#callers 📞

[dj-anx13ty]

Heard you're trying to investigate CloseKnit? I'll let you in on a little secret I heard from a few former members. They had Shades in the building to sort of threaten people if need be. I think about 4. They were all let loose during the department raid.

Have fun sleuthing!

THEY. MADE. THE FUCKING

SHADES????

[gothcsz]

imagine moving into your new apartment and finding out that javier peña is your next door neighbour 🤭

tags: f!reader, friends to lovers i think, sprinkle of angst, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, throwing up/vomiting mentioned (if you're squeamish to that kind of thing), javi being javi, untranslated spanish, smut, p in v sex, overstimulation, there are feelings involved, unbeta'd, no use of y/n, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 4.2k w/c - gif found on pinterest - masterlist

a/n: i just want javier peña to look at me... is that too much to ask for?! this is tropey asf and not what i was initially thinking of writing when i got this ask—but i like how this lil one shot turned out. i hope you do too, bestie! 🖤

You’re in the middle of unpacking boxes in your new apartment, surrounded by a mess of your own doing, when a sharp knock on the door startles you. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Wiping your hands on your jeans, you head to the door and swing it open to reveal a striking woman. Auburn hair, sharp eyes—she’s undeniably beautiful, but her expression is less than friendly.

Her eyes narrow as she sizes you up. “¿Y tu quien putas eres?” she demands.

Before you can get a word out, she’s already pushing past you into your apartment, not waiting for an invitation. “¿Donde esta Javier? Malparido tramposo. ¡No te escondas de mí!” she continues, storming through your space like she owns it.

You stand there, dumbfounded at the absurdity, watching her move, her fury palpable. Your Spanish is still novice, at best, so you don’t really understand what she’s saying.

“Uh, I think you have the wrong—” you start, but she cuts you off again.

“Wrong, my ass.” She replies, her Colombian accent thick. “I know he lives here. All the Americans do—”

Your brain finally catches up and puts two and two together. She’s looking for Javier Peña. Your colleague and now, apparently, neighbor.

You’ve been quietly, hopelessly crushing on the agent since you started working at the embassy. And now you’re standing in the middle of your half-unpacked apartment while some furious woman is ranting about him.

You’re about to speak again when, as if summoned by the chaos, Javier himself strolls past your open door in the hallway. The woman halts, her eyes following him like a predator tracking its prey.

You see her face shift from righteous fury to utter confusion. It hits her finally—she’s in the wrong apartment, like you tried to tell her.

She mutters something you can’t understand, barely meeting your eyes before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

You stand there, blinking, still processing what just happened. If that was any indication on how things around here will go, at least you know you won’t be bored.

It’s later in the evening when there’s another knock at the door. You’re almost hesitant to answer, unsure if you’ll be met by another beautiful woman scorned, so this time you make sure to look through the peephole before blindly opening it.

It’s Javier.

You glance down at your clothes, suddenly self-conscious. You’re not exactly at your best, sweaty and disheveled from moving all day. Definitely not how you pictured running into him outside of work.

You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together, then open the door, “Hey.” You greet him, a little shy.

He leans casually against your doorframe, that signature smirk playing on his lips. “Sorry about earlier,” his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Not the best way to be welcomed into the neighborhood.”

He glances past you, noticing the half-unpacked boxes scattered around your apartment, and you’re mortified for a second, wondering how messy everything must look through his eyes.

You laugh, though it’s a little shaky. “I, uh… didn’t know you lived next door.”

Javier grins, giving you a devastatingly handsome smile that you’ve only seen when he tries to bribe his way through some of the other girls at the office. “Yeah, been here since I moved to Bogotá,” his eyes linger on you, but you don’t notice with how you’re focused on not making a fool out of yourself. 

“Well I hope you and your… friend worked things out.”

He exhales through his nose in an amused laugh. “Somethin’ like that,” he says, sounding almost entertained by the whole thing. “I owe you for that inconvenience.”

Your heart stutters and you hope, no—pray, that your eyes haven’t morphed into hearts with the charming way he’s looking at you.

“It’s fine, really—“

“No, no. I insist. It was rude. The least I can do is make it up to you.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to back down, a stubborn man through and through, you give him a slight nod, trying to play it cool even though your nerves are buzzing. “Okay… sure, fine. You owe me.”

His smirk softens into a half-smile, a little less cocky. He pushes himself off your doorframe, straightening up. “Alright, cariño. I’ll see you around.” The word rolls off his tongue as if he’s said it a thousand times to you, but it lands right between your legs, sending warmth to your cheeks.

“Have a good night,” he adds with that enamoring gravelly voice of his.

You manage to mumble a goodbye, watching as he walks down the hall, his presence making the air feel electric. You’re left standing there, alone with the heavy realization that your harmless work crush just became a lot more dangerous.

Living next door to him is going to be torture.

Months go by, and torture would be an understatement.

You’ve developed an odd, friendly relationship with him. It’s not exactly what you imagined when you first laid eyes on him at the embassy, all brooding intensity and effortless charm, but it works.

You exchange casual greetings in the hallway, little snippets of small talk when you bump into each other at work. 

It’s... normal. Comfortable, in its own way. But every time he says your name, with that gravelly edge to his voice, something flutters in your chest.

He’s even taken it upon himself to help you with your Spanish, which is as endearing as it is embarrassing. On the days when you can steal a few moments to talk, he’ll have you practicing phrases, repeating them until he’s satisfied with your pronunciation. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly amused, he’ll leave a sticky note on your door with a new phrase scribbled on it for you to learn.

It’s become part of your routine. Him giving you little bits of language, you trying to impress him with how quickly you can pick it up. You tell yourself it’s just a… fun thing, nothing more.

Then there are the nights when you’ve made too much dinner. You know that man doesn’t eat. Not properly, anyway. So you bring over a plate, standing awkwardly at his door until he opens it, shirt half-buttoned and hair tousled, like he just rolled out of bed.

