he could with Joel pulling on his hair like he was, throat bared and panting hard. Joel pressed on Javier’s sweaty back to keep him down, before using both hands to slowly spread his cheeks. He groaned at the puckered little hole, carefully covered in lube from his earlier preparation. Pressing there with the pad of his thumb, he smirked when Javier moaned weakly below him.
“P-please, Joel,” Javier breathed heavily. Javi didn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice. He’d been built up too much and poked and prodded enough that he just needed something inside him already. “Please.”
“Hmm,” Joel hummed, pretending like he was thinking about it. He removed his hands from Javier to finally remove the t-shirt and jeans he was wearing. He could’ve sworn he heard someone from their little audience groan as his naked body was revealed, but he chose to ignore it, far too focused on the sight in front of him. “Don’t think so, sweetheart,” he grinned wickedly, his tone fake-sweet, and collected saliva in the back of his throat. He got down to his knees, thankful that the pillow there would be out of frame in the finished product. He spit directly onto Javi’s hole and gripped the small, plump cheeks in both hands. 
Javier gasped weakly, legs trembling under Joel’s ministrations. Joel was going to fucking kill him.
“Not yet, at least,” Joel mumbled, biting one of Javier’s cheeks before licking a thick stripe up from Javier’s taint to the top of his hole. A breathless huff left Javier’s lungs and his eyes rolled back at the feeling. “Y’mouth makes such pretty noises when ya ain’t runnin’ it,” was all the warning Javier had before Joel’s tongue pierced his hole and started fucking him in earnest.
Joel’s tongue was thick and wet and messy and he sucked loudly and slurped at a volume that should’ve been uncomfortable, but all Javier could do was moan and whimper, completely at Joel’s mercy. His eyebrows were downturned and his lips were parted in an obscene O, arms shaking as he held himself up on the couch. “Mm, fuck, J-Joel, I’m gonna fucking come, I’m–!” He was babbling and trembling and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He barely heard anything over the roaring in his ears.
“No, you’re not,” Joel grumbled between the lewd feast he was enjoying, landing a harsh smack! against one of Javier’s cheeks. “Don’t come until I say ya do.”
Javier groaned and bit his lip, his trapped cock weeping and throbbing between his legs. “Mierda,” he panted, hanging his head low between his shoulders. He tried grinding against the scratchy fabric of the couch for some kind of friction, but to no avail.
Joel grunted into Javier’s ass, convinced that he could stay here for hours if he was allowed. When he pulled his face away, his eyes latched onto the fluttering little hole in front of him and hummed in satisfaction. As he stood, his knees whined and creaked in protest and hopefully, if Max were nice to him for once, he’d edit the sounds out. 
Broad hands traveled up Javier’s heated skin, taking him all in as he panted heavily underneath the older man. He knew today would be good but nothing could’ve prepared him for this. Maybe he should keep his distance from Joel more often, if this was the end result.
Joel was ecstatic on the inside, the memories of their first scene together coming back to him. He’d almost forgotten just how pliant and cat-like Javier could get if pushed enough. The sounds he made were like music to Joel’s ears, and he wished he could keep them in a bottle reserved just for himself. 
He gripped Javier’s sides and manhandled him again until Javier was on his knees on one of the cushions and facing the back of the couch, hands planted on the back. Joel spread Javier’s cheeks again and hummed at the way the younger man clenched on instinct. He left Javier in that position for a second while he went over to an assistant off camera and grabbed some lube, making quick work of getting his cock thoroughly coated. He held Javier’s side, right where his ribs were, with one hand and gripped his cock with the other, grinding his shaft between Javier’s cheeks. 
Javier cried out loud, electricity shooting through his body and settling as heat at the base of his spine. 
Joel grinned, tapping the head of his cock against Javier’s hole before slowly, agonizingly so, pushed the thick head inside him. The air left Javier’s lungs as he froze, the pressure and the weight of being so thoroughly stretched overwhelming him. He grunted as Joel’s hips sat flush against his ass, breathing heavily as his arms trembled against the back of the couch. Joel stroked Javier’s flanks, letting him adjust for only a moment before he pulled out until just the head was left inside and slammed back inside.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck...” Javier moaned, his back arching.
“Aww, you’re alright,” Joel smirked. He hovered over Javier’s body, nearly covering him entirely with how much bulk there was. He curled an arm over Javier’s right shoulder and gripped onto the younger man’s left pec to press Javier’s back into his chest. He kissed along Javier’s shoulder and up his neck until he nibbled on Javi’s earlobe, moaning lowly as the younger man clenched around his shaft. “Y’gonna be good? Gonna let me fuck ya?”
“Sí, coño– Please, Joel,” Javier whined, resting his head on Joel’s shoulder and panting into the open air. “Por favor damelo.”
So Joel did. Before either of them knew it, Joel was fucking into Javier in earnest, his hips slapping against Javier’s ass obscenely. Javier was making the neediest little sounds, chanting Joel’s name like a prayer. Javier’s cock was hard as a rock and lewdly slapping against his skin with every one of Joel’s harsh thrusts.
Joel hid his face in Javier’s neck, panting hotly against the younger man’s already damp skin. With his right arm already wrapped around Javier’s torso, he gripped at Javier’s hip with his left hand, fingers digging into the (surprisingly) soft skin. Javier didn’t have a whole lot of fat on his body, but there was enough to ripple every time Joel jackhammered into him.
“F-fuck,” he gulped, lips parted and eyes half lidded. The pressure was building low in his abdomen. He knew he was close. “J-Joel, I’m–” His mouth was as dry as the desert. “I’m gonna come, I–”
Joel growled. Literally. He bit Javier’s cheek and growled. “Not yet. Jus’ a li’l longer,” he panted. He moved his hand from Javier’s pec to his throat, and carefully, expertly, squeezed the sides. They’d talked about doing this with Max and both had consented to it. They knew how to do it right.
Slowly, as Javier’s air supply was marginally cut off, a wide smile grew on his face. His eyes shut and he was smiling, biting his lip. He felt so fucking good. He wanted to do this again and this time wasn’t even over yet.
Joel must have noticed because he chuckled next to Javier’s ear, hips never letting up once. “Yeah? Feel good, sweetheart?”
Javier nodded as much as he could, nails digging into the shitty couch and pulling hard.
“Good boy,” Joel rumbled, slowing down his hips, but not letting up on how hard he was thrusting. Javier’s breath hitched with every one of Joel’s slow, measured thrusts. Joel’s hand slid from Javier’s hip down to curl around the younger man’s cock. It was like someone had poured ice cold water over Javier’s head, because the pressure was just what he’d needed.
“S-sí, sí, please, p-please,” Javier gasped, a tear falling from his eye.
“Fuck, look at ya,” Joel marveled, slowly stroking Javier’s cock teasingly. “Pretty as a god damn picture, sweetheart.”
Javier opened his eyes as wide as he could and tried looking at Joel for the first time since he was on his knees. When their eyes locked, Javier could have sworn that there was a different man behind Joel’s baby browns. Perhaps that was the real Joel, and not whoever was on camera. Not whoever had been avoiding him for the better part of two years. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?
“Want ya t’come for me,” Joel breathed hotly against his face. Javier shivered all over and nodded as much as he could with Joel’s bear paw of a hand around his throat. “Can ya do that, sweetheart? Come for me.”
Javier grunted as Joel picked up the pace of his hips again, but this time with his other hand tightly gripped around his shaft. Joel teased the head with his thumb just as he slammed directly into Javier’s prostate over and over.
Javier cried weakly, one more tear falling from his eye, and came hard. Thick, creamy spurts of cum painted the set’s couch as Javier trembled with his release.
Joel held him close, their sweaty bodies sticking together as Joel thrust one, two, three more times and followed Javier over the edge. He came with a low roar buried into Javier’s neck and cock twitching violently in Javier’s ass.
The set was dead silent save for Joel and Javier’s heavy breathing. Max kept the camera rolling, stunned into silence for once. 
Javier smiled to himself, eyes shut in bliss, and head resting on Joel’s shoulder. He clenched around Joel’s sensitive cock in little pulses. “Fuck me,” he croaked, voice wrecked.
Joel grunted at the overstimulation and gently held Javier’s hips as he slowly pulled out. Javier leaned forward against the back of the couch and pushed his ass out so the camera (and their audience) could see the thick cum trailing down his thighs. Joel’s hands rubbed Javier’s skin appreciatively at the sight, his cock giving one last valiant twitch.
“C-cut,” Max’s voice cracked, making him clear his throat. “Cut.”
In the corner, Dieter trembled and moaned weakly into Din’s neck as he came, Din’s thick fingers curled around his cock. 
Javier turned his head back to look at Joel with a satisfied smile on his face. “Mind gettin’ me a towel, guapo?”
Joel’s cheeks flushed, completely out of character again. “‘Course,” he mumbled, slowly standing to ask one of the assistants for a towel.
“Jesus Christ, boys,” Max chuckled.
Javier hummed in agreement.
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“That was… That was somethin’ else, Jav,'' Steve said, impressed.
They were both outside, having their usual post-shoot cigarette together. No matter if they’d done a scene together or separately, they always kept up the tradition. This time, though, Javier thought he’d need several cigarettes. And a bath.
“Thank you,” Javier grinned, feeling lighter and more satisfied than he had in weeks. He could swear that the crick in his neck he’d woken up with was completely gone. Maybe there was some truth to Silva’s back pain disappearing after certain sessions.
“S’pose ya don’t gotta tell me, since I saw it myself, but was it like you thought it’d be?” Steve chuckled.
Javier snorted in response, taking a long drag off his cigarette. “And then some.”
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Din smiled gently down at Dieter, giving him a slow, soft kiss. “I’ll see you tonight?” 
Dieter smiled wide and nodded giddily, getting on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Din’s neck one more time to give him another kiss. Joel could swear he saw hearts in his eyes. 
Once Dieter came back over to Joel, he had a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry, just had to say goodbye.”
Joel smiled softly. “Don’ worry yourself over it. Y’all are cute together.”
“You think?” Dieter beamed. “We had a scene the other day and we just haven’t stopped texting, and– Oh my god, this isn’t about me right now, I’m sorry.”
Joel chuckled and followed Dieter into the hallway so the cleaning crew could get to work. Dieter scratched at his beard as he looked at Joel: he seemed lighter, with a healthy glow radiating off of him.
“Well?”
Joel cleared his throat and dug his hands into his pockets, shrugging a little. “What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me, old man! That was fucking hot! I came so hard!”
Joel laughed, rolling his eyes at his friend. “Thank you.”
“So? You gonna ask him out? Or at least apologize for earlier?”
“Yeah, I will. And uh… Yeah, I plan to,” Joel sighed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Don’t exactly know how I’m gonna do that, though…”
“Well, you better think of something quick!” Dieter whispered, pointing towards the end of the hall as Javier rounded the corner with Steve.
“Shit,” Joel whispered to himself. Dieter gave him a wink and thumbs up before heading in the opposite direction. 
Javier had his regular clothes on again, and Joel couldn’t take his eyes off him, enamored with how well they fit him. He may have just been inside the man, but he couldn’t help himself. 
“Hey, Joel,” Javier smiled awkwardly. He still wasn’t sure where they stood outside of working together, so he tried to keep it as casual as possible.
“H-hey, Javier,” Joel said hoarsely. He cleared his throat again.
“Y’know, you’re the only one that doesn’t call me Javi,” he said softly.
“Oh,” Joel furrowed his brow. “‘M sorry. My mama always taught me an’ my baby brother it was more polite that way.”
“You have a baby brother?” Javier smiled.
“Uh…” Joel gulped. “Y-yeah. Tommy.”
Javier hummed in response, an amused look crossing his features. He’s slowly figuring Joel out, he thinks. “He just as handsome as you? Bet he is,” he flirted.
The tips of Joel’s ears went pink and he laughed around an awkward cough. “Nah. Don’ cut his hair enough to be respectable.”
“Mm, more to pull then,” Javier smirked.
Joel made a face, not wanting to think of his brother like that. “L-listen, uh. ’m sorry ‘bout earlier. Wasn’t right talkin’ to ya like that,” he mumbled, unable to look Javier in the eye just yet.
Every bit of tension Javier felt left his body in an instant. “Thank you. I appreciate that, Joel.”
Joel nodded, a shy smile on his face. “‘S good,” he said awkwardly.
They were quiet for a few moments before Javier pulled out his pack of cigarettes, sticking one between his lips. “Well, you built up quite the appetite in me, so I’m gonna go–”
“Do you wanna go out sometime?” Joel blurted out. “N-now, maybe?”
Javier blinked a few times as a smile grew on his lips. “You’re asking me out? Gotta be honest, I thought you hated me, Joel.”
Joel snapped his eyes up at that, confusion all over his face. “What? No! I–” He sighed. “‘M no good at this,” he grumbled to himself. “’m sorry. Again.”
Javier chuckled and took the cigarette out of his mouth. “‘s alright. I’d love to.”
“Yeah?” Joel smiled, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. 
“Yeah, guapo. You already got dessert, but dinner sounds great.”
369 notes · View notes
milla-frenchy · 10 days
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Glory O
2k1 | Javier Peña x fem reader x Steve Murphy | ao3 Summary: you work in a brothel, and two guys want to try something new Warnings: 18+ mdni. pwp. Glory hole, sex work, dirty talk, oral (f), fingering, jacking off, spitting, piv, cumplay, creampies, gun threat (not against reader) No age specified.  a/n: thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta reading 💕 and @toxicanonymity for the spanish translation🖤
Masterlist
****************
“Let’s try this one” was the first thing you heard when they came in. You were lying on your back, the upper part of your body was hidden behind a thin wall, leaving your pussy and legs exposed. 
