#no-more-colombian-nights | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 7 months ago

Text

Temporary Fix! || skirt chaser!Johnny

Rating: E Words: 4.1K~ CW: smut smut smut, a bit of BAD dirty talking, oral sex (m!receiving), protected piv sex, breath play (if you squint), praise kink (lots of 'that's it' + 1 'good girl'). Tags: afab!reader, fat/chubby!reader, you/your pronouns, one-night stand but more like one-week stand. Summary: Johnny's a dog who can't keep it in his pants. a/n: this is for my chubby gals and also for my @crashtestbunny because I wanted her to be able to read this and not have the previous cheating plot in place.

The thing about soldiers… Is that they tend to have lovers. As in, for as long as they stay deployed in a country, they’re bound to get themselves a toy they can have a shag with. Sometimes it’s prostitutes. Sometimes it’s regular women.

This is a lot more common for enlisted soldiers in the Army. The types that get deployed for 9 to 18 months at a time when they're very young, fighting in a war that keeps them far away from home for so long that they “can’t help” but seek affection from local women.

But that’s not to mean Special Forces soldiers, especially those kept on ‘stand by’, always ready for a quick deployment that, at most, lasts a month or two, don’t do it. They do.

John Alistair MacTavish is a grown man, not one of those young lads of 18, recently out basic, who need a whole to bury their cock in or else they'll die. But you wouldn’t think that, seeing as he's constantly seeking out action on the side.

He goes on and on about how childish those stupid recruits are, about some of his old mates who'd shag anything that walks... Only to then leave base with his team to end up at some bar or club in civvy clothes, find a nice bird or bloke (he’s not picky) and go home with them.

A hypocrite, any normal person would call him, a womanizer, a skirt chaser, a player... He’s not above calling himself that. But sometimes he just needs to decompress! That's his excuse anyway. Decompressing. Letting out pent-up aggression. Orgasms are great stress-relievers...

And as useful as his fist is, he’s not a sixteen-year-old anymore, rubbing one out in his bathroom during a quick shower. That just doesn’t cut it anymore. If he has the option to shag someone, why wouldn’t he?

Now that he’s in the 141, the philandering just gets much worse. Whenever they have downtime on a foreign location somewhere, a night free before they return to England, or a night before they get the go-ahead to go on a mission, what have you… He’s out getting himself a shag.

And, worse of all, he brings Gaz along.

Gaz doesn’t have the same issue, unlike Johnny, he can actually contain himself. Maybe that makes Gaz a bit bad too, because he knows that Soap has a tendency to chase like they owe him money... And he still enables him. He still goes out with his mate and they both get wasted and laid without a care.

Maybe Gaz doesn’t think it’s his place to intervene, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to.

Camaraderie and all.

That’s how they ended up in a club downtown, flashing lights all around them, loud reggaeton playing through the speakers, men and women around them with more skin on display than they had covered rubbing their bodies, sipping drinks, spilling them over each other… Oh, the wonders of a Colombian night club.

They saw you before you saw them. Kyle tapping at Johnny’s shoulder as their eyes perused the space individually, then, he drew the Scot’s eyes to you, standing with your friends, laughing, drinking, softly swaying to the music.

Soft curves in a copper-colored dress that left little to the imagination, clinging tight to a round ass and a thick belly, the hem constantly pulled down by your hands, as it insisted on rolling up, up, up, exposing more of your smooth thighs than you wanted it to.

It didn’t stop you from still rolling your hips to the music, however, turning the fixing of your dress a near impossible task, repetitive, useless, and maddening, Sisyphus-and-his-stone.

Turning to each other, the two sergeants hands shot to the middle of their bodies, a quick rock-paper-scissors ensuing… which Johnny won.

And that’s how you ended up turning around to the sight of a foreigner with the broadest shoulders, thickest arms and pecs, and bluest eyes you’ve ever seen… As well as a mohawk, something you didn’t often see on… anyone, really.

He was a soldier, you could tell, even out of uniform. Not your first time seeing one, this being a city with a military base attached, and certainly not your last time being approached by one.

Oh, how soldiers seem to love fat women. You’ve experienced your fair few, many of them assuming your weight would equal desperation for love and affection, which would result in you accepting a rushed wedding for the sole purpose of getting him out of the barracks.

But you’re not desperate. Other than for a good lay, maybe.

“Erm… Hola.” The soldier in front of you says, blue eyes locked on your face for a surprisingly respectful amount of time considering the sinful cleavage that this dress and your bra give you.

His Spanish has the thickest accent you’ve ever heard, meaning he’s not American… But his pronunciation is off, so he’s clearly an English speaker. Though he’s not English either, you can tell.

“I speak English. Hi.” You told him, watching as he let out a little sigh of relief. Then, the corner of his mouth popped up in a dirty little smirk.

“Well, tha’ makes it easier. Hi.” He replied. “I saw ye from over there… Was wonderin’ if I can buy ye a drink?” He offered. Only then did he allow his blue eyes to slither down, down, down, trailing every inch of your exposed skin down to the black ankle booties you’re wearing, thick, square heels to prevent your hamstrings from feeling the pain of stilettos the next morning.

“Why?” You decided to ask him with a cocked brow, forcing his eyes to shoot upward to meet your face again, locking onto yours with a surprised expression.

“Why, what, pretty thing?” He replied, his own brows, thick, straight, rising up to meet his hairline. He’s confused, his eyes blinking a bit. His intentions had been clear as day. Obvious enough for you to pick up on, but you’re playing dumb, or maybe hard to get.

“Why do you wanna buy me a drink?” You asked him as you dipped your head to the side, your eyes slowly trailing over every inch of his handsome face. Those blue eyes of his are locked on you, pupils slightly dilated, hands hanging off his hips, fingers looped onto the belt loops of his jeans.

“Because you’re proper beautiful.” He replied. Your cocked brow and unimpressed glances up and down, cause him to continue. “And I’d love to take you home, find out what you’ve got on under that dress, and make sure your neighbors hate you from today onward.”

His words are crude, his voice loud and crass, disregarding the public space you’re in, the fact that there are others around, not just your friends, but complete strangers too. Maybe he’s hoping they won’t understand English. But they do. Hell, your girlfriends look at you and exchange coy looks with you, before them, and you, break into a fit of giggles.

He looks at them, noticing they caught what he said, even through the loud music, but then looks at you again. “So? What do you say?” His brogue is getting easier and easier to listen to with every word he says.

Rolling your head to the side, your squint your eyes at him and then shrug. “Do you have to buy me a drink for that?” You challenge him, your eyes snapping back and forth between his own, almost taunting him with your inquiry.

“Not if you don’t want to.” He tells you, eyes lit ablaze and a smirk on his lips.

So, you simply grab him by the arm, bid farewell to your friends, with a wave, and grab your clutch from the table, before dragging him out of the club.

Johnny was expecting a flat, a home, maybe even a university dorm room considering your age. What a surprise it came to him to find you taking him up to a hotel. Not that he’d complain when he noticed the large king-sized bed and the large view, providing a beautiful view of the illuminated city of Cartagena.

His hands were on your broad hips before you even got to closing the door, his mouth clashing onto yours as he pushed you against the wall by the door, calloused hands already sliding over the slinky fabric of your silky dress, tugging it up, so they could slip underneath.

His tongue pushed into your mouth, wet and drooling, saliva traded between your mouths as his strong fingers caught hold of a greedy handful of your ass, digging into the supple flesh and groaning in delight at just the feeling of you at his fingertips.