“Brought you something,” you say, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens as his eyes flicker to yours, a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Thanks, cariño,” he takes the food from you with that half-smile that makes you feel like a damn schoolgirl.

But it’s not always like that. There are times when he’s away for days at a time. Out doing who knows what—your level of work doesn’t intersect with his at all. 

His return comes with whispers around the office or in the form of news broadcasts that seem to be reporting nothing but atrocities as of late.

In the dead of night, you’ll hear the sound of his boots echoing through the enclosed hallway, a sure sign he’s finally back. You wonder what he’s seen, what he’s done while he was gone. The thought keeps you restless sometimes, but you never ask. He doesn’t offer, either.

And then there are the women.

You hear them through the thin walls—his low voice, their laughter, the unmistakable sounds of them fucking. The rhythm of their pleasure reverberates through your apartment, impossible to ignore.

Every time it happens, you’re reminded of the rumors you’ve heard around the office. The whispers about Javier Peña, about how good he is in bed, about how women fall over themselves to spend a night with him. Now, you know firsthand that they’re true.

It stings more than you’d like to admit, considering how you feel about him but knowing that he doesn’t see you as anything but a friend. 

You’ve caught glimpses of him after his flings, too. You kind of wish you could wipe from your memory, if only to keep your sanity.

It’s during different times of the day, really, when he’s leaning casually against his doorframe like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s shirtless, skin still damp from a shower or maybe from the sweat he’s worked up, and his jeans hang sinfully low on his hips. The soft light from the hallway casts shadows over his golden chest, highlighting the faint beauty marks that map his body.

You do your best to keep your eyes averted, pretending you’re not affected, pretending you don’t notice the way his muscles flex as he stretches, or how his dark hair is tousled in that perfectly messy way. But your throat tightens every time, your stomach flipping at how effortlessly good he looks. It’s not fair how someone can make post-coital exhaustion look so damn attractive.

He’s usually saying goodbye to one of the lucky girls, tossing a wink their way, or brushing his fingers through their hair as they share a final kiss.

You tell yourself it’s just Javier being Javier, but it’s impossible to ignore the way jealousy twists in your chest when you see them, all blissed-out and satisfied, practically floating down the hallway after a night with him.

You turn your head, pretend you didn’t just catch a glimpse of him looking like some kind of god, and hurriedly unlock your door before he notices you staring. 

And sometimes, when you least expect it, he catches you.

You’re fumbling with your keys, doing your best to mind your own business, when his voice cuts through the silence. “Hey,” he calls out, casual as ever, and you freeze. Your hand stills on the doorknob, and you force yourself to look up.

Javier is standing there, half naked, leaning against his door as if he has all the time in the world.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “Hey.”

“You alright there, cariño?” he asks, voice low and rough, like he’s barely holding back a laugh after watching you struggle with your keys.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long day.”

He hums, his stare lingering on you, and your heart pounds in a way you can’t quite control. But then, as if nothing’s changed, he shifts back into that familiar, teasing grin.

“Okay, don’t work too hard. Can’t have you burnin’ out before me.”

It all comes to a head one night at the bar near your place. You’re out with a secretary from a different department, downing margaritas like they’re water. You’re tipsy—no, you’re drunk, and the world is spinning just a little too fast.

That’s when you see him. He walks in like he owns the place, scanning the crowded space until his eyes land on you. He acknowledges you with a jut of his chin and you smile drunkenly at him, waving, before you’re brought back to the conversation with your friend.

He’s here for work, meeting one of his informants—a very pretty, very obvious, working girl. You hate how seeing him with her swirls the green in your drunken heart.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, maybe it’s the months of pent-up frustration, but when Javier approaches as your coworker excuses herself to the bathroom, checking to see if you’re alright, your mouth runs faster than your brain.

“Don’t worry about me,” you slur, waving him off. “I’m sure you’d have more fun with her,” you add, nodding toward the woman with a sharp, sarcastic edge. “Probably more your type anyway.”

Javier raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting into a playful uncertainty, head tilting slightly. “What?”

You don’t know how to respond. Honestly, you’re not even sure you can form a coherent thought right now. All you know is that you’re in way over your head, and he is standing way too close.

But that liquid courage surges through your veins and the words are tumbling out of your mouth.

“It’s obvious, Javier,” your frustration is crystal clear, despite the way your words run into each other. “The kind of company you keep. They’re more fun,” You gesture vaguely toward his booth. “I’m just… here. A bore that’s drunk on a Wednesday night. It’s why you came to check on me. Why you’ve been overly nice.” Your words sting, even as they leave your lips.

The alcohol amplifies every insecurity you’ve kept buried.

The playful look on his face vanishes, replaced by hardened disbelief. His brows furrow, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to figure out how you could possibly think so little of yourself.

Instead of giving you an answer, he just reaches for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. “Come on,” he mutters, “I’m taking you home.”

You snort, shaking your head, another wave of dizziness washing over you. “See? Taking pity on me. Again.”

He rolls his eyes, unfazed by your drunken resistance. “That’s not what this is,” he pulls out a wad of cash and drops it on the bar top to settle your tab.

He makes sure your friend is taken care of, telling the bartender to call a cab for her. Then he goes to dismiss his informant—a woman he definitely had plans to sleep with. She seems surprised, but Javier brushes her off and hands her some money. 

Your drunken mind can’t quite comprehend that he’s choosing to deal with you instead. As he guides you outside, you make it difficult, stumbling and resisting as he tries to steer you toward his car.

“I can walk, Peña,” you grumble, though your legs aren’t exactly cooperating.

“Sure you can,” he says dryly, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. “You’re making this real easy.” He comments sarcastically.

You’re so going to regret this tomorrow when you’re fighting a hangover at your desk, thinking of how you just fucked up this friendship.