A hand rested on your thigh and you shivered. Even though you had been working there for several months, the first contact always made your heart rate accelerate. Hand pressure was often characteristic of how you were going to be fucked. Often, but not always. A gentle caress like the one at that moment, could lead to a rough or painful fucking. Or a boring one. 
The hand brushed against your skin, thumb facing your inner thigh.
“What do you think?”, you heard a man with a Chilean accent.
“Yeah, sure. You go first”, a voice with an American accent replied.
“You really like to jerk off while I fuck them, right?”
The other man chuckled, not denying it. The client next to you unzipped his jeans, then you heard the friction of clothes sliding slightly. He probably had his pants pulled down just below his balls. He put his hands on you, and when he positioned himself between your thighs, you felt a warm, hard cock pressed against your pussy. You held your breath, ready to take his cock like this, without preparation. Like you always had to do.
But he hesitated, staying there for a few seconds, his shaft against your folds. Then you heard him tuck his cock in his pants without zipping them up. His thumb spread your folds and you heard “mmmm…gorgeous. Steve, look at that.”
Footsteps came closer, and a low whistle echoed through the room.
“Yep, can’t wait to fill her up.”
You swallowed, waiting for what was going to happen. 
You suddenly heard the noises coming from the nearby partitions. For a moment, you forgot that you weren't alone. Other women were being fucked, and you easily recognized the noises feigning pleasure. You always did the same, wanting the fucking to end quickly. 
When you felt a warm breath against your pussy and a mustache brushing against the soft skin of your inner thighs, you snapped out of your thoughts and whimpered. The man grabbed the back of your knees and moved you towards him as far as the opening would allow, before resting one of your legs on his shoulder. His thumb brushed up and down your folds and you heard him inhale. When his tongue licked between your folds in one stroke, you moaned.
“Already wet”, he murmured.
Two men in the brothel together to fuck you could be intimidating, or degrading, but this time you were slightly less guarded than usual. He was still brushing your folds with his thumb, and you got even wetter. His finger was as sensual as his hand on your thigh, he was good at it. He brushed his finger over your clit, twirling it delicately under his skin.
“Fuck,” you muttered. That was new. They rarely took the time to make you come, and his touch was truly perfect.
“You like that, Cariño (honey)? Gonna come for me?”
His thumbs spread your folds again, then his tongue ran over them, in long strokes from bottom to top, several times.
“Oh my god”, you whimpered in your breath.
He buried his tongue in your pussy, as far as he could, his hands holding your thighs. You felt like in less than two minutes you were going to come and you covered your mouth with your hand of surprise. 
“Want a taste, Steve?”
“Not yet.”
The man put your other knee on his shoulder, still fucking you with his tongue, grunting between your thighs. You heard “Steve” unzip his pants, then spit.
The man between your thighs moved up to your clit with his tongue, and he circled it with his lips, sucking gently. His middle finger brushed against your entrance, covering it with your wetness. When he pushed it in gently, the tip of his tongue swirled over your clit. Quickly, he pushed in a second finger, slowly pumping your pussy with his digits. You grabbed one of your breasts as you were already coming. Quickly, so quickly, that you didn’t really understand that it was going to happen. You wondered if the other men fucking the women heard the difference in tone between your moans and theirs.
“That’s good, bebé (baby). I’m gonna fuck you now.” You heard his hand rubbing against his mustache, probably to wipe it. You wondered what he looked like. What they looked like.
He stood up and placed his hand on your hip. His cock in the other one, he rubbed himself against your folds, covering the entire length of his shaft with your wetness, and bringing it up to rub against your clit. Your sensitivity made you gasp every time he touched it. Finally, he placed his tip to your entrance and pushed, making you moan. When the crown of his cock plunged through your entrance, you heard him growl. His dick was thick and you felt your folds part as it passed through them. Both of his hands were now on your hips, he pulled back before hitting the bottom, then thrusted again, all the way in, and you gasped.
“How is she?” asked Steve.
“Good. Fucking good. Chose the perfect one.”
His hands dug into your flesh, his body slamming against yours at a perfect pace.
“Come see this. How her pussy is taking my cock.”
You heard his footsteps, and his proximity allowed you to hear his wrist fucking his cock, too.
“You’re doin’ great, baby. Sucking his cock right in.”
He jerked off faster.
“Shit, all that cream around your cock Javi…you’re giving it to her good.”
You imagined them, their eyes fixed on your dripping pussy. When you felt another hand on your body, you thought you were wavering. Steve caressed your skin, while Javi was still fucking you. Steve slid his hand up to your clit, brushing it gently, and you moaned.
“Shh, you’re ok baby. I’m gonna touch you gently, ain’t gonna hurt you. Ok?”
“Ok”, you murmured, finally giving yourself the right to talk to them.
“Don’t want you to come yet. Can you hold back for me?”, asked Steve.
“I’m…I’m gonna try.”
“Good girl.”
The double stimulation made you clench on Javi’s cock.
“Fuck”, he grumbled. “She’s squeezing my dick. Mierda…(shit).”
“Don’t tell me you’re gonna shoot your load already? Her pussy’s that good?”
“Oh, fuck you! Yeah, she’s that good. You’ll see when you are inside her, smartass.”
He kept thrusting in, his cock was hitting your G-spot. Steve leaned down and placed his lips on your clit and this time you thought you were going to faint. His tongue was applying a perfect pressure and they both were driving you crazy. You felt your pussy clench desperately.
“Fuck, fuck…” Still thrusting in, you heard Javi groan louder and louder. 
“Then it’ll be Steve’s turn, you’re gonna take both of our cocks, right? Gonna fill that pussy with our cum.”
“Yes, yes please…”
Your pussy was clenching and you couldn’t stop it. You felt Javi’s cock twitch inside you, he grumbled “I’m gonna fill you up” and finally he froze, sending spurts of cum deep inside your walls. The sounds of other men's moving bodies, their grunts, were filling the room. 
Once he emptied his balls, he withdrew and spread the cum that was flowing out along your folds with his cock. Then he pulled away, and Steve’s hands were on you. He surprised you too, when he leaned down towards you and twirled his tongue around your clit again. You wondered if Javi had smeared his cum on it, if Steve was tasting him on you. He spread your folds with his thumbs, and you felt some cum leaking down. He stood aside to look. Since they had entered the room, they had behaved differently from all the men who had fucked you so far. The way they were touching you, fucking you, made you tremble. 
Steve slid his middle finger over your folds, spreading more of Javi’s cum, making you hold your breath. Then he stood up, and grabbed his cock.
“Look at that Javi. You’re right, her cunt is gorgeous. And even more beautiful covered with cum.”
He ran his cock along your entrance, soaking it with your wetness and Javi’s cum. You were used to multiple creampies, when several men fucked you in a row. But this sensuality, their playful attitude, was new to you. Steve pushed in, and its girth made you gasp.
“Mmmm, it's good, baby. My cock’s covered by both of you. How hot is that…”
You thought you were going to come just from hearing him, and your pussy tightened around his cock.
“Fuck…don't make me come too quickly. Wanna fuck this pussy properly.”
“Sorry”, you murmured.
“Don't be sorry. Love hearing your little moans. Very different from those of your friends, mmm?”
“Yeah…yeah, fuck.”
“We’re fucking you good, you don't need to fake it…is that right?”
“Yeah, you’re fucking me good. Love your cocks.”
He chuckled, “Yeah, I bet you do.”
You heard another voice, neither Steve nor Javi.
“Andale, cabrón. Toman demasiado tiempo. Queremos cogerla también.” (Come on, man. You guys are taking too long. We wanna fuck her too.)
Steve froze, and asked Javi “What did he say?”, who translated to him.
“We’re not done, man. Pick another girl, move!” He raised his hand, to tell them to fuck off. But it didn’t stop the man:
“Voy a llamar al jefe y él va a sacarlos. Nosotros ya pagamos para cogerla. No pueden tenerla solo para ustedes.” (I'm gonna call the boss, he’s gonna throw you out. We already paid to fuck her. You can't keep her to yourself like that!)
This time, you translated for him. He pulled out of you, and tucked his cock in his pants. You heard a loud noise, and guessed that Steve pinned the other man against the wall. He had difficulty breathing, Steve was probably holding him by the throat. You heard a click of a gun: the security was removed.
“Yo soy tu patrón. ¿Sí?” (I am your boss, yes?)
“¡Está bien! Está bien! ¡Yo hago lo que ustedes digan!” (It’s ok, it’s ok! I’ll do whatever you say)
“¿Sí?” (yeah?)
Steve threw the man to the ground, then put the gun back in his shoulder holster before coming back to you.
Javi pointed his finger to the other men who were waiting, and said “Cállanse, todos. Ahora ella es nuestra. Entienden?” (Fuck off, all of you. She’s ours, for now. Understand?)
There were a few murmurs, then footsteps receded.
“Sorry ‘bout that, baby. Fucking animals.”
Steve thrusted into you after pulling out his cock. He was still hard as steel, as if he enjoyed the adrenaline of the fight. Knowing that he had a gun on him while he was fucking you turned you on, even if you couldn’t see it.
He was fucking you harder, faster. Sometimes slowing down to look at his cock digging into you. Covered in Javi's cum. He leaned forward slightly and let his saliva flow onto your clit, before twirling it under his thumb.
“You’re gonna come for me too, baby? Can’t fill you up if I didn’t make you come. That ain’t good southern manners.”
You felt he was close but he didn’t slow down his pace. Thrusting his thick cock in you, his body slamming against yours, his balls slapping against your ass. He spat on your clit this time, and you felt another orgasm building.
“You’re doing great, Cariño. So good for our cocks. Bet you’d like us to fuck you again. Maybe you’d suck our cocks next time.”
He heard you moaning, and chuckled.
“Yeah? You’d like that, one of our cocks in your mouth and the other one in your cunt? Stuffing you from behind, making you choke on that dick?”
“Javi, what the hell…I’m tryin’ to hold on here!”
The last thing you heard before you came was Javi tapping on Steve’s shoulder. Your pussy squeezed his shaft, and that's all he was waiting for to come deep inside your core, mixing his cum with Javi's, as your spasms were milking his cock.
“You didn’t do better than me, smartass.”
They both chuckled, until Steve pulled out, breathing loudly, and the two stood in front of your open, exposed, dripping pussy. Javi spread your folds, and their cum flowed out.
“Fuck, that’s hot, man.”
“Yeah, we fucked her good.”
***********
Thank you for reading 🙏
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@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring
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morallyinept · 3 months
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NOBODY WANTS TO BE ALONE ON CHRISTMAS - A Javier Peña Christmas One Shot
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Summary: You discover your boss Javi will be spending the night alone, working on the cartel case on Christmas Eve, so you extend a kind offer for him to join you for some Christmas dinner.
Pairing: Javier Pena x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)
Word Count: 6.1k
Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.
Warnings/triggers - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks)/oral M receiving/fingering.
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.
If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
Author’s Note: There's some sexy Javi Spanish, not a lot, so I've not provided translations. Feliz Navidad!
12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤
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The yellowing fluorescent lights overhead cast a slightly harsh glow on the worn-out carpet that covers the office floor.
The colour, once a muted gray, bears the marks of countless footsteps and the occasional coffee spill.
The desks, a mishmash of transient styles, are strewn with stacks of files, half-empty coffee mugs, and a scattering of outdated office supplies, like typewriter ribbons and correctional fluid.
The air carries the distinct scent of freshly brewed Colombian coffee, a constant companion in the war rooms of the DEA office. Agents huddle around a communal pot, exchanging quick greetings and nods as they fuel up for the next round of investigations.
The walls are plastered with maps and charts tracking drug routes and cartel activities. Bulletin boards are covered with Polaroid pictures of suspects, illustrating the intricate web of criminal connections in Cali.
The faint hum of dial-up internet connections emanate from the few computers scattered around the office. The whirr of dot matrix printers echo intermittently, producing reports that will become integral parts of the ongoing investigations.
The agents, clad in power suits and shoulder-padded blazers work with a sense of determination etched on their faces. The sounds of phones ringing and typewriters clacking provide a constant background symphony, underscoring the urgency of their mission.
The office's ambiance is further accentuated by the occasional chatter in both English and Spanish, a linguistic blend reflective of the team's diverse composition.
Agents move purposefully between desks, exchanging information in hushed tones. The dated computer terminals emit a soft hum as agents navigate through databases filled with information on known traffickers and cartel activities. 
In the midst of this utilitarian environment stands a small potted Christmas tree, perched on the edge of the desk of Javier Peña.
Placed there as a tiresome joke, created by the junior agents during a rare lighthearted moment he suspects, adding a touch of personal flair to the otherwise stern atmosphere.
He’s pushed it off his desk twice now and it keeps reappearing, a constant reminder of his own inward dismay for this time of year.
You glance at him over the top of your screen, hard not to on the regular, seeing as your desk is placed directly opposite his, your back to the window. Not a strategic decision but one you're thankful for when his dark cocoa bean eyes meet yours. 
As Javier focuses on decoding messages or delving into the intricacies of ongoing investigations at his computer, that he types really slow on, tapping laboriously on the keys, his eyes will inevitably wander to the window.
There, amidst the rain-streaked glass and the rhythmic dance of palm leaves, he’ll always find you diligently working at your desk. Your concentration, juxtaposed against the vibrant outdoor scenery, often draws his attention. 
In those fleeting moments, as your eyes lock across the narrow expanse of the office, the intensity of your work seems to momentarily fade away, replaced by an unspoken connection that hints at something beyond the professional facade.
It isn't just the shared pursuit of justice that binds you to Javier; it’s the exchange of glances, the uncharted territory of emotions that simmer beneath the surface.
