#choke me pls javier

[princessimotep]

Imagine Javier #9

Imagine Javier, with your consent, putting his hands around your throat and squeezing long enough until you see colourful dots splash behind your eyes.

If you tip him over the edge too much, then this animalistic side will take over and wreck you internally. He would show you no mercy. Have you crying. Begging for forgiveness.

Usually he is a sensual, romantic lover. Yet this night – you drove him fucking insane.

“You look so pretty with your throat in my hands, cariño~”

“What are those tears for, hm? Is it too much for you, mi amor~?”

“Te ves tan hermosa cuando lloras~ Llora por mí, dulce ángel~” (“You look so beautiful when you cry~ Cry for me, sweet angel~”)

[devilmademewriteit]

Dark Paradise

part 3 of Salvatore

read part 1, Salvatore, here

read part 2, Playing Dangerous, here

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

summary: left alone in javi’s bed, you go looking for distractions. finding them only leads you further into his world: a world of danger and violence, where no one can protect anyone.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, super SUPER light choking) so 18+ only content; pet names (cariño, hermosa, querida, sweetheart, baby) afab fem reader; reader is American; mentions of hair pulling; allusions to SA; attempted SA against reader (not by javi); violence against reader (hitting, slapping, manhandling); smoking; dubcon (power imbalance, trauma sex??).

word count: 7k+

no use of y/n in this fic

u guys. it is here. and the most exciting part is I can already promise u a part 4!! pls be mindful that this part is darker than the rest. it has many triggering themes, so many sure u read the warnings & stay on the safe side of things.

as always, love u all so effing much. feedback, reblogs, comments & asks are always appreciated, & don’t forget to join the taglist in my pinned post !

-em<3

—

No one compares to you. I’m scared that you won’t be waiting on the other side.

- Dark Paradise

“Girl, where did you go?”

You’re on the landline with Carrie, one of the few half-friends you'd made living in Medellín, thighs sore and bruised from the backseat-loving you’d received the night before. While Javi’s at work, you’re on (his words) 'house arrest,' and lounging alone in his apartment feels eerily quiet. The occasional car drives by—you try not to listen for the sound of scraping tires.

So, around 9:30, you’d decided to fill the silent space with a bit of vapid conversation, realizing that last night's antics (and your unexplained disappearance) may have caused a bit of confusion.

You start by filling Carrie in on the generalities: the guns, the car, and the rescue, at first planning to leave out the more… personal details.

Like the one you'd filed away under 'Riding a Cop to High Heaven in the Backseat of his Jeep.'

You also leave out the part where, afterwards, you’d kicked off your heels by his front door, let down your hair in a sloppy, half-drunk movement, made a beeline to the familiar crinkles and folds of his unmade bed, and swiftly passed out in his embrace.

Oh, to fall asleep between those arms for the rest of eternity.

Given your more cynical—okay, borderline self-denying—approach to life, you felt downright ashamed of how much you’d enjoyed it. How much you’d enjoyed him and all of his lasting touches.

And in the morning… Javi’s hardness biting into your hip was a more efficient wake-up-call than the trial nuke sirens back home; the soft kisses laid down the length of your neck and the long, lazy fingers creeping down your abdomen had you surging to consciousness with embarrassing speed. You’d shivered into wakefulness, flattened against his chest.

“Good morning, cariño.” His words were molasses, melted caramel, thick and damp with sleep.  

“Hmmmh,” was your only reply, sloping into your highest octaves as his hand sank to push aside your already-ruined underwear, dipping lower to toy with the switch only he knew how to turn on best. Arching into his spine, last night’s dress crumpled up above your waist, leaving him to feel more, more, more of you.  

“Thought it would take more convincing,” he breathed against your shoulder, a breeze of late august air.

“Wh’time z’it?”  

“We have time, cariño, we have time.”

When his digits pulled a moan from your lips, no other answers really mattered. He’d loosed that deep, guttural rumble of approval that made your chest swell with pride, your legs part in service and need.  

“Can you hold this leg up for me, baby? S’all you need to do.” He’d helped fold up your knee, and you’d turned to meet him with pleading, drooping eyes, dutifully contorting to mold into the shape of his body. “Perfect, baby, good job,” a rough kiss to your temple, “n’I can do the rest, hermosa—I’ll do the rest.”  

He slid in effortlessly, harmonizing to your sigh of relief with a “shit, s’wet,” and sheathing his cock between the folds of your morning slick. Brows furrowing, mouth falling open, you had every detail of your bliss etched on your expression, all for the beautiful man looming over you. “Always fuckin’ askin’ for it, huh, sweetheart?” He'd mused. “Woke me up moanin’ in your sleep, cariño—dreamin’ about last night?”  

An “mhmm,” was all you could muster. Javi’s hips rolled against your ass, and the resulting feeling of overwhelming fullness had you swearing you were still in reverie. When he paused, snaked his arms under your neck and around your waist, and pulled you flush against his chest, you remember it feeling like a dirty, desperate hug.  

“M’sore, Javi,” you’d whined at the stretch of your opening, the continued drag of Javi’s fingers against your aching, weary clit.  

“S’no excuse, baby,” he’d grumbled into the shell of your ear, pressing hard into that tender bundle of nerves. “Gotta get you used to it.”

A harrumph as he’d turned up the intensity, punishing you for your protests. “Y-you’re a mean-mean man, Javier Peña.”

Soft, gravelly laughter danced, twirled, traveled along the dip of your neck. “‘N you’re gonna come so hard for this mean, mean man.”  

He was right, bringing you to the brink of orgasm with the thick, rough pads of his fingertips, the tip of his cock sliding up and down, over and over, in and out of your guts.  

“Yeah—yes—m’gonna come for you, Javi,” you’d admitted.  

But he’d stolen his magical digits away, used them to turn your jaw, to square your face off with his own concentrated, lust-filled expression. “Show me cariño, yes—gonna be picturin’ that pretty lil’ face aaaaall fuckin’ day,” and you’d tumbled over the edge the moment he’d slid back down to the apex of your thighs, drowning in the darkness of his cinnamon-brown irises and the tantalizing circles—drawn from memory—against your clit.  

“J-javi—it feels—feels s-so good—”  

“I know, hermosa, s’just what you needed, fuck—”

He was already close enough, but your climaxing trembles and your whining, choked gasps had him wrapping his hand around your throat, pushing you further and further down the length of his tensing shaft.  

“Shit—you feel like heaven, baby, so good for me—”  

His release came fast and hard, leaking his hot spend into you, painting your insides like brushstrokes on canvas with his final thrust.  

He seemed to lay there for forever, softening between your walls as sweet slumber carried you off once more. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he’d advised against your shoulder (as if you’d needed any kind of encouragement), “Did such a good job; go back to sleep.”  

It was easy to accede to his command.  

You’d come to for a half-second as he’d placed, fully dressed, the clink of his belt and the crisp waft of his cologne rousing you to near-consciousness, a deliberate, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Don’t answer the door for anyone else, okay, hermosa?”

“Huh? Oh—mhm.”

And you’d vaguely registered a low laugh. “Good to know you’re so well behaved when you’re half-asleep.” His finger traced your cheekbone, dragged down to pull teasingly at your bottom lip. “Means I’ll have to keep fuckin’ you to the point of exhaustion.”

“Mhm—please." Squished and mumbled, guttural and breathless.  

Another soft laugh, and then echoes of receding footsteps.  

Waking up a few hours later, you’d peeled your sticky thighs apart, confused at first by the mysterious pool of wetness between your legs.

You didn’t bother cleaning it up, already feeling the loss of your DEA officer. You somehow chose to dial Carrie's number to kill some time on your day off (or else, you feared, you’d have quickly found another use for your bored fingers).

Being alone in his room leaves you feeling very young. Lying in his bed, thinking about the past night’s events… you feel giddy, like a highschool girl after her first time, and anxious, on edge without Javier’s protection.

You just want to gush about it.

“Do you remember that DEA agent? The Texan?”

You barely have time to finish your thought before Carrie’s cutting your question short.

“Sexy Javi?”

She giggles. You snort indelicately into the receiver.

“I never called him that.”

“You didn’t have to,” she returns. “I deduced it from the amount of times you ranted to me about his… callers.”

You fiddle with the telephone chord, smiling artfully to yourself. “I’m in his bed right now.”

There’s a slap. No doubt the sound of a hand clapping over a set of slack lips. And then—

“I thought he lived outside the city?!”

It’s a strange reaction. You’d expected something a bit more on-topic, confused at your friend’s preoccupation with Peña’s living quarters when you’d just divulged such an out-of-character, personal detail.

Well, at least the enthusiasm is there.

“No, he lives right by the embassy.” You respond, rolling lazily onto your side. Opening the top drawer of his bedside table, you grimace to yourself, taking in (on top of the empty bottle of men’s cologne and an old, broken watch) a box of tissue paper, a pair of handcuffs (not regulation), a smatter of sex toys, and a few scattered, unopened condoms. “That new… fancy building on the corner,” you continue, swiping a few tissues between your legs, trying not to giggle at the teasing Javi was in for tonight, “Carrie—are you seriously not gonna ask how it was?”

There’s a pause. You hear a rustle in the background; the sound reminds you of students in class, whipping out pens and notebooks.

Is she taking notes?

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

That reaction felt more appropriate.

It all comes bursting out of you—the night out, Javi’s rescue, your backseat escapade. Carrie’s an ideal audience, gasping and ‘oooh’-ing and ‘girl!’-ing at all the right moments.

When you get to the end of your tale, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Carrie pries for more and more specifics, keeping you on the phone for close to an hour. You don't give her everything (did she really need an approximation of his size?) but you do make sure to remind her, often, that Javier Peña was an excellent fuck.

Finally, the conversation dies down. Sitting up, you realize just how desperately you’re in need of a shower. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, the smell of sex, tequila, and Javi’s day-old cologne clinging to your skin, but his place gets hot, and you hadn't anticipated the need to pack deodorant in your purse during last night's going-out prep.

Either way, Carrie's become distracted, the length between your words and her responses growing with every passing minute. You notice a Spanish conversation taking place in the background, no doubt the reason for her decreasing attentiveness.

You’re about to hang up, launching into a polite, “alright girl, I’ll let you go” when she goes back in for more.

“Is he home now?”

She blurts it out, and you're a bit taken aback. Frankly, the urgency of her tone feels a little jarring.

“Um, no,” you answer, uncertain, stretching out your vowels, “I think he went in early today.”

“Good.”

Her clipped tone continues to confuse you. It’s… not playful anymore. It’s administrative.

Commercial.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh,” a flutter of shrill laughter, “Just wanted to make sure he’s not listening in on our—”

There’s a knock at the door before she can finish. You call out just a sec! automatically, pulling on your rumpled clothes from the night before as the receiver tumbles onto the unmade bed.

It’s only once you’ve lumbered over, wiped the grogginess from your eyes, once you’ve unlocked the door and twisted the handle—it’s only once your head is covered with a thick, scratchy fabric, once the world’s gone dark and a cry of surprise is wrenched from your throat—that you recall Javi’s warning:

Don’t open the door for anyone else.  

Something else takes over. Something primal. Fight, fight, fight. Find the flesh and punish it, scramble for purchase into any detectable, softer areas. Squirm until your legs give out, 'till your knees hit the floor and the beginnings of bruises scatter across your burning skin in a plethora of vulnerable places.

But when you thrash around like that, make sure your head doesn’t hit the doorframe.

Because then? It’s lights out.

—

The first thing you notice is the smell.  

Weed and tobacco. Wet weed and tobacco. It’s not a smell you’re accustomed to (you worked for the DEA, for crying out loud). It makes your already-pounding head spin, so it takes a second before you remember that you’re not safe—you’re not at home, you’re not at Javi’s, and you’re not with Javi.

Instincts kick in. Your stomach aches with fear, lighting you up from the inside, energizing every inch of your body. You wrench, pull, struggle against the restraints suffocating your wrists, binding your hands around the back of a rickety, wooden chair. You can’t kick at anything, either. Your ankles are crossed, squished on top of each other and secured by a firm length of (what you assume to be) rope.

And then the canvas is unceremoniously yanked off of your head, taking a few hairs from your scalp along with it.

You squint, blinking into the dim light, slowly adjusting to your surroundings: some sort of musty basement with concrete walls and floors, decorated by nothing except a couple of small, rectangular windows near the too-high ceilings. It’s completely empty—save for your company.

One, two, three strangers. All men. All Cartel, by the looks of them.

And all positively leering.  

The one nearest you, holding the bag in his hands, speaks down to you. It’s quick and harsh, mocking and cruel. Spanish and unintelligible.

Your hatred towards the captor blinds you; it coaxes the animal out of its cage. You spit: “I don’t speak Spanish, motherfucker.”

(Even if you did, the adrenaline coursing through your veins wouldn’t allow you much room for comprehension).

From the shadows, another man appears. He lumbers over to you, and you notice the peculiarity of his European-looking hat as he squats down to level with you.

He clicks his tongue, dousing you with a look of disapproval. “That’s not very nice, hermosa.”

You shiver. Javi had called you that before, many times. And even though it sounded totally different coming from this foul man’s mouth, shrouded under the veil of a thick, Spanish accent, it sticks.

You hold your tongue, biting it to keep from sobbing. The glint in his eye, visible behind his glasses, moves from playfulness to exasperated ire.

He sighs, stands, and grabs your hair, tilting your head back harshly to look down at you. “You’re very hard to catch, you know that?” He muses, darkness trickling across his features. “But you’re alone now, Americana. No DEA—no Javier Peña to protect you.”

He makes a mockery of his name, oozing cockiness as it comes spitting out of his smirk. You glare up at him, simmering anger and bubbling fear claiming you. Would they go after Javi?

No. They wouldn’t dare.

Only an American like yourself—low-value, replaceable, unnoticeable—was expendable.

“What do you want from me?”

He smiles, releasing your head and taking a step back.

“You’re the assistant, aren’t you?” And that deceptively sweet tone is back, frightening you more than his rage. “We need directions, hermosa. You’ve been in all the government buildings—we know, we watched you. Why don’t you give us some assistance,” he pauses, leaning down towards you, “And tell us where your evidence against Pablo Escobar is filed.”

You snort, unimpressed, shocked, and a little humoured by his little monologue. This was what they were after?

This was why you'd been fearing for your life?

A fucking… map?

“Find someone else. I don’t know shit.”

It’s honestly true. The bastards could not be barking up a more wrong tree. For all their criminal genius, they hadn’t managed to catch the fact that you really, truly didn’t give a flying fuck about the particulars of your job.

But if this was about Escobar—the Pablo Escobar—then these were men from the Medellín cartel. The same Medellín cartel that left scores of expendable bodies in its wake, that bombed, assassinated, and tortured government workers like they were no more than rats in a science lab.

You weren’t the end-all, be-all of this operation.

No, you were just another lead.

A lead that (only you knew) led to jack-all. Unless they were scrambling to learn about the best places to go out dancing or the worst brands of moisturizer, you had very little to offer the thugs.

