#steve murphy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsrose · 2 months ago

Note

I just started watching Narcos and girl, Steve and Javiiiiiii….I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind being in the middle of all of that…

What about something really fluffy with reader being a goody two shoes secretary or something, like really smart but totally shy…and Javi is flirty and teasing and Steve is sweet to her?

Love your writing 💖

i loved this prompt! hope you enjoy x

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It was your first day, and to say you were nervous barely scratched the surface of it. You were practically vibrating with anxious energy, your fingers clutching a notepad like it was a holy text, the strap of your purse leaving a red line on your shoulder as you followed the very pregnant woman you were replacing through the narrow corridors of the DEA field office. The air was thick with heat and the faint tang of cigarette smoke, a ceiling fan turning lazily overhead, as if it too couldn’t be bothered with the pressure of the day.

The woman walked slowly, one hand resting low on her belly like she was holding the baby in place, her voice calm but brisk as she pointed out the important things you’d need to know: the coffee machine that only sometimes worked, the drawer with the good pens that no one else knew about, the printer that jammed if you looked at it the wrong way.

“Here’s the printer,” she said, giving it a gentle pat like a temperamental child. “The agents are usually too lazy to copy their own files, so don’t be surprised if they come sweet-talking you into doing it.”

You nodded quickly, trying to absorb every word and committing them to memory with the panicked focus of someone who absolutely did not want to mess this up.

She paused before heading toward the elevator, shifting her weight with a soft, maternal groan. Her eyes softened as they swept over you. “Buena suerte, cariño,” she said, her voice warm and kind.

“Gracias,” you replied in your quietest voice, the syllables soft and careful on your tongue. She smiled, gave you a wink, and disappeared down the hall.

You took a breath. Then another.

Your new desk sat tucked into the corner, a little nest of organized chaos—files stacked neatly, a potted plant that had seen better days, and a phone that had already rung twice before you figured out how to transfer calls. You were seated there, chewing nervously on the edge of your pen, furiously typing something you hoped was formatted correctly, when a low voice startled you out of your focus.

“Afternoon.”

You gasped and nearly knocked over your water, your wide eyes darting up to find a man standing by your desk—tall, with a calm smile and a gentle glint in his blue eyes. His sleeves were rolled up, tie loosened just enough to make him look like he’d had a long day, but still cared.

“Shit—sorry,” he said quickly, hands raised a little in apology. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You blinked, heart pounding, already flustered. “Sorry—I, I didn’t see you coming.”

He chuckled, the sound soft and easy. “You’re new, right?”

You nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. First day. Is it that obvious?” you asked, trying to smile through your nerves.

“Not at all,” he said, with a warmth that made your cheeks flush. “You’re doing great.”

Your eyes dropped to the stack of papers in his hands—typed reports, some of them dog-eared, all of them marked with red pen. “Do you need those photocopied?” you asked quickly, already half-rising from your seat, desperate to be useful.

He glanced at the stack, then at you, like he hadn’t expected you to offer. “Would you? That’d be real helpful.”

You nodded, carefully taking them from his hands like they were precious. His fingers brushed yours for a moment—warm, calloused—and it sent a weird little buzz down your spine.

“I’m Steve,” he added, smiling down at you. “If anyone gives you trouble around here, let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

You flushed again, muttered a soft “thank you,” and he gave you a nod before stepping back toward the hallway. You watched him go, then glanced down at the reports.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The day had dragged on in the way only long, hot days in Bogotá could—the kind that left a sheen of sweat clinging to your collarbones, your blouse stuck to your back, and your legs aching from running errands across the office like a girl with something to prove. Phones rang, the typewriters clacked with relentless rhythm, and you’d barely had time to sip your lukewarm coffee, let alone catch your breath.

Now, with the sun beginning to dip low outside the hazy windows and your shift nearly over, you were at the filing cabinet, quietly humming to yourself as your fingers skimmed over manila folders—searching, focused, tired.

And then—you heard it.

A low whistle behind you, smooth and deliberate.

You turned, startled, your heart skipping before your eyes even landed on him.

He was leaning against the doorframe like he was born to do it—one arm hooked just above his head, the other resting casually at his hip, thumb tucked into the waistband of jeans worn soft at the edges. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, the light cotton clinging to the heat-slicked curve of his chest, sleeves rolled to the elbows like he couldn’t be bothered with formalities, like formality had never once tamed him. The ceiling fan above him turned lazily, lifting the edges of his dark, slightly mussed hair, and a cigarette sat tucked behind his ear.

No tie. No badge in sight. Just the lazy drape of his frame against the door and that impossible calm in his posture—as if nothing in the world could rattle him, but you just might.

His gaze found you instantly, dragging slowly over your frame in a way that made your throat tighten, like he was memorizing the way the light hit your cheek, the soft mess of your hair pulled up from a long day.

“Didn’t know angels came with filing cabinets,” he drawled, voice low and honeyed, like he said things just to see how they'd sound curling out of his mouth.

You blinked, caught off guard, your cheeks already heating like a match had been struck under your skin. The folder in your hand wobbled slightly in your grasp.

He stepped into the room with the kind of ease most men faked—every movement loose and casual, but still impossibly confident. The cigarette stayed tucked behind his ear as he sauntered closer, boots heavy on the floor, his eyes never leaving your face.

“You always this shy, mami?” he murmured, stopping just a foot away, his voice dipped in curiosity and just enough tease to make your stomach flip. The way he said it wasn’t mocking—it was gentle, almost sweet, like he’d stumbled across something delicate in the middle of all this noise and didn’t know whether to pocket it or leave it untouched.

You tightened your grip on the folder like it might anchor you to the floor. “I’m not shy,” you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

He chuckled—a soft, amused sound that made your spine tingle.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, voice low, something amused dancing behind his eyes. “You blush easy, sweetheart.”

You bit your lip, not trusting yourself to say anything more without squeaking.

His eyes flicked to the way you fidgeted, and his smile shifted—still playful, but a little warmer now. He reached out slowly, not abrupt or showy, and took your hand in his like it was the most natural thing in the world. You froze as he lifted it, turned your wrist slightly, and brought your knuckles to his lips.

“I’m Javi,” he said simply, brushing a kiss over your skin like it was a greeting he gave everyone, though something in the way he lingered—barely a second longer than necessary—told you maybe it wasn’t.

Your breath caught. “Oh,” you whispered. “Javier Peña?”

His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, a flicker of surprise—and something smug behind it. Like he wasn’t used to people saying his full name so softly. Like he wasn’t used to being looked at the way you were looking at him now, half entranced, half terrified, all butterflies.

“In the flesh,” he murmured, his voice dipping even lower, smooth as aged whiskey and just as dangerous.

Then, after a beat, his head tilted slightly, dark eyes scanning your face with slow interest. “No te he visto antes,” he said, the Spanish rolling easily off his tongue, like smoke curling in the summer air. I haven’t seen you around before.

Your lips parted, a soft little sound escaping before you could catch it. Your face grew warm—warmer, somehow—and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, your fingers suddenly clumsy.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know Spanish. Not yet. I’m… I’m trying to learn.”

His mouth curved again, but this time, it was softer. Not a smirk. Something quieter. Something that made your pulse stutter in your throat.

“Don’t apologize, cariño,” he said, the word slipping out with so much casual affection it made your knees go a little weak.

Your brows lifted—almost instinctively, like your heart was reaching for understanding before your head could.

He leaned in just slightly, close enough that the scent of his cologne wrapped around you—warm leather, smoke, and something unnameably him.

“Cariño,” he repeated, his voice velvet-smooth, “means darling.”

Your breath caught somewhere in your chest, your throat tightening like a ribbon being pulled gently.

“Oh,” you said, blinking up at him, your lips curving in shy surprise.

He took one step closer, and you didn’t move away—not because you weren’t nervous, but because something about him made it feel like gravity had shifted in the room and you were being pulled toward him, whether you liked it or not.

“If you’re serious about learning,” he said, tone suddenly low and conspiratorial, like a secret passed between friends—or something more, “I could teach you.”

You looked up at him, eyes wide, heart hammering, words tangled in your throat. He was so close. So confident. So intentional. And you were just… a girl with sweaty palms and a head full of butterflies.

“I—um… I mean, if you want to,” you managed, instantly wanting to crawl into the filing cabinet and shut the drawer.