But right now, you can’t focus on anything but how warm his large hand feels against your side as he helps you into the passenger seat.

Your head lolls against the window, and you groan softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. You could’ve stayed with her.”

Javier slides into the driver’s seat, glancing at you as he starts the engine. “Everything you said back there was bullshit,” he says bluntly, pulling out of the parking lot. “You think I pity you? That I only talk to you because I feel bad? You really don’t know me at all.”

His words are cutting, but not in a cruel way. He sounds… disappointed. “I like spending time with you,” he continues, quieter now, more serious. “It’s not some charity case. You make me feel normal. When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the shit I deal with doesn’t exist.” The faint hum of the radio fills the sudden silence.

“You… you’ve got this smile that makes me feel a little better about myself.”

The sincerity in his voice sobers you up just a little, enough for your foggy brain to process what he’s saying. You turn to look at him, eyes wide, but before you can fully grasp it, your stomach lurches.

“Oh no,” you groan, clutching your middle. “I’m gonna be sick.”

He glances at you, and in an instant, he’s speeding up, making it to your complex faster than you would’ve thought possible. He parks hastily, helps you out, and practically carries you to your apartment. The second the door swings open, you make a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it in time to empty your stomach into the toilet.

You hear him lingering by the door, then the sound of running water as he fills a glass in the kitchen. You hate that he’s seeing you like this—pathetic, drunk, and embarrassed.

When you finally sit back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, Javier is there, handing you the glass of water. His expression is soft, more concerned than anything.

“Drink,” he orders gently, crouching next to you. His voice is soothing, and for a moment, the embarrassment fades under the warmth of his presence.

You sip the water, avoiding his gaze, but he’s not letting this go. “You okay?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

He sighs, settling beside you on the bathroom floor. “You’re not a bore. Don’t say that shit.” His voice is firm, but there’s an undercurrent tenderness beneath it.

Your head is swimming—not just from the alcohol, but from everything that’s happened in the last hour. 

You lean your head back against the wall, the glass of water in your hand almost empty. With a soft sigh, you begin to speak, your tone hesitant.

“Sometimes… I just feel average, you know?” you admit, glancing at Javier from the corner of your eye. He’s sitting quietly beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him,  gaze focused on some point on the floor. “Like there’s nothing more to me than this mediocre job, answering phones, filing papers. I mean, I didn’t move all the way to South America just for that.”

You pause, trying to organize your thoughts. “That’s why I transferred here. I thought maybe… maybe I’d find something more. Maybe I’d find me.” You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “But ever since I got here, it’s been nothing but monotony and homesickness. I don’t even know if this is where I’m meant to be.”

The words hang between you. You’ve never said this out loud to anyone, never let yourself be so transparent.

Javier doesn’t say anything right away, and it makes you think that maybe you’ve said too much. But then, you hear him sigh softly, his shoulders slumping as if your rambling has hit something deep within him.

He’s silent as he digests your confession, and you’re about to apologize for oversharing when he finally speaks.

“I get it,” he replies, low and rough around the edges. He shifts beside you, resting his arms on his now bent knees while he stares at the floor. “You’re not the only one feeling that way.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his agreement. You hadn’t expected him to relate—the sharp, confident DEA agent who always seems so sure of himself. He glances at you, offering a wry smile. “You’re not average,” his voice is firmer now, like he’s trying to make you believe it. “It takes time to figure out who you are, what you want. And if it feels like you haven’t found that yet, that doesn’t make you less than.”

There’s an irony in his words, and he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I should probably take my own advice,” he admits.

Your heart flutters at his reassurance, but you can see it in his eyes—there’s more. Something heavier sits in his chest, pulling him down.

“What about you? What’s weighing on you?”

Javier sighs again, leaning his head back against the wall like you. “This job,” he says simply, but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “It’s… confusing. Difficult. Half the time, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. I thought I’d come here, do some good, but it’s just…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “I’ve lost myself in all of it. The work. The women. Because I don’t know what else to do.”

Your chest tightens as he speaks, hearing the vulnerability in his words. He’s always seemed so unshakeable, but now you can see the cracks in his armor, all that he’s been carrying. And then he turns to look at you, his expression softening.

“But you,” he says quietly, “you’re the one thing that keeps me grounded in all this shit.”

You look down, not believing that he’s actually saying this to you. You have to be dreaming. 

“Your smile, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Shit, even the way you butcher half your Spanish words with that accent of yours.” He chuckles, and despite the heaviness of the moment, you can’t help but laugh with him.

The tension breaks for just a second, and when you finally meet his gaze again, your breath snags. He’s already staring at you, his beautiful brown eyes gleaming.

You quickly look away out of habit, your heart hammering in your chest, but then he calls your name softly. “Mírame, cariño,” he says, all gentle and insistent.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to do so.

“I’m not just telling you this to score. I mean it.”

And you don’t doubt it for a second. However, the moment is too heavy, too intense for your tequila-soaked brain to handle. You can taste the lingering bitterness of the alcohol, your throat feels raw, and your head is already starting to pound. You’re too disoriented to fully process this moment that’s happening.

“I know,” you nod, picking at your cuticles, “I just don’t think right now is the best time to have this conversation.” Your words are punctuated by a hiccup and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth in fear of accidentally throwing up again.

Javier’s lips twitch with amusement, but he works his jaw, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Not the best time,” he concedes, though the way he says it tells you he wanted this conversation to happen—needed it to.

“I just had to tell you. And if you genuinely feel like you don’t belong here then go home.” He tells you softly, though his cadence and the softening expression on his face say otherwise.

You glance at him, your lips curving into a weak smile. “While I do feel lost, I think half of all this is the margaritas’ doing,” you admit, your voice a little hoarse.

“Tequila’s dangerous like that,” he agrees with a small laugh, shaking his head. 