The one with the strange hat—the ringleader, you decide—shares a smile with his co-conspirators, and you begin to regret the arrogance of your statement.

“There are many ways we can do this,” he warns, voice sloping down to a dangerous hum. “It can be easy…” and he lowers a hand to his belt buckle, setting every cell in your body on fire, “Or hard.”

It‘s a plea to God more than a question for your captor, your desperate, self-pitying: “Why me?” It can't be above a whisper, but the asshole responds anyway.

“It’s more enjoyable when we get to work with something pretty.” A dark laugh. “Who’s going to come looking for you, hermosa? Your family? Your friends? Your… government?” He clicks his tongue again, looking down at you in mock concern. “Like I said, we’ve been watching. You have a habit of disappearing. Running away.”

Figures.

Figures that the reason you’d wound up with your life on the line, your body in danger, was because of you. Once again, it boiled down to the lack of attachments you’d curated over the years, passing from one thing to another, quick on your feet the second they hit solid ground. For God’s sake, the only reason you’d made it this long in Medellín was because it hadn’t managed to bore you yet.

Figures that the closest thing to stability you’d been able to find was in the crime capital of the world. It was poetically honest, laughably ironic.

Of course, the American government would assume you’d fucked off—just another ditzy contractor swept up in the thrill of a south-American life.

The other part held water, too—no one would come looking for you. Your boss might huff about ‘these flighty secretaries, can’t hold ‘em down for anything,’ but beyond that, your disappearance would cause less than a stir.  

Somehow, that thought comforted you. The lack of collateral, the lack of another’s suffering… very little harm would befall the world in the wake of your absence. Peace was beginning to crest upon your settling soul. And, either way, you’d worked in this line of work for long enough to know that your death warrant had been signed the very second they’d seen you as a target.

You give the bastards what they want? You die.

You hold off? You die.

All things considered, you resign yourself, making up your mind.

Still, your defiant voice quivers as you say it.

“Fuck you.”

The ringleader smiles, like a predator cornering its prey, taking that first bite into hard-earned flesh. Your brain responds, screaming warnings in big letters, in flashing red ink. He barks an order to his underlings in Spanish, and the other two men come forward, roughly undoing the holds along your ankles, your wrists.

“Get the fuck off of me!”  

But they don’t listen, yanking you upright and shoving you onto the ground. Your vision becomes hazy. Something takes over, a protective instinct, perhaps, barring you from your own body. Distantly, you observe yourself fighting, but really all you feel is beyond. The words ‘I am not here, this is not happening’ wash over you over and over again, like a cleansing, salt-water wave.

Hands on cement. Clothes torn, destroyed—the cold barrel of a gun to your head, a man barking orders, hitting, slapping—and right as the worst is about to happen, everything just…

Stops.

It’s like they’re spellbound, bugs frozen in amber.

You hear the cause of it well after your torturers do. Footsteps upstairs, and gunshots, screams followed by the definite sounds of a creeping squadron.

The men get messy. Scrambling around, they gather their options. In your dazed periphery, you watch their eyes latch onto one of those open windows, 8 or 9 feet up from the ground.

A hushed conversation ensues. You're familiar enough with the more violent side of the Spanish vocabulary to string together their meaning.

“Shoot her? — no, the noise, they’ll find us faster — kill her? — too long — take her? — too messy — we have to go, we have to go, we have to go.”

Your ruined shirt is shoved down your throat, and then you’re gagging on it, ankles bound once more, shaking and naked on the freezing concrete. The trio uses the little wooden chair to frantically sneak out of the window.

It would be downright comical if you weren’t so terrified.

Soon, you’re alone, choking on cotton and wriggling to flatten your back against the wall. Centuries pass before the movement upstairs graduates to the basement below.

Relief doesn’t grace you. Any man—DEA, cartel, or Colombian police—would likely perform the same violence as your previous captors had planned to. A naked girl, roughed up and completely unprotected, in a dark, hidden basement, totally at their mercy… Shit. You were basically an invitation. A free meal, offered up to a different, hungry crowd.

You just pray that this one might be gentler.

The stairs creak under the certain weight of bodies in motion.

Tears run down the side of your face, dripping down from your temple onto the ground below. You compress into a ball, making yourself as small as possible.

The echoes grow louder, closer and closer. At this point, you just hope they’ll assume you’re an enemy or get trigger-happy and give you a quick taste of lead. Put you out of your misery.

Giving up was well within your comfort zone.

Someone gasps when they see you, and a single name hurtles through the space.

An out-of-commission part of your mind recognizes it—the name—knows it as a comfort. Still, you only tremble, trying to disconnect yourself from what must be a wishful, crafted, deceitful version of reality.

Then someone else comes forward. Your eyes, weary of keeping you in the dark, fling open just in time to watch a tall, dark-haired man push through the crowd of soldiers. You watch his expression—shock to rage, rage to relief, and then rage all over again.

He rushes you, falling to his knees before your wrecked form.

His first move is to wrench the fabric from your mouth. You croak out the most desperate sob of relief, all those stifled, unvoiced expressions of terror tumbling out in great-big-heaves.

“Are you hurt?” He asks.

“No.” You respond.

“Did they…?”

“No.”

Javi tears his big doe-eyes, filled with worry, away from yours, twisting to impatiently address the frozen crowd of four or five behind him. “Can somebody take these fuckin’ ties off?”

Switchblades slice through twine. Someone brings you a blanket, and Javi bundles you up in it, gathering you and lifting you in his arms. You don’t resist, clinging around his neck and hiding in the comfort of his shoulder.

“Hermosa—”

You regret the way you flinch. “Please—please don’t call me that anymore.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t ask questions, sounding a little softer, a little more unsure when he presses on, muffling the desperate edge to his tone. “Did you see where they went?”

“The window. Out the window.”

Most of the rest take to that almost immediately, scattering to start on their chase. Javi delivers a set of orders in his native tongue.

Then, he grows silent, carrying you through the house with two soldiers in the lead. “Close your eyes, okay? You don’t wanna see this.” But now that they’re open, you can’t seem to shut them. You only glimpse flashes of the upstairs area. Tables covered in paper, glass contraptions and coke, so much coke, which is almost more impressive than the quantity of blood splattered against the peeling walls.

And Carrie.

Carrie with half her brains hanging out, long, dark, red-soaked hair fanning around her crown like a rotten halo, lounging on the couch, fingers splayed and palms to the sky as if she were ready to wrap them around a glass of white wine—as if she were ready to catch up on girl-talk.

What’s Carrie doing here?

Should I ask her?

She’s dead.  

No, she’s not. She’s right there. She was waiting for me to be done so we could catch up. That’s just how she always sits—it’s just the scoliosis.

That’s why she always showed up so late to the club. She… she couldn’t dance too long because of the scoliosis.

You’re still debating whether or not Carrie would be up for a bit of gossip, another debrief, when big, strong arms lower you into the passenger seat of a Jeep Cherokee.

Javier buckles you in.

“We can’t go to your place—that’s…” and you trail off weakly, throat burning with effort. “That’s where they took me.”

He nods, his face a complete mask of concentration.

But you know him.

He’s holding everything back. You appreciate him for that, never wanting to hear a man shout for the rest of your cursed time on Earth.

“Steve’s, then.”

It’s your turn to nod.

—

Javier drives in complete and total silence, only speaking the occasional clipped sentence into his radio. Despite your vulnerability, despite your overwhelming gratitude, you feel guilty for taking him away from his work, from his team. For forcing him to rescue you once again.

For sure, he’s angry. Would he have to move? Find a new place? Leave all his stuff at the old one? Would a better captive have paid better attention, taken note of the exact direction her kidnappers had taken off in after clearing the window?

Soon, you’re settled against a couch, the light from the opposing window breaking in and dancing across Javi’s face. A blonde woman—fiery, familiar, concerned—hands you a glass of water.

Javi watches you, eyebrows notched together, lips drawn into a thin line as you take a slow sip in silence. The liquid slides down your throat, cooling and soothing the rips and tears there.

And they both won’t stop staring. Truly, their joint study makes you self-conscious, watching on with unapologetic intent as you shiver under the scratchy blanket.

Finally (thankfully), Steve's wife—Connie, you recall—speaks.

“You can go, Javi. I'll take it from here.”

“No.”

She looks borderline offended at his line in the sand.

“I don’t think she’s in any shape to talk, Peña.” It’s authoritative, protective, clearly marked with harboured resentment.

She'd make a good mom.

He scoffs. “I’m not gonna make her talk, Connie. Just don’t wanna leave her like... this.”

Connie looks confused. They share a glance, and an eventual understanding passes over her expression. In fact, even in your distressed state, you’re almost certain you catch a hint of a smile.

“Well if you’re both staying, we’ll need food.”

Javi nods absentmindedly, lighting up a smoke. You look away, still feeling the weight of his eyes boring into your ducked head.

She clears her throat. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Remember to lock the door, Javi.”

Then, swinging her coat on, she traces an awkward line out of the apartment.

Silence flits across the room. The agent continues to study you from his seat at the counter across the room.

“Are you okay?”

You pick at your nails, internally asking yourself the same question.

“I’m just glad you were there,” you muster up, looking up at his softened, warm gaze. Concern etches a couple of fresh lines on his face.

Javi nods, taking a long drag. “Always, sweetheart. I’m glad I was there, too.”

You shiver at the thought of what could have happened if he and his team had showed up just a few minutes later. What shape he would have found you in, or if you’d ever permit yourself to feel the touch of a man again. Of anyone again.

“Why were you there?”

The question comes out of nowhere, bursting out the moment you realize that you hadn’t yet bothered to ask him how he’d pulled off yet another well-timed rescue.

It couldn’t have been in answer to your prayers—those had never worked for you before.

“Carillo’s been following Escobar’s cousin for a while. Zeroed in on the neighbourhood, but we spent all morning doing searches. Honestly,” he breaks off for a moment, rubbing at his temples, “It was just damn luck that we found you when we did. Wish I could say it wasn't, but it was. We were gettin’ ready to call it off. I had… no idea you weren’t at home.”

He blames himself for it. You can tell. In turn, you blame yourself for that—for his misguided, self-inflicted anger.

There’s more left unsaid.

“My friend—I called her this morning. From your place. She was there. She was… dead. I think.”

Javi doesn’t react, evidence of the years of gore, wreckage, and betrayal he'd witnessed.

You swallow, soldiering on.

“I told her. I told her where I was. Could she… could she have told them?”

Is she the reason this happened to me?

Slowly, lips pressed around his cigarette, Javi nods. “I’m sorry,” he barely mumbles.

Strangely enough, you’re not. That’s what you say: “I’m not.” And it’s true. “She was upstairs when it was all happening. I’m glad she’s dead.”

Now, he looks at you with a consideration that swells into a kind of respect. Not a respect, no not respect. A knowing. A new kind of understanding, of equal footing.

You meet him head-on with it, basking in your retribution, revelling in the immediate justice she'd been served. You’d mourn the person you thought she was when your wounds weren’t so open, so fresh.

"They wanted directions, Javi," you suddenly blurt out, voice hoarse, "Isn't that insane? They were gonna... they were gonna do that for directions. Not even the evidence, just fucking directions-"

Javi lifts his hands in the air, signalling for you to slow down. Normally, it would make you want to tear his arrogant head off. Now, however, you just do, although the silence isn't very comforting. After a moment, you can tell there's something Javi’s been avoiding, something he’s holding in. The agent clears his throat, finally calling it quits on his tiptoe-ing around the subject.

“Cariño," he begins, "I know you told me earlier, but I... I gotta be sure. Did they hurt you in… any way?”

God, he sounds so deeply wary, unable even to speak his fear into existence. You shake your head no, prompting his shoulders to relax.

“Okay. Good,” he breathes, crossing his arms and looking down at the rug. “Don’t think I could…”

Panic ripples through your frame.

'Doesn’t think he could' what? Bear to look at me, knowing the enemy had been where he’d been, done what he’d done? Touch me in the same grooves they'd left on my skin? Javi’s not that kind of man—is he?

“Don’t think I could forgive myself if anything were to happen to you under my watch.”

The rush of anxiety quickly dissipates, replaced by a stifling bloom of admiration and adoration across your chest. Like soft tendrils, warming your shivering body from within.

You smile self-consciously, scoff, and meet his eyes. “I wasn’t ‘under your watch,’ Javi. I opened the door. It was my fault.”

He raises his eyebrows, huffing a breath before ashing his dart, rising, carving a path towards the couch-cushion next to you and taking your glass of water from between your hands. It clinks as he sets it on the table. Taking your unsteady hands between his hardened palms, he coaxes you into meeting his golden eyes.

“It’s not your fault, herm—” a pause as he corrects himself, noticing your flinch, “—cariño. It’s not your fault.”

He waits for your nod of acknowledgement before pulling you into his arms. You let yourself go limp, dragged into the plushness of the couch and the firmness of his chest.

He lays a kiss to your forehead. He fidgets with your hair. He traces long, lazy lines up and down your spine.

How had you gone from that youthful giddiness this morning to this dark, anxious wreck in a matter of hours? It wasn’t even two o’clock yet.

The comfort your agent provides is good—will always be good—but you want more. Every inch of attention he gives you is just another step away from that cold basement, a foot towards freedom.

Time heals all wounds, and you want a distraction while you face those excruciating seconds. Something to move it along. Something to keep you busy, to keep the harrowing images at bay.

So you tilt your head up. Finding his lips, you press into him, shuddering when the rough hairs of his mustache tickle your top lip. When your body asks for more, when your tongue meets his and your hand drops to his thigh, Javi tenses, pulling back and breaking off the kiss.

“Sweetheart—you’re not in a good place,” he whispers, lovingly running his fingers through your hair.

You look up at him with eyes full of need, wordlessly begging him to give in. “I am now,” you assure him, tossing a leg over his hips and straddling his body. His expression darkens as you slowly chip away at his resolve, one touch at a time. “I’m with you.”

He smiles, plucking your hands from his chest. Every kiss he lays to your knuckles sends a ripple of electricity up and down your spine. “That right?” He muses between embraces. “That all you need?”

You nod, the pace of your shallow breaths picking up in anticipation. “When you touch me, Javi, it’s like you’re cleaning them off me,” you croon, leaning forward to brush your lips against his jaw.

“You’re in shock, baby,” but his hands defy his words, slipping down to circle your waist, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Slowly, deliberately, you lean back to stare directly into his heavy-lidded eyes. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

You feel him tense at that, his body hardening alongside the weight building underneath your thigh. He lets you go on, deft hands pooling onto your hips.

“Get rid of them for me,” you plead, grinding down onto his bulge.

“Make me all yours again.”  

That does it.

His hands shoot up to your face, firmly cupping your cheeks between their heat. Then, Javi’s kissing you harder than before, warming your desire up to a feverish level. You moan into him, turning to putty in his grasp.

He peppers kisses down your jaw and up your neck, allowing you to clumsily untuck his shirt and undo his belt. It’s frantic and needy—it’s pure business. You free his length from the confines of his clothes, heavy breaths mingling when you look down in tandem, hungrily watching your small, delicate hand pumping up and down his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, his dark crown of cropped curls falling back against the couch, “You make it fuckin’ hard to be a good guy.”