He chuckled, low and rich. “I offered, didn’t I?”

Your mouth opened again, but he was already turning, already walking away with that easy, unhurried gait, as if he hadn’t just unraveled you with a single word. He glanced back once over his shoulder, just long enough to catch your stunned expression, and smirked.

“Hasta luego,” he called, like a promise.

You stood there, your heart beating loud in your ears, wondering how a man could make a single word sound like foreplay.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

By the next day, things felt easier.

You still walked a little fast when someone called your name and still triple-checked the spelling on every file, but the rhythm of the office had started to settle into your bones. You knew which drawer stuck slightly and had to be tugged twice, which phone line belonged to which department, and how to make the coffee strong enough that even Peña didn’t complain. You felt—if not confident—then at least not completely lost.

And then came lunch.

Most of the agents took their breaks out on the front steps of the building, perching wherever the sun fell just right. Some ate in the breakroom that always smelled like reheated leftovers and strong cologne. You could hear the laughter echoing down the hallways sometimes, voices calling out, boots clunking against tile.

But you, quiet thing that you were, stayed at your desk.

It felt safer here. The whirr of the fan. The hum of the fluorescent lights. The comfort of your own little corner in the chaos. You’d made your sandwich the night before—plain, careful, pressed in wax paper—and now unwrapped it slowly, laying the napkin across your lap like you were still trying to be perfect even when no one was looking.

That’s when you saw a figure approach from the corner of your eye.

You looked up.

“Hey,” he said, with a soft, easy smile.

Steve Murphy.

He was in his button-down, sleeves rolled up, his tie slightly askew in that charming way like he’d been too busy solving things to fix it. His hair was a little messy, like he’d run his fingers through it a few too many times, and his eyes—so blue and so gentle—found yours like they already knew how to read your every nervous thought.

“Oh—hi,” you said quickly, startled but trying not to show it, straightening just a little in your chair. “What can I help you with?”

He chuckled, low and kind, as if your question had been sweet rather than unnecessary.

“Nothing,” he said, eyes flicking down to your desk. “Just saw you sitting here. Have you had lunch yet?”

Your fingers curled around the wax paper in your lap. “I was about to,” you said, glancing down at your sandwich, embarrassed like you’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Here?” he asked, stepping in a little, brows tugging together slightly. “Alone?”

You shrugged, the heat creeping up your neck again. “I… I don’t really know anyone yet,” you admitted, voice soft as your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your napkin. “It’s okay, though. I don’t mind.”

Steve’s expression softened even more. And then, with the same steady calm he always seemed to carry, he leaned forward just a little, one hand braced on the desk.

“Well,” he said, voice soft and laced with just enough warmth to make your chest ache, a small smile tugging at his mouth as his eyes met yours with something quiet and reassuring, “you know me.”

You blinked, startled for a moment by the easiness in his tone, the way he said it like it was a simple truth, like of course you knew him, like that fact alone was enough reason to follow him anywhere.

Your eyes lifted to his, wide and unsure, but already softening at the way he looked at you—gentle, patient, like he wasn’t asking for much, just a few minutes of your time and the tiniest bit of trust.

“C’mon,” he added, his voice low and kind, the words not coaxing but welcoming, like an open door. “It’ll be good to get out of the office for a bit, don’t you think? You’ve been working nonstop.”

Your heart gave a quiet little flutter, a warmth blooming beneath your ribs that you tried not to show on your face. You looked down at your sandwich—still neatly wrapped in wax paper, untouched, suddenly small in your hands—and then slowly looked back up at him.

You hesitated for just a second longer, then nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

His grin widened—pleased, but not smug. Just honest, like he was genuinely happy you’d said yes. “Good,” he said. “Let’s go.”

And then—just like that—he was leading you out into the hallway with that easy warmth radiating off him, like he didn’t even realize how much it meant. Like he didn’t know that, with just one smile, he’d made the noise of the office seem a little less scary, and the world a little less lonely.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Murphy made things easy. He had a calm way about him, the kind that didn’t draw attention to itself but wrapped around you like warmth from the sun. He asked questions that didn’t feel nosy, made quiet jokes that surprised a laugh out of you, and somehow made the walk down the stairs feel like less of a walk and more like… company.

“I know a place just down the street,” he said, holding the door open for you like it was second nature. “Best empanadas in town, no contest.”

“Really?” you asked, your voice lighter than it had been all morning.

“The best,” he grinned. “And I don’t lie about food. It’s sacred.”

You stepped into the humid afternoon together, the city humming with heat and noise around you. You walked side by side on the sidewalk, Murphy keeping just a half step ahead like he was ready to shield you from a rogue taxi or a sudden gust of wind. You were still tucking a piece of hair behind your ear when the scent of cigarette smoke reached you—and then a voice followed.

Low. Lazy. Familiar.

“Bueno, hablamos luego.”

You looked up just in time to see him—Javier Peña, leaning against the edge of the building like a man who belonged to the street itself, phone pressed to his ear, cigarette burning slow between his fingers. His shirt was wrinkled in that unfairly perfect way, tie loose, sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose. He turned his head, eyes catching on you first—then Murphy—and that easy, smooth line of his mouth shifted.

The phone dropped from his ear. “Chao,” he said flatly into the receiver before hanging up without waiting for a response.

“Well, well,” he drawled, pushing off the wall with slow grace. His eyes dragged over you both, sharp and unreadable. “Where you two headed?”

“Lunch,” Murphy said simply, barely glancing back.

Javi’s smirk curled like smoke. “That so?”

“Yep,” Steve replied, tone easy.

Javi flicked the ash from his cigarette and checked his watch with theatrical boredom. “Damn,” he said. “I’m starving.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he added, voice soft and low, eyes trained straight on you, “So… where we goin’?”

Your heart jumped. Murphy looked over at you, brows raised like he was waiting to see what you’d say. Javi didn’t even bother pretending—he was watching you closely, cigarette still between his fingers, like the answer mattered more than he wanted to admit.

You blinked, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “I… um…”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Murphy said casually, kind as ever.

“Wasn’t asking you,” Javi murmured, eyes never leaving yours.

Your stomach flipped.

Murphy gave him a look—dry, unimpressed—but didn’t argue. He just smiled at you gently. “Up to you,” he said, soft enough that it grounded you.

You glanced between them. The calm steadiness of Steve. The simmering fire that was Javi. And you—stuck in the middle, blushing, trying to decide who your knees would give out for first.

“Of course,” you said, trying to keep your voice from wobbling as you tucked your hair behind your ear. “Best empanadas in town, apparently.”

You smiled up at Murphy, and he grinned back, bright and easy like always, a little wrinkle forming at the corner of his eyes, the kind of expression that made you feel like you were someone worth smiling at.

“Damn right,” he said, his hand already in his pocket as if he were checking to make sure his wallet hadn’t somehow disappeared just from thinking about lunch.

And then—of course—Javi.

“That so?” he repeated, his voice lower, slower, and just sharp enough around the edges to cut through the summer haze. He stepped forward, flicked the last of his cigarette to the pavement, and gave Murphy a long, sideways look. “I’d argue I cook better ones.”

Murphy raised an eyebrow. “You cook?”

Javi smirked, pulling his sunglasses off and tucking them into the front of his shirt. “What, you think gringos are the only ones allowed to throw meat in dough and call it a meal?”

“Didn’t know you had time to cook between all the—” Steve gestured vaguely, “—charm and cigarettes.”

Javi just grinned wider. “What can I say? I multitask.”

Your face was already warm, but it only got worse when Javi’s eyes found yours again.

“Tell you what, cariño,” he said, voice syrupy, way too smooth, “you come over one night, I’ll show you how empanadas are supposed to taste.”

You blinked.

“Oh,” you said, entirely useless.

Murphy glanced at you, gentle and kind, but there was something knowing behind it now—like he saw the way you shifted under Javi’s gaze, like he noticed how easily your breath caught.

And then—just like that—you were walking.

Down the sidewalk, between the two of them, like it was the most natural thing in the world and not completely insane that you were flanked by two armed federal agents who smelled like warm leather and aftershave and power, one radiating sweet protection, the other lazy fire and smirking danger.

Murphy was all calm presence—his gun concealed under his jacket, his steps steady, his voice warm as he asked you about where you grew up, what you liked to read, if you’d tried any Colombian desserts yet.