Your own hands already slid up and around his torso, feeling him up through the fabric of his t-shirt, before sliding down to pull the navy blue fabric out of its tuck into his jeans, rolling it up to expose a strong, bulky body covered in a generous amount of body hair.

Your lips broke apart for a moment, only long enough for you to take off his shirt, tossing it onto an armchair in the corner, and for him to unzip the side-zipper of your dress, taking it off you too.

Then, he grabbed you around the thighs, causing you to shriek, as he bounded for the bed, dropping you so hard onto it you almost swore you’d bounce off. Still wearing his jeans, he slotted himself between your parted thighs, his body bending over yours.

His stubble scratched your neck as he kissed you all over, licking stripes of your skin as his hands pulled off your boots, unfastened your bra… They were surprisingly nimble for such a hulking man. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Johnny cooed as he let his eyes run down your body.

He dragged his mouth down from your neck, across you clavicle, over one of your breasts, and caught your nipple between his teeth, beginning to suck on it, noticing how you hissed a bit, leaning back on your elbows as he did so.

One of his hands caught your other breast, grabbing and carefully kneading it between his fingers, as his eyes shot up to your face, blue irises beneath a pair of dark eyelashes, fluttering slowly as his pupils blew out from how horny he was. His other hand found your black panties and pulled them aside, (more so ripped them with how aggressive he pulled on them), the rough and calloused pads of his fingers catching your lips immediately and beginning to slide up and down, running over your slit.

The moment his cracked fingertips grazed your clit, you whined, your legs spreading apart even more, your body jumping a bit. “Fuck…” You grumbled under your breath, your eyes locked on his face and the way he eagerly played with your nipple.

“Relax.” Johnny told you once he let go of your nipple. Then, he rolled his tongue around in his mouth, collecting some saliva, before letting it drip onto your slit, his fingers catching it and spreading it quickly as he resumed playing with your clit, hand craning in order to push a finger inside.

“Oh fuck…” You moaned softly, hips bucking up against his hand, following his ministrations as he pushed a second finger inside of you and hooked them up to graze your g-spot, pumping them in and out, the rugged feel of his cracked fingertips drawing a surprisingly pleasant sensation of pleasure from the depths of your soul.

His other hand moved away from your breasts in order to undo his belt, leaving it to hang around his waist as he also undid his jeans, sliding them and his boxer briefs down one-handed, in order to allow his cock to spring free.

Your eyes lock onto it as he continues fingering you, a bit sloppy and rough, his palm pressed to your clit and his fingers constantly drawing a ‘come hither’ motion inside your wet walls.

His cock is stubby, shorter than some of the men you’ve been with, but so thick you can’t help but wonder just how he’ll make it fit inside of you, and how straining the stretch of it will be. It’s heavy too, uncut, hanging down even while already full-mast, too heavy to spring back against his belly button. His balls are heavy too, full, round and strained as he continues to play with you, watching your reactions to his touch.

“You like what you see, huh?” He asks you, noticing the way your eyes don’t slip far from his cock before returning to it, watching it lay against one of your smooth thighs, the ruddy color and constant twitching only bringing more attention it as it rubs against your skin, dripping pre-cum over your stretch marks.

“Mhm…” You reply softly as your hand reaches down to tug at it, carefully wrapping around it and drawing it up and down over his length, only letting go to cup his taut balls and fondle them a few times.

“Tha’s it…” He murmurs and hisses under his breath as he looks you right in the eyes. “Wanna be good f’r me?” He coos at you, and you nod in reply as you bite your lip. “How about you get on your knees and let me see how you suck me off, hm?”

Nodding, you untangle yourself from around him, his fingers slipping out of you, as you took your spot on the floor, the soldier having been caring enough to toss a pillow from the bed onto the floor to cushion your knees.

He sits on the edge of the bed, strong, muscular thighs spread open, as you sunk your mouth onto him, without so much as a second’s worth of hesitation. The stretch as you tried to swallow as much of him as you can tugged at the corners of your mouth, making them feel a bit sore, your jaw already protesting at the size of him. But that doesn’t stop you.

You start lapping at the underside of his cock eagerly, wetting him as much as possible to make sure you could continue taking him down your throat. The sounds he was making were sinful, low groans and grunts, hissing through his teeth, one hand carefully fisting the bed covers.

He carefully gathered your hair away from your face, gripping it one handed. “Tha’s it… Greedy thign you are, wanna take all of my fat cock in your mouth, hm?” He goaded a bit as he looked down at you between his legs.

Any other time, any other place, any other man, you’d already be pulling off him, getting dressed, telling him to fuck off… But something in this soldier’s voice, in his accent, the growl behind his voice, the spark in his eyes…

Maybe you are just desperate for a good lay with the thickest cock you’ve ever seen… But you don’t complain. You simply nod at him and bobbed your head even more enthusiastically, lips struggling to glide up and down his length, spread open sinfully to accommodate his size.

“Tha’s a good girl…” He praises, his free hand coming to grip you at the back of your neck, tugging you slowly, forward, to make you swallow more of him down into your throat, making you gag and sputter on his length, sloppily drooling around the size of him, saliva drooling down your chin and onto the carpeted floor of your hotel room.

“Pretty fucking thing… Gonna make that make-up run, hm?” He offers as he pulled you off and back onto his cock, moving your head for you. “Show some attention to that pretty pussy of yours, go on.” He demands, causing you to nod.

One of your hands found your wet slit between your legs, sliding two fingers inside, which felt like not nearly enough after having had his own, and considering the fat cock that would soon replace them, but you’d make do.

“Both hands, don’t be coy now.” He added. Your eyes widen, already anticipating the loss of balance that’d come from the lack of support from your free hand holding you up on the bed. But you do as you’re told, trying your best to keep a perch on your knees as your other hand starts slowly padding at your clit, rolling circles with it.

When you inevitably lose balance, as you knew you would, the soldier simply pulls you forward against him, making you bury your nose against his pelvis, swallowing his cock in its entiry, causing you to choke and gag, trying to catch a breath through your nose. He, in turn, lets out a loud groan of delight, eyes rolling back, as he feels the warm wetness of your throat.

“Keep your hands where they are.” He demands of you, preventing you from trying to pull away and find balance again with your hands on the bed or the floor or his thighs. You can barely do much more than nod against his hip.

He hooks a leg over your shoulder, pinning you close to him, while his hips begin to rock into your mouth, blindly and sloppily, making you gag more and more, more saliva slipping down from your parted lips, making a mess of him and yourself. “Tha’s it… yeah… just what I fuckin’ needed… Such a good girl f’r me…” He grunts as his hand swipes your hair out of your face as it slips from his grip.

“You like this?” He asks you as he abuses your mouth and your throat, while you sputter and try to fruitlessly breathe between each thrust of his into your throat. Nodding pathetically, mouth to full to speak, you whimper against him, making him shiver and shudder. “Of course you do… greedy fuckin’ mouth…”

He only pulls you off him after another couple of minutes, which felt like an eternity, allowing you to catch your breath only for long enough for him to pull you onto the bed, bending you over at the hips, presenting your round ass to him.

“Mmmmm, look at you…” He grunts out as he ruts his cock between your ass cheeks while tugging your head back at the scalp, causing your back to arch ever so slightly, your tits still pressed against the bed covers. “Round fuckin’ arse… Gonna love see it jiggle f’r me…”

He lets go of you again for a moment only to paw at your ass cheeks with one hand, while the other blindly looks for his wallet in his jeans. “Find me a condom, will ye?” He asks as he tosses the leather wallet next to your head, while he steps out of his jeans, underwear and boots, finally.