You smile, spreading the slick dribbling at his tip around the head of his cock.

God, the sight of him never gets old.

“Good guys listen, Javi,” you tease, managing to pull off an air of sultriness, “Not just to no—also to yes.”

A lazy, roguish grin spreads across his face. “You are feeling better, aren’t you?” and he knocks a squeal out of you when he cages you in his arms, flipping you over ‘till your back’s digging shapes into the worn-in cushions below. “Gettin’ mouthy already.”

You giggle up at him, but all of your noises dwindle when a few rough fingers push your torn, ruined underwear to the side. You grow especially wordless when one separates your folds and makes its way inside you.

Javi gives you his signature look of condescension, of mock pity.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He taunts, thumbing that aching bundle of nerves. “All the ways I’ve had my dick in you, just this—” he makes a point to curl his fingers towards himself, pressing against the most desire-stricken spot, “—‘n you can’t find your words?”

Your throat won’t open, choking around your own pleasure. Instead, you nod with enthusiasm, desperately clinging onto his forearm. “More.”

He quickly accedes, pushing another long and thick finger inside you. You shudder at the perfect sting—the stretch—as your opening hugs his knuckles. Javi mutters curses to himself, angry and lustful, supervising your writhing form.

“No one else gets to see you like this.” He speaks low, sitting up to work you with both hands. Your body responds without your permission; Javi clicks his tongue and shoves you back down when your hips buck up. “Don’t deserve it,” he continues voicing his thought as if no interruption had occurred, “I’d have to track ‘em down and kill ‘em.”

His tone goes beyond protectiveness, easily veering into the realm of the possessive. “I-I wouldn’t be good f-for them, Javi,” you manage, wanting to comfort him, to calm him, “Wouldn’t—wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh,” he smirks down at you, finally pulling his fingers from your soaked, ready cunt. “Like you listen to me?”

You spread your legs for him, shimmying down until he’s hovering right above you. He strokes himself, taking you in with hunger, playfulness and… something else.

Something like devotion.

A smile. You stroke his jaw. “You come harder when I misbehave.”

He shrugs and nods, a silent, ‘you got me there,' before lining himself up at your entrance.

You whimper, a pathetic, pleading sound, when the head of his cock finds your opening. “Then make sure to misbehave.”  

He rocks inside you, taking note of the way your jaw goes slack, hanging open, and the way your brow furrows, grateful eyes glazing over, showing high praise for that feeling of fullness.  

And he laughs to himself.

“Needy fuckin’ thing,” he coos, settling into a comfortable rhythm. “Beggin’ for cock after bein’ kidnapped. I shouldn’t be feedin' into your crazy, cariño.”

It is crazy. But you don’t care, giggling along to his taunt.

“Just makes me feel so-so good, Javi,” you breathe.

“Yeah?” He coaxes, sitting back to tower over you, pressing your thighs to your calves; the new angle has bliss rippling through your centre, your back arching involuntarily. “What feels good?”

He shoves your hips down, lowering a finger back to your clit.

“Oh—God—y-yourcock—” he nods approvingly at you, beckoning you to go on, “your—your fingers, too.”

He slows his pace, pulling out fully before slamming back inside you.

“Look at it, cariño,” Javi instructs, steadying your hips once more. “Watch me fuck your pretty lil’ pussy.”

You struggle onto your elbows and obey, mouth slack and perpetually open. Pressure builds at your core as you watch every inch of his hard, dark length disappear, over and over, inside the shelter of your body. It’s so dirty, and somehow the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“M-made for you, Javi.”

And he moans, an animalistic sound you’d never heard from him before.

“S’right, baby, made just for me.” He flattens his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. “Can you come for me now?”

You nod, grateful for his permission as soon as you start to feel your thighs shake. The tension snaps within you, and you tumble over the edge of your climax with a high pitched whine.

“Good girl,” he praises, low, deep, and bristling with pleasure, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

You ride it out. Javi shows no mercy, squeezing your waist and bouncing your lower half against him. His biceps and shoulders strain against his shirt, the sight making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

After having him a few times, you were well aware of his impressive stamina—Javi wasn’t going to finish without giving you another one. Nonetheless, the overwhelming pleasure has you squirming away from his unrelenting grasp.

He pulls you back against him, steadying you between two forceful hands.

And he fucks you harder.  

“Still remember them, querida? ” He breathes.

You find your voice, using great effort to stammer out a “y-yes."

It's not the correct answer.

Javi growls, “Then I’m not fuckin’ done with you.”

His shirt grazes the insides of your thighs, and you're certain that every part of his form is working to set your skin on fire. A skilled hand wraps around your jaw, and Javi leans over you, lowering his lips to latch around a hard, peaked nipple.

Your whimpers do nothing to stop him. He just keeps rhythmically rocking into you, the head of his cock reaching impossible, beckoning depths.

An almost-sob wracks your lungs. “S’a lot, huh? Takin’ all this cock inside you…” Javi shushes you with feigned sympathy, nipping and suckling at the softest spots at his disposal. “S’okay, baby, s’okay.”

Then he makes his way to your lips, forces you to kiss him—deeply—as your lungs scream for oxygen. He locks your hands above your head in just one of his own, the pressure of his weight the only thing keeping your squirming limbs in place.

And then his mouth is sliding down your jaw, his breaths hot and heavy next to your ear.

“Fuck—can feel you gettin’ close, sweetheart, gonna come again?”

All you can do is nod.

He rolls into you—hard and deep—forcing tears to pull from the outer corners of your eyes.

“S-so good to me,” you manage, seeing pure white as your third orgasm of the day blooms from between your seizing legs.

He groans, freeing your hands (which immediately find stability in the firmness of his shoulders) to clumsily wipe the tears from under one dazed eye. Above you, he resembles a hungry, lustful angel, eyes darkened with unbridled need, affection, approval.  

“‘M’good to what’s mine, baby,” he whispers, pulling you into the crook of his neck as he chases both your highs. “Come, cariño—s’right, come for me.”

And you do, aching, ruined cunt squeezing and releasing, fluttering around Javi. He moans a downright sinful ‘fuck’ at the sensation, reaching his own peak almost in tandem with yours.

Only once his every last drop is spent, once his groan and your whines have stopped echoing around the unfamiliar, open space, does he pull back from your neck.

And when he looks at you… God. There’s something you’re both not saying.

“Only wanna see you cry like this, baby,” he tells you, laying a long, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Never gonna let them—let anyone—lay a finger on you again.”

Your breath hitches, the words thick and sticky in your throat. The both of you are dazed, breathless, and completely wrecked. “I’m… I’m glad we met. That you—that we’re doing this.”

He raises his eyebrows, crooning a soft ‘yeah?’ as he pushes your hair from your face.

You nod. “You make all of it worth it.”

He’s appreciative when leaning in for a kiss, slipping out of you and groaning against your lips. You tangle your fingers in his damp hair, leaning up into him with every aching muscle in your body, wanting nothing more than to become a part of his whole. When he pulls away, it's only to tuck his softening length back into his briefs. He focusses on you again, leaning over to affectionately stroke your knee.

“Is it just sex for you?”

His question comes as a bit of a surprise—you’d never heard him speak so openly, so innocent and vulnerable.

You cup his face. Despite the fact that he looks like the men from earlier, carries the same guns and ammo, knows what they know, even speaks their language, he’s never seemed so separate from them, an entirely different species.

“No—at first, maybe, but now… No. Not for me.”

He eases into a soft smile, wrapping you back into your blanket before laying back, manhandling you to rest against his still-unsteady chest.

Those masterful hands comfort you in a million different ways. He plays with your hair and traces the highest points of your cheekbone. He massages your knuckles, pulls you in for little kisses, dips into the curve of your waist.

“How about you?” The question is small, even though you anticipate the answer.

He takes a second before answering. When he does, his voice is low, quiet.

“Not at all, sweetheart.” He tilts your head up, his soft, caring gaze probing into every corner of your own. “Honestly, I think it’s been more than that since the first time you said ‘go fuck yourself, Peña.’” He whistles under his breath, exaggerating his approval. “Shit was hot.”

It makes you laugh, but it's also enough to make your heart soar. Settling in to the nook of his neck, you breathe in his familiar, earthly scent, until the exhaustion of the day eventually weighs on you.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face, entertained by the fact that while you really should be a wreck, you feel perfectly at ease, wrapped in the arms of your favourite DEA agent. In fact, you can hardly remember what your kidnappers looked like—or sounded like, for that matter—succumbing to slumber, you only think of him.

—

Less than three hectic, hazy days later, you’re pulling a suitcase through the Medellín international airport. There was no sense risking it anymore—you'd have to be transferred to the States until the assholes were caught. Ambassador's orders.

Javi flanks your side, eyes peeled for any abnormalities in your surroundings.

Your heart breaks with every step you take. He comes all the way to the gate without saying a word, merely holding onto one of your bags (that he'd insisted he carry) in a white-knuckled fist.

You’re running behind. There’s not much time.

He doesn’t say he’ll call—knows he’s not that kind of man. You don’t say you’ll visit. You don’t say you’ll write.

No, all you do is lean up on your tippy toes to plant a tender, lingering kiss to his cheek. He returns the favour by cupping your face, leaning down and kissing you intently.

Too intently—as if he were memorizing the grooves in your lips.

Well, that’s what you’re doing, anyways.

Over the loudspeaker, your name is called.

“They’re paging you,” Javi translates, his breath hitting your top lip.

You pull away, doing your best not to cry.

“Thank you.”

It’s all you say—it’s all that needs to be said, really.

Thank you for showing me I matter. Thank you for teaching me patience. Thank you for saving my life three times. Thank you for wanting me. Thank you for making me wait for it. Thank you for giving me a reason to miss this place.  

Thank you for loving me. I think that's what this is.

He hears it all, stuffed and contained, overflowing from the two uttered words.

Then he smiles, that well-trained, protective cockiness spreading across his face.

“You’re welcome, cariño.”

You scoff a laugh, slowly dropping his hand and turning towards your gate.

“If I ever visit home…” he calls after you.

You pause, smiling down at the glistening floor, shaking your head. “You’ll never catch me in Texas, Peña,” you call across the traffic of rushing families and over-packed suitcases. He smiles knowingly, hands in his pockets, watching you leave. “Just lock the fuckers up so I can visit. The weather sucks back home.”

You slowly walk backwards towards the exit, ignoring a few flight-attendant-glares, not daring to break off the playful eye contact linking you to your agent.

“I’ll do it just for you, baby,” he calls, grinning like a fool.

Strange. You’d never noticed how the teasing, that snarky back and forth you’d developed together seemed to put him at ease—to relax him. All that time he'd spent, driving you to the brink of insanity... it comforted him.

And that realization was enough to make you beam.

You commit that final glimpse to memory. Javi—smiling, calm, alive, yours. It was rare enough that you felt sure it would stick.

When you finally turn to face the gate, to face your future, you don’t feel like crying anymore.

It was enough just to have met him.

Maybe—just maybe—he felt the same.

—

All my friends tell me I should move on

I'm lying in the ocean, singing your song

Ahh

That's how you sang it

Loving you forever can't be wrong

Even though you're not here, won't move on

Ahh

That's how we played it

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

All my friends ask me why I stay strong

Tell 'em when you find true love, it lives on

Ahh

That's why I stay here

And there's no remedy for memory, your face is like a melody

It won't leave my head

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine

But I wish I was dead (dead, like you)

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

There's no relief, I see you in my sleep

And everybody's rushing me, but I can feel you touching me

There's no release, I feel you in my dreams

Telling me I'm fine

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise

No one compares to you

But there's no you, except in my dreams tonight

I don't want to wake up from this tonight

—

TAGLIST WILL BE CONTINUED IN REBLOG.

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TAGLIST:

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[joelsmochi]

Be The Boss - Javier Peña

loosely (actually extremely) inspired by the song you can be the boss by lana del rey ♡ i woke up with this idea and immediately got to writing, i love you smut sluts <3 hope you enjoy :3 this is also all lowercase ! i'm thinking of making a part 2... >:)

plot: ofc genie stumbles across javier in more places than one, and they... can't get enough of each other.

warnings: SIMP!javi, language, soulmates trope, mention of drug use, reader is a bit of a javi apologist (i meannnnn), creampie, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), some angst, mentions of death, choking, office sex, public sex, chance of getting caught, sex with other people nearby (not involved), i may have flexed the timeline of the story a bit + steve is there during the cali cartel job (just for storytelling purposes), prob typos + grammatical errors (english & spanish). lmk if i missed anything pls!!!

wc: 9.1k

masterlist

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ✮ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

those blue jeans and that white button-up shirt had genie fanning herself since she walked into the supermarket, but what kept making it worse was that the universe seemed to be forcing the two adults into the same aisle. she’d purposefully skip an aisle she needed to go down and circle back later only to find he still spawned wherever she went.

not like she was too awfully mad though. she knew it was just a mere coincidence, or maybe he found her attractive too. maybe she was the one following him, and not the other way around. maybe she was just reading into it too much — this happens often. you know when you go grocery shopping and can’t seem to get away from another customer? maybe that’s all this was. maybe.

later that night she decided to take her friend's boyfriend’s offer up to get out and go to a bar with them, and since she was feeling a little sad that the man from the market never approached her even though she was too bashful to do it herself, she needed a pick me up. third-wheeling with her friend and her boyfriend may just be the motivation she needed to stop feeling sorry for herself.

a couple hours into the night genie was having more fun than she expected. her friend, aimee, was much more considerate than previous ones; she made sure genie felt included in the conversations and even spoiled some inside jokes just so that genie could laugh too.

playing pool, turning down pushy men for dances and drinks, and watching strangers basically have sex in the middle of the bar was more entertaining than she expected. that could just be the alcohol talking though.

she knew the universe was laughing at her, however, when the man from the market walked in with two rubios trailing behind him. genie’s eyes widened a bit, having narrowed from her tipsy state, and as if she couldn’t get more tense at that moment he made eye contact with her. she pretended to be confident about it and gave him a sweet smile while waving. he frowned for a second trying to remember where he’d seen her before.

the pretty girl in the pretty sundress from the market.

he gave genie a half smile and waved back before glancing as his shoes briefly and walking back to his friends.

“go talk to him!” aimee smacked genie’s arm over enthusiastically. “if you don’t i’m dragging him to the table.”

genie laughed knowing she is 100% serious. “i will, just let him settle in for a few minutes. can’t seem like a groupie,” genie bargained.

“who is that?” aimee’s boyfriend, cory asked while eyeing the trio from across the room.

“no idea,” she admitted, “we just kept bumping into each other at the market earlier. i think he was eyeing me, but i didn’t wanna just stare so i don’t know. seems like he recognized me though.”

“well, duh, you’re fucking hot,” aimee exaggeratedly compliments. “especially when you wear those sundresses, your ass looks so big and juicy in those i’m literally jealous.”

“please, you’re literally built like jane fonda, and everyone knows that jane fonda has the perfect ass. i’m jealous of you.”