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push through the embarrassment still swirling around inside of you. “I’m sorry about what happened at the bar,” you say quietly. “I didn’t mean to be so self deprecating.”

He waves off your apology, his expression relaxed. “It’s no problem.”

“Thank you for bringing me home, and for… opening up like that… I know it wasn’t easy.” Your voice softens as you say it.

He gives you a small smile, but his eyes linger on you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “You make it easy,” he says finally, the words leaving his mouth like a confession.

You sit there on the cool bathroom floor, your heart stumbling all over the place. Leaving isn’t an option anymore. Not when Javier Peña looks at you like this. Not after realizing that you mean so much more to him than you could have ever thought possible.

Javier hovers above you, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desire and adoration. Your legs are tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, feeling every inch of him as his hips move suavely while he fucks you. 

His breath is hot against your neck, biting and licking at your skin. You can barely keep your thoughts straight, your mind clouded with the pleasure he’s stirring in you, the rhythm of his body guiding you to that edge again and again.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low growl, “You feel so good, baby. I can feel how close you are... all for me.”

Your body clenches around him in response, a soft whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure tightens inside you, building and building. It’s the fifth time tonight he’s coaxed this out of you, and you don’t know how you’re still holding on.

His weight presses against you and your nails dig into the broad expanse of his broad shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. His chest, warm and slick with sweat, crushes against yours, and the hairs at the base of his cock graze your swollen clit with every thrust, sending shockwaves through you.

You gasp, your voice trembling with each word. “Javier... I can’t... it’s too much.”

But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, instead he grins down at you, a wicked spark in his eyes, pressing his lips against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—kissing you everywhere he can reach while his other hand keeps your jaw locked in place, fingers denting into your skin.

His lips finally find yours in a messy, urgent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him again. You’re lost in what he’s giving you, your world spinning as your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

His hips stutter as he groans your name, his cock twitching inside you while he comes. He stays there, still buried inside, his body heavy and comforting as the world fades back into focus.

When he finally pulls away, his touch softens. He’s gentle as he plants tender kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. His hand caresses your naked side, soothing you as your breathing slows. He shifts then, pulling you close into the safety of his arms, his body wrapped around yours.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”

He stays with you, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back, murmuring soft reassurances until you’re completely at ease, your body melting into his.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @sunshinefive . @dinanabuu . @angiewatson .

[kedsandtubesocks]

omggg please tell me that joel and reader have a lil pup/baby in what the water gave us 😭 why is merman joel so hot lol

Hi howdy ‘non! Omg first off thanks so much for reading!!

So when I first wrote ‘what the water gave us’ I was really worried about how it was gonna read/do so I left the ending a bit open - so that you could decide what happens to Joel and his little minnow!! 🐠

But oh geeze… have i thought about maybe revisiting our favorite grumpy merman and you got some good ideas about a cute little baby but we’ll see 👀

And omg welcome to the obsessed over hot merman club lol

Thanks again for sending this my way, take care! 💛

[cocajimmycola]

woah !!!! may we ask for a pk desc based off love letters ??? -💌

Unsure if you meant a member one or not - But I did one anyways , hehe

╭ 💗 *Dearly Beloved ...* ╰─ ` You've recieved a letter ! ` ♪ ﹢⊹ **Name** _!!_ ♡ ╭─ pronouns 💞 age╰─╮ │ ❥ roles xx xx xx xx xx !! 🎀 ╰─╮ source ★★ type 💘 !╰─ misc misc misc ╮ ─ ─ *Sincerely , x* ───╯

[bleach-your-panties]

just wanted to say awesome seeing a fellow older 29 something bleach fan💙💙💙 keep up the amazing work

OH MY GOSH, THANK YOU!! 🥹 I haven't been on here in forever, but I appreciate you taking the time to view my works! 🥰

Bleach has always been a favorite of mine since elementary school, and it's stuck with me all this time!

[wantedilf]

my man, you think i can pay off my uni to just give me the degree right away? You'd know considering you work with money and illegal shit.

Lmk okay?

I can threaten the dean for ya. or kill him.

Comes at a price, though. I don’t do shit for free.

[txtmetonight]

THE PLOT TWIST OMG. WHIPLASH FR I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE ALL CUTE I GASPED OUT LOUD OMG I LOVE THIS SM

LOL THANK YOU ML <3333 I'M SO GLAD THAT YOU ENJOYED THE TWIST AHAJHAHAH I WAS SCARED THAT NO ONE WOULD LIKE IT

[bitchy-moth]

👋 (to apply makeup to her face!)

@a-hazbin-spider ? ((A! I hope you’re doing well!))

The offer took her by surprise. She blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Vaggie thought about it, raising one brow and half-smiling nervously.

"...Really???" She said, curiously. "I mean. I guess—" She wasn't opposed to the idea— Dare she say she wanted to do this. She couldn't recall the last time she had her makeup done, by herself or by the hands of anyone else. It was almost a little too intimate for the diffident moth. In her mind she was scared she'd fuck this up, somehow, it was likely her own insecurity talking, trying to convince herself that not even makeup could fix her...

"Yeah. Alright. Sure," Her agreement was less than confident— it was rather evident, but she couldn't hide her excitement. Her nervous little half-smile grew a tad as a result, and she prepared herself for the makeup-ening.

[necroasylum]

mmmm mcr themed and mobile friendly rentry perhaps?? :3

sorry this took so long.. storms and stuff

here ya are !!

[sjonni33]

caller id 📞 (click for quality!)

support me!☕ shop🥪 redbubble 💫

[dj-anx13ty]

BREAKING: Local reporter is at the door.

Can someone open the door? I'd phase through but I brought a few snacks.