While looking for the little clip pocket containing them, you spot his military identification very briefly. It makes you realize you didn’t even ask him his name… Nor did he ask for yours. A green and white striped card titled ‘British Army’, with the name ‘John MacTavish’ and some extra info you don’t really pay attention to. John. That’s his name…

Once you pass him one of the silver wrappers, Johnny rips it open and puts on the slick condom quickly, barely waiting a moment before slipping himself inside of you, down to the hilt in one swift motion. You find yourself squirming against the bed covers with a whine, while he groans loudly behind you.

Although the stretch was still wildly bigger than any other man you’ve been with before, it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you expected it too… probably because you were wetter and more eager than you expected.

He starts rutting inside of you immediately, huffing through clenched teeth as his big hands grip your ass cheeks and keep you spread open. His fingers dig deeply onto your extra fat, squeezing and kneading it, his blue eyes glued to the way your puffy lips part and stretch to swallow him whole. “Beautiful fuckin’ sight…”

“Fuck… Just like that… Don’t stop…” You beg him and whine loudly, fisting the white bed covers and digging your nails into them, your face resting on them sideways, sliding back and forth with each thrust of his.

You’re sure the hotel staff is going to have a field day washing the duvet, your make-up already staining the white fluffy fabric, sliding down with the sweat, and dragging across with each motion of your head.

You can barely speak or think, moaning in turn with him, each thrust of his causing you to croon and whimper in delight, his fat cock hitting you at every possible angle and rubbing every inch of your walls, the veins dragging against your g-spot, the condom barely there.

“Yeah… ye like tha’? Huh? Ye like it?” He coos at you, already slightly out of breath, hips barelling against your plump ass, making it jiggle as he bounces himself off them.

“Oh, fuck yes…!” You whine loudly. His hands slide up to find your hip, pushing you down against the mattress so he can shift more of his weight onto you, pumping at a downward angle, causing you to shriek desperately.

“Oh yeah…” Johnny grunts and starts huffing atop you, leaning all his weight atop of you as he pounds his hips against yours, his breath ragged against your shoulder and hair. “Fuck… Yer cunts feels so fuckin’ good…” He murmurs in your ear, his thick accent becoming.

“Oh, God…” You whimper, shuddering beneath him, feeling the familiar knot tightening in your stomach, each of his strong thrusts rattling every fiber of your being. “John…”

“Oh… tha’s it… Moan my name…” He orders as one of his hands suddenly shoots up and grips you by the back of the neck. “Moan my name…” He insists as he throws his hips down onto yours.

“John!” You call out, doing as you’re told, panting for air as he pushes your face harder into the mattress, slowing his thrusts down and bottoming out inside you each time at a slower pace.

Good thing he did too… Because the knot in your stomach only tightens more and more and more, and then snaps, making you cry out loudly with a choked moan that gets half-caught in your throat as your walls suddenly clamp down around him, tightening the grip on his fat shaft.

“Oh fuck…” Johnny grunts and picks up the pace again, grasp your hip as hard as his hands can, a bruising grip that’ll definitely leave a mark, as he pounds into your weeping cunt again and again and again…

He finally comes, losing his balance and landing on his elbows and forearms on either side of your body, his chest against your back, out of breath, as much as you, even though you feel like you barely did anything other than take him.

“Fuck… I needed that…” He grumbles under his breath as he speaks against your shoulder blade, before leaning up and biting at your earlobe. “That feel good f’r ye?” He whispers in your ear, an earnest question, receiving a little nod from you. “Good…”

Slowly, he pulled himself up, slipping his softening cock from you and rolling the condom off. “So… how long are ye and yer friends stayin’ here?” He asks you nonchalantly while tying off the condom.

“Are you trying to make small talk…?” You ask him, surprised that you can even find a voice or string together a coherent sentence in the aftermath of that. You try your best to drag yourself up and over onto the bed, and once you succeed, you look at him languidly.

“No. I have a reason to ask.” He assures you as he tosses the condom into the paper bin under the desk in the corner, before shuffling back over to you on the bed, lying lazily next to you, an arm behind his head, the other on his stomach.

“Four more days.” You tell him, and he nods at the reveal of information. You roll your head to the side to look at him, both of your bodies sweaty and sticky, your make-up undoubtedly a mess, not that he shows it in the way he looks at you… And even if he did, he’d likely only show pride at making you look like that.

“Well… I’m comin’ to pay ye a visit every night until then.” He tells you, before wrapping his free arm around you, pulling you close. “I plan on gettin’ that tight cunny wrapped around my cock fer as long as I can.”

yes, this is a repost of the original "Temporary Fix." but without the cheating :)

#ikea writes 💚#cod x reader #cod fanfic #masterlist #call of duty #cod fandom #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #cod smut #smut #johnny mactavish smut #johnny mactavish is a mutt

598 notes · View notes

3typical3 · 1 year ago

Text

Tip for non Hispanic ppl writing Spanglish

*I initially wrote this at 1 am so like, keep that in mind as you decipher this lol

*context is key when speaking Spanglish, if your character is in a professional setting they probably won’t speak Spanglish unless it’s to a fellow co worker who also speaks Spanglish. It’s more of a casual way a speaking yk?

Also parents, I avoid Spanglish with my parents unless we’re switching from just speaking Spanish to just speaking English. But that’s depends from family to family.

It’s typically like switching sentences and not dropping in random words.

Example “ es Que fui a la tienda, and they were out of milk”

Example “ te ves cansada, did you sleep last night?”

“La neta” is and extremely common Mexican slang term, typically means, honestly. It can also be used to mean ‘really?’

Honestly example:

“La neta, Im tired”

Or “La neta, estoy cansada. Im going to bed”

In the case it means “really?”:

ex.) “Neta?! They said that?!”

I personally say “ de que” which is basically saying “like”, it’s a filled term, before saying a sentence in either English or Spanish

example “ de que idk it won’t work”

I’m Mexican so I use “ósea” a lot in both languages. Another substitute for words like:

“I mean,” “it'd be,” ”like,” “so,” “that is,” “therefore,” and “or.”

Ex. “ ósea, it looks weird idk”

The famous “ pero like” I personally don’t use a lot but an example of how it’s used in Spanglish is “ pero like, how did it happen?”

Sometimes I Just say “ fuck” but like in my Mexican accent or in a sentence.

“ fuck, perdí mi pulsera”

When I get startled I cuss in both English and Spanish but a Spanglish example would be

*insert random startling noise

“ ala verga! That scared me” or “ hijo de tu puta madre!” when something REALLY scared the shit out of me lol

“Chingada madre, where did that come from”

Rlly insert any cuss word in there and it probably works in Spanglish.

Edit bc I thought of this the morning after

In Mexican Spanish for whatever reason the word “madre” can be used like kinda like a cuss word lol.

Example “ Me vale madres”

Which in English would translate to “I don’t value mothers” but in practice means “I don’t give a shit” or “I don’t care”.

Another Mexican deep cut is the word “pedo” which yes, means fart but we’ve really given the word so many alternative meanings like

“ no es mi pedo “ = “not my problem”

“Estoy bien pedo” = “in rlly drunk”

“Vas a la peda?” = “ are you going to the party/kickback”

There’s more but that’s like the basics lol.

Also another Mexican term is “Aguas”… which literally translates to “waters” but it’s used as a warning.