“can we not talk about how you two basically want to fuck each other when i’m right here?” cory grimaces, but genie could see the smile creeping on his face indicating he was joking.

“awe, if i wanted her i’d have her already,” genie teased.

“she’s right,” aimee confirmed. the two best friends began laughing loudly at cory’s expense when they heard a voice from beside the table.

“perdóname.” [excuse me].

genie turned her head and met eyes with the moreno, grinning widely at his seemingly timid presence. “¿cómo puedo ayudarte?” [how can i help you]

“no tengo mucho tiempo, pero, lo quería darte esto.” he extended a cigarette out to the brunette; she admired how his harsh features softened at the sight of her for a moment, ultimately taking it from his slender fingers with a confidence that she forced yet seemed natural to everyone surrounding. [i don't have much time, but i wanted to give you this]

“gracias. acabas de llegar, ¿no?” [thank you. you just got here, no]

“claro, pero el trabajo llama.” [of course, but work calls]

genie nodded once clearly not believing him as a sly smirk tugged the corners of her lips while she fiddled with the cigarette. she turned it over quickly finding his phone number sloppily written on it. “¿trabajo, sí?” [work, huh]

“what’s he saying?” cory asked; aimee shushes him and genie ignored him, finding herself aiming to maintain the eye contact she held with the handsome stranger.

“¿llámame? salvo que no quieras.” [call me? unless you don’t want to]

“¿cómo debería llamarme?” she was poking at his boundaries which was something she found herself doing often. she loved to laugh and joke, so it was important to her to test those waters. [what should i call you]

he squints, unsure of what exactly she was asking until it dawned on him. “javier. javi.”

“javi,” she tutted after saying his name a way to tease him making him just bashfully smile. “bien. te daré una llamada, javi.” they exchange goodbyes and she turned back to her friends. [good. i’ll give you a call]

“i got javier,” the boy says, “that’s about it.”

“he just wanted me to have his number, that’s all,” genie said.

“are you about to have your first summer fling, genie?!” aimee nearly shouted in attempt to make her blush (which worked every time). “i want every juicy detail when you taint him.”

“you’re lucky i love you.”

-

genie waited a few days to give this javi a phone call. she didn’t want to seem too eager or desperate as she typically enjoyed waiting until men begged for attention.

but when she did decide to call it was like he had been posted by the phone for the last seventy-two hours because he picked up on the second ring.

“¿bueno?” [hello]

“¿javier?” she asked much more softly than she intended. unbeknownst to her the delicacy in her voice made him weak in the knees.

“sí, ¿eres la mujer del bar?” [yeah, are you the woman from the bar]

“mhm, soy yo,” she answered. she grabbed the phone from the console table and brought it around the corner to sit in her chair by her big kitchen window; the weather was perfect for her: sunny with some big clouds here and small clouds there, not too humid or dry. she just watched the leaves dancing between the wind and focused on how peaceful the world seemed from inside her temporary home. [it’s me]

“nunca supe tu nombre,” he replied while inhaling sharply as he took a hit of his cigarette, “¿cómo se llama, dulzura?” [you never told me your name / what’s your name sweetheart]

she couldn’t fight the laugh that surfaced from the base of her throat as the nickname surprised her. “¿dulzura? mmm, no me hagas colgar, javi.” [sweetheart? don’t make me hang up]

“¿qué?” he laughed along with her, “tenía que llamarte algo, ¿no?” [what? i had to call you something]

“¿me llamaste así a tus amigos?” [you called me that to your friends]

“¿no te gusta? okay, okay, veo.” [you don’t like it? i see]

“no, no es que me no guste. es simplemente… sorprendente, eso.” [no, it’s not that i don’t like it. it’s simply surprising, that’s all]

neither of them could swallow their smiles behind their receivers. they talked for hours, and she still managed to keep her name a secret for the time being. he quickly got in the habit of calling her dulzura and it grew on her just as fast. the way spanish flowed off of his tongue made her cave deeper and deeper into her chair, having to “readjust” her legs a few times to resist her urges to tell him how sexy his was.

“javier…”

his throat was straining from all the talking and laughing they were doing but he ignored it by inhaling cigarette after cigarette. “¿sí, mama?” he cooed quietly.

the way the new little nickname from his lips gave her goose skin and a flushed face, and she was thankful he wasn’t in front of her in that moment because she just might have giving up on her wait and see rule.

“tengo que ir, tengo que ayudar a mi amiga mañana. pero… fue encantador hablar contigo.” [i have to go, i have to help my friend in tomorrow. but it was lovely talking with you]

“yo veo. voy a despertarme temprano mañana también. una cosas más.” [i see. i gotta get up early tomorrow as well. one more thing]

she giggled, somehow already knowing what he was going to ask about. “me llama genie.” [my name is genie]

“genie… ya has hecho realidad mi deseo, dulzura,” he flirted. [you’ve already made my wish come true, sweetheart]

“obtienes dos más, cariño,” she teased. it wasn’t the first time someone used her name as punchline in attempt to flirt with her, and it sounded just as corny coming from javi. the only difference was that she liked it coming from him because he wasn’t trying to hide how bad the joke was, whereas most men try to make it sound original as if they’re fucking poetic legends. javi knew he made stupid jokes and didn’t shy away from it. he didn’t try to put on some stupid façade (at least not with her). [you have two more, love]

“¿dos deseos más? debe ser mi día de suerte.” [two more wishes? it must be my lucky day]

genie gave him a sweet giggle, whispering, “hasta luego, javi.” [later]

“buenas noches, genie.” [good night]

-

it was like night and day, her first impression of javier was that he was just some man trying to find his way in life, in colombia. she got a real glimpse of him tonight: they got to the bar about an hour ago, and to the other men nearby it was like javier wasn’t even there. they’d stroll up to the table and flirt, hard.

she was trying to be polite and avoid a scene by saying thank you, but i’m not interested or i’m here on a date with this gentleman, but there are other pretty girls around who i’m sure are single.

after the fourth guy, though, javi became noticeably irritable, and well… lost his temper at the fifth guy. genie told herself that they were lucky to not get kicked out after javi’s already bruised fist knocked the other man flat on his skinny ass, but it shook her a bit. a man so sweet and so kind to her yet so violent with others. as fucked up as it was she found it a bit of a turn on, but couldn’t help but wonder if maybe one day he’d lose his temper with her.

all her worries swam away when he sat back down and apologized, a look of pure embarrassment pooling his eyes.

“sorry, i don’t know what took over me,” he whispered, “if you want to go home that’s perfectly fine—“

“javi,” she cooed, “you’re fine.” and she meant it. she not only saw his resentfulness, she felt it radiating off of him. she didn’t want the night to be spoiled by some fuckers who lacked respect. “honestly if every girl was coming up here asking you for a buck and a blowjob i’d probably punch one of them too. no, i would do it.”

“you’re not mad?”

she scrunched her face up and grabbed her drink, raising it to her lips and sipping before she said, “fuck no. well, not at you. it’s not like this is our first real date, anyways. the real one will come soon, i hope.” she gave him a tight smile that showed off parts of her teeth showing javi that she was hopeful and willing to try again. “ugh, i hate saying that.”

“what?” he took a swig of his whiskey.

“‘it’s not our real first date.’ god, that just sounds like i’m crapping on this.”

“no it doesn’t. that’s what we said this was, right? not a first date? just two new friends hanging out?”

she snickered at him. “uh-huh, do two friends just hanging out get jealous and possessive over each other?”

he rolled his eyes wonderingly and bit back a smile. “you know what i mean.”

“sureee i do… then you won’t mind if i go out there and dance, hmm?” she pointed behind herself with her thumb. she wanted to toy with him a little to see what kind of man he was so that she knew how to navigate him.

she only received a squinting glare in response as he asked her to elaborate with his eyes, so she ever so slightly rose up from her chair to lean over the table. his face relaxed at her close proximity, maintaining eye contact with the vixen before him.

“for other guys? since we’re just friends right now, that won’t bug you, right?” she gave him no time to respond as she gave him a kiss so endearing that it swept his mind clear of any thoughts that didn’t include her. she almost moaned at the lingering taste of whiskey and cigarettes on his lips, craving him even more now. the kiss felt like an escape from all of her troubles. she only needed this moment of control and then he could have the rest of her — something she’d never give to anyone else. the kiss was over before it even began, and he found himself simpering for her. “can i go dance for other guys, javier?”

he could only nod like a coward.

javi watched how her thighs glowed underneath the yellow lights as she danced shamelessly in the bar they first met in. he couldn’t take his eyes off of her in the white sundress with her blow dried hair flowing around her shoulders and cheekbones. she wasn’t drunk, no, not even tipsy so he knew that she was just a free spirit with the way she was acting, she spoke her mind and let her body express itself uncaring of the other people in the bar that stared.

he liked the fact that other men were staring at her because even though she was dancing where everyone could watch, she was only dancing for javi to see. he also enjoyed it when a man would approach her and she would just dance her body away from them as it confirmed her growing loyalty to him.

sure she’d forgiven his lack of self control earlier, but now he knows that he doesn’t need to act out to get her attention because he already has it. he didn’t quite understand what was so intriguing about genie, but he wanted to explore her depths (and not just in a sexual way).

he stood up to strut over to her after drinking the rest of his whiskey; he clasped his arms around her waist from behind and took in a deep breathe of her sweet perfume which contrasted the woodsy perfume he noticed her wearing when he gave her his number. he planted a needy but light kiss on the curve where her neck met her shoulder, pressing his hips into her butt firmly before swaying and bouncing with her to the upbeat song.

“people are staring at you, dulzura,” he whispered huskily onto her ear lobe. “these men think you’re single. can’t have that.”

she couldn’t help the cocky grin that spread across her face. “i saw the way you were looking around the room, smiling like you own the place…” she turned around in his tight grasp staring into his territorial eyes with an innocent, but knowing look. “like you own me.”

“i don’t own you, darlin’,” he says monotonously, not even the slightest hint of humor behind his tone, “but i do control you. at least for the night.”

“you can be the boss, daddy.”

she watched the surprise waiver his once stern expression and rather than playing her usual confident self she couldn’t ignore what he said.

i do control you.

she wanted to let him take the reigns on this one and see what javier peña was all about. after all, wait and see was far out of the window at this point.

she just pouts with her eyes and brows and folds her lips between her teeth like she had no idea the effect she had on him. she felt his warm hand slide down to the small of her back, gripping into the clothed skin desperately while he hissed at her facial expression and her dumb eyelashes batting up at him.

she filled him with what felt like so much destitution it was beginning to irritate him. the wanting to take it slow. the giggles and smiles. the dresses—god, he just craved fucking her in that little white sundress. how so much woman fit into one person was beyond him, but he looked at her like she was god created just for him.

yeah… waiting wasn’t happening.

the two of them ran out to his car like a pair of schoolchildren, and javi almost hit other cars or pedestrians at least twice on the way back to his apartment. she just laughed and told him to slow down, the few shots of dark liquor she had getting to her carefulness a bit.

next thing they knew they were naked on the couch, just kissing. that’s all they needed to do. just feel each other’s impure warmth. their lips were far beyond numb but they still went at it. she clung to him like wet on water, and he held her close with his sturdy forearms atop his lap while she rocked her hips occasionally. she poured every moan into his salivating mouth and he swallowed them with pride.

they were in no rush to have sex, they just wanted to need each other for a little bit. their craving for each other exceeded physical intimacy and stretched into every curve of their being as they wept onto each other. she giggled every time she felt more of her juiced pool onto his erection that was nestled between her legs and curved up to her ass. he loved her moans and her giggles and her smiles so much that he found himself smiling with her more than he had with his recent partners.

“javi?” she asked softly after finally pulling away from their hour-long kiss. he hummed and looked at her through his low eyelashes, seemingly drunk off of her kisses. “¿crees que podemos esperar un poco más?” [do you think we can wait a little longer]

he frowned, feeling a tad offended that she seemed a little scared to ask him that. “sí, dulzura. no tienes que preguntar.” he pinched her chin lightly and dragged his fingers around her soft face. [you don’t have to ask]

“no quería asumir.” [i don’t want to assume]

he offered her a loving smile and brought one of her hands up to his lips. “yo puedo esperar, mama.” [i can wait]

she blushed at the compassionate stare he was giving her and rewarded him with a tender kiss on his lips and another one to his forehead. “¿tienes agua?” [do you have water]

“mm-hmm. solo agua de la llave.” [only tap]

she carefully stood up from his thighs and stepped from between his legs to the kitchen. “no soy exigente.” she took it upon herself to grab a couple of glasses from his cabinet and them up up halfway with lukewarm water before she peered her head to her right to find a ring sitting in a small bowl nearby. “javier?” she called, unable to take her eyes off of the jewelry. he hummed and she heard as he stood up from the couch and walked towards her. “are you married?” she asked, finally breaking her stare from the ring and looked at him. [i’m not picky]

he eyebrows knitted together and he gave her a dumbfounded look. “no, why?”

“who’s ring is that then?”

he followed her pointed thumb with his eyes and saw how the ring was perched on top of the junk bowl like a trophy. “shit,” he whispered, glancing at his floor bashfully. “uh, no, genie i am not married. i was engaged, but, i left her… the day of the wedding.”

she couldn’t tell why, but she grew worried. “why?”

shrugging, he couldn’t come up with an answer. “i’m still trying to figure that out myself… i guess i kept the ring hoping it’d give me answer,” he laughed incredulously at his confession. “that was definitely not how i wanted you to find out.”

she nodded and a sense of relief came to calm her down. “i run all the time too,” she replied, waiting a moment before holding out the glass for him to take. he found solace in her words even though he didn’t fully understand it yet. he took a lame sip of his water and set it down on the counter before closing the gap between their still feverish bodies. “we don’t need to talk about it.” her tone was so serious but her smile was playful. “we can just make out for another hour or something.”

they laughed at her suggestion, but just as javi was leaning into kiss her as an acceptance his phone rang. he rolled his eyes and groaned before walking over to answer it. genie didn’t want to eavesdrop so she just strolled over to steal a cigarette from him and walked to his bedroom to blow her smoke out of his screen-less window whilst she looked over the other apartments and the streets. she heard a few gunshots far away and poked her nosy head out to see if she saw something, and when she didn’t she just kept looking around quickly forgetting about it.

it is colombia after all.

she was almost done with her cigarette when javi made an appearance next to her also holding a cigarette.

“everything okay?” she asked, glancing up at him. he nodded and grinned down at her nipples perking up from the cool breeze. “take a picture, perv,” she teased once she realized he was staring, then kicked his calf gently.