At least on your part anyway.
Harbouring an attraction to your boss isn’t a wise move. A move that you’ve sat on relentlessly, trying to squash it into the soft foam of your office chair ever since you were transferred from the archives to real administration work in a real investigations office.
Javier is indifferent to you, looks upon with you a less-than-impressed, resting bitch face, but you’ve soon learned it’s the way his features have been moulded after years of chasing down hardened criminals in the dangerous territories this country harbours.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile.
But he always holds your gaze, far longer than you suspect he should. Just lingering looks that neither of you spiral into a verbal acknowledgement.
You bring him coffee with his reports on occasion, always making one for him when you get one for yourself; another unspoken routine you’ve found yourselves waltzing in. You know he needs at least three cups in the morning to function before the computer is even switched on. 
You feel the gravitational pull of these unspoken moments. As you diligently work on your assignments, your eyes instinctively drift towards Javier's desk; a magnetised shift as you meet his eyes lancing back at you and you allow yourself to believe it could be a look of want, of some coveted desire he has for you as you squeeze your thighs together during the heated exchanges. 
But of course, that’s wishful thinking.
You know that your crush is a pointless endeavour with no viable outcome. Javier Peña’s reputation precedes him. You’ve heard whispers from the team about the hookers in downtown Bogotá, even if they leave a heavy weight of disappointment and longing in your stomach.
Plus, there is that mantra of not shitting where you eat.
As the agents prepare for the holidays, Christmas Eve being where you find yourself, tapping away on your keyboard at a productive speed of seventy WPM, compared to Javier’s eight WPM - you know, you’ve counted - the potted Christmas tree standing lackadaisical on his desk serves not only as a festive ornament, but also as a reminder that even in the heart of a demanding and dangerous mission, camaraderie and the spirit of the season can find a place, however small, in the DEA office in Colombia.
Plans are exchanged and shared as your colleagues speak of them later on when they’ll clock off. 
"I'm taking the kids to see the Christmas lights downtown. They've been pestering me about it for weeks." One says.
Another chimes in, "I'm heading to my parents' house for a big family gathering. It's chaotic, but I love it."
As the discussions continue like billowy rain clouds drifting around, Javier remains at his desk, seemingly engrossed in his work and you notice his obvious disengagement from the holiday chatter ebbing around him.
One of them dares to direct a comment towards him. “Plans, boss?”
Javier shakes his head and you’re certain you can hear a grunt. “Work. Something you clearly don’t understand the concept of, Ramirez.” 
It’s enough to bring the team to an awkward hush as they settle back behind their screens murmuring to themselves indistinctly. 
And the thought gnaws at you throughout the remainder of the day. The thought of Javier spending Christmas eve in the office alone, powering through, as the light from outside dims and he works by eventual lamplight on his desk.
You’ve seen it before, coming in the following morning to see him blinking tiredly into the stacks of paperwork that often drown him on his desk out of your view completely. 
He’s known for practically living in the office like a hermit when he’s not out in the tacvest taking on the cartel's head first, or seeking solace in some hooker's cleavage, if you’re to believe those rumours that buzz around like flies over a festering pile of shit.
And that gnawing thought starts to bite harder in the late afternoon.
Hard enough for you to try and soothe the shredded skin around your nails having bitten at them for most of the day, as you find yourself hovering over his desk a little longer after gathering completed files for you to alphabetise. 
He doesn’t look up at you, even though your shadow is still in his peripherals. The scent of him this close is intoxicating. Tobacco and a faint note of whiskey from the bottle you know he keeps in his drawer.
A swilling musk of sweat; the climate at this time of year is tropical and it ruminates inside the ill fitting jacket of his beige suit. A slight glean of it runs tracks down his throat and you lick your lips, trying not to focus on it too much as he swallows.  
“Señor Peña-”
“Javi.” He corrects bluntly. 
“-I couldn’t help but overhear you don’t have any plans for Christmas.” You begin, tactfully, keeping your voice low.
Javi finally glances up, a stoic expression on his face, "I'll be working. The case needs my attention."
“Surely it can wait for one evening?” You sway. “I’m sure the cartels will be celebrating and making merry. You should have a break, sir. It’s Christmas.”
“Just another day,” he swallows grittily.
The atmosphere in the office seems to thicken with a sudden tension. Javier, known for his abrupt stoicism, can't hide the defensive edge in his voice.
You sigh and gather the files in your arms. “You’re welcome at my place, if you want. A bit of dinner?”
"Christmas dinner? Mierda.” He scoffs. “You trying to play the good samaritan or something?" Javier says, his tone edging with a hint of spite.
His eyes, usually stern, carry an unusual flicker of irritation as they darken. “Did I miss the memo that we're suddenly one big, happy family in this office?”
You clock your colleagues, now silent and peering over their screens at the spectacle.
Javier, leaning back in his chair, retorts, "save the Hallmark moments. I'm perfectly capable of spending Christmas alone. I don't need company, especially not from someone who doesn't know when to mind their own business."
Your expression holds a mix of hurt and determination. "This isn't about charity, Señor Peña-” 
“Javi.” He corrects again with gritted teeth. 
“-We're a team, aren't we?"
Maintaining his composure, he brushes off the suggestion.
"Team or not, I don't need or want your pity, cariño. I've got work to do. And so do you." He stares up at you with a silent fury venting from his dark eyes.
You bite down on the inside of your cheek.
“It’s not pity.” You correct, stepping away; cheeks burning up with some humiliation brewing.
He watches you leave towards the file room, and tosses a glare at the others who immediately begin tapping and working again.
Growling inwardly, he shoves the potted Christmas tree off his desk again and hears it topple to the floor. 
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The empty office seems to echo with the ghosts of the day's activities, the remnants of conversations and shared jovial laughter hanging in the air to taunt him long after you’re all gone.
Javi is sitting alone, the harsh glow of his desk lamp casting shadows across his caramel skin and making his eyeballs ache.
His long fingers trace the edge of the whiskey glass, each sip a bitter reminder of the solitude he’s chosen. The rain outside, a constant drizzle against the windowpane, mirrors the melancholy that settles within his chest. 
His thoughts drift towards you, your invitation lingering like an unanswered question in the quiet room.
The disappointment and hurt swelling in the moisture of your eyes as he fired venom and hostility at your attempt at festive kindness. He knows it wasn't pity you offered, not really.
It’s in the coffee you always have made for him in the mornings that's just the right amount of rich and sweet, despite being from a cheap packet.
Your good nature, although grating at times, is what he secretly finds admirable about you - you care.
It's the care in your work, the attention to detail. The care in your questioning of your colleagues’ weekends and how you listen, hanging on their every word with bright curious eyes.
As he sips the whiskey, the amber liquid burns with a bitterness that seems to match the regret pooling in his chest. The files on his desk, once symbols of purpose, now feel like burdens, heavy with the weight of his own inane stubbornness.
He can't shake the feeling that he's missed out on something important here, a chance for a connection that has slipped through his fingers.
The loneliness presses in on him, and for the first time, Javi questions the walls he has built around himself. The whiskey, usually a numbing agent, now accentuates the ache of regret. He finds himself replaying the words he’d spoken to you, realising the rooted cruelty of his own defences. 
The night unfolds slowly, the hands of the clock ticking away the minutes as Javi works through unrelenting paperwork.
In the quiet solitude, his thoughts mutate into a tempest of introspection. Your words batter his skull, your face.
He glances up at your desk and you’re not there, looking back at him and feeling his chest and loins alike filling with a tightness that aches.
The rhythmic tap of raindrops against the window becomes a thundering metronome. Filling his mind with flashes of your naked body pressed against his, the sound of your pleads and gasps filling him up as he fills you with himself.
Growls at the ache hardening between his legs, growling at his own stupidity, feeling a lifeline he's let slip away. 
He glances around the empty office, the shadows dancing along the walls like phantoms of missed chances, beacons of potential connection.
His silhouette and yours, fucking in every position known to him, and Javi growls.
The weight of his own words linger in the air, each one a sharp reminder of the distance he’s purposefully placed between himself and his colleagues, and he’s not sure why.
He bends and picks it up and sees there's a label stabbed into the back of it, one he never noticed before. 
The whiskey, now a bitter residue in his glass, mirrors the lingering taste of remorse and as he gets up to attend to a task, he trips on something.
The potted tree that he tossed so carelessly off of his desk.
Unfurling it, he realises it's a gift and not a practical joke played by his colleagues who have nothing better to do than mock his authority and professionalism behind his back. 
Feliz Navidad, Señor Peña x 
Placing the tree back on his desk, he lingers on the guilt.
The hum of the lonely printer and the distant patter of rain becomes a backdrop to his internal dialogue. What if, he wonders, he has misunderstood your invitation? What if it isn't about pity, but a genuine desire for his companionship?
The barriers he’s erected around himself feel suddenly fragile; the stoicism that has defined him now seems like a self-imposed prison.
Has he really been so blind of your affections towards him?
In that moment, a decision crystallises in Javi's mind. He can't spend Christmas alone in the sterile glow of the fluorescent lamplight, drowning in whiskey and the silence of his regrets. 
His fingers drum on the desk, a silent debate waging within him. As he grabs his creased jacket from hours of sitting on it, the decision solidifies with every step.
The office, with its empty corridors and the ghosts of his own stubbornness, seem to release him with a reluctant sigh. He can’t stay here tonight.
Not when he knows now that you want him.
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“Javi… I mean, Señor Peña.”
You stand on the other side of the door. The intrepid concern for a late night knocker in a city like this, melts away into something else as you peer at him on the other side. 
“Buenas noches, cariño.”
He’s wet, soaked through almost. His hair sticking to his forehead like an oil slick, and droplets caught in the prominent pencil moustache that you’ve always wondered if it would be soft or coarse against your skin. 
“Javi, please.” He softens. 
“What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you to...” You’re a little stunned actually. The gall and unpredictability of this man never ceases to amaze. 
He holds out a bottle that he plucks from a brown bag, tequila.
“Call it a peace offering, or a Christmas gift. Either way, I'm sorry for snapping.” Javi says, and you can feel the sincerity and regret radiate from him, burning hotter than the sun.  
“It’s okay.” You say, with a blooming smile at the corners of your lips. 
He questions it. Relief? Are you as genuinely pleased to see him as you appear? And it stunts him, your instant forgiveness.  
He nods slowly. “If it’s alright with you, querida, I’d like to take you up on your offer if it still stands?"  
He extends the olive branch and you’re only too quick and eager to receive it. 
“Sure. Come on in, Javi.” You smile with pertinent relief.
You fix him a plate, reheating leftovers, as he perches on the edge of your lumpy sofa, feeling that it could swallow him down into its gullet at any moment if he truly relaxes.
It’s a rental, probably more than you can afford, bland with peeling paint and a musty aroma that lingers under the scent of your floral perfume that pollutes his head daily at work. 
He shuffles out of his wet jacket, large wet patches dye the beige of his pants darker at the thighs and knees. He takes in the frailty of your apartment. The emptiness of it.
How nothing here reflects the sparkling personality he knows you have.
The air carries a faint scent of scented candles, the flickering flames casting a soft ambiance as his eyes find them gloaming on the coffee table in clusters. The muted colours of the furniture and the strategically placed potted plants create a serene atmosphere, a stark departure from the chaos of the office.
The harsh absence of the expected holiday decorations strike him. There are no garlands draped along the walls, no twinkling lights casting a festive glow. A vast, empty space threatens the room where a Christmas tree should stand.
Instead, the void exudes a calm simplicity that feels like a deliberate choice rather than an oversight on your part.
Noticing his surprise, you offer a small smile. "Not what you were expecting, huh?” 
Javi, still processing the unexpected interior, manages a nod. The realisation that your invitation wasn't an attempt to impress, but a genuine extension of your simple world, settles within him. 
The apartment, with its quiet and dated elegance, feels like a reflection of your character - strong, resilient, and unassuming.
"I didn't expect this," he admits, gesturing around the room. "I thought there would be... I don't know, more Christmas shit."
You hum with a smile as you pass him a plate. 
Javi tentatively asks, "so, why did you invite me here, if it wasn’t pity?"
Your eyes hold a glint of sincerity. "Because I sensed you needed it. Christmas alone in the office isn't how anyone should spend the holidays. You work too much."
He takes the plate gratefully. Then he watches as you slice into limes with a blunt knife and toss the segments into a chipped bowl. 
Javi, caught off guard by the sincerity in your words, feels a pang of gratitude. The walls he had so meticulously built around himself were showing cracks, and your presence seems to widen those fractures, as you seat yourself beside him on the sofa bringing glasses and salt for the tequila.
You lean back, studying him as he replaces his picked at plate for the bottle, twisting off the cap.
“So, you really are a good samaritan?”
"No, I just don’t think we realise what we need until someone offers it, I guess.” You shrug.
“Is that so?” He asks, pouring out shots into the glasses. 
“It's okay to accept help, Javi."
“Do you think I need rescuing?”
“You don’t want to know what I think.” You say. 
“Humour me.” He tempts as he hands you a glass. You pick up the salt shaker sprinkling some on the base of your thumb.
“Well, you’re an asshole.”
Javi chokes immediately on his tequila, spluttering it over the rim of the glass as you grin.
Then he nods, wiping at his long since loosened tie. “I am.”
“And you’re grumpy and you’re mean.”
“Never proclaimed to be Christ.” He smirks.
“Is it true what they say about you?” You question, carefully.
“What do they say about me?” Javi asks with raised eyebrows.
“That you… you know, spend a lot of time in Bogotá with the uh…”
“Hookers. You can say it.” He scoffs.
“Yeah.” You say swallowing back the tequila hard. 