God bless you, id open it but @andanoteforyou and @chaotic-fox-anon are refusing to let me stand

[gothcsz]

ugh I want to be sat on javi's desk whilst he tells me to spread my legs so he can see how wet I am for him 😩😩😩

tags: f!reader, lil bit of dirty talk, terms of endearment (amor, baby), established relationship, husband!javi, no use of y/n, smut, unprotected p in v sex (be safe), oral (f), any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 3k w/c - gif cred

a/n: two very similar prompts that i have merged together and hope lives up to what you guys were asking for 🖤 thank you @almostempty for finding the gif for me because that's all i was thinking about when i started writing this. also dedicating this to @yxtkiwiyxt because i know you love husband javi 🖤

The soft click of the door shutting behind you barely registers as you slip into his home office. Your eyelids are heavy, the remnants of sleep still tugging at your senses as you blink them away. The clock on the wall reads 3:00 a.m. sharp.

The gentle glow of his desk lamp casts a golden hue over his chiseled profile. It’s a scene you’ve walked into countless times—Javier immersed in his work, utterly focused, documents spread haphazardly across the desk.

“Amor,” his voice scrapes through the quiet, rough and low from hours of silence. He leans back in his chair, the leather groaning softly beneath him, and his arms open, beckoning you close. His dark eyes soften when they meet yours. “What are you doing up?”

You step toward him without hesitation, as though pulled by a force you can’t resist. Sliding onto his lap sideways, you settle yourself against his comforting frame, resting your head in the warm crook of his neck.

The familiar scent of him—a mix of his cologne and the faint, earthy tang of coffee—wraps around you like a blanket. 

“I can’t sleep without you, Javi,” you murmur, pouting slightly as your fingers idly trace patterns on the fabric of his shirt. “You know that.”

His large hand trails up and down your spine in slow, soothing strokes. He presses a tender kiss to the crown of your head, and his sigh feels as heavy as the workload surrounding him. “I know baby,” he murmurs. “I just have a lot to get through before my meeting in the morning.”

You groan in frustration, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. Your lower lip juts out in a way you know he finds irresistible, but it’s not just an act. “Sometimes it feels like you prioritize this,” you say, gesturing toward the chaotic sprawl of documents on his desk, “over me.”

His mustache twitches with a frown, the corners of his mouth tugging downward. “Don’t say that,” the sincerity in his tone clear. “You know that’s not true.”

“Then why are you here instead of in bed with me?” Your tone softens, though the ache of loneliness seeps through.

You know he works hard, tirelessly, to provide for you, to ensure you both have the life you dreamed of. But knowing that doesn’t always make it easier to compete with the demands of his job. Sometimes, it feels like you’re fighting for scraps of his time, his attention.

He doesn’t respond right away, but he doesn’t need to. Over the years, you’ve learned to read every nuance of your husband—the slight crease between his brows, the way his lips press together, the tension in his jaw. Reaching up, you trace a finger along his jawline, your thumb brushing gently over the sharp curve of his cheekbone.

His skin is warm beneath your touch, and you feel the tension in him ebb away, piece by piece.

Javier’s arms tighten around you, one hand resting on your bare thigh, right where your oversized t-shirt rides up, the other pressing into the small of your back. “You want me to come to bed?” 

His warm breath sends a shiver down your spine as his nose skims along your jawline, and you hum in response, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

His lips ghost along your skin, scattering kisses that make your breath hitch. “Seems like I’ve been neglecting my duties. Got my girl sittin’ here, pouting in my lap, begging for attention.” The faint rasp in his voice has lust pooling low in your belly.

A whimper escapes before you can stop it, your hips shifting instinctively against his lap. You’ve missed this—the intensity, the intimacy, the way he always manages to make you feel like the center of his universe, even when life pulls him in every other direction.

His hand inches higher, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh, his knuckles grazing the edge of your cotton panties, sending a spark through your body.

 “Bet she’s warm and wet for me,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear before catching your earlobe between his teeth.

Your thighs part almost involuntarily, “Javi,” you moan, burying your face in his neck, your lips latching onto the spot just below his jaw.

His groan vibrates against you, low and guttural. His free hand comes down hard on your thigh with a satisfying smack, making you yelp and arch in surprise. 

“You can’t be marking me up like that, mi amor. It’s not exactly professional for me to walk into a meeting with a giant hickey.”

You bite back a smirk, your teeth grazing his jaw before whispering, “I don’t care.”

His response is swift and deliberate. The hand that had been teasing between your thighs moves, strong fingers wrapping around your throat in a firm but unyielding grip. He pulls you back from his neck, forcing your gaze to lock with his. The intensity in his dark eyes makes your breath hitch, and the way his thumb brushes the underside of your jaw sends a thrill down your spine.

“Don’t be like this, baby,” he rasps, his tone commanding but laced with affection, his thumb brushing lightly over the delicate skin of your throat.

He leans in, drawing you closer by the grip on your neck, his lips brushing yours so faintly it feels like a tease.

The tickle of his mustache against your skin makes you shiver, your thighs twitching in anticipation. The ache between your legs grows unbearable, and your mind spins with the need to feel him—any part of him. His pretty mouth, his strong hands, his delicious cock… you’d take it all, every piece of him until there was nothing left to take.

“Please,” you whisper, desperation dripping from your voice as you close the sliver of space between you and kiss him. It starts soft, your tongue gliding along his bottom lip before slipping into his mouth, tasting him deeply. He responds with a low groan, his tongue tangling with yours, and the hand at your neck tightens just enough to make your head spin.

You moan into his mouth, your free hand sliding down the front of his shirt, savoring the hard planes of his chest. Your fingers flirt with the cool metal of his belt buckle before venturing lower, cupping his hardening length through his slacks.

The sultry sound that escapes him urges you to palm him, your touch deliberate as you apply more pressure, delighting in the way he twitches beneath your hand.

His hips shift involuntarily, and you squirm on his lap, the dampness between your thighs growing as your neglected pussy aches for attention.