“Aguas, there’s car coming”

The most famous of Mexican slang has to be “wey” or “guey” depends on how you spell it. But it just means dude. Another term that goes in hand is, “no mames” which basically means “are you kidding me”.

*men for whatever reason hate when the girl they’re dating or are into calls them wey. I think it’s because it’s seen as either improper or as like friend zoning.

“Wey, you’re not gonna believe this”

“No mames wey, look at this”

Another term is “equis” which basically means whatever

“How was the party?”

“Estuvo equis”

Another example

“ now was she dressed?”

“Equis, nothing crazy nothing wow”

*I recommend for Mexican characters looking into the words, or you can just ask me I just don’t wanna make this longer than I already have lol, “mamar”/“mamo”/“mamon”, each you would think is the same but no, no they are not and using one in the wrong context could be catastrophic lol. They are vital words to our vocab

If you’re writing to a character from a specific country, take the time to learn some slang. Sometimes slang crosses over, sometimes even we use slang we learn from each others dialects. Personally I love “joder”/“no jodas” because of the shows from Spain.

But take the time because if you write a Colombian character using most of the slang I’ve used above, you’d get a lot of hate from Colombians lol.

Some bad Spanglish examples would be

“ why didnt you eat your comida?”

Like no. Just no. Inserting a random Spanish word doesn’t equate to Spanglish, at least not in most Latin peoples lives

“ you look cansada” also just no.

*Edit I saw someone post abt this and I felt like adding it in

If you do insert a random Spanish word or vice versa it’s because you forgot the word but that involves a lot of blanking and being annoyed you can’t dig the simplest word out of you sub conscience lol

Example: “ you look, FUCK what’s the word! You know when you’re cansada…TIRED. You look tired”

Another commenter addition I’ll be adding is using “eh” as a filler instead of “um”. I use both but even in English I default to using “eh” or “ehmmmm”

The worst is when you don’t remember the word, only to have it appear in your subconscious hours later lol

Another fav filler word is “deste” which equates to another more Central American term “vaina” but a less refined way of saying it. Essentially they mean “thing” but that thing can be anything. It’s kinda a word when you’re to lazy to say the actual word.

“Pásame el deste”

*passes them x ítem

“No I meant the remote”

*trying not to kill the person because they could’ve said remote the whole time but chose not to

Sometimes we use bad Spanglish on purpose just to be funny

“Que sad” “Que cute”

* i personally love inserting the word cute into my vocab in Spanish just cuz so to each their own

Something I do is like say something in English and immediately say the exact same thing in Spanish. Or like I’ll say an exclamation in one language then end in the other.

“ GO GO GO, VÁMONOS APÚRATE”

“Que asco, gross”

“WOW, que bueno”

Also if you’re writing like couples tbh nicknames in Spanish would be reserved for when you’re speaking in Spanish and same for English, but each couple is different so if you rlly want to leave a nickname in Spanish in go for it. If you rlly want the endearment to be “ mi amor” please remember that after like the first or second time the Spanish speaker would probably just refer to their S/O as “ amor” or switch between the two.

Which brings me to the terms “mami/mamita” and “papi/papito”. Now, while they Can and are by some used in a sexual manner, they can also be used as general terms of endearment. My mom will sometimes call me mamita or my brother papito.

Amongst couples though it’s just kinda said, I saw someone describe it was you just give motherly energy so “mami” is said lol which I get oddly enough.

Once a couple is well established or just comfortable the woman can refer to her S/O as “ viejo” which is old man lol, but it’s like cute. On the flip side idk it’s typically seen as offensive when a man calls his S/O “vieja” but that depends on culture to culture.

Again mami and papi don’t have to be sexual but can be.

Another simple thing you can do is look up nicknames for certain names.

Examples:

“Mike” pronounced “Mique” for Miguel. Some people like to use “Mickey”, that gained popularity from an old Mexican singer lol.

“Ponchó” For Alfonso

“Ale” Can be used for Alejandro/Alexandra/Alejandra

Another thing I thought of is amongst siblings when referring to our parents we will say like

“Haz visto a mi mamá”

Which means have you seen “my mom” even though she’s both our mom… idk it’s weird but a nice little touch you could add to your writing lol

I get rlly annoyed reading bad Spanglish, sometimes it’s just painfully cringe and just obvious a non Spanish speaker wrote it, and I realize it’s bc most of y’all didnt grow up with it so like this is just what is typical Spanglish most Hispanic ppl grow up speaking, obviously not everyone speaks like this but figured I’d give tips from someone who actually speaks English and Spanish and switches between.

If I missed anything feel free to add on or if you disagree add examples

#writing tips #writing #fan fic #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #namor x reader #pedro pascal #oscar issac #tenoch huerta #marvel #spiderman #hispanic #fan fic writing

2K notes · View notes

manikas-whims · 5 months ago

Note

Hellooo!

I would love for headcannons of the LADS boys with a Latin reader (Mexican, Colombian, Salvadoran, etc) who loooves to dance and always goes to gatherings (quinceñeras, family bbq’s/ parties, etc). They’re very good at dancing and love to just be on the floor feeling the music. Would love to see their reactions to you having a big family or trying out the food or how you dance and maaaybe convince them to do so too?

hiii, thanks for the lovely request! i must admit i possess limited knowledge about latin cultures but i do hope that you like these..♡

LADS men with a Latin Reader

RAFAYEL

🌊 Remember he told you that he's fluent in many languages? Yeah, he probably already knows and speaks your language well. And even if he doesn't, he knows the commonly used phrases. He'll also ask you to help and correct his pronunciations and grammar.

🌊 He is just like water— easily blends with your family members, entertaining everyone with his lively attitude and forms an instant connection with each one. He's always surrounded by at least 4-5 of your family members.

🌊 He's enthusiastic about your culture. He questions you on why certain rituals are performed in what ways and he loves to learn, and try things for himself. He plans to incorporate it all in his next piece that he's gonna dedicate to you.

🌊 He won't hesitate from the variety of food and drinks offered by your family elders, and will definitely try some of the local alcoholic beverages. He's complimented your mother for her cooking, and by the time you both go back, he's gained a few pounds of weight.

🌊 When Rafayel sees you dancing at a family gathering, he matches your energy on the dance floor. He may not know all the moves but he'll watch you and learn, moving his body in tandem with yours. He might goof around and make you laugh alot. Your family loves him even more for it.

XAVIER

⭐ He’s learnt a few terms here and there from you but he can't speak your language. Though he LOVES hearing you speak it. And even more when you call him nicknames in your native tongue. Definitely gets a lil horny and asks you to use them in bed.

⭐ At first he comes off as quiet and aloof to your family but they slowly take a liking to him. You realize how good of a narrator Xavier is when you see your family members sitting around him in circles at night as he weaves magical tales about princes from distant planets.

⭐ He's a curious kitty. He buys himself flyers about the local specialties of your hometown, and even books tickets to all the historical sites he'd like to visit with you. He enjoys hearing myths about the deities of your lands.

⭐ He loves the food! Every time he experiences a new flavour or spice, you see his eyes light up in delight. He asks help from your mother and other family ladies to help him with some recipes because he wants to cook you some of your hometown food. And all the ladies are swooning. He also enjoys the occasional gossip with them.

⭐ His eyes seem to follow your every move when he sees you dancing. He's recorded a bunch of videos but if asked to join, he's quite hesitant. Though the moment you drag him on the dance floor, he complies. Might step on your foot once or twice, and feel embarrassed about it but overall, he's a fast learner.