“Sometimes a man has his vices.” He simply says, pouring out another. He catches your face, bitter from the lime you suck. Or maybe something else.
“What about you, no boyfriend?” He asks.
You shake your head. “No.” He watches as you frown and try to mask it.
“Thank you… for the tree.” He says after a few minutes of awkward silence have descended upon you both. “I didn’t realise it was from you.”
“It’s nothing.” you shrug. 
“We both know that’s not true.”
You smile, looking away. “Doesn’t matter.”
He turns your face back to him with a simple finger and thumb on your chin gently, dropping it when your eyes meet his again. You watch his eyes watch as you gnaw on your lip.
“Do you really think I’m an asshole?” He questions.
“Why do you care what I think, Javi?”
“Because I’d hate for you to think that about me.”
“Sometimes…" You admit. "But I just mostly think... that you’re sexy.”
His eyebrows raise. “Por que?”
“I mean-” You fluster. Shit. “Too much tequila,” you say quickly, feeling the heat abruptly flood into your face.
“You think I’m sexy, cariño?”
You reach for more tequila, but his hand, gently curling around your wrist, stops you. 
“No.” You say, and he knows you're bluffing.
It’s out there now, that spoken want and desire growing limbs and becoming a solid form before you. 
“That’s not what you said.” Javi, taken slightly aback by the depth of your admission, meets your twinkly gaze with a mix of curiosity and simmering.
“I should go,” he says, edging closer to you.
You bite down on your lip again, your eyes falling to his lips, pink and shiny as he runs his tongue on the bottom one.
A subtle drumming fills the silence between you until you realise it’s your heart beating frantically in your chest. 
The air between Javi and you now crackles with a newfound tension, static that clings to your skin and makes all the hairs on your body stand tall. 
“Stay.” You whisper, turning your body in and knocking against his knees with yours.
His hand around your wrist travels onto your thigh, moving up to your hip.
“If I stay, I’m going to fuck you, cariño. All night.” He husks, as your face draws near.
You can smell the honeyed agave on his breath. Feel it warm your eyelashes. He's so close.
“Stay, Javi.” Your hands climb the lapels of his damp shirt, twisting.
“Is that what you want?” He questions, dangerously close now.
You can feel both his hands circling your hips, kneading and squeezing gently, but firm. His forehead touching yours, lips so close to take in your teeth.
“I don’t want to be alone on Christmas. And neither do you.” You confirm.
The sharp citrus of the lime stings against your lips as he presses his mouth to yours, swallowing your gasps.
You taste his tongue; a faint descry of smoke and distilled amber dances over your own. Javi’s large hands caress your back, pulling you closer, cradling you in his arms as your kiss becomes deeper, more desperate. 
You explore the uncharted territory of him; exhilarated and emboldened by his mutual want of you. Gasps pelt into your mouth as you finger through his hair feeling the silk of it, nails scrape down his spine over the damp material of his shirt.
His hands do all the talking too as he strokes them over your body, feeling the hilts and curves. He winds up your stomach and gropes gently at your breast, pushing upwards so it spills over your cami.
He glances at you, watching him as he flicks his tongue across your nipple, and sucks it into his mouth. He frees the other one and alternates between running his tongue and mouth across them.
“Eres tan hermosa.” Javi mists over your skin. And it pulls the breath from you to know that he thinks you're beautiful.
This man that you’ve coveted for so long, in the secret, sordid confines of your imagination and your sheets as you fuck yourself with your fingers to orgasm, is running his lips over your nipples and sucking them into his mouth as though he can’t get enough of you.
You can only choke out a gasp at how good it feels, how absurd it still is that he’s actually here. 
Javi tilts your head back, fingers wrapping gently around your jaw so he can kiss your throat. You feel the graze of his teeth as he pulls on the skin, marking you as your hands fumble with the buttons on his shirt.
Revealing caramel, tan skin, you trail kisses down his throat, tasting the sweat that lingers in with the indolence of his cologne, notes of spice barely hanging on as you wash them away with your tongue. His skin is warm, smooth as you kiss down his chest as he leans back into the sofa. 
You feel his fingers fighting with his belt under the tendrils of your hair. You take over, unzipping his pants and pulling them down his svelte waist as you glance up at him; your mouth dangerously close to his cock, freed and swollen.
You’re surprised at his size, hidden and tucked away in those tight pants on the daily and unsure how you’ve never noticed this enormity before. It’s not like you haven’t looked at his crotch when he stands from his desk, it's in your direct line of sight. 
You can smell it, smell that salted crystal of precum glistening at you as it bubbles on his head, soaking his pink engorged skin, and you brave yourself to lick it. To finally taste him.
He shudders, you know you want to take your time worshipping him, suckling gently around his swollen head as his hands coil inside your roots.
Savouring the taste for yourself, only ever being able to imagine what he would feel like inside your mouth. Alternating between sucks and licks, you tease the length of him, taking him deeper each time. 
“Fuck,” Javi hisses as he watches your lips suction around him. 
You let your lips slide up and down the thick girth of him, smooth and warm, listening as he hisses between his teeth, his fingers stroking at your face. 
You jerk him as you go, hand sliding up and down and pulling the wet tracks from your mouth down his hard cock, as he glides effortlessly into your fist.
You keep licking the head until you take him inside again, cheeks hollowed out as you suck harder. 
“So fucking good,” he grits at you, a visible strain in his throat. 
You relax your throat, opening wider, taking him in deeper and he audibly groans.
Your eyes flick to his and his pupils have bled into the chocolatey irises; a dark hungry stare tossed back at you that makes your clit pull tight in response. 
You hum in satisfaction around him, listening to him enjoying your mouth. 
He reaches forward, “ven aquí,” pulling you to him and twisting so you’re on the couch. 
He kisses over your skin as he reveals it, pulling off your clothes until you’re naked in his arms. 
His hands leave a desolate carnage of tingles as he traverses your body, fingers trailing delicately across your navel as he sucks on your lip, nipping gently between his teeth. You feel him, digits slipping further to the swollen, wet bud of your clit. 
You gasp into his mouth as he circles on it, slick movements as your inner thighs jerk and twitch. You clasp onto his shoulders, kissing him deeply as he runs his fingers through your folds, teasing your hole before he pushes two of them inside. 
“Javi,” you groan.
“That feel good, cariño?”
You nod. “So good.”
“So tight,” he groans as he slips his tongue in your mouth, the soft bristles of his moustache tickling deliciously against your lip. “Lay back for me.”
Withdrawing his fingers after a few teasing pumps, you lay back, Javi kneeling between your thighs and stroking himself. Spitting into his palm and coating himself with it as he watches your fingers rub quick, little circles around your clit.
His other hand strokes up your thigh and reaches for your breast; palming it and feeling your nipple pebble under the rough skin of his palm - rough and calloused from the constant handling of his Beretta as of late. 
He kneels up slightly, running the tip of his cock inside your folds, greasing himself up with your slick. Tapping gently against your clit and you gasp as he squelches around you. 
“So wet for me, are you always this wet?” He utters in praised disbelief. 
You smirk, nodding. “For you I am.”
“Fuck,” he smirks back.
“You don’t want to know what you do to me…” You whisper.
“I want to know,” he says with deep hypnotic eyes. “I want to know everything. Dime que hago por ti, querida.” 
Leaving forward over you, his hand splayed on the cushion above your head, Javi lines up, the thick head of him notching gently at your entrance.
"Tell me what you think about when you look at me over your desk," He urges.
Javi feels you flutter against him already, the desperation to suck him in as he bites down on his lip watching you. Watching your eyes flit from the centre of your legs, to his eyes.
“This," you breathe. "Want you, Javi,” you moan to him, trying to push yourself against him. 
You move as he slips in, letting go of his cock and laying over you as his hips shunt forward in a smooth thrust, filling you full of him. 
“Oh!” You gasp.
Your lips tear at his; your arms creeping around the back of his neck as he winds into you, grunting in your ear. 
“Oh my God, Javi…” 
The crest of his hips rattle against you, pushing you closer together as you wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his pert ass.
He moves with intention, every thrust well thought out to feel every inch of you, to make you feel every inch of him. 
“You feel so good, so wet around my cock…” He grunts into you.
You can hear it, hear every lewd, wet squelch as he thrusts in and out. Louder than your mutual breathing and gasps.
He pushes your left leg up against the sofa and leans forward, closer into you as his hips continue to piston in. 
His breath is heavier, ragged in the back of his throat as it scrapes across his tongue and out into your face. 
He kisses you like he’s in love with you; gentle clicks of his lips against yours. Sucking gently around your tongue as he puffs through his nose.
He runs his chin up the side of your face, nuzzling. The moustache feels soft and silken; finally answering all your probing questions about it.  
He hooks your legs against his shoulders and stays close to your face, his hips doing all the work now. Hitting that spot deep inside you as he fucks that bit harder, that bit more intense.
You can feel the flames licking at your skin, the heat suffocating the room. The tightness in your belly, the way your limbs begin to contort with the pressure. 
“Oh, oh,” you whine. You can feel it brewing, feeling it rushing through your veins. 
He presses his forehead to yours in an effort to ground you, pull you back to him, but it does the opposite, it makes you soar. Your gasps become throated grunts as it builds. 
“Let it out,” Javi coaxes. “Let go, cariño. You feel so good around me like this. That’s it, come for me.” 
He glances down, watching his cock disappear inside your swollen lips, and coming back out slick and shinier with each thrust. He pushes down on your thighs, your knees against your shoulders folding you up as he ploughs harder.
Each breath in the back of his throat punching out as though he’s running a marathon. 
“Oh my God, yes… Javi!”
“Come for me,” he pleads again, moaning around each syllable in a soft tincture that punctures your lungs.
He can feel it when you contract, that moment you flood around him. He watches as you writhe and shudder, your voice losing it’s alto as you sigh and pant, losing yourself blind to your orgasm. 
“Oh fuck… fuck yes!" He groans as he can feel you shaking on his cock.
“Hold on to me,” he says, pushing your hands to his neck where you wrap them around him.
He kneels, hooking his hands under your thighs to pull you upright onto him, and closer, and you feel him hit deeper as you cry out.
Javi slows his pace, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip for a second as he completely loses himself. Pussy drunk on you, buried so deep inside that he forgets where he is for a moment.
The sofa creaks in pain with his tempo, both his hands on your ass winding you back and forth over his cock.
The sweat shines at the bottom of your back; the room feels like a furnace, despite the rain outside cooling the night's air that seeps in from the open window. 
“You’re gonna make me fucking come so hard…” He’s growling now, you can hear it. Those husked grunts ribbing at the back of his throat, lips curled up over his teeth as he plunders deeper into your cunt. 
You move, flexing your hips back and forth as you fuck him slowly, and he groans coming back to you. His hands slip back down onto your hips as he moves you, faster, harder on his cock.
“Come inside me, Javi.”
“Oh fuck, mierda… Fuck!” It’s sweetly blasphemous as he comes, grunting and whimpering, his own body shaking and shuddering against yours. Sweat glueing you to one another. 
He groans out as he comes, filling you with his thick spend as your tongue knots in his mouth. 
“Querida,” he moans, as you peck gently over his face, his arms unrelenting, refusing to let go of you. 
He lays back, taking you with him into the breach of the sofa. And you smile at his face regarding you back; big browns that are just mesmerised in some post-coital bliss by all those little nuances, up close and in his face. 
You become mesmerised too, by the way his tongue glides over his teeth, usually to show mirth or derision in the office, but here it commands desire. Want. 
How when he smiles, the left side of his top lip is the first to crook up into that beam that drags his cheeks up to reveal dimples either side of his face, marred usually by his moustache.
It takes you a moment to realise he’s smiling. Javier Peña is smiling for you, and it stuns you, tracing your fingers around the edges of it like a fine piece of art, the beauty of it etched forever in your memory.
“Que?” He asks, observing your awe.
“I’ve never seen you smile before.” You say, shaking your head. “You should do it more often.”
You think you spy a blush creep into the bronze sculpting of his cheeks. Small capillaries flooding with blood.
He slips out of you, but you feel his fingers reaching between your lips probing and slipping around gently in the silken feel of him starting to drip out of you.
He runs his nose across your face, nuzzling into you further. You feel him, sticky and softening under you, and you stroke through his hair, matted with sweat and smiling as he pecks at you still. 
He kisses you, tonguing around your mouth as you feel his fingers sliding inside you, pushing his come back in. His thumb delicately stroking on your clit, barely ghosting it as your shudder and clutch onto him. 
He softly strokes you to another orgasm as you pant inside his mouth.
You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, how he’ll treat you in the office after this.
If this could become a regular thing where he brings flowers and tequila, and takes a spare key and keeps some of his things here, and has dinner with you and showers with you.  
You try to ponder on if it will make things tense or awkward. If he’ll regret it. If you’ll regret it. If he’ll see you as some easy conquest, another notch on his bedpost.
Or if this could become something more.
It doesn’t matter, because right now in this moment, as the clock rolls over into the early hours of Christmas morning in the torrential rain that sprays over Colombia, Javi kisses at your throat with a gentleness about him you couldn’t believe could have existed.
And it’s the best Christmas gift you ever could have wished for. 
“Feliz Navidad, Javi.” You whisper into the hairs of his moustache.  
“Feliz Navidad, cariño.” He whispers back. 
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12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
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toxicanonymity · 2 months
Text
Javi isn't home (the raid one shot).
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1740 words, dark!Steve Murphy x f!reader A/N: The Raid AU, after The Raid pt 2.