And Javi? Javi was chaos in a collared shirt—his sidearm stuffed into his pocket like he didn’t care who saw it, hands in his pants as he walked with that signature swagger, eyes occasionally flicking down to you with that same unreadable heat. When he spoke, it was slower, more calculated. Less about facts, more about watching you react.

And God—they both smelled so good. One like soap and sun-warmed cotton, the other like cigarettes and something rich and musky, and you didn’t know if it was the heat or your own mind playing tricks, but your knees felt a little weak, and your heartbeat was tapping against your ribs like a trapped bird.

They were opposites in every way—Steve with his soft drawl and honest eyes, and Javi with his cigarette voice and sin-soaked charm—and yet… somehow, you were drawn to both.

Two storms. One gentle. One electric.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The lunch spot was small, tucked between a hardware store and an old pharmacy, the kind of place you wouldn’t look at twice unless you knew what magic it held inside. The windows were fogged with heat and the smell of grilled meat and cumin wafted out each time the door opened, mixing with the thick air and the street dust that clung to everything in Bogotá. A faded sign above the door read La Esquina, the paint chipped but still proud, and inside, the radio played something soft and lilting in Spanish, the kind of music that felt like a breeze even in the sweltering warmth.

Murphy reached the door first and opened it for you, stepping back with an easy smile.

You blushed, eyes dropping automatically as you passed. “Thank you,” you murmured.

“Always,” he said, gentle and sweet, like it wasn’t anything special, like it didn’t make your heart do a quiet little tumble in your chest.

And then Javi, right behind you, muttered with a smirk, “Thanks, gringo.”

Murphy gave him a look, but Javi just flashed a toothy, unapologetic smile and followed you both inside.

The place was buzzing with locals, the smell of oil and spice and fresh lime lingering in the air. Ceiling fans turned slow above cracked tile floors, and the walls were lined with old posters, curling at the edges, and handwritten specials tacked to a corkboard. Booths lined the far wall, red leather cracked and faded in places, but they gave the place a charm that felt lived-in. Familiar. Warm.

You were still looking around, taking it all in, when Javi’s hand lightly touched your back.

“Here,” he said, already guiding you toward a booth near the window, the sun slanting just right to catch the soft sheen on his forearms. He slid in first—fast, confident, smooth—and made sure there was only one seat left on the inside.

Next to him.

You hesitated for a second too long.

Murphy raised an eyebrow like he might say something, but didn’t.

You sat down.

You could feel Javi’s leg warm against yours almost instantly, his body stretched out beside you with one arm draped along the back of the booth like it belonged there. Like he belonged there. You kept your hands in your lap, trying to pretend you weren’t entirely aware of every inch of him next to you, of the way his thigh pressed against yours with casual certainty.

Murphy slid into the seat across from you both, his jaw tight but his expression otherwise unreadable.

He gave Javi a look. Subtle. Controlled. But it said Really?

Javi didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he leaned back against the booth with that infuriating, devastating ease—his arm still draped along the backrest behind you, his knee brushing yours like it belonged there, like this seat was his by right.

You shifted slightly, trying to ignore the warmth crawling up your neck.

“Is there… a menu?” you asked, voice soft, desperate to cut through the tension with something normal, something neutral. Your hands were folded neatly in your lap, even as your pulse drummed just under your skin.

Javi let out a low chuckle, head turning just enough for you to catch the flicker of mischief in his eyes. “No need, cariño, they know what to make.”

Murphy rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something snarky—but instead, he looked at you, softening instantly.

“They don’t really do menus here,” he explained, voice low and warm. “They just kind of… bring you what they’ve got going today. Usually a few different fillings, whatever’s fresh. You just tell ’em how many you want, and if you want them spicy.”

He paused, his smile gentle. “Trust me, it’s good.”

“Real good,” Javi added, low and smooth beside you. He didn’t look at you when he said it—he was watching Steve, his smirk now laced with something more subtle. Something sharp.

You nodded, trying to focus, trying to stop your eyes from flicking between them like you were watching some high-stakes poker game. The contrast between them was dizzying—Steve, all kind words and quiet steadiness, his hands folded on the table like a gentleman, his badge tucked neatly beneath his jacket… and Javi, sprawled out beside you like a slow-burning fire, gun heavy in the pocket of his slacks, cologne mingling with the faint scent of smoke clinging to his shirt.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The food arrived quickly—hot, golden, impossibly fragrant. The plate was set in front of you with a cheerful "¡Buen provecho!" and the smell alone had your stomach fluttering in anticipation.

You picked one up carefully, the crust still steaming, the edges crisp and flaking at your touch.

And then—without thinking, without meaning to—you bit into it.

The flavor hit you like a wave. Rich and warm, the filling tender and spicy and perfect, the dough crisp and buttery, everything so unexpectedly divine you couldn’t stop the quiet sound that left your lips.

A soft, involuntary moan.

Just a small one. But it hung there. Obvious. Intimate.

Across the table, Murphy’s brows lifted just slightly—barely a twitch of amusement—but it was enough to deepen the lines at the corners of his eyes, his lips tugging into a smile that was half playful, half tender as he leaned forward, resting his chin in the curve of his hand like he had all the time in the world just to watch you.

“That good, huh?” he asked, his voice a low hum of warmth, teasing without cruelty, kind in a way that made your pulse stutter, like he could make your fluster feel less like embarrassment and more like something sacred.

You blinked, cheeks burning hotter by the second, and reached for your napkin, fumbling to wipe at the corner of your mouth as you mumbled, “I didn’t mean to—sorry, it’s just… really good.”

Murphy chuckled, and it was soft and genuine and boyish in that way that made something bloom painfully warm in your chest. “Don’t apologize,” he said, voice dipped in affection. “You’ve got good taste.”

And then—without fanfare, without hesitation—he reached across the table.

Gently, with that easy, steady confidence that came so naturally to him, he took hold of your napkin and dabbed just beneath your lower lip, the soft cloth brushing your skin as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world and not the most intimate moment you’d had since arriving here. His fingers grazed your chin for the briefest second, and you held your breath like a startled deer, too dazed to move, too overwhelmed by the kindness of it to process the closeness.

Your breath caught in your throat.

And then—you felt it.

Javier’s body next to yours, no longer relaxed, no longer lounging—he was coiled now, the shift subtle but unmistakable. His cigarette was back between his fingers in a flash, but he didn’t lift it to his lips. He didn’t light it. He just rolled it, slow and deliberate, between his thumb and index finger, like it was standing in for the things he wanted to say but wouldn’t. His mouth curled into something that might’ve been a smirk or a grimace, sharp and tired and too knowing.

And then, under his breath, low and in perfect rhythm with the movement of his cigarette, he muttered in Spanish, “Claro, el caballero perfecto.”

Of course, the perfect gentleman.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t meant to be. But there was an edge to it—dry and rough and bitter at the core, like the taste of something he didn’t want to swallow. His gaze flicked to you just long enough to notice you hadn’t caught it, and he exhaled through his nose, the tension still rippling under his skin like a live wire waiting to spark.

But you—oblivious and bashful, cheeks still flushed from Murphy’s touch—just gave a soft, nervous laugh and took another bite of your empanada, your lashes fluttering, eyes cast downward like you could hide in the comfort of your food, unaware of the storm rolling in beside you.

And Javi?

He said nothing more.

But his eyes didn’t leave you.

Not once.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of quiet productivity, the kind that lulled you into a rhythm—sorting files, answering calls, typing up reports with the soft click-clack of your keyboard filling the room like a heartbeat. The office had slowly begun to empty as the sun dipped lower in the sky, its fading light turning everything gold through the hazy window panes, dust floating in the air like little flecks of glitter suspended in time. You were tired, but not unpleasantly so—there was still a pleasant warmth curled low in your belly, the echo of the empanadas lingering like a hug from the inside out, reminding you of laughter and heat and Javi’s thigh pressed ever-so-casually against yours in that booth.

By the time six o’clock crept up, the office was mostly silent. Phones had stopped ringing. The fan hummed gently overhead. You glanced at the clock, blinking slowly, your limbs heavy with exhaustion as you yawned behind your hand and leaned back in your chair, spine arching slightly in a stretch that made your blouse pull taut across your chest.

And then you felt it—that shift in the air.

The kind that always seemed to come with him.

“Hola, muñeca.”

Your breath hitched.