Javier breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down to your jawline, then back to your mouth, where he bites and nips at your bottom lip. His hand moves from your throat to your chest, cupping and kneading your tits through the fabric of your shirt. The feeling has you arching into him, silently begging for more as your nipples pucker.

When his hand slides back between your legs, you let out a shaky breath, your head falling to his shoulder. His thumb traces a teasing line up your soaked slit, the fabric of your panties doing nothing to dull the feeling. He alternates between feather-light touches and firm squeezes of your thighs, keeping you trembling and needy in his lap.

You latch onto his lips again, kissing him feverishly, your desperation bleeding into every movement. The air between you is electric, the sound of wet kisses and shared breaths filling the room. Javier doesn’t pull away, doesn’t rush you—he matches your pace, taking everything you’re giving him and giving it back tenfold.

His thumb circles your clit over your panties, drawing a gasp from your lips that he swallows with a grin. “You’re so wound up, cariño,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Can’t even think straight, can you?”

You shake your head, a breathy moan spilling from your mouth as he continues to toy with you, always a tease.

Javier’s dark eyes flick up to yours, filled with that commanding intensity that never fails to make your stomach flip. “Sit on the desk.”

Without hesitation, you do as he says, sliding off his lap and onto the edge of the polished wood, your palms bracing against its surface.

You perch there, your knees drawn together, but the look in his eyes tells you he wants more.

Javier rolls his chair forward, the scrape of its legs on the floor adding to the charged atmosphere. He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your knee. The warmth of his lips against your skin is welcomed, and when he taps your other knee with his fingers, you know exactly what he wants.

“Spread them, baby,” his command is like gravel smoothed by velvet. “Let me see how wet you are.”

Your heart races as you part your legs, the mess between them undeniable. His gaze drops, locking onto the damp spot that has already formed in the center of your panties. A wicked smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he leans forward, pressing another kiss on your skin—this time on the inside of your knee.

His warm breath fans against your thigh as he drags his tongue along its length, stopping just short of where you ache for him most.

His curved nose nudges against your cunt, and you gasp softly, the intimate gesture making you feel hot all over. He inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if savoring the scent of you. “Tan rica, amor.”

Javier’s tongue presses against the fabric of your panties, licking a broad, wet stripe that has you quivering under his touch. Your elbows give slightly as you lean back, surrendering to him wholly.

He hums in satisfaction, his hands firm on your thighs to keep you steady and spread as he works you over by tonguing at you over the fabric.

When he hooks a finger under the edge of your panties and pulls them aside, the cool air hits your bare skin, making you whimper. His eyes darken at the sight of your glistening folds, the damp curls surrounding your beautiful pussy, and he lowers his head again, delivering gentle kisses with his plush lips. 

The wet sounds of his mouth meeting your skin are indecently loud, and the lewd intimacy of it has your head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he mutters, his voice muffled against you. “Miss her so much. Miss you.”

The affection in his words melts into the overwhelming pleasure as his tongue dips into your slit, circling your clit with unrelenting precision. A soft moan escapes your lips, and your thighs twitch beneath his touch, unable to resist the way he knows exactly how to undo you.

He grips you tighter, keeping you spread for him as his tongue delves deeper, tasting every heady inch of you. His groans vibrate against your sensitive skin, and the sheer devotion in his actions leaves you trembling, utterly at his mercy.

“Javi,” you moan, his name spilling from your lips as he devours you with an unrelenting hunger. The coarseness of his mustache against your slick folds sends jolts of pleasure through your body, and your hips buck upwards, desperate to feel more of him.

When his teeth graze your swollen clit, you yelp, the sharp edge sensation of it making your back arch as you fall flat against the desk. The crumple of papers beneath you is barely a thought in your mind, overwhelmed as you are by the pleasure of his ministrations.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, tangling in the soft brown curls and tugging hard.

He groans against you, the vibration an added stimulant from the amazing head he’s always giving you. “Oh yes, Javi, just like that,” you gasp, urging him on as your thighs tremble.

His lips close around your clit, sucking harshly, and you feel your breath lodge in your throat. Then he shakes his head, the movement rough and deliberate, and the friction of his facial hair combined with the firm press of his nose against your most sensitive spot has you spiraling.

“Oh fuck!” you cry out, your body trembling as the tension inside you winds tighter and tighter, especially when he stuffs his tongue inside of your fluttering hole, fucking you with it.

Javier pulls back just enough to spit on your cunt, the lewd sound making your body crave him more. His fingers slide through the mix of saliva and your creamy arousal, swirling it around the mouth of your cunt before he plunges two thick fingers deep inside you.

Your back bows off the desk, a yelp tearing from your lips as he sets a rhythm that’s both rough yet fulfilling. His fingers curl and twist just right, pressing against that spot that makes your entire body vibrate and colorful spots dot your vision.

He doesn’t relent, his mouth is back on your clit in an instant, his tongue flicking over it with a precision born from all the hours he’s spent learning your body.

The combined assault of his mouth and fingers is too much and not enough all at once. You’re drowning in the sensations, every nerve alight as he drives you closer to the edge with every pump, every lick. “Javi,” you choke out, your nails scraping against his scalp as the heat in your core threatens to spill over. “I’m gonna—”

He hums against you, doubling down on his efforts as if daring you to let go, and with one final wet, hot suck, you do.

Your orgasm crashes over you, ripping through your body in waves that leave you crying out his name, utterly undone in his hands.

When he pulls away, a glistening string of your essence clings to his swollen lips. His tongue sweeps it up eagerly, savoring you with a deep, satisfied hum, as if he hadn’t just devoured you from the inside out.

You barely register the clink of his belt being undone, the metallic sound followed by the soft rustle of fabric as he pushes his pants down just enough to free himself. His cock stands thick and proud, the head flushed in an angry red and glistening with precum, his heavy balls hanging beneath it, full and ready.

The sight alone makes your mouth water and your cunt clench with fresh need.