NEXT: No Good | The Raid Masterlist WARNINGS: I8+ PWP, captivity, dirty talk, oral, dubcon unsafe p in V initiated by reader, ass smacking, degradation (neediness), praise, pet names
Javi isn’t home. The television turns on upstairs, and a woman starts moaning. You listen with butterflies in your chest, hoping to catch a grunt or more from Steve. The man in the porno says, you love this big cock, don't you? Ohh yeah.  You lie completely still on Javi’s bed, trying to hear as much as you can without holding your breath. After a minute, you begin to hear Steve’s deep voice. “Ohh, fuck.” You can picture his eyes darkening and the veins on his arm and hand bulging as he strokes himself. “Ohh, yeah.” 
This morning, Javi put you in a dress and didn't cuff you to anything but yourself. You can’t very well touch yourself with your hands cuffed behind your back. You turn over on your stomach.  “Ohh,” he moans. You try pressing your hips into the mattress for pressure. You think about what Steve said: He’s not gonna hold out on you. Want anything from him? Just ask. 
It might have been all talk, you can’t be sure, but you take the chance and yell upstairs. He sighs and the television cuts off. His heavy footsteps echo down the metal stairs in the breezeway 
. . 
Steve unlocks the door to Javi's bedroom and pushes it open. He's dressed casually today.  He pauses in the door frame and your eyes go straight to a shapely bulge in his gray sweatpants.
He stretches his back with his hands on the top of the doorframe. His pale inner biceps swell out of the sleeves of his plain white t-shirt with a little hole under the collar. The shirt rides up exposing a light happy trail. 
“Need somethin’, darlin’?” He asks, then steps into the room. He checks you out, then his eyes dart around the room and he shifts his weight impatiently. 
“Did I interrupt anything?” 
He follows your eyes to his sweatpants, then looks down and away and chuckles to himself. 
Then you ask, “Why do guys jerk off even if they can just have sex?”
He slowly approaches you where you sit at the foot of the bed. 
He looms over you and cups the back of your head. “Look at this poor girl, can't even touch herself.” He shakes his head and his eyes traverse your body hungrily. Then he answers, “We do it ‘cause it's easy. And sometimes we're tired.” 
Your eyes return to his pants and you'd love to be grabbing him, feeling the hard shape through the soft cotton.  You ask, “Doesn't it feel better to be inside someone?”
He swallows and his eyes come to life with a twinkle. He stares you down for a beat then asks, “That why I'm down here?”
“If you want.” 
“Mmm,” he growls breathily. He takes his time getting the key for the cuffs. You stand up and turn for him to unlock them. 
“There ya go,” he murmurs. 
He puts them aside, then his hand covers your chest, and you're swiftly pushed against the nearest wall. 
His hardness digs into your front as he pins you there. He looks over your face, then your chest as he slides his palm down to cup a breast. He pulls his pelvis back, then rolls his hips into you once. 
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “‘Course it feels better inside.” 
He shoves his hand between your legs. “Somewhere warm, and . . . wet.” The wet smacking noise from his touch makes your cheeks heat up as he feels around and teases your uncovered hole. “Damn, sugar. Can ya hear me that well upstairs?”
You reach between you, going for his crotch, but he intercepts your wrist with his free hand. He allows you to palm him, but he guides your hand slowly with his. Then he takes your hand and slips it into his waistband. You hold his smooth, hard cock and desire floods your body. He braces an arm against the wall above you and thrusts into your hand. “Think you're ready for this, all alone?” 
You nod with a rush of need between your legs.  
“Good girl,” he mutters. “On your knees.” You ache for his cock to just be shoved up your cunt already, but you obediently drop to your knees. 
He pulls his sweatpants down under his ass. You take his cock in your hand, stiff and a little sticky from the remnants of lotion. You don't want to be obvious about your curiosity, but you're pretty sure you couldn't close your fingers around his girth if you tried. You bring your lips to the leaking head and suck it into your mouth with an, “Mmm.” The slight chemical tinge of the lotion fades when his salty precum hits the back of your tongue and you suck. 
“Real thirsty, ain't ya?” He asks as you begin to suck him. Saliva pools in your mouth and you let it slobber out of the corners of your lips as you bob your head on him. His hips begin to move, nice and smooth, subtly pushing his cock in and out of your mouth.  “Mmm. . . coulda left those cuffs on and fucked this pretty face,” he murmurs. Then you lift up his cock and cradle his balls to look at them. You lick around one then suck it into your mouth as you pump his cock. 
“God damn, I love these pretty hands though.”
You look up at him and he looks down at you. You suck his other nut. “Oooh, baby,” he whispers. 
You return your lips to the head of his cock, but hesitate and look up at him. “Can you fuck me?” You ask, hoping he'll make good on his promise. 
“What now?” He tilts his head, and gently takes his cock from you. “Want me to put this somewhere else, don't ya?” 
“Please,” you beg. 
“Why don't ya bend over and show me where.” He nods toward the foot of the bed. You begin to get up to walk over there but he shakes his head. “No need to get up.”
You crawl toward the bed and lift your dress up over your bare ass, then brace both hands on the mattress. 
He moseys over, slowly stroking his big cock. “Show me where ya want it, sugar.” You tilt your hips and reach back to finger your wet, puffy cunt. 
“Spread yourself for me, darlin’.”
You obey him, using two fingers to spread yourself open. 
“God damn, look at her drippin’ for me,” he mutters to himself. “Attagirl.” 
He smacks your ass, then kneels behind you, straddling your legs. 
As soon as his tip hits your entrance, you withdraw your hand and he begins to push inside. 
“Ohhh,” you moan as he spreads your walls with his delicious length. He grunts and you gasp as he bottoms out and your cunt stretches around him.   
“Mmm,” he stays all the way inside for a moment before backing up and slamming back in. He smacks your ass again. “Sure do feel good.”
He doesn’t waste much time before fucking you at a steady rhythm. His balls hit your ass and the sound of slapping skin makes your chest hot. His growls are deep and soft, and his low voice makes you twitch on his cock every time he opens his mouth. “God damn, baby,” he fucks you harder. “Look at you takin' this big cock. Askin’ for it, too.” You push back on him and his stiff manhood spreads you apart with every thrust. “Attagirl.” He smacks your ass again. “Gonna let ya come, too.” He bends forward and lowers his voice. “Daddy Peña don't gotta know–MMm.” 
The knot in your lower belly quickly tightens under his moans and grunts. “Oh, baby,” he breathes. “Oh, fuck.” 
The tension snaps and you whimper as your pussy squeezes him.
“Oh, fuck, oh,--fuuhhh–ohhhh,” Steve slams into you and begins to pulse, and ohh God. You flutter around him, unsure if this is okay with Javi but so glad it's happening. Steve doesn't show any sign of hesitation. “Mmmm.” He pulls back halfway, slides back  into you slowly, cock swelling with each pulse, bottoming out one last time as he floods your core.  He sighs, then pulls out. “Whew.” He grabs your ass, then sits on the bed with his cock already stuffed away, maintaining a bulge in his sweatpants. “How's that?” He asks and you nod. 
He lets you go to the bathroom, and when you come back, he’s sitting on the foot of the bed with the handcuffs and key. 
He’s just finished cuffing you when you start to ask, “Will he mind that you, um. . .” 
“Dumped a big load in ya?”
“Yeah,” you nod. 
“Nah, I don’t think he’ll mind, sugar. But I’ll clean ya up if ya want.” 
“It’s okay.” 
“Sure? I don’t mind. Let’s have a look. Bend over for me.” 
You resume the position you were in, on your knees, bent over the foot of the bed. You pull the dress up over your ass again. He gets down on the floor, putting the key aside. He kneels and holds your ass, and you tilt your hips. He spreads your pussy lips with his thumbs. 
“He’s right, it’s a pretty pussy. ‘Specially like this, all fucked out.” 
His tongue hits your cunt first, and you flinch, hands still cuffed behind your back. He latches on, sealing his lips and using his hands on your hips to pull you into his face. He laps and sucks, and your sensitive bits twitch. His hair brushes against your cuffed hands. You feel another climax building. His tongue reaches forward, teasing your clit. He moans into your folds and sucks. He sharpens his tongue and thrusts it into you. Then he pulls his face away and fingers you. He teases your clit with his middle finger, then slides it inside. He digs around, swiping his thick digit along your walls and you’re throbbing and twitching. 
“Mm,” you moan. 
“Yeah, gimme one more, sugar. Wanna see it trickle out.”  He withdraws his finger and works your clit until the pressure boils over and you’re whimpering as your walls clench around nothing. “Yeah,” he murmurs as some more of his seed trickles out of your hole.” He plants his lips again. He licks and sucks at your cunt, then plants a little kiss on your ass cheek and asks, “Better?”
“Thanks,” you whisper. 
He lets your dress back down. “Any time.” 
---
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Thots are welcome 🔥
Thank you for reading 🖤🖤🖤 lmk if you want on a tag list for the raid.
btw I'm trying something new - anons are off when I'm asleep or working but on in the evenings (est) unless I'm really busy. there are a few reasons for this, none I want to address publicly. depending on how this goes i may keep anons off altogether, but my DMs will remain open..
yeah this didn't rly work out. but plz feel free to dm me 🖤 blogs of all types and sizes, don't be shy
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kiwisbell · 5 months
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Las Mañanas || Chapter 1 [javier peña]
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She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.
series masterlist | my masterlist
pairing: javier peña x f!reader
rating: 18+ (mdni)
tags/warnings: coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, reader has a shitty husband, domestic violence, mentions of sex work, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, javier pines like a mf, FLIRTING, referenced PIV (protection implied), food as sexual tension, angst, so much fluff, some light touching, steve being a little shit, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout
word count: ~ 8.8k
a/n: HOORAY! it begins! since this is my oldest fic, it lacks some polish, but neverthless!! i'll be posting new chapters every couple days so your dashboards don't get clogged up, but i sincerely hope you enjoy this series!! to my lovely friends who have already read this series and given it so much love, words cannot express how much i appreciate you. to my newcomers, i am kissing you through my screen rn for giving this fic a chance. i hope you like!! xoxo
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chapter one: for all the coffee beans in colombia
The café, Las Mañanas, makes stellar coffee. Javier Peña knows this; everyone in Bogotá knows this. That’s why he comes in at seven o’clock every morning and pays 30 pesos for a cup. Black. Then he sits at a table and sips it while he watches her move. He leaves at seven-thirty and clocks in at the Embassy ten minutes later. He does it again the next morning.
Two months ago, he would come in twice a week. Two weeks later, three times. Now, it’s daily. He thinks he might have an addiction, but so does every other bastard in the city. It’s not his fault the coffee wakes him up just right, striking his tired bones like hammers and making him sit upright all day, alert as a rearing cobra.
She’s got eyes like that: bright, sharp. They cut incisions into early-morning brain fog and part the haziness like curtains. Then she sutures the edges with that smile and turns every man in the café complacent, cheery, harmless. Javier goes for the coffee, but it’s nice to look at her. It’s not his fault she’s so nice to look at.
She doesn’t own the place. Her boss is a family friend and doesn’t share her last name; he knew her father, who died. The records don’t say how, and Javier had to sneak out before he could find out more. Technically, he wasn’t allowed to be snooping around in records that didn’t have explicit relevance to his job, but he was just being safe.
He knows this because he likes to know things. He’s proactive. It reassures him to know that his thorough background checks on each employee and regular produced nothing of concern, that she’s around safe, innocent people all day. When she brings his coffee to him, she smiles at him, and her eyes shine. He knows that when he leaves for work, she’s safe. It’s real fucking hard to be safe in Bogotá these days.
Javier drinks. The coffee goes down hot, always the same temperature, always strong. He lifts a cigarette to his lips, watches her, lights it. He keeps it in his mouth when she raises her eyes from her notepad at the counter and smiles. From this corner of the café, he has a perfect view of her. She’s relaxing to watch. She walks with a sway to her hips; she bags pastries so delicately it’s like they’re strapped with C4; she writes little notes on her customers’ receipts and her handwriting is impeccable. He keeps his receipts.
She puts her lip between her teeth and worries it, like she’s debating something in her head, pen pausing over paper. Javier narrows his eyes playfully at her, and then she moves. She ties her apron tighter around her waist, tucks her hair behind her ear with the pen, and grabs something from behind the counter before she’s moving. Toward him.
Javier panics for a moment, but he feels stupid when he does. He forces himself to adjust minimally, sitting up straighter and tucking his cigarette to the corner of his mouth. She’s carrying a pastry bag. “Here,” she says, “for when you leave.”
Her honeyed voice seeps bone-deep. They speak in English, but he’s heard her use the local colour with her patrons. “What’s the occasion?” he asks her.
“I want to see how long the poison takes to activate inside a human body.” She thrusts the bag out farther. “It’s a thank-you. Empanadas. New recipe.”
Javier takes it, looks inside. “You poison all your customers, or am I special?” he says, inhaling the fresh burst of warmth. “These smell incredible.”
“I hope you’re not a vegetarian.”
“God, no.”
“More coffee?”
He glances at his watch. 7:23. “I can’t,” he says, and it gives him pause when his voice carries a faint whine. “Work.”
She bites her lip again. Instinct tugs his eyes down to it. “You’re certainly the most mysterious customer I’ve ever had.”
He stands up so he can look down at her, puffing at his cigarette. She puckers her lips and blows the smoke away from her face with a teasing glare. “And the only one special enough to try the new recipe for free,” he says lowly. “Isn’t that right?”
She shoves the bag into his chest and rolls her eyes, beckoning him back toward the counter. “Who said it was free?” she says, looking back at him over her shoulder. It stops him, stunned, in his tracks.
He comes back the next day. He makes sure to learn her name this time.
~
At some point in the seven months since he first entered the café, Javier makes a friend.
He does not remember how it happened. His life is not conducive to friendship. But this half-hour routine inside the café doesn’t give a shit about his life. She’s begun to call his name when he steps through the door.