He was standing just a few feet away now, half-shadowed in the doorway, and somehow—even after hours of work and heat and sweat—he looked untouched by the day. Javier Peña, tall and devastating as ever, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie long forgotten somewhere, sunglasses now tucked lazily into the collar of his shirt.

“Hi,” you breathed, your voice smaller than you intended it to be.

He stepped closer, his boots slow and heavy against the tile, and leaned a hand on the edge of your desk, his body folding toward you in a way that made you instinctively shrink back—not out of fear, but anticipation. Like the space between you was an invisible thread, and any closer would snap it.

“Still here?” he asked, voice soft, the corner of his mouth curling up just a little. “Office all emptied out, and look at you—la buena niña, working late.”

You smiled shyly, fingers twitching near your notepad, though you couldn’t remember what you were even writing. “I just… wanted to finish up a few things.”

He hummed low in his chest, his eyes scanning your face. “Dedicada,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I like that.”

You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken beneath your skin.

And then—almost like he’d read your thoughts, like he’d felt the quiet wanting gathering between you—he reached into his back pocket with a slow, easy motion and pulled out a sticky note, the edges a little worn and curling at the corners, the paper crinkled as if it had been sitting there for hours, waiting to be offered. He laid it down gently on your desk, the soft pap of it landing against the wood far louder in your ears than it had any right to be.

Your eyes dropped instinctively, your breath catching when you saw the scrawl—his handwriting rough and slanted, the letters uneven and fast, like he wrote the way he lived: unbothered, unrushed, with just enough edge to keep you guessing. A phone number, half-smudged at the corner, and beneath it, just two words.

Spanish Lessons.

“I was serious about those lessons,” Javi said, voice low, that familiar smirk ghosting over his lips as he looked down at you—like he wasn’t just giving you a number, but pulling a thread you didn’t even realize had been wrapped around your heart all day.

You opened your mouth, then closed it, then tried again. “I—I mean, you’re already so busy,” you stammered, your voice quiet, almost too soft, already half-apologizing for even existing in the orbit of a man like him.

He shook his head, just once, the motion slow, deliberate.

“Not for you, preciosa,” he said, the pet name curling off his tongue like honey warmed over low flame.

Your breath faltered again.

“I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper, cheeks flushing so hot you were certain he could feel the heat rising off your skin.

And that’s when he leaned in just slightly, his voice dipping even lower, gaze flicking between your eyes and your mouth like he wasn’t sure where to land. “I know,” he murmured, the words sliding over you like silk, “I’ll teach you at our first lesson.”

And then—of course—he winked.

Slow. Sure. A little devastating.

And just like that, he turned and walked away, his back straight, his gait unhurried, as if he hadn’t just left your entire nervous system in shambles and a sticky note burning like a secret in the middle of your desk.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

You slung your bag over your shoulder with one hand, the other reaching back to sweep your hair into a quick, messy twist, your fingers working automatically despite the fatigue weighing down your limbs. Your heels pinched with every step, the ache radiating from the balls of your feet with that familiar, dull throb that came after a long day of being polite, poised, and perfectly put-together. You gathered the last of your things—the folder you’d meant to leave on someone’s desk, your notepad, your pen that always leaked a little ink—and stepped out into the quiet corridor, the office behind you hushed and emptied, bathed in the soft gold light of early evening.

You’d only just started walking, your mind already drifting to the quiet comfort of your apartment, when you heard them—voices. Low, hushed, male. Serious. The kind of tone that slowed your steps instinctively.

You paused, half-hidden by the corner, your body tensing before your mind could catch up.

You didn’t mean to stop. You didn’t mean to linger. But something in their voices—muted, clipped, almost like they didn’t want to be heard—made your skin prickle. You hesitated, your fingers tightening on the strap of your bag, and you knew it was wrong, that you should’ve turned around, kept walking, left them to their conversation.

You were just about to do exactly that—your foot already shifting to step back—when you heard it.

Your name.

Spoken clearly. Firmly. And not in passing.

You froze.

Your brows drew together before you could stop them, a quiet frown pulling at the corners of your mouth as confusion began to twist, low and slow, through your chest. Your heart, which had only just begun to settle from the rush of the day, now beat with sudden urgency, and your breath turned shallow, catching at the top of your lungs. You stood frozen in place, body pressed lightly against the cool wall as if it could ground you, protect you, hide you from the fact that you were—very much—eavesdropping.

“She's not just another girl for you to flirt with, Javier,” Murphy said, his voice low but firm, words sharpened just enough to carry even though they weren’t meant to.

There was a pause. A beat of silence so thick it made your stomach clench.

And then, Javi’s voice—smooth and dry like aged whiskey poured over ice.

“¿Perdón?”

The word was soft, but laced with warning.

“Oh, come on,” Murphy scoffed, not backing down, the tired edge in his voice laced with frustration. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No,” Javi said, his tone cooling all at once, the shift so subtle you could almost miss it—almost. His voice came steady now, sharper at the edges, like a man squaring his shoulders before a fight he didn’t ask for but wasn’t about to walk away from. “Go ahead. Spell it out for me.”

There was a pause.

You could imagine Murphy standing there with his arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed—not angry, not exactly, but tired in that bone-deep way that came from watching someone make the same mistake over and over. You pictured him dragging a hand down his face, his voice dropping into something quieter—not softer, but more weighted.

“Everyone knows what you’re like, Peña,” he said at last, the words careful, deliberate. “You flirt. You lean in. You get close. You—”

He faltered, and for a moment it sounded like maybe he wouldn’t finish. Like maybe part of him hoped he wouldn’t have to.

Javi didn’t give him that luxury.

“Vamos, gringo,” he said under his breath, a mocking lilt curling around the words. “Dilo completo.” Go on, big boy—say the whole thing.

The silence that followed felt like a held breath.

Then Murphy did.

“You fuck them,” he said, flatly. “And then you leave.”

The words were blunt. Brutal. They landed like a weight in your chest, heavy and cold and unforgiving.

Javier didn’t speak.

But you didn’t need him to.

Even from around the corner, you felt it—the shift in him. The tension coiling tighter. The sharp inhale through his nose. The silence that wasn't surprise, but insult. His jaw must’ve clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides, fighting the instinct to lash back.

And you—frozen behind the wall—felt your stomach drop as your name echoed silently in the air again, because you weren’t just hearing a story about Javier Peña anymore. You were part of it.

Tangled in it.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

eeeekkk this was my first narcos fic, im happy to write part 2 if anyone requests it ૮꒰>⩊< ྀི꒱ა

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toxicanonymity · 3 months ago

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THE STAKEOUT

UNIVERSE: THE RAID (Dark: Stockholm Syndrome) PAIRING: Javier Peña x f!reader x Steve Murphy LENGTH: 2.6k words (9 pages) WARNINGS: 18+, captivity, handcuffs, BJ, degradation, overstim (m), dry humping, just the tip, kissing, light cumplay, creampie, ref to promiscuity (m), stavier sexual tension. NOTES: Ty @milla-frenchy for your smut ask a yr ago after jojo lmao I hope it hits like new. Ty everyone who's encouraged me and held my hand and @dark-scape for her presence. FIC RECS | MY MASTERLIST

Javi returns from the precinct, and he and Steve are in the kitchen debriefing while you watch TV on the sofa.

" Messina's not happy ," Javi says.

"Yeah? What's up her ass?"

Javi's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at Steve's reaction. " I think it's more about who isn't. "

Steve rolls his eyes and braces his hands on the counter, stretching out his arms. He tongues the inside of his cheek as he looks up at Javi, then asks, "What makes ya say that?"

" She asked about you ." Then Javi prods, " Wanna tell me what's going on? "

Steve groans in frustration. "Nothin's goin' on."

" Well if you don’t give it to her soon, our leash is about to tighten. "

"Why don't you do it?"

" She asked about you before I had it back in my pants .”

“Ouch,” Steve laughs, then shakes his head. “Nah, nothin’ but a power move. Knock ya down a peg, remind ya who’s in charge.”

Javi shrugs. “Or she just likes that big, white-boy cock.” He slaps Steve on the back.

Steve smirks, then his humor fades. He covers and rubs his face with one hand. "Fuck." His gaze falls on you, sitting on the sofa, pretending not to listen.

Javi interrupts Steve’s thoughts, “We’ve gotta do some surveillance tonight.”