“maybe i will, smartass.”

she shook her head and laughed indulgently as he pointed his polaroid up to her naked body that was being illuminated by the orange street lights. he laid the photo on his dresser before hugging her from behind like earlier, and he swayed their nude bodies to music that was heard playing from another house in the distance. she hummed and tossed her cigarette outside before stealing his right off of his pouted lips; he took the liberty of his mouth as opportunity to kiss her shoulders.

she wanted him so badly, but she knew it was just her wound of impatience waiting to be peeled open again. she wasn’t afraid of giving in to him. she was afraid of giving in to herself. javier didn’t make it easy at all, and he saw it, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“mi dulzura…” he breathed onto her hot flesh, trailing his lower lip up to her ear and smacking a kiss on it while his hand found the base of her stomach. she felt herself clench around nothing and moved his hand down to her clit before she could stop herself. he wanted nothing more than to make her feel good and she just gave him permission for that in some aspect. “tu coño todavía está tan mojada… tengo suerte, ¿no?” he rubbed tiny little circles around her clit the same way she would when she’d touch herself. [your pussy is still so wet. i’m lucky, huh]

“alguien podría vernos.” she worried like she wasn’t the one to initiate it. [someone could see us]

he waited a moment to respond. “que nos vean.” [so let them see]

she gave in and let him please her for the whole world to see. the pads of his fingers felt like heaven on her heat as she let go of the fear of getting caught; she leaned her head back onto his shoulder and closed her heavy eyes.

javier wanted to felt her tremble in his arms and hear her call his name. he needed to give her a reason to come back and he knew he could do that with his fingers alone. just like he said: he could wait. and he would wait for her. she was gentle and kind but fearless at the same time. he thought it was sexy the way she never cared what anyone thought of her (anyone she wasn’t familiar with anyways).

“¿te gusta?” [you like that]

she simply nodded rapidly as her chest heaved, her mind straying from reality as she sank deeper into the trap he laid with his fingers. her eyes flew open, however when she heard a group of people walking nearby. “javi,” she panicked, “deberíamos mover—“ [we should move—]

“shut up,” he whispered in her ear through gritted teeth while simultaneously wrapping his free hand around her elongated neck, “tengo esto.” [i got this]

genie moaned louder than she realized and allowed herself to no longer care after javi made his demands. if the people wanted a show then they were going to get it. “claro, después de todo… eres el jefe, papi.” [sure, after all, you’re the boss daddy]

-

weeks of harmony went by, and even the bad moments weren’t so bad. sometimes javier would meet genie after a shit day at work and wouldn’t be in the mood for company, but he didn’t want to push her away because of it. he still wanted her near and she saw that despite feeling like sometimes she had to walk on eggshells around him on his moody nights. she didn’t mind it too much, it was more of her still trying to learn how to read him which came with some difficulty.

he knew that when they went almost a week without seeing other and constantly missing each other’s phone calls that he was falling hard from how much he missed hearing her voice. genie filled her free time with her friends and gardening but her mind always trailed back to javi.

they’re schedules finally aligned on a tuesday; javi got the day off and wanted genie to meet his partner steve so she took it upon herself to have them over for dinner along with aimee.

“hi, i’m genie,” she introduced excitedly as she shook the man’s hand before inviting them in.

“hey, i’m steve. sorry my wife couldn’t be here tonight,” he said.

genie just waved him off. “oh, don’t worry about it. i’ll make some extra for her if that’s alright?”

“sure, thank you.”

“my friend aimee is here in the other room, feel free to make yourself at home. dinner should be ready in about an hour.” he excused himself and genie turned to javi and immediately gave him a sultry kiss. “mm, i missed you.”

he chuckled and wiped the corner of his mouth before giving her a hug. “i missed you too. how ya doing?”

“better now,” she whispered. “come help me in the kitchen?”

“not sure i can be much help.” he watched her hips bounce back and forth as she led him to her kitchen. “you have a nice home,” he commented; he walked behind her and enveloped her body into a warm hug as she stirred the sauce in her pot.

“thank you.” he gave her neck a few kisses, placed his fingers on her chin to turn her head toward him, and pecked her lips a few times. she blushed and focused on her cooking again, but javi wanted to play with her again as it had been too long since the last time he’d heard her delicious moans. “javier,” she hissed and he just slid his large hands into her tight jeans. “javi,” she laughed, “we are not having a repeat of last time.”

“you’re right, this time we’re not doing it in a window, we’re in your kitchen,” he teased after his fingers found her wetness and dove into it.

she exhaled softly and felt her nipples harden against the fabric of her shirt. “i don’t wanna mess up dinner.”

“focus on dinner then, baby, don’t think about me,” his voiced strained. she nearly laughed again but couldn’t because a moan nearly surfaced. she brought a bowl of diced onions over the pot and let them fall in as an attempt to distract herself. “i’m sure dinner will be lovely, dulzura.” his breath hitched up against her ear when he felt her clench around his fingers. “what are you making?”

“lasagna.”

“it smells good.”

“thank you—oh.” she accidentally smacked the spoon on the counter and sauce flew specks around the wall and stove. “shit!” she reached for a towel and immediately bent forward to wipe the mess up, but she only applied more pressure between her sex and his digits. he took the liberty to ram his fingers as fast as the angle would allow which had her struggling to stand straight, but she continued cleaning her mess up—well, her javi-induced mess. once she was done she put the lid on the pot and told him that she was close.

“already? seems like you needed this more than me. is that right?”

“yes,” she huffed, gripping the ledges of the countertop. “right there.”

“you’re doing so good keeping quiet.”

“me corro, me corro!” she breathed out. she swallowed every other noise that tried to leave her fragile body while her orgasm took over. it was strong and overpowering almost, unlike most of her orgasms that were slow and drawn out. she felt every bit of her climax in the span of just a few seconds but it was well worth it. [i’m cumming]

javi eased up on her fairly quickly and freed his hand, careful to not get any of her cum on her clothes. she tried to steady her body while she resumed dinner and he washed his hands before helping her trembling hands with the heavy pot. they didn’t say anything but they could not stop giggling.

“are you guys stoned or something?” aimee asked spooking the couple.

“we’re literally dea agents,” steve retorted as he stood next to her.

“eh,” genie edged receiving a warning look from javi. “are you?”

“genie,” javi hissed.

“don’t worry, i won’t tell steve about the time you and i got high before watching star wars.”

“really peña?” steve questioned accusingly.

javi gave genie’s ass a light smack, but he knew steve would ultimately forget about it so he just went back to watching genie cook.

the night went by slow which made genie happy. she got to bond with steve and aimee got to bond with javi. it was like the formation of a new, happier, stronger family for genie and she hoped everyone else felt the same way. aimee and steve teased the other two about how smitten they were being all night and how cute it was to see the love they have for each other growing. they all got a little tipsy from whiskey and wine which caused the formation of a brother-sister relationship with steve and aimee — one that javi and genie found adorable, especially with the way they bullied each other for their music tastes and political views in a chaste way.

when the night was closing in steve and aimee made their exits to their significant others and homes, and aimee naturally made the comment, “don’t be too loud now,” more than once.

as soon as they were alone, genie and javi made their debut to her room for pillow talk and cuddles having gotten their release of sexual tension out earlier.

“do you think they heard me?” genie worriedly asked.

“i think we’d know if aimee heard us,” javi quip, snickering as he did so.

“good point.”

genie admired all of his facial features which made him smile keenly. he was handsome, smart, romantic, and caring, but he was also daunting and reserved for everyone but her. she wouldn’t dare resist love from someone so sweet after she experienced a life in the absence of love. javier gave her all the smiles she needed for one lifetime already, but his desire to keep that smile on her face earned him a special place in her fragmented heart because he was making it whole again.

“do you want to keep seeing me? i’m just checking in, making sure we’re all good.” javi’s insecure tone put a frown on her face.

“i do. i like you.”

he blushed and crawled on top of her. “yeah? you like me?”

“yeah i like you a lot, papito. te quiero mucho, papito.”

he closed the space between their lips and he snaked his arms around her back. he felt closer than before to the woman below him because she forgave his sins faster than he did himself. he didn’t know what he did to get this lucky, but he refused to question one of the only good things in his life.

“te quiero, genie,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose along hers.

“me encanta la forma en que dices mi nombre… y la forma en que me besas… la forma en que me tocas. me gustas mucho, javi, no sé lo que haría sin ti.” [i love the way you say my name… and the way you kiss me… the way you touch me. i like you a lot, javi, i don’t know what i’d do without you]

-

days later javier ended up getting sent home for playing with the enemy, and it left genie in a state of uncertainty. part of her blamed him for the new distance placed between them but she also knew she didn’t understand everything nor did she want to. in this case ignorance was bliss for her.

they set time aside every couple of weeks to keep up with each other for phone calls and she even began considering moving back to the states to be with him, but her loyalty to beth always pushed those thoughts aside. he worried about genie often because her mental health seemed to decline with how much more she was taking care of the sick woman. he’d never ask her to stop knowing he’d do the same for his own family, but once he got put on the case for the cali cartel he knew him being there would put her in good spirits. at least he hoped so.

it had been nearly a year since they’d last seen each other and he wanted it to be a surprise. from what steve had told him she never really moved on despite javi telling her it was okay and that staying friends was best for them for the time being. it angered her how easy he seemed to want to give up, but this wasn’t a fairytale and she knew that it may have very well been years until she was able to see him again so she understood.

genie became more reclusive, only ever seeing her few friends in the foreign state. she and aimee lacked the mental drive to go out and party like they did in the earlier stages of their arrival so beth, steve, connie, and cory were the only other people they spent time with.

javi knocked on her door and as he stood there waiting for an answer he drummed his fingers over his clad thighs. would she look different? would someone else answer the door? would she not want to see him right now? all these thoughts that ran through his head a million miles per hour vanished when he saw that pretty sundress appear before him.

“javier?” she asked softly as if he were unrecognizable.

“it’s me,“ he whispered hoarsely. her beauty sucked all of the air out of him and his body turned to mush when she collided into his broad frame. “it’s me.” he clung to her and breathed her in like she was a wasting memory.

“¡te extrañé, javi! te extrañé mucho.” [i missed you]

“también te extrañé, dulzura,” he whispered into her hair. “i came to surprise you.” [i missed you too]

“come in,” she urged. she ran upstairs to her bedroom and practically dragged him with her. “i need you,” she told him breathlessly. “can i have you?” he simply pressed his soft lips to hers as permission; they ripped their clothes off of each other and she laid him on her bed. just then everything fell back into place.

all of the midday to midnight conversations they had developed meaning. there was no doubt in her mind that her waiting wasn’t pointless or a waste of time. it meant something to the both of them and they wanted to permeate it.

she reached between their bodies and gave his already hard cock a few slow strokes to build up the anticipation. “are you mine?” she asked, a hint of possession in her eyes.

he felt like his soul mended to the shape of hers, her spirit captivating every corner of his mind. he nodded helplessly. “yes,” he moaned with his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“were you loyal to me?” she teased her entrance with his tip, sliding it in slowly.

“yes, i was l—loyal to you.” he couldn’t stop gasping; just the feeling of her slick walls around the first inch of him had him on edge. “i promise.” just then she sunk onto him without further question and felt her wetness pool around him as he stretched her out. they let out sweet moans for each other and began kissing as she bounced on him. “fuck, ya vas a hacer que me corra.” [you’re going to make me cum (already)]

she giggled, lifted herself up, then put her hands on his stomach for better balance. “dame tu leche, papi.” [give me your cum]

he threw his head back while cursing loudly, giving her plump ass a tight squeeze and refusing to let go. “necesito que me des tu leche lindo primero.” [i need you to give me your pretty cum first]

genie groaned and pinched her nipple lightly, feeling the sensitivity spiral down to her pussy. “ven aquí.” he sat up and ran his warm hands over the goosebumps on her back. “lamer mis pezones.” [come here / lick my nipples]

“yeah?” he licked a teasing strip up one of her nipples, giving her puppy dog eyes. “¿quieres que te me lama los pezones?” she hummed at his question and fluttered her eyes shut when he began sucking one and used his thumb to rub circles on the other one, his mustache grazing her skin adding to the pleasure. she continued her rhythm on top of him while he kept her steady. he felt his eyes light up at the sight of her. sweaty, eager, desperate. he knew that he never wanted to feel anyone else do this for him, and no one could make him feel nearly as good. he had to let his mind wander from time to time because of how close he was getting to cumming inside of her. he didn’t want this to end so soon. he wanted this to be the memory she touched herself to whenever he couldn’t be around. he needed the feeling of his thick cock stretching and pleasing her slick cunt to be engraved so deeply into her mind that the thought of it alone would make her cum on her own fingers. “eres tan jodidamente perfecta, mama. so fucking perfect.” [you want me to lick your nipples / you’re so fucking perfect]

she loved the way he cowered his face into her chest as a way to feel more of her and the way he kissed up her sternum until his lips met hers. he cradled her in his arms so that he could switch their positions wanting to see how good he could make her feel. he freed her face of loose hair strands and gave her tiny kisses while he started slowly inside of her, not fully inserting himself in while doing so. genie loved everything about this moment.

javi with messy hair.

how sheen and warm their bodies were from sex and not the humidity.

the cool breeze that often snuck in through the open windows.

javi worshiping her body.

how pretty her body looked under the sun.

how careful and attentive he was with her.

their heavy breathing

and moans

and pants

and whimpers.

javi knew he couldn’t hold back much longer so he pulled out to bury his face between her thighs. she let out an ungodly sound as he opened his mouth as wide as possible and sucked up everything. she clawed at his scalp with her back arching off the bed not able to form any words at the sudden sensation.

he slurped as he closed his mouth and flattened his tongue on her throbbing clit, roughly shaking his head side to side tickling the skin around her clit with his facial hair (and it drove her insane). she tried to squeeze her shaky thighs around his head but his sturdy arms wouldn’t allow that. she cried out his name and let the vibrant and warm and forceful feeling take over he flailing body. her body shook so hard the bed creaked with the headboard smacking the wall a few times. she had no time to recover when he filled her up with his throbbing length and continued her orgasm by rubbing his fingers around her wet clit.

“hazte correrme otra vez,” she pleaded. he rammed into her and held her legs up while she perched on her elbows. [make me cum again]

“¿quieres otra más? hmm,” he grunted. [you want to cum again]

“yes, fuck—fuck. you’re gonna make me cum again!” he rested on top of her, laying her flat down again. he fondled her breast briefly but moved his hand up to her cheek to caress it. “can you cum with me?” she asked; his eyelids battered down and he nodded. she felt his body jerk and she grinned at his flushed face. “¿tú estás corriendo?” [are you cumming]

“mm. mm-hmm,” he moaned, “solamente para ti.” she felt her mouth go dry and his thrusts lose a steady rhythm. his hips dug into her thighs and his cock pulsed when her pussy began convulsing against him. [just for you]

she pouted up at him when he pressed their foreheads together and felt dizzy until that one second of pure stillness carried her body up and back down to reality again. she forced her heavy eyelids open to see him in her most vulnerable state of mind as a way to let him know he had her always and forever. she held onto him tightly, letting out whimpers of overstimulation that turned into exaggerated moans when she couldn’t hold onto the feeling anymore. he got there not too long after, but instead his focus sharpened on her rather than hazed; he thrusted sloppily into her exhausted body and gave her body every last drop of cum he had saved up for her.

their breathing synchronized as they just laid together; he made sure she felt loved when he pressed a few plump kisses over her face, feeling his heart punch against his ribs every time she cooed at his lips on her damp skin.

he carried her to the bathroom so that they could shower together and they didn’t even realize neither of them said anything for the next half hour until they climbed back in bed.