Javier leans over you, capturing your lips in a messy, hungry kiss. The tangy taste of your arousal lingers on his tongue as it slides against yours, drawing a whimper from your throat.

His groan reverberates through you as he drags the velvety, swollen head of his cock along the sticky seam of your cunt, spreading your wetness and teasing your sensitive clit.

He swirls himself around your nub, igniting sparks all over your overstimulated body, then slaps the hot tip against your bundle of nerves, making you cry out. “Javi,” you gasp, your hips bucking toward him, desperate for more.

He finds your entrance, the warmth of you wrapping around him as he pushes in slowly, savoring every inch. The guttural sound he makes when he sinks into you is pure sin. “Always so wet and tight for me,” he grunts, his teeth gritting as your slick walls stretch to accommodate him.

You throw your head back, a litany of curses and pleas spilling from your lips. “Oh fuck—Javi—you feel so good. I need you to make me feel this for days.”

He growls low in his throat at your words, his hips pressing flush against yours as he fills you completely, the heat of his cock nestled deep within you. The damp fabric of your shirt clings to your sweat-slicked skin, but all you can focus on is the way he feels—how his cock seems to claim every part of you.

Javi kisses you again, rough and unrelenting, before standing to his full height, his strong hands gripping you as he adjusts your position.

Your hips dangle just over the edge of the desk, his hand squeezing the curve of your ass while the other slides beneath your shirt to cup your breast. His fingers find your nipple, tugging and rolling it as he begins to move, pulling out  almost completely, his cock glistening with your arousal before he slams back into you.

The wet, obscene sound of your bodies meeting fills the room, spurring him on. Your hips rise to meet his, finding a rhythm together that has both of you moaning unabashedly, the desk creaking beneath you. 

Your cries and his grunts blend into a symphony of lust. 

“That’s right, baby,” he says through clenched teeth, his hand leaving your breast to shove your shirt up, exposing your bare skin to his hungry gaze. His pupils dilate as he watches the bounce of your tits with each thrust, his cock sawing in and out of you relentlessly. “Fucking take it. Take all of me.”

You grab his hand, guiding it back to your chest. “Don’t stop,” you plead, holding his palm over your breast as your second orgasm builds, hot and insistent. “More, Javi—give me more.”

He nearly growls, his hands roaming over you feverishly before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you upright. Your legs wrap around his hips, your arms clutching his shoulders as he fucks up into you. The change in angle is devastating, each thrust hitting deeper, making you go absolutely fucking crazy.

Your cries of his name are music to his ears, your nails raking down his back as your slickness drenches his cock, soaking the front of his thighs. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust, heavy with the promise of his release.

You bite down on his neck, your lips sucking at the spot he’d scolded you for earlier. He doesn’t stop you, though; if anything, the sharp sting of your teeth makes his own head spin. His hips snap harder, his breaths ragged against your ear. “Shit, amor—I’m close. But you first. I need to take care of you.”

Leaning back, you brace your palms on the desk, your hips swiveling against him as the tension inside you snaps. Your walls flutter and tighten around him, milking his cock as you gush, your release coating him in a creamy sheen.

“Javi!” you scream, your entire body trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure.

His dark brown eyes are glued to where your bodies are joined, watching the creamy ring of your slick coating his cock with every stroke. It’s too much for him, and he buries himself deep with a hoarse shout of your name, his thick, hot release spilling inside you in thick, satisfying spurts, filling you to the brim.

Both of you collapse against each other, breaths ragged and mingling as your high slowly fades. His cock softens inside you, but neither of you rushes to pull away.

“It just gets better every time,” he murmurs, his lips peppering affectionate kisses along your neck and jaw before capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as he sighs contentedly. “Now,” you murmur, your voice soft and teasing, “will you come to bed?”

He pulls back just enough to brush his nose against yours, his lips curving into a smirk before stealing one last kiss. “Of course, mi amor.”

[oh-katsuki]

tendou gets you to have those, slow, slow, slow orgasms, where you feel like the peak is never gonna hit you. he doesnt speed up or slow down, just lets you teeter on the edge, all twitching and tense as he fingers you with a little "come on, let go-- there it is."

i- i literally started like.... giggling uncontrollably, hands over my mouth, eyes watering. this... he's unbelievable.

it's so overwhelming too. the way the syrupy start of your orgasm fills your brain. makes you heavy and spacey, like you're floating. and your chest heaves desperately while he lays between your legs with his knuckles curled up inside of you. just kind of builds and builds and builds.

he's not finger fucking you particularly fast, but something about it makes you want to run away. like you know the orgasm will be too much. it scares you just a little bit, the intensity of the build-up. kinda makes you think that you might cry, the feeling welling up in your chest and throat, so intense that you can't even let the sound trapped in your throat escape.

tendou's the only thing keeping you grounded, working those lithe fingers as you climb higher and higher, cresting on the top of that wave for what feels like forever. praises you telling you that you can let it go, to just relax and let yourself come. groans when you finally do crash, smiling as the breath you'd been holding finally escapes you in a rush of air.

your chest heaves and you gasp loudly as he works you through it, pulling your knees upward and arching your back into the sensation. his fingers follow, elongating your orgasm. it lasts so long, the build-up of it leading to a stretched-out payoff that makes you feel like you're going insane. your voice wavers and your stomach knots up. you pull your knees together around his wrist, able to feel the way his muscles move between them.

im going to lose my fucking mind.

[kedsandtubesocks]

I came here from the mothman gojo fic! It's still one of my faves :]

MOTHMAN GOJO BROUGHT YOU HERE?!

Lovely anon I’m giving you an award cause you’re a true champion 😭🫡💕

this just made my day especially cause that was one of my more weirder out there fics but I put so much love and time into that little world so this means so much omg 😭

Thank you for sharing and thank you again for reading!!