“Alright,” Steve agrees, “Shifts? Whos’ first?”

“Both of us ,” Javi explains, “We can’t be outnumbered.”

“What’re we gonna do with our pequenita?” (little girl). Steve gestures toward you.

“Taking her with us,” Javi says. “How 'bout a field trip, sweetheart? ”

You perk up and ask, ”Really?”

”Guess we better get her dressed,” Steve says.

_______________

They handcuff you as a precaution, and to keep you out of view, they put you on the passenger floorboard on your knees. It’s a big truck with a back seat, but they want to keep you close. You’re not allowed to see where they're going. But they make you a deal. No blindfold if you keep your mouth on Steve's cock the whole time. You settle in between Steve's long legs, with your hands cuffed behind your back. He braces his knees around you, holding you snugly for balance.

After a few seconds, Javi asks Steve, "What are you waiting for?"

Steve's calves squeeze your arms as he lifts his hips to unbutton and unzip with a sigh. He isn't really hard, but the soft heft and aroma is enough to make your mouth water.

Before the truck starts rolling, he lifts his thick shaft with two fingers and murmurs. "Here ya go, sugar." You look up at him and his eyes sparkle with half a smile.

You open your mouth and meet the tip with your lips. He clears his throat as you suck his shaft into your mouth, then relax. His soft cock sits heavily on your tongue, and you haven't taken it all the way. He doesn't make you. His enormous hands gently cradle your head and the back of your neck to protect you in case of a sudden stop. His legs stay snuggly bracketing you. Javi starts driving.

You don't have to suck Steve off, the rule is only that it has to be in your mouth, but you can't help it. He feels so smooth and the taste of him is familiar and comforting. Not like Javi's, which tastes like rejection but you crave it all the same.

His cock thickens and you let out a little sound, making him twitch. There's something about being completely helpless with your hands cuffed, being down on your knees, cradled by his legs and hands. You suck from the back of your throat, and soon enough, he's fully hard. Steve sighs. You subtly tongue him in your mouth without bobbing your head. Then you take him as far as you can in your throat and he mutters, "shit, baby." Your eyes prickle and you wish you could see his face, but when he exhales, you can imagine his cheeks puffing.

You alternate between really sucking and just kind of suckling on it until you begin to sense he's close. "Easy," Steve warns. You calm yourself and let it rest in your mouth. He supports your head, holding your cheek in his warm palm for a little rest. You're not sucking, but with all the saliva building up, you have to swallow around his cock, and that makes his hips just barely lift with a moan each time.

Before you reach the destination, Steve cums, spurting his warm, salty spend against your throat. It’s heady and thick, the kind of load you’ll taste for days. His hips lift gently into your mouth with each burst until he sighs and relaxes. You begin to let his spent length out of your mouth, but Javi reaches over and his hand cover’s Steve’s on the back of your head, keeping your mouth full. You're still not allowed to take it out. As hard as you try to be nothing but a warm wet hole to rest in, Steve grunts and breathes shakily with the overstimulation.

When the truck finally stops, You’re allowed to remove your mouth. Your jaw is a little sore.

“Sorry,” you apologize to Steve as he zips up his jeans. “For what?” he winks. He dabs your mouth for you, then reaches down your back to uncuff your wrists.

Javi says, "Good girl. Behave yourself, and maybe you can sit on a cock on the way home."

"Jav," Steve protests and your heart falls. "Drivin' around like that's the fastest way to lose her."

Javi holds a hand up and lowers his voice, “wait ,” looking out the window.

Steve bends forward to get a better look. His face tenses. “That goddamn asshole again?”

“He’s a buyer, not a seller,” Javi reminds him. “He'll work with us .”

“Dirtbag ain’t given us shit,” Steve replies. “Never shoulda let him off with a warning.”

“I don’t like him anymore than you do ” Javi says with a much cooler head than Steve. "Maybe this time, he has something. Let’s find out.”

Steve runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “And if he don’t?”

“We’ve still got another pair of cuffs,” Javi answers.

Steve chuckles dismissively. “He’d be out in four hours.”

“C’mon,” Javi says and nods toward you. “Lock’er up, let’s go.”

“I won’t go anywhere,” you promise.

Javi pauses for a moment, then looks you over and says “It’s for your own good,” before getting out of the car.

Steve gets out and stretches, then looks around the car. His long body folds toward you at the hips, then his knees bend. He looks under the passenger seat. “M’Sorry, baby,” he mumbles. He takes your hand gently in his, making yours look tiny. He doesn’t have to coax you into offering your wrist under the seat. He cuffs you to the bar normally used to move it forward and back. It’s always pushed back as far as it can go for Steve and his long legs.

“Be careful,” you whisper. You know you shouldn’t care about them, but you’re scared for their safety. You tell yourself it’s because their safety ensures yours. Steve’s face softens as he looks at you. “Gonna be fine,” he tells you. His thumb brushes your temple.

Javi watches with sincere eyes as Steve strokes your cheek. “We’re professionals,” Javi reassures you, then his gaze shifts to Steve and he raises his eyebrows in skepticism. “Right, Murphy? Professionals.”

Murphy puffs out his cheeks as he blows out air. “Goddamn professionals,” he reluctantly agrees. His large hand slides over the top of your head. “Sit tight, sugar.”

___________

You’ve always appreciated the tactical gear for looking so fucking hot, but this is one of the first times you’ve thought about the actual function of their vests. You’re worried about them. You imagine Steve and Javi stalking around the house with their knees bent, guns drawn. The way you saw them that first day you met. And you’re almost too nervous to think about how hot they must look.

It’s quiet, really quiet. You can’t really see, but after catching a glimpse of the ground, when they opened the door, you could picture the kind of place you were in. A dry dirt lot littered by paper fast food cups and muddy clothes that dried like bricks into their wrinkled state. There’s probably a gutted, run-down building with no door. A building not good for much else than squatting, stashing, and dealing. There are no animal noises, no dry weeds rustling against each other in the wind. Just the faint sound of traffic.

Your concern for them makes you think a little more than you want to about the state of your life. You didn’t consider yourself at a low point before, but Javi was right. He was wise. You could see the concern in his eyes, and the care when he said there’s nowhere to go but up. Where did he see all this going, you wondered. Would he get you clean and let you go? Where would you even go? What would you do?

It feels like they’re gone forever. Eventually, you hear a scuffle. Raised voices, three voices, muffled by the concrete. Then Javi booms, “Let it go."

They talk over each other more.

'Javi barks, “Further!"'Javi barks, “Further!"

"I'm trying," the voice yells back from a little further away.

Steve is exasperated. He shouts, "You can walk fine, asshole." then at normal volume, "Get outta here, dirtbag.”

As the partners walk back to the car, they argue with each other.

___________

“You're driving,” Javi informs Steve. Steve gets in the driver’s seat and adjusts it way back to make room for his long legs. His knuckles are bloody. He lowers his aviators to look at you. Javi opens the back door, then yours. “I was good,” you remind him.

Javi takes a deep breath.

“Ahh, pobrecita ” Javi commiserates, and looks you over with his hands on his hips. “You’re right. You were good. Want to stretch your legs?” He uncuffs you and tells Steve to keep an eye out, then helps you out of the car. He smooths your dress for you–a futile effort, considering you’ll only be standing for a moment.

“You can sit on it later, how’s that, sugar?” Steve offers from inside the car.

“Did I say it would be *you*?” Javi snaps. Apparently Steve had not been good. Unprofessional, you could guess.

“The girl needs a cock and I got one. All I’m sayin’,” Steve continues defiantly.

Javi’s jaw clenches, and he takes off his sunglasses to stare Steve down. “You wanna sit on a cock, sweetheart?” he asks in a voice like he’s talking to you, but he’s looking more toward Steve.

“What happened?” you ask in response, morbidly curious and invested in their spat.

Javi closes the back door, takes his place in the passenger seat again, and takes off his belt, but leaves the tac vest on. He pats his lap.

“Finally gonna give it to her?” Steve heckles, and Javi ignores him.

“Facing me ” Javi tells you.

“Really?” Steve asks.

Javi doesn’t respond. He leans the seat back a little, helps you into straddling him, and spreads the skirt of your dress over his lap so your bare cunt is against the soft texture of his gray pants.

Steve drives.