“doing alright?” he asked her as he lit her cigarette up.

she smiled with her eyes and nodded, pressing her back to her headboard. “you?”

“yeah… honestly thought i was gonna have to put up more of a fight to get in bed with you,” he teased. she nudged his foot with hers and laughed. “i came back for you,” he said once the mood shifted.

“i thought about leaving beth and going to you.”

“i know. steve told me,” he admitted. “i wouldn’t want you to do that. sounds like she needs you and aimee more than ever right now.”

“yeah.”

“hey.” he held her chin then gave her a kiss. “i’m here now.” he wiped a tear that fell onto her cheek and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “i’m here now.”

-

“you’re being so fucking loud right now, shut up,” genie scolded. she covered his mouth with her left hand and choked him with the other. he shook his head in protest but gave up when she resumed riding him in the office chair. he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled even harder as he shot his release inside of her. she finished him off and they had a brief make out session before he tapped her hip.

“how much time we got?” he asked before pulling his pants up and fixing his shirt.

“uh… ten minutes."

“i bet i can make you cum in five,” he challenged.

her eyes widened and she pressed a hand to his chest. “that is a dangerous game you’re trying to play.”

“come on, can’t you make me feel like the boss here for a few minutes?”

his smile won her over and he received the biggest ego boost when she lifted the skirt to her dress. “five minutes.”

he got down on his knees and smirked at her paranoid expression. “an orgasm per minute?”

“shut up.” she pushed his face into her slippery heat, mewling at the curl of his wide fingers and flick of his thirsty tongue. “move to the left… right there.” she held his face in position and watched his tongue work miracles along her clit. the squelching of her discharge mixed with his semen around his fingers was louder than she expected, and she worried about people walking by hearing them.

javi knew how to work the divots and curves of her more than she wanted to give him credit for, and knowing how crunched they were on time he focused on the spongy hill that’d get her to her climax fast especially when combined with tongue despite how badly wanted to taste for hours.

she didn’t warn him or let out any noise other than a few deep breaths, but he could tell by the way her hips jerked on his face and the locking of her knees that she was already cumming. seconds later he felt all he had given her pool around the base of his knuckles. after removing his fingers he licked her and his fingers clean before helping fix her dress.

“come on, we’ll make out in the parking lot,” he whispered to her with that everlasting smirk that she pretended to hate.

“i am never doing that again, that was too close,” she told him once they made it to her car.

“you loved it,” he said confidently. “come ‘er.” his face carried the scent of her and it made her feel good knowing that he’d have to walk around like that for the rest of the day. they kiss until another officer makes fun of javi for becoming a one-woman man to which he just waved off. “ignore them,” he chuckled dryly. “admit that you loved it.“

genie rolled her eyes and a smile crept on her face. “you’re wrong,” she said tugging at his shirt and pulling him in, “but you’re so much fun.”

they kissed once more before saying their goodbye’s and parting ways. when javier made it back to his desk steve could tell he seemed much happier than he was an hour ago.

“fuck are you grinning for?” steve interrogated. the brunette gave him a noticeably fake look of surprise. “what? did you have genie come up here and give you a blowie?” steve huffed and leaned forward when javi’s face went pale. “dude! i was joking!” he whispered harshly.

“do not tell anyone else.”

steve muttered something under his breath but then looked back at his partner through his eyebrows. “where’d you do it?”

he smirked, leaning forward on his elbows. “go big or go home, right?”

“oh-ho-ho!” steve laughed proudly. “you dirty son of a bitch.”

-

“how you holding up?”

genie gave him an endearing look and said, “i’m alright. i miss her a lot already, i’m just glad i got to be with her in her final moments.” he nodded slowly at her answer, watching her pick the strawberries from her garden as they sat together in the grass. “how are you doing? you know with work?”

“i’m managing.”

she rolled her eyes from him back to the garden. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“i’m managing,” she mocked in a peculiar tone. “you can talk about it.”

“i don’t want you to feel like i’m ignoring your feelings, though.”

she glared at him and adjusted her posture. “i’m sad, not broken. plus, i asked because i care about you. we’re not just flirting anymore, javi. i thought this was becoming something.”

“this is something.”

“okay so fucking talk to me. don’t tiptoe around me and give me two word responses because i lost beth a couple weeks ago. you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but you’re not just managing. i wanna know what goes through your head.”

javi sighed and rubbed her back as she got back to work. “you’re right.”

“i know.”

he rolled his eyes but still gave the back of her head a kiss. “i’m thinking of retiring after cali’s done.”

“oh yeah? why’s that?”

she already knew why. the late nights, the constant losses, everyone dying… she saw how he clung to her metaphorically because she was the only stability he got to have every week but he tried hard to not become dependent on her. she appreciated his consideration, but it led to him being unable to vocalize his emotions which made her feel like there was an unnecessary barrier between them.

“can’t do it anymore. i want you to come back to texas with me when it’s done… if that’s something you want.”

she snorted and gave him a raised eyebrow. “you haven’t even told me you love me yet and you want me to move with you?” she was joking, but he noticed how her eyes bored into his as if she was waiting for him to say it.

he thought it over every time he was away from her — was genie just an impulse for him? just another woman? and every time he questioned it his heart screamed no. she could be bratty, lord knows, but she wasn’t complicated. she was sweet and so full of life that she gave some to him and it made him feel warm inside again. she loved all things and all people, she never judged yet she always stood her ground. she could be needy at times when he wasn’t in the mood for attentiveness but she always waited. he didn’t want to keep her waiting any longer.

“i do love you,” he responded nonchalantly, a frown reaching his brows.

she sat her basket down and turned to face him. “you’re just saying that.”

“no i’m not.” her smile faded momentarily, but came back even bigger; he held her face gently and kissed her blushing nose. “genie, mi amor, te amo tanto te esperaría por siempre. i loved you before i even knew who you were.”

“oh,” she pouted, “you break my heart.” she kissed him and sat on top of his lap whilst reaching for his belt buckle to undo it.

"mm, lemme take you inside," he mumbled against her shiny lips.

"right here," she begged quietly; she pulled her sundress over her head which made javi's eyes touch the back of his skull when he noticed she had no panties on. she didn't bother ridding him of his tight jeans. she just pulled out his velvety cock and teased it along her opening, waiting until he was fully hard to sink onto him. she rested her weight on top of him after he opened the rest of the buttons on his shirt, pressing her lips to his. "tell me again," she demanded. she wasted no time to rock her hips at a quick and eager pace as she lusted after the feeling of his cum painting her wet, rubbery walls.

"i love you." he twitched and moaned weakly beneath her, her movements sending shocks and tickles up his spine. he repeated it more than a dozen times like a broken record and boy was the noise music to her ears.

she whimpered against his neck and her hips chased his orgasm more than hers before she whispered, "i love you," back to him. "i love you, i love you, oh, i lo-love you!" she shouted without a care in the world and watched him through weighted eyes. he held her hips in place and fucked her back, ignoring the strain in his thighs from the fabric restricting his range of motion. "i love you, i love the way you fuck me!"

"you take it so good, dulzura." he pinched her cheeks between his palm and fingers causing him to lose his leverage inside of her, however it didn't stop him. he loved seeing how weak he made her: the way she just molded into him no matter how far he'd bent her or throw her around. he loved how red her face got when he squished it in his brawny hands. "that feel good?"

she nodded shyly in his grip. "yes, everything you do f-feels so fucking good."

"good," he boasted, "you're such a good girl for me, hmm... i love you."

"i'll always be a good girl for you," she told him; he felt his steady pace lose its rhythm and his cock twitched so hard and deep inside of her it felt like his skin had meshed with hers. "i'll always be a good girl for you because you're the boss of me."

fuck. he couldn't stop the arrival of his climax at her sinful confession, his cum pouring out of him seconds later with his head digging into the ground beneath him while he silently cursed at himself for cumming so easily. she liked it though and felt comfortable with leaving it off here. she knew he'd make it up to her later in whatever way she wanted. he asked to stay inside of her for just a little longer so that he could savor the moment and she happily obliged. she helped him escape his nerve-racking high by combing her hands through his hair and a firm kiss.

"my god..." his breathing jagged and his arm trembled around her bare waist. "you're gonna be the death of me one day."

"hmm, that's my job." she put her dress back on to sit next to him lazily pulling his jeans up over his slippery length. "you mean it? wanting me to come back with you to texas?"

he laid his head on her thigh after lighting a cigarette and fiddled with her hand. "course i am. i'll buy us a big farmhouse, and you can raise horses, goats, and shit. whatever you want. i'll make you tea every morning and rub your back when you wake up. we can go for walks and watch the sunset... whatever you want. that’s my second wish.”

"you are gonna be setting feminism back a few years if you keep sweet-talking me," she bantered. they shared a few laughs and smoked in silence for a while before he told her it doesn't have to be that. "mi amor... i'll follow you wherever you go. like i always say… you can be the boss."

"you gotta stop saying that. it makes my dick hard every time."

[jolalibrary]

Just making sure you never escape this. 🙂🙂🙂

ohhhh, you’re a menace…. but I can be a menace too

javier peña x f!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, office sex, javi being a menace. written on phone so ignore errors. no y/n.

an: smut isn’t my strong suit, so pls be kind.

A hello doesn’t leave his lips, the file room door slamming into place just as his chest collides with your back.

“Put the file down, cariño.”

You’d expected him. Eyes meeting his across the desks, staring him up and down. Tension bubbling, all set to burst. It’s what he gets for wearing a shirt with the top three buttons undone, and it’s what you get for teasing.

Now his hand is sliding up your blouse-covered ribs, spreading across your front, before his fingers rest on the edge of your chin.

You drop the file with a light thud, it meeting the floor as your front is pressed more into the metal shelves, waist meeting a corner of a box.

“Javi, anyone could—”

His palm drops, fingers lightly squeeze your neck, nose roughly pressed against your cheek—lips so tantalising close to his. “You’ll have to be quiet, then.”

You taste the words on his breath before you hear them. The scent of coffee and his last smoke circling you, dancing together with the scent of amber and citrus of his aftershave.

The scent which gravitates to you, usually clinging when his skin is flush with yours—one you struggle to ever want to scrub from your flesh.

“Gonna be a good for me, hermosa?”

His free hand expertly dipping, hovering over the button on your trousers. You can feel how hard he is, almost moaning with him as you shift your hips back.

“Gonna let me fuck you here?”

Your throat dry—sight blurred with intoxicating brown you never wanna be spared from.

“Y-yeah,” you whisper, more hoarse than you mean. “I’ll be good, Javi.”

To your surprise, he smirks—before his lips crash against yours. A groan vibrating through him to you, feeling fabric slide down your thighs, pooling at your feet as he pulls his mouth from yours.

You don’t have long to miss him—

Because then, he snakes his fingers into your underwear, feeling how slick you are from want—your desperation—his moans against your neck.

“Been thinking about me, huh?”

You only think Yes, Javi. Yes. Not willing to give him the satisfaction, the game you both playing having no clear winners. Except for now, a draw in sight—his breath hot on your ear, sliding his fingers in and out, in and out.

“Fuck, hermosa…”

Your whimper, clenching around his fingers. Teeth needing to dig down on your lower lip, nostrils flared—breath hitched. Going from nothing to everything. Your mind emptying, senses close to be ruined each time he circles your throbbing clit.

“Javi.”

It escapes. Flutters through your teeth as he halts, your eyes flipping open—taking in the sea of brown boxes and cramped space.

And then it all happens at once. Belt buckle sounding, fabric falling, as you instinctively bend at the hip—just enough.

Then you feel all of him. Deep. His teeth biting through your blouse onto your shoulder. One of your hands clamped around the metal shelving for support as he sets a brutal pace.

Pounding into you—making the shelve shake and your toes curl as your teeth pierce your lip. You’re briefly aware of the way your skin ripples with each slam of his hips.

Because he’s so deep, all breath and grunts all over your neck. Your fingers knotting into his hair, sweat collecting around your collarbone—

“So good for me, hermosa. So good.”

“Javi, please—more.”

He grins, breath escaping as a laugh against your neck before his fingers bruise your hips—fucking into you, making it hard to choke back a moan, never mind his name.

[ariundercovers]

MASTERLIST

(writing and art)

If you want to see EVERYTHING, head over to A03 by clicking here.

Here are links to the things I have posted/reposted on Tumblr:

🌶️ = spicy/smutty

⚫️ = dark fic (readers be warned, pls check the tags!)

~Javier Peña~

When Paths Cross (series)

🌶️When Paths Cross (Pt. I) 🌶️A Fork in the Road (Pt. II) Roundabout (Pt. III) 🌶️Yield (Pt. IV) 🌶️Homeward Bound (Pt. V) 🌶️Yellow Light (Pt. VI) Traffic Jam (Pt. VII) Standstill (Pt. VIII) The Bridge (Pt. IX) Standstill (Chucho's Version) (Pt. X)

~Frankie Morales~

Palladium (series, co-written with @ezras--moon)

Prologue

It's Not You

~Din Djarin~

Clean

One Last Time

Withholding

~Joel Miller~

🌶️⚫️Sign My Name (very dark!Joel, readers be warned)

🌶️⚫️Choke on It (very dark!Joel, readers be warned)

🌶️Bad Man

~Marvel Characters~

It's Been a Long, Long, Time (ex-Steve x reader, Bucky x reader referenced)

Today is for Celebrating, Tomorrow is for Grieving (Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader -- but not at the same time -- Colors Soulmate AU. Series.)

🌶️My Queen (Loki x Reader, breeding kink/pregnancy mentions)

Pieces (Bucky x Reader short and sweet drabble)

🌶️Fingers (Bucky x Reader drabble)

DRAWING / ART

drawing of pedgey and a baby

Set of phone wallpapers

Pedro’s Facial Hair

Frankie Morales Screenprint Style

and you can check me out on AO3

[avenging-fandoms]

FMK: joel miller, din djarin, javier pena

NO

this is literally the worst pls choke why are you making me do this

fuck: javier peña

marry: joel miller

kill: din djarin

i literally have him tattooed on me and i KILLED HIM

[gaiuswrites]

I’m totally in my yoga!Din feels tonight. A new yoga studio just opened in my town that’s open late, so I can go after work...and it’s been some years since I’ve gone to a practice. So of course I’m a little sore. And I’ll I can think of is Yoga Teacher helping Din stretch things out after, rubbing his ankles and knees...which of course leads to rubbing other things 👀👀

SAM! 💙 Omg. Uhm bless you for this ask. I’m hoping I did your lovely thot justice. A little spicy spice under the cut so no minors pls and thank you!

I know it’s uncommon to tag answered asks/drabble but here we are hehe. Just thought I’d give the Yogis a little love (sorry it’s been so long between yoga!din updates!) I randomly tagged some interested parties IDK sORRY TO BOTHER YOU PLS IGNORE ME. ✨

She’s gonna be the death of him.

“Jesus.”

A snarl gravels through Din’s mouth and he fights the urge to twitch out of her grasp.