ZAYNE

❄️ He doesn't speak your language but he's very keen on learning from you. You deliberately make him say the cheesiest stuff in your language, sometimes even a little naughty things. And when he sees you giggling, he chuckles and calls you childish for pulling such pranks on him.

❄️ Your family immediately takes a liking to him. He's responsible and dependable, and they are happy that you have someone so reliable by your side. They also come to take his advice on every little health related thing when they learn he's a doctor. But they also make a lot of health jokes with him because he's easy to tease.

❄️ He loves hearing about your culture. He complies when you make him try on some of the traditional outfits for men, and is quite pleased to know that you find him even more handsome in them. And he's left awestruck when he sees you in your traditional clothes.

❄️ Zayne does enjoy the variety of flavors in your culture’s food. Though he's even more eager to try out the local sweet dishes. He loves how the recipe varies from hand to hand, and in every household. And he likes the differing tastes of the same sweets.

❄️ He loves watching you dance. He tries to deny you when you ask him to join because he isn't very confident. But after a little convincing, he will comply because it's impossible for him to say no to you. He's awkward on the dance floor but gets loads of encouragement not just from you but all your family members. In the end, you place his arms around your waist and guide his movements, your laughter making him forget his hesitance.

SYLUS

🐦‍⬛ You assume he doesn't know your language and try to prank him by using some bad and naughty words for him but he smirks and responds in the same language, leaving you shocked. He's not fluent but he knows enough to engage in conversations.

🐦‍⬛ Your family is suspicious about his overall persona but soon realize he's quite alright. They are thrilled by the fact that he can sing, and he is definitely pushed by the elders into singing at the family gathering. At least 4 of your cousins have a crush on him.

🐦‍⬛ Just like his grasp on the language, he's quite knowledgeable in your culture. He especially loves the music, some of his favourite musicians being latin. And he most likely knows some of the old songs by heart.

🐦‍⬛ Since he's quite good at cooking, he's given free access to the house kitchen. Your mother and the other family ladies find it charming. They like to discuss seasonings and spices with him, and want him to assist in the arrangements of food. They compliment him for every new dish he learns.

🐦‍⬛ He's not just a good singer but a dancer too. It's surprising when he follows you on the dance floor and begins to match you beat for beat. You don't realize when but you end up having a little dance off between the two of you until he gets bored of competing and pulls you to him so you two can dance together.

» MASTERLIST «

314 notes · View notes

desperate-gay · 9 months ago

Text

Pent Up Energy

Alex Morgan x fem!reader

SMUT 18+

summary: alex is upset and you don’t know why

a/n: 100% based off the game last night

Beads of sweat roll down the side of your head from the exhaustion. Colombia has decided not to play cleanly, instead wanting to be as physical as possible and you were bearing the brunt of it. Only 20 minutes into the game you have gotten tackled at least 3 times, each moment being more brutal than the last.

Luckily, there hasn’t been too much conflict between anybody, but that’s until your thoughts are interrupted by a bunch of shouting. Looking over to the left, you see your girlfriend stepping in the face of a Colombian player as the rest of the visiting team tries to meddle in. You quickly rush over to stop Alex, noticing she’s getting more heated every moment.

Slipping your way through the multiple bodies, you place your hand on the forward’s chest, gently pushing her back. You try your best to defuse the situation, but she just ignores you and continues to yell at the player, earning her a yellow card from the ref.

When she notices your hand on her chest, she wipes it off while scoffing before walking away. Trinity notices and quirks an eyebrow towards you, but in response, all you do is take a deep breath and shrug.

After the halftime whistle blew, Alex stayed clear of you. Usually, you both pep each other up for the next half but instead, she stayed quiet and to herself until everyone was sent back onto the pitch. Horan pats you on the back, giving you a sympathetic smile before running over to her position.

The game never dims down with players all showing their fiery side, specifically Alex and Trinity. That ends up playing a part when they both end up getting subbed out at the seventy-second minute.

“You played well.” You whisper, brushing your hand against Alex’s passing body. She spares you a quick look before walking off and onto the bench. Sighing, you lean down to fix your socks and peek your head over to your girlfriend only to see her staring into space with a stoic look.

The rest of the game is grueling but rewarding as you have beaten Colombia and are advancing to the semifinals. After an hour or so you’re boarding onto the bus, taking an open seat and hoping for your girlfriend to join you. Sadly, when she gets on, she doesn’t even glance toward you and decides to sit several seats behind you.

Slightly frustrated with the brunette, you huff and drop your head back against the cushion of the headrest before being interrupted by a giddy smile. You can’t help but smile back at the sweet girl.

“Hi, Naomi.”

“Hey, what are you doing once we get back to the hotel?” She asks while readjusting herself and setting her bag down by her feet.

“Well, I was planning to see if I could room with Alex, but it doesn’t seem like she wants anything to do with me at the moment.” You send Naomi a weak smile which she returns with a sympathetic one.

“Nonsense, we all know Alex gets moody at times but never directly at you. I’m assigned to be her roommate so why don’t we switch? I heard you got Soph anyway.” The defender digs in her bag, pulling out a keycard and holding it out to you.

You wearily accept the card with a small thank you and give her yours in exchange. For the remainder of the ride, Naomi helps you cheer up with a few stories and jokes about her little hangouts with some of the team.

“Time to cheer up the monster.” You groan in which Naomi just laughs and offers you a hand to stand up.

“I believe in you. Go save your knight in shining armor.”

“More like my beast.” You grumble, receiving chuckles from some of the girls who have overheard, none of them being Alex, thankfully, as she is still getting off the bus.

Walking into the hotel, you make your way to your room and are met with your girlfriend soon after. You shyly glance at her and see her confused gaze.

“I thought I was roomed with Girma?” Alex frowns while you give her a look of slight discomfort.

“Umm, Naomi wanted to trade so she could room with Soph and I thought rooming with you would be nice. I could go switch it back if you want.” You whisper, slightly scared she doesn’t want you near her and your voice might betray you.

“No, just stay with me.” The girl mumbles, opening the door with her key and rushing in with her baggage.

Your eyes follow her movements like a lost puppy while you stand by the door. Alex takes in the silence and looks up at you, stopping her scavenging in her back.

“What?” She asks, looking at you with an annoyed expression. You swallow back your nerves before making your way over to the bed and getting everything that you need out of your bag and ready for the night.

The thick silence lasts for around twenty minutes before you begin to feel irritated. Alex is in the little kitchen, leaning against the counter and looking at her phone.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You finally ask gently, trying your best to keep your growing frustration with the striker at bay.

“Nothing.” Her tone remains empty, clearly not wanting to open up.

“It has to be something. You’ve been avoiding me all day, along with being quiet.” You explain, walking over to her but still keeping a little bit of space between the two of you.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“Alex, you did amazing out there today, we won 3-0 and we’re advancing. If it’s about the card-“

“It’s not about the fucking card!” Alex finally snaps, dropping her phone on the counter and looking at you with a fiery gaze, but it doesn’t tear you down.

“Then tell me what it’s about, please. I can’t have you concealing all this anger. It’s not fair to you or me.” You try, voice becoming more and more desperate.

“Just shut up,” Alex warns, clenching her jaw as her hands tighten on the counter while shifting her eyes away from you.

“I’m just trying to help-”

Your sentence is cut off when your girlfriend storms over to you and she reaches out, gripping your jaw while pinning you against the wall. You look up at her with wide eyes, taking in her appearance. Wet hair, red cheeks, a zip-up training kit covering her body, and blown pupils.

“I said to shut up.” She grits, her hand never leaving your face. Her eyes look down at your lips for a split second and you luckily notice.