“Javier!” She shimmied around her coworker as she hurriedly untied her apron. He barely had time to open his mouth before she continued, “I took my break early. Now come on, I made churros.”
“Fuck, cariño, I think I’ve gained ten pounds since I met you.”
She just grinned at him and shooed him toward his usual table while she grabbed a plate with two sweet-smelling churros on it. “My father would say that’s a good thing. Go, go!”
He obeyed her without further complaint and put out his cigarette so he could sip at the coffee that was already steaming on his table. She slid into the chair across from him. He knew churros for breakfast were a terrible decision for his digestive system, but he physically could not refuse her. Her leg bounced excitedly when he picked one up and took a bite. He closed his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re fucking magic. Where did you learn to bake like this?”
She grinned and took a bite of her own churro. He noticed she liked to hold her free hand underneath her chin to catch any residue that would make a mess of her apron; preventative measures. She was careful, meticulous. “My father lived in Spain most of his life; he taught my sister and I to cook from the second we were able to walk.” Her head tilted as she watched him eat, her smart eyes travelling in latitudes across his face like she was memorising a script, line by line. “I’m lucky to see other people fall in love with my food the same way I loved his.” She smiled suddenly, warm. “You’ve got churro dust in your moustache, viejo.”
He raised a brow. “You learn enough Spanish for that, huh, smartass?”
The bell above the door chimes when he walks through. She’s tending to a customer at the back of the room, but she looks over her shoulder. Smiles and waves. Gestures with her eyes to his usual table.
His table, which now has a very new, very handmade sign on top of it: RESERVED.
Javier sits down and touches the black ink. It smudges on his finger.
“I almost had to rugby-tackle Jorge for sitting there during his break,” she says when she arrives.
“All this for me?” He clicks his tongue. “Bad for business.”
“You’re a paying customer, viejo,” she says teasingly. “You are business.”
Javier slides his sunglasses off his nose and stares her down, dropping his voice all low and mean. “You better knock that nickname habit quick, baby. Could get you in trouble.”
“More trouble than the man who comes in every morning with a gun in his pants?” She bites her lip when she grins. “I think I’ll be okay. Oh, and here’s your coffee.”
She places a mug in front of him, snatches the RESERVED sign from his hand, and carries it with her to the counter.
~
“What is it you do at your big, scary, gun-totin’ job, anyway?” she asks as his coffee pours. He’s at the counter, waiting this time, knowing no one’s going to take his table. Not if they know what’s good for them, what with the leopard behind the counter.
Javier lights his cigarette. “Don’t wanna have to kill you.”
She cocks her head. “Can’t kill me, viejo. Who’d make your coffee?” She leans in real close and whispers, “Jorge can’t treat you like I can.”
He does not focus on the way her breath knocks against each knob of his spine.
“Janitorial services,” he blurts out, not so much suavely, “at the Embassy.”
“Hmm. Didn’t know they let janitors carry guns nowadays, but I guess there’s always something new to learn.”
“Tell me something about you,” he says.
“My doctor says I’ll never be able to get the smell of coffee out of my nose.”
Javier laughs, plucking the dish rag from her hands so she stops cleaning the counter and looks him in the eye instead. “Gonna need more than that. Tell me something I don’t know, cielito.”
She flushes. “You have to pay extra for that.”
“Then pour one on me,” he says, sliding the coffee pot toward her.
A wicked smile overcomes her face, one she tries to tame by chewing on the inside of her cheek. She spots a customer waving her down, so she turns quickly to Javier and says, “Give me two minutes. Pour it for me.”
He fills the cup she’s just cleaned until it’s almost overflowing.
~
The first day something goes wrong, Javier is unprepared.
She’s all smiles and flowy skirts when he walks in the door, but he feels out of sorts when he spots the men she’s pouring coffee for—mostly because he recognises them, and they’ve never been in here before.
His heart swoops down into his gut when he remembers where he’s seen their three faces before.
It stings to watch her smile falter when he ignores her familiar greeting for him, pretending like he doesn’t know her. He heads straight for the counter, sits down, waits twenty seconds, and then accidentally knocks a mug to the floor.
A few people idly turn, but it’s her excusing herself to clean up the mess that matters. He lowers himself to the ground with her when she grabs the broom and dustpan. “Keep smiling at me,” he says under his breath. “Don’t let your face change.”
“Javier…” His name is an exhale from her mouth. “What’s going on?”
“Those men are involved in some bad shit, and I don’t want you in it.”
To her credit, she does not look at the three men at the table, nor do her eyes widen, her mouth drop. He knows her mind is chewing on this, working it through, judging whether or not she can trust him. At last, still cleaning up the ceramic shards, she asks, “What do I do, Javi?”
That’s his girl. “I need you to take your break until they’re gone. Can you do that for me?”
She breaths out a yes and looks up at him for one brief moment. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she whispers. “Paying customer, remember?”
“Always and forever, baby. Now go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She stands up with the dustpan and thanks him loudly, that bright smile still on her face. She takes the broken mug into the back room, and she does not reappear.
Javier has backup waiting when the three narcos leave, filled with his waitress’s coffee and pastries. Javier stays inside, sipping his own coffee. They won’t know he called for backup. They’ve never seen his face. But they’ll be ambushed once they’re a safe distance from the café, and they’ll go away in handcuffs for the couple kilos of cocaine inside the trunks of their taxis.
Javier comes in the next day and expects her to cuss him out. She’s had every opportunity to call the police, to report him for being somehow involved with bad men, to ban him from her little safe haven. Instead, she just sets down the coffee at his table and shakes her head.
“Janitor, my ass.”
~
He wishes he could shut his mouth every now and then, but he finds himself telling her the truth about his job before he can think to stop.
He rationalises.
He owes her this much. The strange men may not have harmed her, but in a line of work like Javier’s, people have to learn to be cautious. In his case, he may have been uber-cautious, but his senses become a whirlpool when it comes to her.
She takes it all in stride, same as yesterday. She’s a rapt listener, tuning out the world as he stumbles through the truth, and when he’s done, when he thinks he’s laid out all she needs to know for now, she nods. She understands.
“Thank you for telling me,” she says, unusually sombre, brushing a knuckle under his chin the way he does her.
“Can’t stand the thought of you mad at me, cielito.” It’s the truth—he thinks he would forsake all his manliness and beg on his knees for forgiveness.
But he doesn’t need to do that with her. “It was scary, Javi,” she says earnestly, “but it would’ve been a lot scarier if you weren’t there, talking me through it.”
He grins up at her where she stands on the other side of the counter. “Any chance that means free churros for life?”
She hums like she’s pondering the thought. “For you, viejo? That’s only two more years at your tender age.”
Javier leans in close to her and glares. “Keep it up, honey.”
She drums her fingers on the side of his mug and smirks. “Plan to. More coffee, Agent Peña?”
~
She’s talking to another man when Javier walks into the café. He’s average height and muscled, around her age or a bit older, wearing a black leather jacket that matches the beard and hair on his head (the stuff that’s not greying), and he’s speaking rapidly, tautly. She keeps shaking her head, her lips pressed tightly together, furiously wiping down the counter and nudging his elbows away when he tries to set them down. Javier tries to eavesdrop, but they’re speaking too quietly, interrupting one another, so he settles into his chair at the back with his sunglasses still on his nose. And he watches carefully.
He's never seen this man before. He isn’t a customer, and his scowling face was not one Javier had combed through during his dubiously ethical background checks. It unsettles him enough to lean forward in his seat when the man abruptly tears the rag from her hand. Javier instinctively reaches for the gun in his waistband, but he will not fire here. He bites down on his cigarette when she aggressively wipes under her eyes and storms into the back room. Moments later, she emerges with her purse, fishes out a wad of cash, and throws it square at the man’s chest. He leaves once the money is tucked inside his pockets.
Javier approaches the counter with his coffee. She is visibly shaking, but she smiles at him like he’s a relief to see. “Javi,” she says in one long exhale. “Good morning.”
“Thought you might like some company,” he says, setting down his mug.
He doesn’t press her to tell him about what he’s seen, even though he knows she saw him walk in. Her shoulders loosen. “I… I didn’t have time to make you something, Javi.”
Her eyes are watering, and her irises undulate like they’re caught in a swell. Not for the first time in seven months, Javier reaches out and touches her. Lays a hand atop hers and squeezes her fingers. “You’re gonna make me fat, cielito,” he says softly.
She doesn’t let the tears fall. She just laughs and rolls her eyes, her cheeks warm.
~
It’s another month before Javier sees the man again.
Javier has been very good at keeping his life behind a wall, and while it’s obvious she notices, she doesn’t press him. He is profoundly stupid to give her the information he does; he’s told her about his father (she smiles like she’s remembering an old friend), bitched about Murphy (constantly), and told her about his hobbies. He told her that he reads in his spare time, even though nobody expects him to and fucking backwoods-hillbilly Murphy gives him constant shit for it. She knows he likes Tolkien, that he’s a fan of Lewis and Fleming. She gives him shit for reading so many “manly” books, but she laughs while she does it, and the corners of her eyes crinkle.
He knows he is older than her. She’s never read Tolkien. He finds himself promising things. He’s going to lend her his copies. He wants to share his interests with her, to watch her face light up with excitement when she tells him how much she loves Marilyn Monroe and Gloria Estefan and Selena.
She moved to Colombia two years ago, but he doesn’t know why. There is the switch. He’s found it: the moment of closure, when her spine stiffens and her smile trembles in an effort to hold on. Everyone has their switches. Javier understands.
But for the first time since he came to Bogotá, he wants to know someone. He wants to get attached. He wants a friend. Why the fuck shouldn’t he have that?
“Javi.”
He looks at her over the rim of his mug. “Hmm.”
She bites down on her smile. “It’s seven-thirty.”
Shit. He says as much, downs the rest of his coffee (she watches him with a raised brow), and begins to haul his jacket over his arm. He’ll have to put it on on the move; he’ll be late if he doesn’t leave now.
The bell above the door chimes.
He’s dressed the same as last time, but Javier knows his clothes are expensive. When he doesn’t see her at the counter, he peers through the employees’ door, then scans the café until he spots her, sitting across from Javier.
He stalks over and goes off immediately. “Whoring around, guapa? Haven’t you learned your lesson?”
He doesn’t even spare a glance toward Javier.
She looks more angry than embarrassed. “Nicolás, you need to leave.”
Javier settles back into his seat. No way in fucking hell he’s leaving her alone with him.
His dark eyes blaze at the woman, and he crowds her space, frowning. “I’m not signing.”
“We’ve talked about this,” she says calmly, though her skin is stretched over her knuckles as her hands clasp each other.
“You don’t just get to leave me.” The man’s scowl deepens, and when he grabs her by the wrist, she yelps, slapping a free hand over her mouth so nobody notices.
Well, Javier sure as fuck notices.
Last time, he stayed back, let the situation diffuse. He didn’t want to make a scene, didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. This time, he doesn’t give a shit.
This time, Javier sees red.
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
He stands up and clasps his own hand around the man’s wrist.
“I don’t see you letting her go,” he says gruffly. “Let’s try again.”
“You fucking son of a bitch, trying to tell me what to do with my wife,” grunts the man, letting go of her wrist with a jolt. She stands up and pushes him squarely in the chest.
“I am not. Your. Wife,” she says, spitting a large glob of saliva in his face. “Sign the papers, Nicolás. I don’t love you. I don’t even give a shit about you.”
Nicolás moves like he plans to smack her across the face, but Javier is quick—and itching to knock him unconscious.
The punch cracks his jaw. He howls while the owner emerges from the back room and another customer helps drag Nicolás out the door. They throw him on the street and cuss him out. Javier shrugs on his jacket and sniffs, feeling accomplished.
“Cielito,” he mutters, offering his hand. Trembling (more with rage than fear, he suspects), she holds out her wrist and he gently prods around the area, feeling for disturbances. She winces, but it will only bruise. Still—
“I should have been faster.”
“Javier,” she whispers. “Don’t start.”
He lets out one frustrated sigh through his nose and nods. “Is it a judgment against your character if I say you married a complete fucking asshole?”
She laughs softly, like sad little bells. “Wasn’t my choice in the first place.”
He frowns down at her. “Cielito—”
“You’re already late for work, Javi. They’re gonna chew you out.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he says, brushing a knuckle over her chin. “I’ll lay on my charm.”
She hums. “Maybe you’re the asshole, Javier Peña.”
~
It’s been a year since he met his waitress. Tonight, for the first time, he pictures her face to make himself come.
He’s in the shower when it happens. Standing under the stream of hot water, he's unable to quell the image that bubbles up in his hindbrain. He imagines her lips around him as he hardens, and when he takes himself in his hand and juts out his hips roughly, he grunts, pretending he’s pushing past the seal of her pretty lips. Her face—so beautiful, so smiling and kind—sweaty and ruined, more radiant than ever. Her body: its curves and its delectable softness, its taste like coffee beans and flowers, if he can imagine it. The tempting, unknowable skin under that waitress’s uniform. He wants to make her feel good. He wants to lick every inch of her, savour every drop of her wetness when he gets her ready to take him. Tangy sweetness, twilight and the calm of the water at dusk. Flashes of teeth, lips, skin. 
That's it, baby. You can take me. I’ll make you feel good. 
Javier… A rush of breath, the distant cry of a swan over the water. Please. 
He doesn’t think until he’s spilling over his hand and the wall, harder than he’s come in a long time, of how wrong this is. How wrong of him to imagine a claim on her body, her life. Underneath the steaming hot water, his mind sharpens. He wants her, and he feels so filthy for it.
He turns up the heat some more and lets himself scald. 