As though he’s getting ready to take a portrait, Javi's hands run over you, adjusting and admiring things – letting his thumb pay a visit to your clothed nipple, fixing your hair. He adjusts your weight, and his warm bulge swells under you. He admires your face and cups your cheek. When your hips move, he thumbs your lower lip, then slides it into your mouth. You suck his thumb, and his cock stiffens against you. He wants to feel you soak through his pants. His thumb withdraws, taking saliva to your chin, and he gives you his index and middle finger.

You suck his fingers, and he says, “Good.” His hips lift, and you whimper with his fingers still in your mouth. “You really need a cock?” he asks with a skeptical squint. “Right now? ”

You bite your lips and search his face for the answer. “I can control myself,” you tell him, and his face softens. “Good girl .”

Steve scoffs quietly, but if either of you notice, you don’t show it.

You grind on Javi slowly, tension coiling in your depths. He slides his hands under your dress and holds you closer. You breathe heavily as he begins to help you move on him. He lifts you toward him to slide his hand all the way down your crack, between your legs to your pussy. Two wet fingers drag along your dripping seam then take some of your slick toward your asshole. His middle finger teases the tight little hole.

The tension swells, tugging at the coil in your depths, ready to let it spring free. He pulls you tight against him, with your face near his. Your sensitive front twitches against his hardness, and your mouth falls open with a gasp. The coil of tension springs open, flooding your core with pleasure, soaking through his pants. You unravel with a moan that falls hot on Javi’s cheek. Javi takes a deep whiff, with his nose nudging your lips, then his hand wedges between your bodies to take his hard dick out of his pants. He gathers your wetness and spreads some on his shaft before holding you tight again. The warm, smooth shaft is stiff as a rod against your dripping cunt as you slide against it.

His nose nudges your lips again with a slow inhale, then he cups the back of your head and smashes his lips into yours. There’s nothing hesitant about the way his tongue plunges into your mouth. He kisses you deep, with hunger. He sucks you into him and moans without breaking away. His tongue claims you, and he pulls your head closer as if he can’t get enough. His energy is possessive. He drinks you in, breaking only for a moment, with heavy breaths, then his lips take yours again.

He leans back and lifts you against him. His cockhead nudges at your entrance, and he moans into your mouth. He drags his cock through your slippery slit and it catches at your entrance again. The tip nudges into you just barely, right as he begins to cum. His lips break from yours with a shudder as a hot rope of his seed spurts into your pussy for the first time. After one more, he slides his tip along your seam again, painting your vulva with the rest of his spend.

Your body relaxes against him with a whine.

“Shhh, you’re okay,” he says. “I’m proud of you .”

He tries not to move you too much as he puts his dick away, then readjusts you on top of him.

The tac vest isn’t exactly comfortable, but it rises and falls with his breaths, and you’re already fading when he gently holds your head and coaxes you asleep with another, “shhh .”

_______

Steve hands Javi a lit cigarette and Javi accepts it in silence.

“Feel better now?” Steve asks quietly.

Javi scoffs.

“Alright, what’s up your ass?” Steve asks, then teases, “Or is it what ain’t?”

“You’re out of control,” Javi scolds him in a near-whisper, seething about his partner’s violent outburst.

“Hey, say the word and I’ll put it there,” Steve continues and adjusts himself.

“Knock it off. I’m serious, Murph. Control yourself or we’re off the case .”

“Shhh,” Steve says, glancing at your head on Javi’s shoulder. “Alright, I hear ya.”

They ride home in silence.

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Thank you so much for reading! Your feedback means the world to me and goes a long way in keeping me going. Love y'all.

#narcos smut #narcos fic #javi x reader x steve #javi peña #steve murphy #steve murphy smut #javier pena x reader #narcos fanfiction #toxicanonymity ☠️#dark!javi p #dark!steve murphy #x reader #x female reader #cw dubcon #steve murphy x reader

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milla-frenchy · 6 months ago

Text

The hounds of hell 3

Written with @aurorawritestoescape

2k2 | Javier Peña x fem reader x Steve Murphy | ao3 Summary: Javi and Steve can’t keep their hands off you. Even when you sleep. Even in the morning Warnings: dubcon somnophilia (reader fell asleep and didn't consent to it), threesome, rough sex, degradation, dirty tak, praise kink, size kink, dvp, fingering, some m/m action, creampies. No age specified

a/n: thanks for the love on this series 🙏 It's been a while since we've seen our two DEA agents, but Kate and I were really happy to play with them again. We have a fourth and final part planned. This part takes place right after part 2, we hope you’ll like it ❤️

@aurorawritestoescape, baby girl, writing with you always makes things easy 🫶💕 @toxicanonymity we love you 🫶🖤🐨 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

Kate's masterlist | Milla's masterlist | series masterlist | part 2

Javi woke up in the middle of the night. He was hard. So fucking hard. His hand was cupping your breast, his cock snuggly against your ass. He thought about the evening before, how Steve and him fucked you. They railed you so good. Filled you full with their cum.

It wasn’t as wild as the first time, when they had spread your cunt with their two cocks, leaving you cockdumb like a good little drunk fuckdoll. But still, yesterday you took it good. Fucking good.

He smirked. As soon as he had seen you dance that first night at the bar, swinging your ass in front of him, he had known you’d want to take their cocks. No need to get you drunk for that, but well… they wanted to have fun.

Now you were still sleeping, in Steve’s arms, one leg wrapped around him. Seemed like you really liked climbing him.

But right that moment Javi just wanted to stick his dick in your cunt. To stick it really nice and deep. So he squeezed Steve’s arm, and as soon as his partner woke up and saw Javi’s look, a carnal smile twisted his lips.

It took Steve seconds to get hard too. He breathed in your hair, your face buried in his neck, as you were sleeping peacefully. Unaware of what was about to happen. Javi nodded at his partner impatiently, and Steve placed his hand over your mouth, without pressing on it for now. He didn't want to wake you up before Javi filled you with his whole length. He wanted to feel your body tense, your breath hitch.

Javi gripped Steve’s thigh for leverage, his other hand wrapped around his cock. He didn't take the time to brush his tip against your folds, didn't try to cover it with the cum that was still flowing from your hole. He thrusted in and bottomed out in one go, growling against your neck. You woke up instantly, your surprised whimper muffled by Steve's hand, now pressed over your mouth.

“Shhh… let us use you, baby.”

You tried to understand where you were, tried to regain your senses, hearing Steve's voice. You were in Javi's apartment where you had fallen asleep. And… Javi was lying behind you, fucking your sore cunt. As soon as you remembered everything, you moaned, already turned on by how they were using you, even when you were asleep. Your wetness flowed, covering Javi's cock, and Steve removed his hand.

“Rise and shine, little slut”, Javi growled in your ear, then grabbed your arm and placed it behind your back. He pulled away slightly, watching his glistening cock sink into your cunt in the moon light.

“Always so tight, even when we streched you all night. Even full of our cum,” he growled, spreading you deliciously. “We really can do whatever we want with you, mmm?”

Steve leaned in and kissed you, his moustache brushing against your lips, his big hands cupping your cheeks. You moaned into his mouth, tongues licking at each other, while Javi was still pounding in, grunting in your ear.

“She’s drippin’. Putita,” Javi gritted through his teeth and then pulled out. “Your turn. Fuck her.”

Steve lifted your thigh to open you up more, grabbed his cock and replaced Javi’s in your already sore hole. You whimpered as he slammed into you, before pumping into you relentlessly. Javi pulled you towards him, making you face Steve fully, who was stammering “fuck, baby…” continuously, his eyes fixed on yours. Drunk with the pleasure of his cock sliding into your pussy.

They were using your barely awake body as a fleshlight. A fuck doll. Javi’s cock slid between your thighs, and he started to hump you, rubbing himself between your legs and against Steve’s balls.

“Fuck,” he grunted before snaking his hand between Steve’s body and yours. Javi seized the other man’s cock and began jerking his shaft while only the tip was buried in you. Steve’s head tilted back in pleasure.

“Shit, Javi….”

“Don’t move, stay like that, just the tip in her…” he ordered.

You were breathless. Javi jacking Steve off while he was inside you was the hottest thing you’d ever experienced. Their way of using you was always so wild and filthy.