She’s perched on folded knees between him—his legs sprawling out long on the couch on either side of her. He’s got a foot propped on the plain of her thigh, wriggling as she burns the pads of her fingers deep into his sore tissue.

“Sorry, does that hurt?” she simpers, peering through her lashes with soft doe-eyes—all too fucking innocent for the level of torture she’s inducing.

“No,” he huffs. “Doesn't hurt it just—fuck,” he hisses, head falling back onto the padded arm of the couch, fisting into the cushion with a gasp. “Christ woman, you’ve got knives for fingers.”

She doesn’t respond to the comment, leaving him with only a smirk as she continues to paw at his calf. “Your soleus is tight,” she remarks calmly—ever the fucking monk.

“My what?” he groans, clipped.

“Your soleus,” she repeats, “this—” She digs into the fleshy underside of his leg right above the swoop of his Achilles, and a strained sound heaves from his chest.

“Yeah, no shit,” Din grits out, his grip dimpling the plush fabric beneath him, an ugly wrinkle dimpling his brow.

“Breathe,” she coos—like ocean breeze, passing serene and glassy over him—before bunching up his gym shorts and exposing more of his tanned skin, the faint sheen of hair stippling the crest of his thighs catching on the dimmed light overhead. Din mutters something incoherently—something she mindfully disregards as she makes her way up his legs, delving her knuckles along the taut strands of his quads.

She makes a sympathetic noise, somewhere between a tsk and a cluck. “Mm god, you’re tense. Can you relax this for me?” she asks, padding at his leg. Din’s coiled knots of muscles seem to bray and scoff at the mere suggestion - relax, hilarious - and he clenches against her.

“Easier said than done,” he grumbles, flinching as she massages into his inner thigh—his vastus medialis, she tells him.

She hums, shifting forward off her heels to hover over him - table top pose, he thinks—and fuck him for knowing it - using her weight to press into his sartorius—that long band of sinew that stretches diagonally up from his knee towards his hip. Din groans again, tipping his chin up from the awkward angle his neck had been jutting out at over the arm, all to get a glimpse of her—the flex of her forearm as she buries into his aching flesh—how she concentrates on his body; how she pays such diligent attention to his cues, his body language, the hitches in his staggered breathing.

Finally, and only after he’s griped himself tired in circles, does Din go pliant beneath her—unspooled like cotton in her hands and fuck—fuck, she’s strong. She’s a lithe little thing—all grace and supple, elegant lines— but she’s fucking powerful. She’s got a strength that he could never have—a quiet one. Balanced. Nothing like his brutal bursts of force, nothing like his raw, free-flowing aggression.

And she’s taking him apart with it, muscle by muscle, unwinding the cords of his tendons like it’s fucking nothing—and Christ, it feels good. He’s gone jellied. He’s limbered and lulled and her hands are so fucking warm and perfect and his cock is damn near whimpering in his shorts—knowing full well what those hands can do, how they can unmake the tension riddling him rigid—how he’d love them somewhere else.

It’s not intentional.

He doesn’t mean to buck his hips into her, he doesn’t mean to dig his heels into the couch and shift himself closer to where she’s working, but he does it all the same. It’s something innate—something prehistoric and primal; need running like an oil slick through him. Blackened. Viscous.

She notices. Of course she fucking does.

“Relax,” she soothes, but the serenity that had claimed her before has since vanished; she’s feeding off him, off the heady energy he’s casting out in tangible, palpable waves. She’s grown dark and furtive alongside him— her sea glass exterior turned to amber as she snakes her palms higher and higher to the swell of him, bulging against the thin, sporty fabric, and rests them heavy at the dip of his pelvis, the pads of her fingertips finding the waistline of his shorts.

Slowly, bewitchingly, she ruts a digit under the elastic and begins to peel the material lower and lower and— she doesn’t break eye contact all the while. This goddamn siren, lust pooling in her gaze, she holds Din’s stare as his dick springs to his stomach, a relieved sigh whistling from his lips.

“So tense, baby.” She pitches forward, a satisfied grin flirting with her features. “Lemme help you.”

The words come out like murmurs, tutting and teasing and fanning over his throbbing length, before parting her gorgeous mouth to tongue a narrow stripe up his cock.

Din's head knocks backwards, the nape of his neck bending uncomfortably over the armrest once more. His eyes pinch shut as she takes him fully into her mouth, hot and wet and hollowing out around his girth, her fist cupping at his base and squeezing. A low moan chokes out at the broken swallow of his throat and his hand snaps to her head, weaving into her hair as she bobs and bobs and bobs, spit leaking down his shaft, dripping messy over her knuckles.

She’s gonna be the death of him.

/

tags cuz idk:

@krissology @djarinsbeskar @pedros-mustache @helmet-comes-off @uncle-kenobi @juletheghoul @keeper0fthestars @javier-pena @danidrabbles @motheroftrashbirds @daisychainsinknots @gracie7209 @spideysimpossiblegirl @thou-creature-of-the-deep @onlyangelsweetheart @stuckontheceiling @chasingdreamer @greatcircle79 @frannyzooey @sammysdaisy @iamskyereads @radiowallet

[pascalpanic]

I’ve been feeling it for Javi lately because I just started narcos and safe to say I’m obsessed. I was thinking about how sometimes he might not be the best at communicating when he’s had a bad day or needs something from his partner but imagine him coming home after a long week and being surprised by his girl welcoming him home in a full on matching lingerie set like Ouf. He would be so feral but also so happy that he finally has someone who just knows him enough to know he needs a lil loving

Angel (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: ^^^

Warnings: lots of sexual shit, pwp essentially, lingerie, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected P in V sex (pls wrap it before you tap it), squirting, cum-eating, spanking/a single slap to the thigh, dom/sub elements

W/C: 2k

A/N: I’m trying to clear out my inbox! if you have a request it’s coming! anyway good morning have some smut.

“Welcome home, baby,” you coo as the lock clicks open and Javier walks into the apartment. There’s a thud as he drops his briefcase, and a strangled noise as he looks up and spots you, perched on the arm of the sofa.

You’re wearing a creamy white lingerie set, and Javier thinks he’s going to die. Long white stockings cover your legs, held up by a garter belt encircling your waist. You wear lacy white crotchless panties, and your legs are spread open to showcase the fact. Your breasts are held up by a tight bustier, with sheer cups to allow him to see how your nipples have peaked. There’s even a matching white choker around your neck, lacy and delicate. The bustier has straps across your chest, with a ring in the middle- the whole thing has a very bondage-esque vibe, and it sends all of the blood in the DEA agent’s body to his painfully hard dick.

Javier nearly quakes when he sees the sight in front of him. It’s been a long week, filled with seemingly endless hours at the office, coming home for a few hours of sleep and a shower. He’d been at Steve’s throat, but when the office got sent home early on this Friday night, he took the first chance he could to get out.

You’ve noticed. How can you not? Javi’s never around, and when he is, he’s frustrated. What better way to relax him than with his favorite vice, your body?

From where you sit, you beckon Javier over with a single finger. He gulps and you can already see his pants tenting at the sight of you. The white is stunning, making him fall to his knees in front of you. It makes you look so innocent, so pure, and Javier thinks of all the nasty things you’ve done to each other; you’re far from innocent now. “Baby girl,” Javier whispers reverently, his hands sliding up your stocking-covered legs.

“You like it?” You ask and arch your back a little, breasts sticking out further, legs spread wider. “It’s all for you, Javi,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair. “Know you had a tough week. You didn’t tell me, but I knew.”

He nods and rests his head against your knee. “The hardest I’ve ever had. So fuckin’ close to getting Quica, and yet-“

“Don’t start talking shop,” you whisper to him, massaging his scalp. “It’s the weekend, baby. No work until Monday.” Your foot traces up and down his clothed side. “I got all this for you,” you murmur to him and take his hand, tracing it up to cup your breast, moaning softly as you make him roll his thumb across your nipple.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” Javier groans as he paws at the skin through the lace, feeling the delicate nub against his fingertips. “Like an angel.” His Texan accent comes out when he’s tired or turned on, and it’s hard to tell at first which one.

You know which one it is when his other hand traces across the lace panties, his fingers running over skin where the panties are slit. “Javi,” you whimper as he finds the dripping wetness of your core. “Please, baby. You wanna use me? Go right ahead.”

Grunting, Javier stands. He pulls his hands away from you completely, making you groan, but then he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bedroom. He tosses you on the bed, making you squeal, and gets to work undressing himself. He mutters in frustration as he has to go through every little button.

Moments later, he’s completely nude, his rock-hard length evident. “Mm, dulzura,” he murmurs as he kneels on the edge of the bed and pulls you to it.

“Baby,” you whine as he spreads your legs, but he doesn’t go for your aching slit quite yet. Javier’s lips find the edge of your stockings and press kisses there, then he traces along the edges with his tongue. The feeling is overwhelmingly arousing, feeling Javier’s hot mouth through the holes of the lace. He finishes one leg and moves to the other, making you pout. “Please, Javi. Don’t tease.”

Javier smacks his hand into your thigh, hard, leaving the hot mark of his palm and fingers behind. He looks up at you with fiery eyes. “You told me to use you. I’m doing what the fuck I want to do,” he murmurs, going back to his actions and nipping at the skin.

You squeal at the feeling of his teeth, at the way he’s manhandling you but somehow painfully soft and affectionate. It’s the most perfectly Javier moment, especially when he sits back and stands, then pulls you to him by the loop over your chest.

“I’m not playing nice tonight,” he warns you, his face close to yours. “You still want it?”

Now it’s your turn to gulp. Javier is painfully hard, you can feel it against your side, and all you want is that inside of you, no matter the cost. “Yes, Javi,” you purr submissively, and he pulls you even closer with a finger through the metal loop.

He kisses you bruisingly hard, his hip starting to rut into your side. You nip at his lip teasingly and Javier grunts, breaking away and panting. “Oh fuck,” he shudders as he looks down at your breasts in that bustier, pushing them up higher. He falls to his knees on the bed this time, pulling you closer by the loop once more and turning his attention to your chest.

Not a millimeter of skin is untouched, Javier’s mouth kissing and licking and sucking and biting you. There’s sure to be constellations of love bites and bruises across your tits tomorrow, but you want it. You wrap your arms around Javi and fall back, lying down now.

Javier suckles your nipples through the lace, dampening the lingerie and making you groan helplessly. One of his thighs is pressed against your aching clit, and you grind against it, desperate to feel anything from him. You cry out as he tugs at the nipple with his teeth, pulling the lingerie with his mouth. You grind yourself harder into the strong muscle of his leg, desperate.

“You want my mouth somewhere else, bebita?” Javier murmurs with his mouth between your tits, eyes looking up at you with both teasing and desire.

Nodding, you roll your hips into his leg again. “Right here, Javi,” you choke out, spreading your legs wider and planting your heels on the bed for traction.

“I want to take my time and devour every inch of you, pretty girl,” he murmurs as his lips find your navel, just above the garter belt. “And you’ll take it, won’t you?”

Nodding, Javier laps at the soft skin of your stomach, his hands gripping your sides as he works lower, dampening the edges of the lace panties with his painfully wet and hot tongue.

Your legs open wider and you bury your hands in his hair, and he finally turns his attention to the aching between your legs. “I haven’t even touched you here yet,” he murmurs in astonishment as he runs a finger through your folds, smirking as you keen into his finger when it presses against your clit. You’re drenched and you know it. “Hands and knees,” Javier orders, and you immediately comply.

He does this sometimes, when he wants you to feel it in a different way. His hands grip your ass, digging into the soft plush skin he finds there. The soft noise you make at the feeling of his fingers digging in is overtaken by a louder moan as his mouth finally finds your clit, sucking and lapping at it.

You’re so aroused that it takes a very short time before you’re coming apart, face pressed into the pillows. “Javi, Javi,” you cry again and again, fingers digging into the bedsheets.

He slips two fingers inside of you and you’re done for. The second he curls them, you shout his name again and let yourself go, the agonizing bliss rushing through your body.

When you’re done, Javi delivers a sharp smack to your ass. “Didn’t say you could cum,” he reminds you and kneads the flushed skin he just struck. “That means I’m going to fuck you and I don’t give a damn if you cum again.”

With any other man, you’d snort. One orgasm is all you get if you’re lucky. But this is Javier. He’ll spend hours with his mouth on you, making you cum so many times he has to be the one to keep track.

But this is Javier, and so you nod and wave your ass seductively in the air, daring to push into his hips and grind the soft skin there into his hard member. “Okay,” you murmur, and Javier pushes into you harshly, groaning at the way the lace parts with your folds.

The feeling of him inside of you is always a stretch, but always in the best way. He wastes no time in chasing his own high, gripping your hips hard and thrusting with all of his might.

Every slap of his hips into your ass, every time he pounds into your g-spot, every little thing he does is too much. You’re still reeling from the orgasm not too long ago, overwhelmed and rushed.

It doesn’t matter that Javier isn’t trying to get you off; he does it anyway. The pounding into your g-spot coupled with the way his dick stretches you had you orgasming again, squirting all over him and crying out his name.

“Look at that,” he says with a smirk, between grunts. “Look at you, bebita. Not even getting you off, just fucking using you, and you squirt all over me. But you didn’t fucking ask, did you?” He says with another smack to the ass. He pulls out completely, leaving you feeling desperately empty and fluttering against nothing. “Sit up.”

You comply, feeling your sensitive clit as it brushes against the cool bedsheets. You look up at him with wide eyes, as if you don’t know what seems to be the problem.

“You said to use you, I’m going to use you. Open,” he says and cups your jaw. Once you do, he wastes no time in slipping himself into the desperately hot confines of your mouth. You swirl your tongue around him and he grunts. “Dirty girl. You don’t even get to cum like this and you love it.”

You nod as you suck on the tip, working your tongue against the frenulum. He’s achingly hard, just about to cum. You know it. You know Javier’s body, know the little mannerisms.

“I’m going to cum down your throat, you got that?” He asks as he holds onto your throat, not squeezing or pressing. Just holding you there. In response, you take him into your throat and swallow around him, making him groan harder.

“Fuckin’ dirty little angel, wearing white lingerie and making me fuck her,” he says with a strained voice, impossibly close. “I ruined her. I ruined her and she fuckin’ loves it- fuck,” he cries as he shoots his hot release down your throat and you swallow every last bit.

When he’s done, he pulls out from your mouth and groans, lying on the bed and pulling you to follow him. His arms wrap around you and he kisses your head. “Was that what you had in mind?” He asks with a hoarse voice.

“Are you relaxed?” You ask, swallowing hard and knowing your throat will be sore in the morning. Just another delicious reminder of how good Javier is.

He nods softly, and you smile and kiss his lips ever so lightly. “Then it’s exactly what I wanted.”