Seeing her in the little café after fucking himself to the thought of her naked is a surreal experience. He’s never even seen the more intimate areas of her; she wears an apron and a dress, and he can only ever see her knees, her arms, her collarbones. But now he wants to trace them with his fingers, watch them hollow out when she inhales, watch the curve in her throat as she swallows and sighs. He wants to get on his knees and lift up her dress so he can make her fall apart on his tongue. He’s fucked everything up.
Him and his stupid goddamn dick.
“I’ve figured it out,” she says triumphantly, sitting down at his table across from him. There’s a cup of coffee for both of them; he figures she’s taken her break. Which means she likes to spend this half-hour with him. Which means she likes him.
“What have you figured out?” he asks, pushing his sunglasses further down his nose to peer at her.
“That DEA disguise might work for you, but I see all.” She reaches for his glasses and puts them on her own face, pantomime-lighting a cigarette. “You’re a spy, Agent Peña,” she says mischievously. 
He really, truly, desperately wants to kiss her.
The sunglasses slip down her face, so he pushes them onto the top of her head. Stares her in the eyes. “You got me, honey. What are you gonna do, huh? Lock me up?”
“How much money can I get for a spy?” she muses. “Guess it depends how good you are.” Her eyes narrow when a grin slithers up the corner of his mouth. “Javier, do not—”
“Oh, I’m very good,” he says, toasting his cup of coffee.
With a roll of her eyes, she lifts her own cup in toast, and takes a sip. The sight of her lips on the rim while she meet his eyes is enough to make Javier wish he owned looser jeans.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
Her eyes ask the same question, but she phrases it sweetly, the way she always does. She’s a fucking tonic to his bones and the reason he’s so goddamn tense. “Blinking is very important, you know.”
He does just that, clearing his vision and letting her come back into sharp focus. The morning sunlight adorns her skin like jewellery. She’s a vision. Even someone with a single sense out of the five could tell how beautiful she is, but it doesn’t make his life any easier. It doesn’t lower his heart rate, doesn’t cool him down, and it definitely doesn’t help the tightness in his pants.
He fucks his hand in a bathroom at the Embassy, and then he brings an informant home and fucks her, too. He makes sure she enjoys it when she’s on her hands and knees, because all he’s doing is picturing his waitress. He hates himself for the way it makes him grasp her a bit tighter, pump her a bit harder: imagining her syrupy whines, her flushed chest, her smooth skin all for him. He tunes out the noises she makes and pretends it's her. When he makes her come, he pictures her brows scrunching up, her eyes squeezing shut when she can't take the pleasure he gives her. He’d make his girl real happy, make her satisfied and dazed and fucking drooling.
Javier completes the transaction and cleans up in the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror for a long while, at his dishevelled hair and his tired eyes. Sex didn’t help.
She’s still in his blood. She’s in his system for good.
He doesn’t want a quick fuck. He wants her: his friend, his secret. His girl, whether she knows it or not.
The next day, she’s working on the books when he comes up to the counter, a pair of glasses perched on her nose, so engrossed she doesn’t even notice he’s arrived until he sits down.
She’s so fucking cute, he thinks, with her glasses and her thinking face, brows pinched together. But she smiles up at him like always. “Good morning, Javier.”
His mind is really a bastard, feeding him flashbacks of last night's wet dream. On her knees, taking him so well, so perfect, on her back while he left marks that would let everyone know she'd been fucked and who’d done it, on top of him, writhing and gasping and collapsing next to him. In his dream, he kissed the top of her head, laced their fingers together, and mumbled how well she’d done until they both fell asleep.
“Morning,” he says. “Don’t you have people for that?”
She huffs. “We’re short-staffed. Which means there’s me, one other cook, and Jorge. So I’m stuck making sure we won’t get audited.”
Javier whistles lowly. “Jorge’s got a real soldier working for him.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear. He likes making her nervous. “Maybe if you say that to his face, he’ll give me a raise.”
“You need money?”
Fucking moron, he thinks. Way to scare her off. Her eyes widen, but then she’s saying, “Oh, Javi, no. I’m doing all right. I promise. Just some… marital strain.”
His jaw may snap off if he clenches it any tighter. He can’t meet her eyes when he asks, “He been bothering you?”
It doesn’t piss him off that she’s married. She hates the guy, never wants to see him again. She’s been trying to get him to sign the divorce papers for over a year. What pisses him off is that any mention of her husband sucks her cheer away like blood from a wound. Javier has a real problem with someone making her frown.
She rests her cheek in her palm. “Every time I try to pay him off, he comes back saying it wasn’t enough, that he can’t afford a lawyer. Which is bullshit, by the way. He makes a hell of a lot more than me.”
“What does he do?”
She shutters off again, looks back down at her books. “It’s not a moral sort of work.”
Javier would know all about that.
“Oh!” she says suddenly, whirling around, the glimmer in her eye back again. “I forgot—I made you something.”
His chest feels tight. “ Bonita—”
She slides the books aside and places down a piece of blueberry pie. “You can’t say no,” she says, producing two forks, “because I’m helping you eat it.”
He’ll prod about her shitty husband later. For now, Javier enjoys the half-hour he has with her. They finish the pie in minutes.
~
Steve Murphy is a dick.
Javier knows it was a mistake to bring her up to him, because now Murphy has forgotten all his paperwork for the night, and he’s got his eyes set on making his partner’s life hell.
“Does she know you got those narcos arrested a few weeks ago?”
“She’s not stupid, Steve.”
“Do you know her last name?”
“Yes.”
“Is that because you told her, or because you stole her personal file?”
“Murphy, if you don’t shut up—”
“You’re not fucking her, are you?”
For some reason, that pisses him off the most. Javier grits his teeth. “Knock it off.”
He raises his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Jesus, Javi.” When he leans back in his chair, he’s still watching Javier with a smile spreading slowly across his face. “You really aren't.”
Javier puffs his cigarette and tries not to fly across his desk at his partner. “And how do you know that?”
“’Cause if you didn’t respect her so damn much, you wouldn’t get all defensive.” Murphy whistles lowly. “You’re so fucked, Peña.”
Javier doesn’t look up from his typewriter. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, man. You don’t wanna fuck any random girl.” Murphy hides his mocking laugh with his hand. “You want to fuck your friend.”
Javier flicks his cigarette and it smacks Murphy in the cheek. “Pendejo.”
Murphy’s still laughing when Javier grumbles about going somewhere. He doesn’t even know where he’s planning to go, but it’s his lunch break and he needs fresh air. He definitely doesn’t want to linger on the reality that Murphy is right.
There’s a market across the street and down a block from the Embassy, which itself is a block away from the café. It’s not strange that she’s there, tediously browsing apples like choosing the wrong one will poison her customers, but Javier’s heart still kicks up, watching her as he waits for the traffic to clear.
She’s real fucking pretty in the daylight. Her hair is down, no longer in its clean ponytail, and the breeze picks it up like it’s watching her, too. She smiles at the vendors she passes; some call out to her, trying to sell or flirt. Javier crosses the street and gets giddy at the thought of seeing her outside.
He strolls up behind her and watches her inspect an apple. “If you stare any harder, it’ll wither.”
A little gasp leaves her mouth. “Javi!” she says brightly, eyeing him without a modicum of shame, her hand over her brows to shield herself from the sunlight. “So this is how you look in the light.”
She’s dressed in a flowy skirt that forms around her thighs when a breeze rolls by, and her shirt shows more of her cleavage than he’s ever seen before. He knows she notices his gaze lingering, but he doesn’t particularly care to look away. Watching her roll her eyes above his sunglasses delights Javier to no end. “You’ll get arrested walking around like this, cariño,” he says, leaning in real close and feeling her shiver when his breath reaches her ear.
She steps backward and holds onto the lapel of his jacket. “If you’re going to flirt with me, Javier, do it while you help me shop. I don’t have all the time in the world like you and your fellow superheroes.”
It only spurs him on. He lifts the canvas tote off her shoulder. “Fine by me,” he says. “What are the apples for?”
“Pie,” she says, picking two more apples from the cart. “You ever bake?”
“I cherish my place too much; don’t wanna see it burn down.” He steps in front of her when she reaches into her pocket to pay the vendor, slapping his own pesos into the man’s hand. She slowly lowers her hand and smiles at him in thanks. He lets her put the apples in the bag. “You want to teach me?”
Her face glows at the thought. “You’d really want to learn?”
It feels so good to make her happy that Javier doesn’t give a shit if Murphy finds out he offered to bake with this girl. “Will you put your hands over mine to show me how to knead the dough?”
Her hand trails across his stomach when she passes him. “Anything you want, honey,” she says.
Javier feels like he’s in high school again. He shuts his eyes for a moment to reset his brain, since the imprint of her hand on him shut it off. When his eyes are open again, she’s three vendors away. Javier scrambles to catch up with her. “So,” he says, “come here often?”
“Don’t you have a job to get back to?” she says. “You and your big, scary bloodhounds.”
“They only allow one bloodhound for a partner, and he’s pissing me off. Besides, how could I just let you walk around by yourself out here? It’s dangerous.”
She pokes him in the stomach. “You’re the dangerous one, Peña.”
She stops between two vendors’ carts and stares up at him with her hands on her hips. For a moment, Javier worries he’s in trouble, and he’s about to open his mouth to apologise, when she asks, “Are you free tonight?”
It is frankly humiliating how fast he blurts out a yes.
“Good,” she says plainly. “I’ll teach you how to bake.”
~
Javier is practically salivating when he arrives at her door for dinner. There are two reasons for it.
One: whatever she’s cooking smells incredible. It’s a lot fucking nicer than the shit he eats at home—on the rare nights he remembers to eat after all the long nights at work.
Two: she’s dressed in loungewear. It’s a pair of shorts and a too-large sweatshirt. It should not make him half-hard. But she’s adjusting the bun on top of her head when she opens the door and beams at him and Christ, he’s going to be lucky if he lasts the night without excusing himself to his car to relieve his situation like a horny teenage boy.
A grin splits her face, and she leans on the door. “You brought flowers.”
He did. He thrusts them out in front of him and grimaces, his face warm. “You like lilies.”
“Yeah,” she says softly, squeezing the hand that holds the bouquet of white flowers, “I do. Come in, Javi.”
He thinks of himself as a gentleman where it counts, so he bites his tongue when he takes in the state of her apartment. She isn’t messy—she’s clearly done her best to keep up appearances, despite the fact there are leaks bleeding down the walls and peeling wallpaper and her bed is mere feet from the puny bathroom. Javier feels suddenly embarrassed by his own swanky place, set up for him by the DEA. He’s hit with a burst of cold air when he enters the room, and she crosses the room, flowers in hand, to fiddle with the thermostat.
“I’m sorry it’s so chilly,” she says sheepishly. “This thing needs fixing. Unless the problem is behind the wheel.” She tries to dial the heat up by two degrees, but the dial falls off and lands next to her feet. She just sighs. “You ever go undercover as a handyman, by any chance?”
He chuckles, closing the door behind him. The broken chain lock worries him; there’s nothing but the lock on the door to stop someone from breaking in, and picking this sort of lock is too simple. “I don’t go undercover,” he tells her, “but I can smack your landlord around.”
She hums. “They’ll trace it back to me. Gotta be careful about those things, Peña. There should be a vase in that cupboard behind you.”
He finds it, fills it with water (which sputters for a while before it runs), and places it on the dining table (barely big enough for two). She places the flowers inside and smiles fondly. “You have an eye for décor.”
“Wrong,” says Javier, “I have an ear, and it listens to what the woman likes.”
She swats him gently in the chest. “Flattery doesn’t excuse you from helping the woman in the kitchen. Get an apron on those hips.”
~
Javier decides he hates baking. But she makes it tolerable.
His job is full of tedium. He likes to leave that behind in his personal life. She’s so easy to be around, to talk to. He likes leaving the Embassy, leaving behind the narcos, and knowing she’ll be the first person he talks to the next morning. There’s no politics, no bureaucracy, no bullshit with her. He trusts her.
Baking is tedious as shit. It’s precise, all about waiting, timing, and the end result is only good if you’ve worked like hell for it. It’s too much like work.
She has flour on her nose, and he lifts his thumb to wipe it away. The look she gives him makes him forget why he hates baking. 
Javier tried to knead the dough for the pie crust but ended up treating it like an interrogation suspect, so she did as promised and placed her hands over his. He remembers her cheek resting against his arm as she leaned around him, felt her breasts on his back, her impossibly soft hands, her warmth. 
“Be nice to it,” she whispered. “We don’t want our food to bite back.”
“It’s delicious, Javi,” she says, finishing her last bite of the apple pie. They made it, together. Javier is proud of that no matter how much sweat he wasted slaving over that oven. “Worth all the pain and swearing?”
“Fucking malparido,” he hissed. She whipped around, eyes wide. He rubbed his elbow. “Burned myself.”
“Oh, honey,” she said, wetting a cloth with cool water and wrapping it around his arm. She was always quick to react, quick to soothe. “¿Mejor? (Better?)”
He liked the way Spanish rolled off her tongue. It was sweet and smooth, not quite fluent but proficient enough to fake it. He grinned down at her. “Eres demasiado buena para mi, bebita (You’re too good to me, baby).”
She looked away and he pretended not to notice her smile.
“Yeah,” he says. “Worth it.”
It is a damn good pie.
~
He’s still in her apartment four hours later, and she hasn’t given him a hint she wants him gone. It’s the longest he’s spent at a woman’s home without getting into bed with her. Sure, he wants to, but Javier’s content here, on her small sofa, sharing a bottle of wine.
“So. Want to tell me how you ended up working in a café in Bogotá, married as far down as someone can possibly go?”
She shoves him lightly. “Don’t rub it in, Javier.”