Without warning, she smashes her lips onto yours in a harsh kiss. Nothing about it is sweet or romantic. Both your tongues and teeth clash together like you’re trying to see who can last longer to this roughness. The hand on your jaw leaves and finds a new place around your neck, controlling every movement of your head.

“God you’re so hot. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to have you all to myself again.” The taller girl rasps against your lips before moving down to nip at your neck.

While she attacks your neck, you finally put two and two together. You realize Alex may have been aggravated by this game but all of her pent-up anger mainly resulted from a little sexual frustration. With the NWSL preseason starting and the Gold Cup, you both have been busy at training camp and too exhausted to even think about starting anything.

But with Alex, she needs an outlet after she’s played, which is mainly sex. She can finally have total control of something and that something being you. You’re at her total submission, allowing her to do whatever she wants to you and making you do whatever she wants to her.

Her lips disconnecting from your neck pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at her with your doe eyes and watch as her tongue licks her lips while she eyes you up and down.

Soon her hands grip your waist and tug you over to the bed. She sits at the end of the mattress and leans back with her hands holding her up while you remain standing in front of her.

“Strip,” Alex demands, watching as you slowly grip the bottom of your shirt and cautiously pull it over your head. When she takes sight of what seems to be a new bra, she sits back up and grips your naked hips.

“If you need to use me, use me, Alex.” You say boldly, returning her lustful gaze. Her jaw almost drops before she quickly starts unbuttoning your jeans and yanking them down so you’re only in your bra and panties.

“Get on the bed.” When you don’t immediately do as she says, she pulls you down herself making you squeal in the process. “When I say to do something, you listen, got it?” You nod your head, earning you a satisfied grin.

Alex’s body hovers over you with her wet hair curtaining any view other than her face. You blindly reach down and tug on the zipper of her hoodie, asking if you can take it off. She swiftly sits up and removes all of her clothes, leaving her bare.

“I guess I should take these off you now, shouldn’t I?” She taunts, hooking her finger on the waistband of your panties and letting go of them with a sharp snap against your skin.

“Please, Alex. I need you.” You whine, bucking your hips closer to her hand. She chuckles before leaning down and kissing on your chest. Her hand reaches around your back and unclips your bra, letting it slide down a little before taking it off altogether.

Instead of moving down, her lips move up your neck and to your ear. “So beautiful, I can’t wait to have you trembling underneath my touch and screaming for me to let you cum.” Her breath fans against your ear while her breasts are smushed against yours. She tugs on your earlobe with her teeth before sitting back up, admiring your body.

“I bet you’re already wet for me even though I have barely touched you. You probably like me roughhousing you around to my pleasure. So obedient for me.” You moan as she carelessly speaks of you while trailing her finger down the center of your stomach.

“Alex, baby, I need you. I need you to touch me, please.” Your body squirms while she continues to trace her finger down to your core.

She finally dips her hand in and spreads your arousal around, completely lost in her head on how wet you are. Her finger teasingly dips into you but only for a split second, causing you to whine out.

“God, I’ve missed this pretty pussy so much.” Your girlfriend groans before angling her arm in an awkward manner and plunging two fingers into you.

Her body leans down so her lips can latch onto your breasts, leaving hickeys anywhere she pleases. Moans spew their way out of your mouth at the long-needed pleasure, but her thrusts are nowhere near fast enough to get you off, mainly because of the way her arm is angled, so you reach down with a huff and kick off your panties, leaving no restraint for Alex.

“Faster.” You pant, rolling your hips with each thrust of the forward’s hand. She chuckles and moves her arm lower so she can pump in and out of you at an ungodly pace.

“Is this what you want? Want to get fucked so hard you won’t be able to think properly, huh?” She questions without her fingers even stuttering. The loud wet noises of her thrusts echo throughout the hotel room along with your whimpers and moans.

Her finger reaches a point inside of you that has your head spinning. The build-up in your lower stomach becomes more apparent as your core tightens around your girlfriend’s digits.

“I’m gonna cum, baby.” You moan, digging your nails into her bicep, leaving dark crescent indents in her skin which she loves.

Suddenly, the pressure in your stomach subsides due to Alex pulling her fingers out, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“You’re not gonna cum that easily, sweets. I still have so much I want to do to you.” She says in an uncharacteristically sweet tone while placing a kiss on your cheek.

Both of her hands rub up and down your sides as she kisses from your sternum down to your thigh. She bites at the inside of your skin before soothing the sting with her tongue. Alex looks over and sees your hands clenching and unclenching the sheets below you while your breathing picks up in impatience.

“So beautiful.” She whispers against your thigh before pushing it open with her large hand and latching her mouth onto your core. She lets out a low groan at the taste of you while dipping her tongue into you.

Your hips twitch into her as her tongue laps around your clit, sucking and licking the swollen surface. Your girlfriend’s hands lay flat on your stomach as she pushes her head further into your wet heat. Subconsciously, your legs begin to close in on Alex’s head as the familiar knot in your stomach returns.

Just as your hips begin to rise to your release, the brunette once again detaches herself from you, making your orgasm fade away. Tears start to build up in your eyes in frustration from the denial, but Alex wipes them away with her thumb.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” She coos, placing a few pecks on your lips in reassurance. “Do you think you’ve been a good girl?” She asks, pulling you to sit up so you’re both facing each other.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been a good girl.” You nod, nuzzling your face into her neck for some sort of comfort.

“I think so too.” Alex brushes your hair behind your ear once you pull back to look at her. She grabs the back of your neck and brings you into an intoxicating kiss, roaming her tongue inside the roof of your mouth

Alex pulls you onto her lap without breaking the kiss, placing you onto her slanted thighs due to her sitting on her legs. You grind slowly against her, attempting to get some kind of friction as your chest presses up against hers. Your girlfriend smirks into the kiss, feeling your arousal smear across her skin.

She slips two digits back inside of you, curling them into your g-spot. A loud moan escapes your lips as your legs tighten around her waist, causing the heels of your feet to push into her back. Your hands also find their way to her shoulder blades, leaving dark red scratches as she pumps her fingers into you.

“Right there.” You gasp as Alex thrusts her fingers into the perfect spot. The bed frame pounds against the wall from your girlfriend’s digits bouncing in and out of you.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” She whispers into your ear, pressing a sweet kiss under it to your jaw. You quickly nod your head as your eyes squeeze shut with a loud moan, enticing the girl below you to thrust faster.

“I’m gonna, oh god, ‘m gonna cum, baby.”

“Cum for me.”

Your walls clamp around Alex’s fingers as a flow of juices runs down her hand while you moan in ecstasy, grinding down to push you through your orgasm.

Once your hips stop, she pulls her fingers out of you and places them in front of your mouth. You obediently open and suck, licking off all your arousal while swirling your tongue around them. She watches you with blown-out pupils and a slacked jaw.

“If you think we’re done after you just did that, you’re sorely mistaken.” Her arms wrap around her waist and slam you back onto the bed, making you giggle at her riled-up nature.

The next morning you make your way into the breakfast lobby with Alex’s arm around your waist. Right as everyone catches eye on the both of you, a bunch of whistling and whooping sounds through the room.

“Get it, Morgan. Didn’t know you could do all that.” Trinity cheers while smacking on her gum with a smirk.

Everyone gets their little comments in while your girlfriend just smiles smugly and continues to kiss your temple with her arm remaining on your shoulders. In your flustered state, all you do is hide your face into her neck and try to avoid all of the attention.