Steve wrapped his hand around the back of Javi's neck and held onto it, his eyes fixed on him above your shoulder, feeling the warmth of Javi's hand on his cock, and his dick brushing against his balls. You felt yourself like an object. Something they used to get off with, and it was turning you on insanly.

Then Steve looked at you and smiled. With his damn mischievous smile, that made you gush even more.

“Fuck her with me, Javi. She’s drippin’.”

“ ‘Course she is. Always fucking soaked. Always ready to take our cocks. Right, little slut?”

“Shit… yeah… yeah.”

“I'm surprised you can still talk. But that's alright. In 2 minutes you'll be cock dumb again.”

“Fuck,” you managed to murmur. He wasn't wrong, and you didn’t even want to pretend otherwise. Taking them was too good.

“Is that right, baby? You’re gonna be on cloud 9, as soon as you're full of us?”

You nodded, waiting for them to do whatever they wanted to you.

Steve slowed down when Javi pressed his tip against his partner's cock, and used it to slide into your sloppy entrance. You whined when he pushed in and you squeezed Steve's shoulder, biting your lip. Even though your pussy was already stretched, even though you were still leaking their cum, welcoming them both, spreading you wide open, was a whole different thing. And like the first time they had fucked your cunt with their two dicks you weren't sure you could take them. You whimpered louder when Javi kept pushing.

“Shut her up,” Javi growled, still thrusting in, and Steve placed his big hand over your mouth to silence you, pressing the back of your head against Javi. You widened your eyes when Javi's fat tip spread your walls, your cry muffled by Steve’s palm.

“You're gonna do it. Already did, right?” Steve said. You nodded, trying to relax and to make it easier.

“Come on, let me in. Fuck, yeah! Just like that, good girl,” Javi praised you, when his whole shaft joined his partner’s soaking cock inside you.

“Shit, yeah, that’s it,” he growled, pushing Steve's palm away to hear your moans. He slid his hand down to your clit, his sweaty chest pressed against your back. “Now…you’re gonna come on our cocks. I wanna hear you whine and moan.. feel you clench on us.”

His finger twirled over your swollen clit, just like you needed it to make your climax rise. The slight pain was still there, but it was so insignificant compared to the heat and the sensations you were feeling. To the music of their groans filling the bedroom.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for us, baby? Shit… she’s gripping our dicks so hard.”

Steve’s hands were on your hips, using them to thrust in. Sometimes at the same pace as Javi, sometimes one after the other.

“Shit… you’re so hot baby. I’m gonna…”

“No! Not yet. Not before she comes.”

Their way of behaving, so different from each other, was turning you on since the beginning. Steve loved to praise you, hug you, you felt protected in his arms. Even if it could seem strange, considering your first night together. Javi was… wild. Elusive, degrading. Bossy. And since the first day, their “good cop, bad cop” dynamic was making you crazy.

“That’s it, putita. Come on, come for us. Don’t be shy, we already know what a slut you are.”

“Fuck, fuck… gonna come… gonna come,” you panted, feeling your orgasm building, until you began pulsating on their cocks, moaning.

“Fill her up now, Steve. Soak us,” Javi commanded, his hands now clinging to your waist, chasing his own climax.

“Oh fuuuuuck…” Steve moaned, just before he started spilling his cum into you, his cock twitching against Javi’s who exploded soon after, his lips pressed against your neck. You already knew you’d have a hickey the next day.

Their growls echoed through the room, both holding on to your body, thrusting until their cocks and balls were fully milked.

When you woke up in the morning, the bed was empty. You smelled coffee, heard low voices coming from another room. You got up and went to the bathroom first. Your thighs were sticky and you were still dripping their cum.

Then you put on someone’s shirt, lying on the chair, and went to find your lovers.

Steve greeted you with a wide smile and Javi looked you up and down when you padded into the kitchen.

“Morning, baby. We thought you’d sleep in… wanted to leave you a note before leaving,” Steve said with a playful smile and pulled you onto his lap.

They were both wearing shirts and jeans, probably ready to head to work.

“I smelled coffee,” you explained and immediately melted against him when he pinched your chin and turned your head to give you a long soft kiss. Your back was pressed to his chest, his big arms wrapped around your waist holding you close. You whimpered when his hand slid down to your pussy and he gently cupped your folds.

“Still wet,“ he smirked against your lips and you smiled back shyly.

“Of course she’s wet. She’s been taking huge loads all evening and night,” Javi chuckled. You turned away from Steve and saw the other man standing next to you two, placing a fresh cup of coffee on the table. Then he bent over and kissed you. His lips were gentle, but his tongue possessively pushed between your lips. Steve softly laughed and began kissing the side of your neck, still holding you and cupping your pussy.

Trapped between the men you were on the seventh heaven, smelling their cologne, relishing their taste on your tongue. You felt your pussy clench and gush into Steve’s warm palm. He took a sharp breath and murmured against your neck,

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s crying into my hand. Javi, check her out.”

You didn’t know if Steve was talking about you or your sloppy cunt and you gasped when he took Javi’s hand and brought it between your thighs. They both started touching your folds, sliding their thick fingers between them and gathering the evidence of the previous night mixed with your fresh arousal.

“Putita’s gonna drip all over your jeans, Steve,” Javi smirked as he pushed his middle finger into your overflowing hole.

“Fuck it. She’s so hot.”

You bit your lip at the mixture of praise and degradation and dropped your head to watch them play with your pussy. Soon the room got filled with your loud moaning and whimpering as Steve was drawing tight circles over your puffy clit, while Javi was pumping two fingers in and out of your drooling entrance. His other hand was pulling and twitching your hardened nipples under the open shirt.

”Come for us, baby, give us one more,” Steve whispered against your temple when you rested your head on his shoulder. If he wasn’t holding you you’d surely fall on the floor, that’s how gone with pleasure you were.

Javi’s face was hovering over yours as his fingers were working your pussy, his dark eyes taking in every sign of your ecstasy.

“Mírate (look at you), little slut, can’t even have her morning coffee without getting fucked.”

You fluttered your eyes open and gave him a hazy smile. He cursed and his lips crashed against yours. Steve was nuzzling your cheek and then his lips traveled to your mouth too and the three of you started kissing. Your tongues danced against each other with passion and hunger and you were happy to taste them both at the same time while their hands were bringing you closer to the release.

It didn’t take long before you began shaking in Steve’s arms, coming hard from your clit and g-spot being stimulated, clamping on Javi’s fingers and drenching their hands with your juices.

Steve was talking you through it, his voice low and gruff in your ear, “Yes, yes, beautiful— like that— I’m here, I’ve got you—let it go.”

Javi kept kissing you, swallowing all your cries. He parted from your lips only when your walls stopped clenching on his digits and you relaxed in Steve’s embrace.

Javi plopped in his chair and adjusted himself before taking a sip of his coffee. Through half lidded eyes you saw a huge bulge in his jeans and felt Steve’s cock stiff and big under your ass cheek.

“You’re both so hard. Let me suck you off,” you offered with a breathy voice but Steve kissed your cheek and croaked, “Believe me, we’d want nothing else right now…but we’re already late.”

He kissed you and helped you to get up and sit on the chair next to him.

“We’ll jerk off at lunch. Thinking about what we did to you this morning,” he smiled and gave you a wink. Your legs were still trembling from the orgasm but your slutty clit twitched when you heard his words. Javi got up and cupped your cheek.

“Get some rest, hermosa. Gracias for the night and for this hard on,” he smirked before looking at Steve and motioning for them to get going.

Steve quickly finished his coffee. “Close the door on your way out. We’ll call you, baby.”

Then he gave you a goodbye kiss and they left.

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

npt ❤️ tagging those who showed interest in the wip post, love you ❤️ @littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring @iamasaddie

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preciosapascal · 2 months ago

Text

Never Again

Summary: Javi fucks you in the copy room at work. i kinda hate this but it's posted now so. Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader Words count: 2k Tags: 18+ smut, that's literally it, PWP, it’s short but y’knowww, A/N: thank you so much for all the love on my previous stories! you can see my masterlist here or it's pinned at the top of my page <3333 as always feedback and reposts are highly appreciated

Javier was sat at his desk that was annoyingly placed directly in front of Steve's, with a cigarette perched between his lips and a ridiculous amount of paperwork in front of him. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Y'good, Jav?" Murphy asks, lighting his own cigarette and sitting in his chair.