“Just can’t get my head around a guy like that marrying a woman so far out of his league. You’re you, cariño. He’s—”
“A moron?”
“You said it, honey.”
She traces her finger around the rim of her wine glass. “Javi, I trust you. I honest-to-God trust you more than I’ve let myself trust anyone in a long time.”
He lifts a brow and ducks his head to meet her eyes. “That’s a good start.”
She lets out a shaky sigh. “I came to Colombia to help take care of my sister. She was sick. Nicolás approached me one night while I was out for her medication. He offered me work, told me it would pay more than anywhere could. I was desperate and stupid enough to buy it.”
Javier doesn’t like where this is going. Still, he places a hand atop her knee and lets her continue. “He turned me into a whore, Javi. I don’t care about that, not really. It paid, it gave me work. But the things he would make me do…” She breathes in harshly, like the memory pains her. “He made me believe he loved me. I married him, and my sister died anyway.
“My brother-in-law is a lawyer. When I served the papers, Nicolás took all the money and ran off. He only started coming back a few months ago, trying to make me believe he’s broke.”
Javier brushes a knuckle across her chin. His rage, horror, and sadness are a cocktail in his aching head. Her husband was her pimp. He forced her into sex with men and then put her money in his pocket. Javier wants to act—he needs to help her, to pull strings with folks outside the DEA and get the asshole to sign the papers. If not, a restraining order could work. But there are tears falling down her cheeks, and Javier’s plan of action retreats to the back of his mind. He smooths back her hair and places a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you for telling me,” he whispers, nearly chokes out, voice strained. “Thank you.”
She sniffles. “I can see your wheels turning, Javi. What are you thinking?”
“I know how it feels to be trapped in a marriage,” he tells her. She frowns.
“You were married?”
“Nearly,” he amends. “The kid wasn’t mine.”
“Ah.” She nods in understanding, like that’s all the explanation she needs. “We’ve both been truly fucked over, huh?”
He lifts his glass in toast. “That we have.”
She clinks their glasses together. “To making bad decisions.”
He chuckles. “I can toast to that.”
~
“Like… none?” Steve peers at him from across their desks. It’s times like these Javier hates being forced to sit right in the bullpen with Murphy. “None at all? How long?”
“You wanna play this game, Murphy? Really?” Javier glares. “When’s the last time you got fucked by your wife, huh?”
Murphy throws a pen at him, but Javier catches it. “Don’t talk about my wife, Peña. And since you’re curious, last night.”
Well, fucking good for Steve Murphy. Javier hasn’t cared to get in bed with a woman for weeks; even in the weeks before that, the sex was nothing inspiring, nothing good enough to make him forget about how badly he wants his waitress’s sweet body beneath him.
“Fuck your hand later, man,” says Murphy, “we got doors to knock on.”
Javier rubs his hand over his jaw. “I’m sitting this one out. Got another lead to look at.”
Murphy grunts. “Sure. Make sure you pay her well.”
“Fuck you.”
Javier waits outside the unassuming house, drumming his fingers beneath the driver’s side window with his sunglasses pushed down to the tip of his nose. He has triple-checked the address, memorised the routine of the man he’s watching, but it still unnerves him when he finds himself waiting for a long damn time for him to emerge.
When he does, Javier steps out of his car and walks right up to him. “Nicolás.”
The man curses when he sees Javier, surging forward. “You want to assault a DEA agent?” Javier challenges, choosing Spanish. “I just want to talk.”
“You assaulted me, you son of a bitch,” says Nicolás. “She send you?”
“No. But you’re going to sign the papers.”
Nicolás scoffs. “Just because you’re fucking my wife—”
Javier itches to pull his gun and press it to the asshole’s forehead until he shits himself in fear. “I’m not fucking your wife,” he says, “but it doesn’t seem like you are, either.”
Nicolás snarls. “I’m not signing the papers.”
Javier feels dirty when he reaches inside his vehicle and pulls out the divorce papers he stole from her bedside table. Nicolás’s brows come down in a furious line. “This is coercion,” he says.
“It’s a warning.” Javier’s patience is waning. “She’s not going to be nice forever, and neither am I. I won’t lose sleep if you go to jail.”
“Let me tell you something,” says Nicolás. “I own her. I have owned her from the moment she signed her contract and I will own her even if she’s not my wife. I have shit on her that will destroy any chance she has at a life, a career. You’ll have to do a lot better than fucking divorce papers.”
Javier’s jaw ticks, but he’s already tucked away the information he needs. He’s going to get her out.
~
That night, she shows up at his home.
Javier opens the door when a soft knock sounds. He’s not expecting anyone, which is why his gun is tucked into his waistband.
Her face is puffy with tears, and Javier is on red alert. His hairs stand on end and he steps into the hallway, crowding her gently so he can place his hands on her shoulders. Her lower lip trembles when he touches her. “Oh, cielito,” he murmurs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
She shivers. It’s raining outside, and she’s soaked to the bone, her pretty skirt clinging to her thighs and her knit cardigan a blanket of sopping fabric. He knows she doesn’t have a car, that she walks everywhere, but he feels like an asshole for not tracking her down and picking her up anyway. “Went to the Embassy,” she says, teeth chattering. “I found your friend Steve; he gave me your address.”
“Oh, shit, honey.” He grimaces. “I’m sorry. He’s an asshole.”
She tries to laugh, but tears are still rolling down her cheeks. “I—I’m sorry, Javier. I didn’t know where else to go.”
Javier ushers her inside and she stands timidly on the mat while he closes the door behind them. “C’mon, take your shoes off. Can I…?” She nods, and he helps her shrug off the heavy wet cardigan while she slips off her tennis shoes, still hesitant about stepping onto his hardwood floors. “A little water never hurt me, honey. I don’t pay for this place. C’mere, I’ll get you some clothes.”
She holds herself reserved and taut as she follows him, but does not step beyond the threshold into his bedroom. He roots through his closet and refuses to look at the bed. Javier does not let himself imagine her lying there, both of them rolling around in hazy desire, morning laziness, and close talks while squinting against the morning sunlight. He finds a pair of sweatpants and an old, shitty sweatshirt emblazoned with Texas A&M spirit. She smiles down at it and says in a wrecked voice, “It’s gathering cobwebs, viejo.”
He wants to fire something back about her smart mouth, but he doesn’t have the heart. Not when she’s crying. “You can change in here,” he says. “I’ll make you some coffee. That okay?”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’ll make some for myself, too. How about that?”
Finally, she nods. “Okay.”
He leaves her just as she’s beginning to pull off her shirt, and he warns his heartbeat to settle before working on the coffee pot. Javier doesn’t let himself think much when he’s working. He tries to get the job done, accomplish what’s necessary. If he thinks… Well, if he thinks, he’ll think about why she’s crying. He’ll wonder what happened to her that was so bad she didn’t have anywhere else to go. He’ll want to track whoever did this to her down and the things he’ll do to them will be horrific enough to land him in jail, let alone fired. No. He’ll make coffee. He will assure that she’s comfortable. He will not—
Fuck.
Javier’s brain goes blank, like he’s wiped all the chalk off the board, when she emerges wearing his clothes. Her feet are bare, the sweatshirt too big, her arms hugging herself as she pads over to him. It’s almost domestic; it’s his fucking dream, seeing her in his home like this, and he can’t enjoy it because she’s in trouble.
He hands her a mug and waits for his brain to restart. They sit together on his sofa and she watches him for a while, scanning his face.
He doesn’t realise until a minute passes that he’s fucked up. Royally.
Her gaze is soft. “I don’t blame you, Javi. Please don’t blame yourself.”
Javier pinches the bridge of his nose and curses at himself in Spanish. “I… Fuck, I just wanted to help. I promise you.”
She reaches out and grasps his hand. “I know,” she says. “He didn’t hurt me.”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice raspy, “he did.”
She shuffles closer, and he can feel her fresh warmth, smell her dewy hair, watch her irises shimmer in the dim light. He clenches her hand tighter. “I’m okay,” she says, reassuring him even though he’s the one who brought the wrath of her husband down upon her. “Just had to see you.”
“Tell me what he did to you.”
“Knocked on my door and told me off for getting involved with a hijo de puta like you.” She smiles wryly, looking down at their joined hands. “His words. Then he told me you showed up at his house, threatened him.”
He tries a joke and feels even more rotten inside for it. “Couldn’t help it. He’s easily threatened.”
Now, as the initial panic subsides, Javier begins to think.
There isn’t a noise inside his home besides the sound of their breathing. He’s wearing jeans, a button-up, and he still feels like he’s on fire. She’s on his fucking couch. Her legs are tucked underneath her and she’s sipping his coffee, and she’s so close to him her arm brushes against him whenever she shifts. Her face is a foot away from his; there are little specks in her eyes, tear tracks on her face; she parts her lips to say something, and his ears begin to ring. He needs her. He needs her close.
Javier cups her face in his hand and brushes his thumb along her chin. She leans into his touch like it’s the most natural thing he could do, like they aren’t crossing a hundred lines. Both of the mugs are set down on the coffee table. She turns her body to face him, looking up at him with doe’s eyes, and his entire body hums for her.
“He knows, Javier.” Her voice is a whisper. “He knows what you mean to me. He said if I don’t start working for him again, he’ll kill you.” She licks her lips, curling her fingers around his forearm. Her eyes are welling up again. “I can’t…”
“Shh, cielito.” He wants her out of her head, wants his girl back. He drops his voice, too, and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Gonna get you out of this.”
She’s butter beneath him, soft and sighing. “Javi, I—”
“I know.” His other hand slips around her hip, fingers teasing the skin beneath the hem of his sweatshirt. She’s so soft.
He drinks in her little gasp. “We can’t—”
“I know.” He brings his hand forward, pressing gently into the small of her back and enjoying the way her warm body curves to him. He slides his hand back around the curve of her waist, memorising, relishing, making a map of the places he wants to explore.
She whimpers when his hand leaves her skin, only to rest between her hip and thigh. “He’ll use it against me.”
“I know, baby.” She’s close enough now that he can brush his lips to her temple in the mere suggestion of a kiss. “We’re gonna do this right,” he says, trailing his hand back up her side so he can grab her other hand and squeeze. “Hey? You and me.”
She nods fervently. “You and me.”
“That’s my girl,” he says into her ear.
“What do I do?”
“It’s already done. I just need you to do the final step for me.”
She traces her fingers along his jawline and he feels the tremor through his spine. He’s at home, here, melting under her touch. He nudges the pads of her fingers with his nose, and she smiles at him like he saved her life. “Anything,” she whispers.
~
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Note
CONGRATS 🌟🌟🌟
Don't go on that date for Javier Peña?
Jealousy, Jealousy.
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2. "Don't go on that date."
Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. this is entirely inspired by the fact that i am obsessed with javi's nose. that's all.
Pairing - Javier Peña x Female Reader
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - smut!! + cursing
Word Count - 604
Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.
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Javier rolls sideways and lands on his back next to you. The both of you are drenched in sweat, chests heaving, sheets are strewn around you, legs tangled together.
You catch your breath and sit up, shuffling to the edge of the bed. Just as you go to stand up, he grabs your wrist.
"Where are you going?"
"We don't do sleepovers, Javi."
"I know that. But you usually at least lie here for like 5 minutes."
"You going soft on me, Peña?"
"Quite the opposite, actually," he winks.
You scoff and stand up, ignoring the way you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your body.
"If you must know, I have a date."
Javier is stunned into silence.
"I've just fucked you within an inch of your life, and you're going on a date?"
Now you're stunned into silence.
"Javi... I'm allowed to date. We agreed that this... thing was casual. You suggested the whole 'no strings attached' idea."
"Forgive me if I don't like the thought of you going to see some guy with my cum dripping down your thighs."
You wince at his crudeness, but it also weirdly turns you on. He rarely gets possessive with you, but when he does, it's a sight to behold.
"Hermosa," he drawls, low and sultry. He's still got a hold of your wrist, and he tugs you back towards him.
"Javi," you half plead, half whine.
"Don't go on that date."
"Javi-"
"Sit on my face instead."
"Javi."
"That's my name, cariño."
The arrogance is rolling off him in waves, confronting and unavoidable. His cockiness is almost suffocating you. It certainly doesn't help the ache between your legs.
"I can't cancel on him, Javi. He's a nice guy. He's actually looking to date, for a relationship - not whatever this is."
Instead of protesting, Javier just laughs.
"What is so fucking funny?"
"It's just sweet that you think anyone could make you come the way I do."
You roll your eyes at him, and beg yourself to wriggle loose from his grip before he breaks down your barriers.
"Well, I won't know until I try."
Javi doesn't like that. He pulls you closer, grabbing at your hips so you're straddling him. He rocks you back and forth over his hardening cock, making you whine.
"Don't go on that date," he whispers against your lips. "Stay here, and I'll let you ride my face the way I know you like."
How can you say no to an offer like that?
"You better make me come so hard I see stars, Javier Peña."
"Always do," he winks.
In one swift motion, he lies down and pulls you up his body. You're hovering over his face when he pulls you down, grabbing fistfuls of your ass.
That man knows how to play you like a fiddle. Within mere minutes, he's got you writhing and moaning, tongue lapping at you like he's starved. Your clit drags along the gorgeous curve of his nose, hitting it just right. He wasn't wrong. No one can make you come the way he can.
He groans against you, and the vibrations send you over the edge. You're gripping his hair, rocking your hips back and forth with reckless abandon. He loves when you get needy like this.
"Fuck, I love when you use me," he rasps when you lift your hips slightly. "Good fucking girl."
You go to roll off of him, but he pulls you back.
"You didn't think I was going to make you cancel your date for just one orgasm, did you, hermosa?"
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