#alex morgan x reader #alex morgan smut #alex morgan #naomi girma #trinity rodman #lindsey horan #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #woso smut #uswnt #uswnt x reader

691 notes · View notes

bunny584 · 5 months ago

Text

Hard Night, Good Morning

A/N: .....i…no one look at me. Just read. Hurt/Comfort/hurt? Idk. This shit had me scream crying either way. Post Sukuna Kaisen, but the good guys won.

Art credit: Narutoss_ramen on X

Satoru remembers. His Six Eyes may have dulled to just two. And the battle scars may have faded. But the memories — the film roll featuring a life lived and still living…are all there.

Satoru remembers, but Suguru has forgotten.

His name. His home. The life he’s lived. The life he lost. The friendships, the family, the triumphs, the sins. It’s all gone because Suguru Geto died on December 24th.

At least, his soul did.

And yet, Satoru is about to buy coffee from the shell of a man he once loved. Here. Today. With a smile more beautiful than the first day of summer solstice.

Tabula Rasa. Blank Slate. A stranger he knows better than the back of his hand.

How will The Strongest…no, how will Satoru Gojo choose to know Suguru Geto in this iteration of his life?

Friends? Lovers?

Or just a patron of the handsome barista at a countryside coffee shop with the best lavender latte around.

Ignorance has a way of making things beautiful.

Exquisite, really.

Satoru’s eyes flutter closed. His angular nose nestles into an arc of plumb blossoms. Dancing in the wind. Hanging freely — generously — for everyone on its walking path to enjoy.

Has the world always been this gorgeous?

And so…quiet.

It was the first thing Satoru noticed once his Six Eyes were laid to rest. The moment Limitless buzzed inward for the very last time, all he could see was silence.

Saffron became orange.

Emerald became green.

Ursa Major became a handful of stars.

The Sun stayed the Sun. The Moon seemed so cold. And the world became so dull.

Wonderfully and peacefully dull.

Satoru was no longer tortured by hyperawareness. A double edged sword, but a sword no less. The minuscule details of a person’s skin or each drop of rainfall during a thunderstorm no longer gnawed at his sanity.

The smoke eventually settled.

The Survivors, they aptly nicknamed themselves, peeled off the armor. When the chaos dissipated and the Demon was banished to the Hell he belonged, The Survivors dispersed.

Unable to hold each other’s gaze. For fear of recognizing the monsters they had to become to earn the throne from the King of Curses.

So, Satoru found himself buying a one-way ticket to the tail end of the country.

Where the greens and oranges and yellows exist that much more peacefully. And the Sun is the Sun. But the handful of stars are solar bright and the Moon is the warmest it’s ever been for him.

And he is so damn lucky.

To have the privilege of living without the weight of being The Strongest.

To stop and smell spring on his way to partake in the latest breaking news.

A new coffee shop.

Bone dry cappuccinos. Colombian espresso. Raspberry macaroons without the threat of curses and fear and death and loss knocking around his skull.

“Good morning! Welcome in.”

What?

The chimes above the door may as well be blow horns. Tearing at the eardrums Satoru is sure are already ruined. The meaningless, polite greeting suddenly holds the gravity of an entire galaxy behind it.

But not because the words are unique.

The voice.

Satoru could be dumb, deaf and blind. He would recognize that voice under any circumstance.

As a baby? He’d know that voice signifies safety.

As a teen? That voice meant becoming a man worth respecting. With morals that would save millions.

That night? That voice meant love. In the cruelest sense of the word.

Then? That voice only spewed lies.

And now? That voice means…it means..

“Don’t be shy, I don’t bite.” Brilliant amethyst eyes melt the ice shackles around Satoru’s feet.

Royal purple. Somewhere between indigo and violet. A warm, heavy cloak when they are looking at you reverently. When they’re trusting. Bright. Honest.

But when they see you as the enemy? The other? Trying to thwart a world they’ve envisioned and worked hard for, those amethyst eyes are more lethal than scorpion venom.

“S-su…Suguru…?” His feet move forward all at once. Nearly impaling himself on the counter. Satoru’s peripheral vision isn’t as sharp, but there is a line. And yet, none of that matters.

None of it fucking matters.

The barista’s thick, inky locks are pulled up like it used to be when they were seventeen. His shoulders are as broad and muscular as they were the last night they spoke. His voice.

His voice

And his eyes. And lips. And smile. The stupid, boyish dimple cratered in his left cheek. With eyelashes long enough to support a fleet of planes taking off the runway.

It’s Suguru.

Suguru Geto.

Not an imposter. Not something so dark and blasphemous, Satoru nearly flattened the Earth to exorcise.

Just Suguru.

And he knows it to be true. Not by his eyes, because they can lie to him now. But his soul and heart would tell him otherwise.

“Suguru..” Satoru tastes a name so foreign to his lips, he nearly chokes on it.

The beautiful boy lets out a gentle chuckle. Flickering down to his name tag before returning eye contact.

“So I’m told.” He shrugs. His long span reaches over to place a porcelain espresso cup beneath the machine nozzle.

“You look like you need something strong. Hard night?”

“Y—yeah.” Say something real, idiot.

“Ahh,” Suguru rolls his plump bottom lip under his teeth. Eyebrows crawling together in genuine concern. And Satoru wishes he could swallow his heart currently beating in his throat.

“Let’s start with an espresso, then. What’s your name?”

The question alone nearly brings Satoru to his knees.

How could he not know?

It’s me, Suguru.

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto.

Their names only being a few letters away is a testament to the relationship they shared. They’ve only ever existed as one. As sure as the Sun rising in the east and setting in the west. In lockstep like a custom made door key.

Suguru’s name is…was an integral part of his identity. Not just his vocabulary.

“Uh, Satoru.” Sweaty palms fiddle for his wallet. Anything to dull the searing pain in his chest.

“Satoru…?”

“Yes?” Arctic eyes snap up to meet violet ones. As if the barista spontaneously remembered, Satoru’s flushed lips hang open with naive hope.

But Suguru just quietly rolls the syllables of his name around one more time. Rich on the tongue, he decides. “That’s a nice name.”

“Thanks.” Disappointment weighs heavy on his shoulders.

“The espresso is on the house. What else can I make for you, Satoru?”

And his name sounds sweeter than the pastry he stumbled in here for. He would pay anything. To tuck that velvet voice in a jar and replay it on rainy days, Satoru would give anything.

“A lavender latte.” He flickers to the glass display. “And two of the Kikufuku, please.”

“Done. Have a seat.” Suguru nods at the corner table.

“Take a load off. I’ll bring your stuff over.” His lips lax into an intoxicating smile and Satoru’s world spins.

No more than two seconds after his butt hits the seat, Satoru wedges his cell between his ear and shoulder. Each unanswered ring chips away at his patience.

“Hey normie.”

“Shoko,” Satoru sighs into the speaker. Too relieved to insult her back.

“Long time no speak,” she chides. He can almost hear the pull of her cigarette sizzling against her lips.

“I know.” She’s right, but none of them are speaking right now. They all need a little time.

“Sorry about that. Listen, I’ve got a question.” Satoru chews his bottom lip raw. Suguru’s back is facing him, perfecting his order.

“Don’t sound so tortured about it, shoot.” Shoko swings the door wide open and Satoru barrels through.

“When people come back from the dead, what’s the likelihood of losing all memories?”

“What?” Her tone makes his question sound so egregious he almost rethinks asking it.

Almost.

He doesn’t though. Because the raven-haired barista has flashed his Colgate smile and will be heading over in t-2 minutes. And Satoru…he needs something to hold onto. A life vest to keep him from drowning.