Javi hums, glancing up at Steve as he continues thumbing though papers. "Mm. Same shit, different day."

"You're tellin' me." Steve mutters, leaning back in his chair. Steve’s gaze shifts suddenly. "Morning." he greets nodding his head towards someone coming from behind Javi.

Javi raises his head and looks in the same direction, spotting you walking by, a folder in your arms, "Morning Murphy, Peña." you greet them both, smiling. Steve's attention shifts back to his paperwork but Javi's eyes were on you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Hey-" He calls after you. Steve already knew he must have a stupid risqué comment to throw your way and rolls his eyes. You smile to yourself before turning to face him, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, Javier?"

"Off to do something exciting, sweetheart?" he asks, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and shamelessly checking you out. He takes another drag then pinches the cigarette from his lips and places it in the ashtray.

"Sure. If going to the stuffy, tiny ass copy room is your idea of exciting then I'm in for a real treat." you reply, playfully rolling your eyes at him.

Javi tilts his head, the smirk still evident on his lips as a train of cigarette smoke flows from his nostrils, swirling up into the air above. "You'd be surprised what can happen in a copy room."

Steve shakes his head and mutters a comment, something about comparing Javi to a horny teenage boy. You can’t help but smirk at Steve's comment. He’s not wrong.

“I can imagine." you reply, and with that, you turn around and continue on towards the copy room.

Javi's dick twitches in his jeans when he watches you walk away. That fucking split in the back of your pencil skirt making his imagination run wild. He watches until you’re almost out of sight before standing up and tapping Steve’s desk, eyes still fixed on the direction you walked in. “Cover for me.”

“Why? Where you goin'?” Steve asks, momentarily looking up from his work and Javi just taps the side of his nose, before striding to the copy room.

You make it the copy room door, turning the knob and stepping in. The room is tiny, literally only big enough for a copy machine and a chair. As you approach the machine and turn it on, Javi's voice rings out from behind you.

"Needs two people in here to make it exciting." he comments, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

You glance up at him for a second and then fiddle with the settings on the machine, putting them to what you need. "That right?"

He chuckles at your bluntness and steps inside the room, closes the copy room door and locks it. He turns, his gaze once again fixed on the split in your skirt, and he moves to snake his arms around your waist, pressing forward until your back is pressed flush against his chest. “Why so cold, hm?”

You tut as his knuckle brushes over the machine and changes a setting so you swat him lightly, making him let out an amused huff of warm air from his nose, right against your ear.

You attempt to ignore the fact that his familiar cologne invades your nostrils and sends your mind reeling. "I told you never again, Javi." you say, putting the setting back, yet you make no effort whatsoever to move or stop him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He murmurs, but there’s no hint of him giving up either. His lips find their familiar spot, at the underside of your jaw, and he places a soft kiss there. You can feel his hard cock pressing against you.

You tilt your head, silently allowing him to continue as you grab a sheet of paper from one of the folders and set it down on the copy glass.

Javi smirks against the sweet smelling skin of your neck when you do that, taking the opportunity to trail kisses down the side and have his hands wander over you.

It frustrates you just how easy it is for the two of you to fall straight back into this. You told yourself - and Javi, never again so many times. It never took much for Javier to coax you into a situation like this, because against your better judgement, you wanted him and dammit he wanted you.

The familiar tension and chemistry between you both has always been undeniable and despite the fact that you have both said “never again" to each other multiple times, it seems to keep happening.

The moment his hands reach down and grasp your thighs, you know you're done for. You turn in his grasp and look up at him. "You have fifteen minutes until that copier stops and I leave this room."

He chuckles at that, pulling away to watch as you press the button to start the machine. Then he gently pushes you so you're leaning forward against it.

“Then I better make these the best fifteen minutes of your life, hm?” He rasps, pulling the hem of your pencil skirt up to expose your bottom half to him.

One hand moves to lightly tap your legs, a silent command to spread them. “Gonna be a good girl and let me do my thing now?” he teases, warm breath tickling your ear.

You let out a breathy laugh, the damp patch growing in your panties with each word. "Mhm."

Javi chuckles as he watches you give in to him as always, your breath hitching as his hand moves down to the damp patch in your panties and he lets out a low hum of approval.

"Never again, huh?" he murmurs, voice rough with lust and a hint of teasing as his fingers run through the wet patch gently.

You can't help but whimper as his touch sends a shiver down your spine, arching your back against him. "Shut up." you grumble, trying to maintain some form of composure, but it's crumbling fast.

Javi begins to unbuckle his belt with a smirk on his face and when it's undone, he runs his hands over he curve of your ass appreciatively. You look at the machine before looking over your shoulder at him and meeting his gaze.

"Might wanna get a move on Peña. Got ten minutes left."

He smirks as he glances back down at your ass then pulls your panties down to your knees, then pulls his jeans down and frees himself just enough. He runs his fingers teasingly through your slit, making your back arch as his other hand pumps himself lazily for a moment.

"Already soaked." he comments, pushing a finger inside and making you gasp. He chuckles softly before removing his finger and pressing his tip at your entrance.

With a swift, thrust of his hips, Javi bottoms out and grabs your hips, setting a quick pace to make the most of the time you have left.

A moan escapes you as his cock repeatedly hits the right spot inside of you over and over again, reminding you why you give in every time. No one fucks you this good, no one ever has and probably never will. He knows you. He knows your body probably better than you do.

"Fuck, Javi..." you whimper when he lifts one of your legs slightly, somehow hitting deeper than before. He's mesmerized by your ass bouncing as your bodies meet.

He leans forward over your back slightly, his lips brushing your ear as he pants softly with each thrust. "What was that about never fucking again? Hmm?” he growls softly, pistoning his hips into yours.

“Fuck…just shut up…y’got seven minutes left to make me come.”

He takes that as a challenge and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you up to lay your back against his chest as he continues pouding into you relentlessly. His hands roam to squeeze your bouncing tits through your blouse, making you bite your lip to mask the noises you desperately need to make and clench around him.

His fingers pinch and tug gently at your now hard nipples through the fabric, sending shockwaves straight to your cunt. He can feel your inner walls tightening around his length, threatening to pull him over the edge.

Javi's hips stutter, his grip on your tits tightening as his forehead rests on your shoulder. He's breathing heavily, his control slipping as you continue to clench around him. "Fuck...fuck...fuck." He growls softly, his voice strained.

You’re teetering on the edge, just needing one last little push and he can tell. One of his hands slide from your chest down to your pussy, rubbing firm circles against your clit.

“Come on, baby.” he rasps, voice low and urgent. The riskiness of it all has you both already almost there, the sounds of skin meeting skin filling the room. In the back of your mind you’re worried the echos will each outside the room but you’re too far gone to care.

He can feel your body tensing, your breath hitching as he hits that perfect spot over and over. The machine beeps, signally there’s only a couple of minutes left. He knows you're close, so he increases the pressure on your clit. "That's it hermosa, come on.” he groans, his voice strained still.

“Shit- oh…I’m-” you begin, yet you’re cut off by your own moan and Javi’s free hand quickly clamps over your mouth as he whispers encouraging words into your ear as your tight spasming walls milk his own release from him. Hot ropes of come fill you as Javi grunts quietly into your neck.

“Jesus.” you whisper as both of your breathing returns to normal with Javi srill buried side you.

He chuckles softly against your skin, his arms still wrapped around you. "Mhm. Jesus indeed."

He pulls out slowly, and you teasingly tense around him causing him to hiss at the sensitivity, making you laugh quietly.

He quickly tucks himself back into his pants, buttoning up just as the copier beeps, signaling that the time is up. "See that? Right on time." He smirks, giving your ass a light slap before stepping back.

You pull your skirt back down over your legs and when you reach down to grab your panties, Javi swipes them first and dangles them from one finger in front of you. When you go to take them, he moves them out of reach with a playful glint in his eye.

“These are mine now.” he says, stuffing them into his pocket with a playful wink.

“You’re disgusting.” you retort, though there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at your lips.

He chuckles, buckling his belt back up. “And you love every second of it.”

He leans back against the copier, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “Now every time you use the copy machine, you'll remember getting fucked stupid by me." he wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“Oh my god, get out.” you say, tapping his leg to get him to move so you can collect the papers.

He leans over and kisses your cheek before slipping out of the room and leaving you alone with your thoughts and his come slowly dripping down your thighs.

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