Me and little Mothman Gojo adore you so so much 🦋

[cocajimmycola]

can bun have a pk desc [ for the entire system preferably ] based on madoka magica perhaps ~ !

★ __...__ ***sys name !*** ╰ age ╮*`pro/nou/ns !`* 🎀 ⋆ ⋆ 💞 *info info info* ⌕⌕ 💗 ── info info info .. ─╮ ⋆ ˚｡ *info info info info info* 💖 › info info info ╯ *info info* 💫 ╰──╮**talk to me about !!** 🎵 ➜ xyz ! xyz ! xyz !

[ylangelegy]

Hiii. Can I request a oneshot based on this HAHAHAH pleasee please like short oneshot will do!!! 🥰🥰 https://www.tumblr.com/svtsofthours/768423753034104832/seungcheol-jihoon-isnt-answering-his-phone?source=share

📞 do not disturb (jihoon x reader)

or: jihoon always answers. no questions asked.

★ footnotes: i debated the ethics (ethics?!) of taking this on, but i'm ultimately weak to anything and everything uji-related. prompt is fully by @svtsofthours ♡ word count: >980

Jihoon has a bad habit of leaving his phone on 'Do Not Disturb' mode.

In his line of work, getting in the flow was the most important thing. Inspiration could be dashed as easily as it came, and Jihoon's not about to risk his momentum being killed by a TikTok from Vernon or a 'wyd?' from Wonwoo.

His members call him vicious for it, but Jihoon is also the first to remind them that everything he does is for them. That's always the quickest way to shutting them up.

There are still ways to reach him, of course, when he's in the zone. Some members will drop by the studio unannounced. Some know to go through Jihoon's manager instead.

And some have begun to realize that they could simply just ask you.

It's another one of those long evenings, the type that has Jihoon feeling like his retinas are burning from all the time he's spent at his DAW. He doesn't remember the last time he looked away from the song he's working on, but it's a small price to pay for what he thinks is shaping up to be a potential title track. He just needs to tweak—

The thought is disrupted by the shrill ring of his cellphone.

Without so much of a second thought, Jihoon is reaching for the device and answering the call without even checking the ID. He has at least enough wits to know that he's been on 'Do Not Disturb' since he stepped into the studio, which means the caller could only be one person.

"Hi, honey," he says.

His voice is a tired rasp but the fondness bleeds through all the same. The sudden reprieve has him sinking a little further into his computer chair, like he's just registered how utterly spent he is.

That exhaustion pales in comparison to the warmth that floods his chest when you greet him back with your ever-so sweet, "Hey, darling. Still in the studio?"

You already know the answer, and yet you still ask. Jihoon feels a little endeared by it as he absentmindedly runs his free hand over his face. "You know it," he says. "What's up?"

"Seungcheol and Soonyoung have been trying to get in touch with you," you inform him.

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. He pulls his phone away from his ear to check his lockscreen and, sure enough, you're right. Six (6) missed calls from Coups-hyung. Six (6) missed calls from Hamzzi.

"I've been working," Jihoon says into the receiver as he brings his phone back up. "Are they with you right now?"

"Just Seungcheol. Here—"

Jihoon has half a mind to tell you, no, please, do not pass the phone over to Seungcheol, but the leader's whining voice is already piercing through the call. "You answered their call in less than ten seconds!" Seungcheol proclaims, the pout in his voice audible. "What the hell, Jihoon-ah?!"

"It wasn't less than ten seconds," Jihoon protests weakly, feeling the tips of his ears burn red at the insinuation of just how fast he could fold when it came to you.

Seungcheol doesn't give a damn about semantics. His point still stands. "You didn't answer a single one of my calls," the older boy complains. "I can't believe this!"

So help me, God. Jihoon knows he's already going to have to get the man one pastry or another to compensate for this misgiving. "Right, sorry, sorry," Jihoon huffs out. "Why were you calling, anyway?"

Seungcheol bitches and moans for a couple more minutes before eventually breaking the news about some brand endorsement that they need to sign on for. Jihoon promises to check his e-mail and have the contract in before the morning, which doesn't really appease Seungcheol.

Even as the leader passes the phone back to you, he's mumbling something like 'unbelievable' and 'ungrateful kid'. Jihoon rolls his eyes despite the fact that neither of you can see it.

His mounting annoyance ebbs at your voice, at your gentle question of, "When are you going to finish up?"

Jihoon lets out a low hum, eyeing the aborted song on his laptop. He had wanted to make changes on something— the bridge? the chorus?— but the idea was gone now, replaced only with the crick in his neck and the ache of longing.

"I think I could wrap up for the night," he decides. "We can order in some pizza and watch that drama you like. How does that sound?"

Jihoon can hear the way you try to tamp down your excitement in favor of tentatively asking, "Are you sure? I can always wait for you, darling."

And, oh, he loves you for it. He loves that your first and foremost concern is the disruption to his work, the easy way he throws it all aside in favor of a night in with you. Jihoon is usually much stronger than this, he swears.

But he's a weak, weak man whenever you come calling.

"I'm sure," he says. "See you in ten."

"See you. Take care." A beat. And then, you add in a whisper— almost like you're a little abashed to be saying it in front of Seungcheol— "I love you."

Even though there's nobody around to hear him say it, even though the words are yours and yours alone, Jihoon's voice softens to match your tone.

"I love you, too. Can't wait to come home to you, honey."

Jihoon ends the call at that because he knows you have a thing about not wanting to be the one to put down the phone. He stares down at his device and its Notification Center, where there's dozens of missed calls, texts, and e-mails. Evidence of what he's ignored in favor of the craft.

His 'Do Not Disturb' stays on, with only one exception to the rule: All notifications are allowed from you.

svtsofthours' post ->

Seungcheol: Jihoon isn’t answering his phone. You: I’ll call. Seungcheol: Soonyoung and I have both tried six times each, what makes you think— Jihoon: Hi, honey.