-

taglist:

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[thesolotomyhan]

joining the dea and javier peña falling for you would include

a/n: first javier request and my soft clown ass did her best to bring this request justice for you corazoncitos,, wow anyways pls love me either way if this is actual garbage

taglist: @fandomnerd16 @visintaes @sheeshgivemeabreak @artemiseamoon @umvirgo @redhairedace

let me know if you want to be tagged!

ok so when i thought about this- my mind went straight to a slow b u r n relationship :))

because all i can think about is him not even realizing the moment where you- the very person hes been trying to avoid since day one- holds his entire heart in your hands

like him coming to the point where he notices hes so deep in love with you the very second he stared at you a little longer than usual,,

 not paying attention to what you said even though he was staring straight at your lips- 

and hes just over here like “fuck me,, this cant be happening-”

i laugh because i know he would start to get all nervous around you,, 

his tie feeling like its choking him when he tries to talk to you, becoming tongue tied,, when he had literally zero problems before talking with you- 

his palms sweating and getting so frustrated with himself,, especially when he looks over at you when you laugh at something steve or horacio said to you-

just wanting you to be laughing at something he said instead-

just the literal exact opposite feelings hes been trying to push away and convince himself he doesnt have has him beyond done with himself at this point because he knows theres no way out of this-

because?? since when the fuck ever did the javier pena start getting nervous around trying to talk to a woman and much less the person that hes supposed to be working with,, thats what pisses him off- 

and i would imagine him having this closed off connection with you since the first step you took in the office

because i have this thought in my head where javier wouldnt have liked the news of you joining the dea in colombia when he first heard about it

bc theres already so much stress going on from trying to catch escobar,,

and hes not about to have to train and catch your rookie ass up to them ya feel?

but woW does he realize he has it all fucking backwards about you when steve introduces you to javi when you get there-

like im not going to lie,, i can feel it in my bones that javier wouldnt really care when both you and steve are standing in front of him

i can just imagine him just glancing up,, looking you over once and just brushing you off,,

just giving you a short hello with like a forced smile and getting up,, grazing past you two-

and steves over here rolling his eyes like “dont listen to him, he can be an asshole,, but youll get used to it-”

i dont know- i get the feeling that you and steve would get along well since the start,, like the two of you becoming best friends:)

because he knows what its like to be in a different country and even more, what its like to be the rookie

so hes just having you always stick with him all the time,, being dea buddies :)) wow

but also having a good relationship with carrillo because i just know he would see something in you-

youre not the one to be a goody-two shoes like steve in the beginning and just by hanging around with you for 5 minutes,, he already loves you and is always with you on missions,,

like you becoming one of the people he trusts the most in the group :)

just- you befriending the whole office to the point everyone would come to you for literally anything-

i laugh imagining javiers amargado ass always being annoyed af by that,, because weve seen this man stress tf over escobar and bernas bs hes always pulling-

and hes just trying to be serious for once and not have this whole case drag on any longer than it has to the point where people dont come to him anymore- 

but listen- i can see you having this attitude with him all the time,, like challenging him everytime you interact with him,,

literally not giving 2 shits if he listens to you,, just getting under his skin and steves over here already on your side no matter what-

i cant-  imagining him giving you an attitude back,, pushing you away and sending you with murphy but

 :(( even tho he wont ever admit it then,, :( he lives for bantering with you because those would come to be the highlights of his day :((

like in those moments he slowly starts to realize unconsciously he doesnt hate you at all,, he just doesnt know how to handle these feelings he has for you because he gives me vibes of him never settling down-

but here he fucking is,, not even noticing that hes constantly looking at you,, sitting up straight when he sees you start to walk over to him :(

or like him muttering to himself,, trying to convince his mind that he doesnt and shouldnt see you in a romantic way-

but he just can’t help stop thinking about you,, the way you smiled at him that morning or that you chose to sit by him during a meeting- 

i dont know- im just emotional at the thought of him being so hopelessly in love with you,, like not even fighting it anymore because he cant

just him slowly coming around to being near you all the time,, and maybe just checking up on you,,

i CRY at thought of him becoming your number one hype man :((

like him yelling at everyone to shut up and listen to you when you have something to say about information-

the both of you smiling to each other,, like him nodding in your direction because he has your back :)) wow i aM SOFT

im fucking sorry but the way he has literal HEART EYES watching you talk in front of everyone,,

not even paying attention to what youre saying just focusing on the way hes never noticed the little details about you- i

this bitch is literally in a haze,, focusing all of his  attention on you,,

like he doesnt even notice when steve looks over at him and back to you,, smile on his face when he realizes what javis thinking about-

i cant- and him elbowing javiers side when you finish talking because hes not even moving from his spot,, still too embobado watching you like

“you fucking like her dont you?”- 

:((HOLD ON?? - I SOB at the thought of steve being the wingman because he just wants the best for both of his friends,,,

 he makes it his fucking mission to get you two together- :((

like im imagining him being the type to give you a note or something from carrillo or messina-

telling you to pass it on to javier even tho he’s literally like 4 feet away from you both lol

like hes just trying to push you two to spend more time together as much as possible-

woW because can you imagine you giving javier these smALL HEART EYES AS YOU WALK UP TO HIM,,

the two of you being stuck to the floor when youre giving him the note,, both of you waiting for the other to make a move first,, 

neither of you being able to get 2 words out to eachother even though you both would banter with each other before but now?? its a difference feel

and all the while steve is over here next to carrillo,, the both of them betting which of you two is going to do something first lmao

god im sorry but im :(( imagining you giving him a small smile and walking away buT javiers not even looking at the note because hes over here standing there,, not moving a single muscle,, just watchinG YOU LEAVE WITH THE BIGGEST HEART EYES WHEN YOURE NOT LOOKING AT HIM ANYMORE- :(((

oh my god, wow can you imagine steve getting connie in on this because hes just so done waiting and watching you both fucking struggle to get 4 words out to eachother- so much p i n n i n g

so like the two of them would definitely do this double date just to get the two of you together outside of work :))

but:) they would skip :)) halfway through the date or just not show up at all :)))

and have you and javier go on :)the date alone :)) so its just the two of you :) WOW

listen i dont make the rules but you and javier definitely walk in the next day together,, holding fucking hands perhaps?? im- i need to go sob

[yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen]

Can we have some thirsty yearning with Javier being a protective SOB when someone gets a little too hands on with reader pls 🥺

“Get your fucking hands off her,” Javi growls, clenching a hand around your wrist and dragging you away from the other man. 

“Peña, I thought we were friends. Didn’t your mother ever teach you to share?” Berna smiles, teasing Javier and causing the muscles in his neck to tense. His jaw clenched so tight you’re sure it could snap. 

“We are not friends,” he pulls you away from the laughing man and into the cool evening air to his jeep. He comes around the passenger side, and you get in, letting him pull the seatbelt across your lap and snap it into place. You run your fingers through his hair, and you pull him to your chest, feeling his breath deeply against your breasts. 

“I will never let anything happen to you,” he mumbles, pulling back to look into your eyes, “you know that, right?” You do, and you nod before he kisses you so softly you want to cry. 

He closes the door and jogs to the driver's side, and gets in, starting up the jeep and pulling away from the curb. His hands clench on the steering wheel, and you can tell how stressed he still is even as you get further away from the bar. You unbuckle the seat belt at the red light, and he looks over at you startled before you reach for the button of his jeans and flick it open, pulling down the zipper and pulling out his cock. 

You spit into your palm and pump him a few times in your fist, and he looks around at the other cars and people walking on the street. You look up to see the light turn green, and you grin, “drive, Javier, I will take care of this,” you bend down your head and lick a wide strip up the side of his cock. 

“Fuck,” he groans, and you take his full length into your mouth. His hips rise, and he curses the jeep swerving slightly before he rights it. You giggle and hollow your cheeks, sucking him harder and playing with the tip with your tongue. The salty bit of precum dribbling on your tongue. You spend the entire drive home sucking and fucking him with your mouth, your other hand coming up to massage his balls. 

He pulls into the parking lot and turns off the engine, and throws his head back against the seat, putting a hand on your head and guiding you to move faster as he moans and groans above you. He tightens in your hands until he is spilling down your throat. You choke, and a combination of spit and cum dribble down your chin until he pulls you away. 

His eyes are shining, and you smile at him. His fingers scooping up the leftover cum and putting it into your mouth, watching you suck his fingers clean. “Do you feel better now, baby?” you tease, and he huffs with a chuckle. 

“Hmm, yeah, but I think I need to taste you now sweetheart, you know my mother did teach me to always return a favor.” 

[nineteenninety-six]

An Un-ideal Situation

Why can’t I stop writing Javi angst. Please send me Narcos/Pedro requests pls. I won’t lie, I hateeee this. Also, ignore the title please, I struggled to come up with one.

TW: Kidnapping, abuse

SUMMARY: Reader experiences something that forces her to make a tough decision

(Y/N) woke up alone again that morning and she didn’t know whether he had even come home at all or stayed the night in his office but after a few moments of thought, she realised that she’d rather not know.

Her relationship with Javier was troubled to say the least and it had been for a while. (Y/N) knew he was occupied with catching Escobar and she was immensely proud of him and his colleagues but she felt suffocated and always on edge. They lived in Bogotá which was a hive for cartels and other criminals, most of which, she guessed worked for Escobar in some way and Javier’s face had been plastered on newspapers and news reports across the country leaving no doubt that Escobar and his sicarios knew who he was and that made her connection to him a dangerous one. 

She loved Javier, she really did but the current situation was tearing her heart in two. One part of her wanted to stay with him but the other half wanted to go back home.

She worked at the local hospital along with Steve’s wife, Connie and (Y/N) had gotten close to the women, she found solace in the only person who knew how she was feeling and what she was going through. Most of (Y/N)’s patients were victims of Escobar and his men. They were either innocent locals or they were from a smaller cartel that hadn’t bent at the knee for Escobar and because of this, she felt like didn’t have an escape. Whether she was at home with Javi or at work, she was suffocated by Escobar and whatever he left his imprint on.

As she made her way to work that morning, (Y/N) was distracted by her thoughts about Javier which meant that she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings which was her biggest mistake. Too caught up in her head she didn’t hear the van speeding up to her or the door opening, she only knew she was in trouble when arms wrapped around her and pulled her backwards, a palm quickly fitting over her mouth to prevent her from screaming. (Y/N) was swiftly pulled into the back of the van, a piece of fabric quickly fitting over her eyes, another in her mouth forcing her jaw open along with her wrists and ankles being bound together, then she was knocked out by a harsh hit to the head.

(Y/N) woke up to the sound of voices muttering to each other but she struggled to make out what they were saying due to her pounding headache. As she blinked away the grogginess she realised that she was bound to a chair, her ankles were bound to the chair’s legs and her arms were pulled behind her back around the back of the chair and tied together but she wasn’t blinded or gagged.

(Y/N) groaned out loud as she tried to make sense of what was happening around her causing the voices to stop talking. 

“Oh! She’s awake~” A mocking voice called out as footsteps made their way towards her.

(Y/N) didn’t recognise the man who stood in front of her, “W-who are you? Why am I here?”

“You don’t know who I am? Your boyfriend didn’t tell you?”

(Y/N) felt nervous, she didn’t know if he was talking about Javier or perhaps mistaken her for a girlfriend of a random cartel member 

“I-i have no idea what you’re talking about.” (Y/N) harshly swallowed, “P-please--”

“Javier Peña, DEA agent.” The man smirked down at her, “You can’t lie to us.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath a tried to settle her racing heart and think clearly, she hoped she could lie and try to convince them that they’ve got the wrong person but that idea was killed struck off after they named Javi.

“Who are you?” She questioned.

“La Quica” The man smiled a nasty smile at her.

(Y/N) instantly felt sick, she knew who La Quica was and she knew he wasn’t good news and that she was in danger.

La Quica grinned as he spotted her change in expression before he started to frown, “Your boyfriend has been causing us a bit of trouble and we just want to send him a message.”

“And I’m the message.”

“There you go” La Quica gave her malicious smile before slapping her across the face.

(Y/N) choked on the gasp that escaped her and felt her cheek burn from the slap. It wasn’t long until she was slapped again, this time her lip split open. She began to cry as the pain and situation settled in, she was most likely going to die today and there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

The beatings continued and (Y/N) tried her hardest to dissociate from what was happening. She didn’t know how much time passed until he stopped but she was aware that her body hurt pretty much everywhere and she was bleeding.

(Y/N) winced as she let out a shaky breath, her ribs throbbing in pain, “Are you-- are you going to kill me?”

La Quica smirked and shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, maybe.”

He then pulled out his phone and began to dial a number, grinning at her as he held the phone up to his ear. The person answered and they went back and forth a bit, (Y/N) could only hear what La Quica was saying but she knew he was having fun by the smile on his face. He then made his way over to where she was and held the phone up to her ear, she shot him a confused look but it quickly melted away when she heard the voice on the other side.

“(Y/N)?!” 

(Y/N) could hear the panic and fear in Javier’s voice as he shouted over the phone.

“Javi?”

La Quica snatched the phone away after that and brought it back to his ear, “You hear that? She’s alive but she won’t be for long, so you should get here fast.” 

La Quica hung up the call and looked down at her, “Your boyfriend is on his way, don’t know how long it’ll take him to find this place but it’ll be long enough so we can still have some fun.”

(Y/N) didn’t know when she passed out but she woke up to a hand gently clasping her face and fingers brushing over her cheek.

“Hey...hey wake up for me darlin’”

It was Javi. (Y/N) sobbed in relief.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. I’m here darlin’” 

“Javi...” (Y/N) whimpered

She fell into his embrace as he loosened the ropes tieing her to the chair, he soothed her as she cried into his neck. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry mi amor.”

(Y/N) felt herself get lifted as Javi held her in his arms and left the building, soon after she was placed in the back of an ambulance. She didn’t pay attention to what was happening around her, focusing only on Javi’s hand in hers. She passed out again but this time when she woke up she was in the hospital and Javi was sat in the chair next to her bed.

As (Y/N) gazed at him, she made her mind up. She couldn’t do this anymore, her love for Javi didn’t outweigh the cons by being with him.

Javier looked up from the papers he was reading and saw that her eyes were open, “Hey, you’re awake.”

He pressed a kiss to her head and took her hand in his, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright.” She sent him a pained smile, “Javi, we-uh need to talk.”

Javier frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I can’t do this anymore, Javi.” (Y/N) blinked back her tears, “Being with you is too risky.”

“(Y/N)-”

“I’m sorry, Javi but I can’t be with you anymore. I can’t live my life by being afraid to go outside. It’s not fair for me.”

Javier stuttered over his words, caught off guard, “I--, we don’t have to break up. You can go back to Texas and I’ll come back after we’ve got Escobar.”

(Y/N) shook her head as tears fell down her cheeks, “I know you, Javi. Escobar won’t be the end for you, once he’s gone there will be another cartel that pops up and you’ll be after them too. We should end this for good.”

“I’ll stop after Escobar, I promise.” Javier was begging.

“I can’t ask you for that Javi. I love you but we can’t-”

“Please!”

“I’m sorry, Javi.”

Javier clenched his jaw and nodded before he stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut loudly behind him causing (Y/N) to flinch. She loved him more than he could ever know but she couldn’t risk her life by staying in Colombia for any longer. It broke her heart but she had to leave.