“C’mon Sho, how do memories work when you bring people back from the dead?” Each word is more hushed than the last. A thinly veiled attempt at hiding his insanity.

“…when did you find him?”

The second time today oxygen is taken directly from Satoru’s lungs. How did she know?

“What the hell are you—“

“How is he..?”

“Shoko, I don’t know what you’re talking—“

“He was my friend TOO, Satoru.” His best friend cuts down his silver-tongued lies for the last time.

She’s right.

It’s inhumane to brush it aside. Satoru cannot fathom the pain she had to work through when she lost Suguru. Then Satoru. And Suguru again. It’s unfair for him to be selfish with this.

“This morning.” He concedes.

The doctor mulls his answer over. Short, choppy breaths that sound more relieved than not feather through the speaker.

“Let’s talk tomorrow, my patient is here.” She ends the call before he can protest. The life vest won’t come today. Not from Shoko at least.

As always, Suguru enters with perfect timing. Balancing an espresso, latte and dessert on one forearm. He always did move with the grace of a danseur noble.

“Your treats.” In one fluid motion, a pair of steaming drinks and sweets are lined in front of him in the order they should be consumed.

He is still so thoughtful.

The leash around Satoru’s control snaps in half. His hand darts to Suguru’s forearm just as he turns to leave. His person tilts his head to the side. Quizzical. But kind. And patient. Satoru hasn’t said a word but he knows Suguru would listen to each syllable.

“Do you not…have them?” Satoru can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Have what?” Suguru probes, stepping into his grasp.

“The hard nights,” the Strongest retorts. Darting his eyes out of the window as if the two of them are in a realm they don’t belong in.

And maybe they are.

Satoru bites back a fond chuckle when Suguru makes his face. An exaggerated frown with narrowed eyes. He resembles a jaguar most in those moments, and Satoru never let him live it down.

“No,” Suguru starts, shaking his head almost regretfully. “I don’t remember enough to have a sleepless night.”

He could remember for the both of them.

Satoru would spend every minute of every hour of every day for the rest of his life infusing memories into his best friend. Whatever he wanted to know. He’ll speak from sunrise to sunset until he passed on and call it a life well lived.

“What do you…what do you mean?” Satoru pipes up, pulling the barista back when he attempts to leave again.

Suguru’s confusion melts into the warmth Satoru never found a replacement for. No one ever looked at him so tenderly. Grace and patience tailor made just for him.

“It’s a long, bizarre story,” Suguru warns.

“I have time!” Satoru sits up in his seat. Still gripping his forearm.

“We—I, I have all the time in the world now, Suguru.”

His casual laugh is anything but. Fractures in his base. A wobble at the tail end of Suguru’s name.

Satoru is anything but casual.

And Suguru knows it.

The way his eyes soften when he scans the retired sorcerer’s face. He always did read Satoru like a children’s coloring book.

“Sure, I’m on a break anyway.”

Suguru settles into the seat across from him. Meanwhile Satoru digs the pads of his fingers into his thighs. Anything to keep from reaching out and caressing those stunning features that used to keep him (and everyone else) up at night.

He was so stupid back then.

Not letting himself acknowledge the way his body reacted to Suguru. The boy had his body so well trained within the first few days of meeting him.

On any given day all Satoru wanted was to touch him. And feel him. And take him in any way Suguru was willing to give.

Even when he gave, it was not enough.

How could it be?

Suguru’s heart ran deeper than Mariana’s Trench and soared higher than Mount Everest — and it still wasn’t enough to quench Satoru’s thirst.

His visceral need. To live and breathe in the dark haired curse user with striking violet eyes.

It’ll never be enough.

“What’s on your mind, Satoru?” The barista probes. A question with the comfort of being familiar and pain of being foreign all at once.

Satoru offers a lopsided smile. His hand swiping the moisture from the back of his neck.

“Sorry. You remind me of someone I used to know.”

“Mmm,” Suguru’s smile feels nostalgic. “Was he a good person?”

The question is earnest. Almost like he’s trying to learn about himself because his mind has betrayed him.

Satoru gathers a shaky breath. Digging crescent moons into his sweaty palms.

“The best.” He won’t cry today. He refuses to.

“Principled. Moral. So right in his thinking it…” Satoru drops his gaze.

Unable to sustain eye contact with his fondest memory and biggest regret. Just sitting across from him on a sunny Sunday morning.

“Sounds like you liked him, then.” Suguru muses.

“I loved him.” I love you.

“Mmm.” Suguru’s striking lines soften in a way that reminds Satoru why he could never muster the courage to hate him. No matter how many guns were pointed at his head.

An imaginary fork pushes around their words. Like the extra time in the air would let them dry out. Suddenly become devoid of all its meaning.

“Is something wrong?” Suguru breaks the silence and startles Satoru down to the present.

“What?”

“The coffee,” Concern etched into the barista’s face. “Is there something wrong? You’re tearing up—“

Suguru’s hand lands on Satoru’s wet cheek before he has a chance to swipe the rogue tears away.

And he can’t help himself. Both hands snake around Suguru’s wrist. The life vest he’s been desperate for.

Satoru’s lids flutter shut.

And for a moment, albeit fleeting, but present nonetheless — for a moment everything is right.

Satoru and Suguru are 17 again. Riding the high of being strong, the strongest.

They were untouchable.

And Satoru was so helplessly in love.

Greens were emerald, back then. Oranges were saffron. But the Sun was Suguru. And if Satoru was the Moon then he clawed his way to dawn each night, just to get a glimpse of him.

“Sato—“

“I’m sorry. Sorry about that.” Satoru bashfully relinquishes his grip.

Despite its freedom, Suguru’s hand hovers over his cheek. Ready to act if any more tears come.

Of course, he is.

And thankfully, they don’t.

But Suguru’s concern persists. “Just…wait here, okay? I’ll go get some tissues.”

Satoru offers a feeble smile. A half nod in feigned agreement. But the millisecond he disappears around the corner, Satoru is out the door.

He promised he wouldn’t cry today.

And it wouldn’t be the first time he lied to himself.

“Gorgeous.”

Suguru buries his face into a brush of plum blossoms. His morning walk is littered with them and for some reason he feels connected to the blooms.

Almost as if memories from a past life are clawing underwater — desperate to break the surface before the tide crashes in again.

A frustrated breath showers the soft petals grazing his nose.

It’s cruel.

Existing like this is cruel.

To live and breathe and walk next to lives rich with memories. Adorned with hope and love and loss and pain.

Yet Suguru has nothing.

He must’ve been a monster to deserve this punishment. To wake up a blank slate. The letters of his own name had to be learned.

He must’ve been awful.

The chimes above the shop door knock his thoughts loose.

It’s not totally true. Suguru does remember one thing. The only thing from that night the gods saw fit to leave in his reservoir.

The cold.

It seared through him like a sword fit for a king.

Suguru was nearly blinded by the sterile fluorescent lights. The walls leaned away from him. Accusatory. His presence bastardized the delicate line between life and death.

It was unacceptable.

And so, he paid the steep price of life after soul-death with his memories.

It’s unfair how vividly Suguru remembers the campfire eyes that were foreign and yet so inviting. Hovering over him. Salty streams splashed on his face like a summer storm.

“Suguru??” Honeyed tobacco on her voice. Sweet and stringent all at once.

“You’re awake. You’re here. God I—“ Misty mahogany eyes raked his face for another second before she landed her body into his stunned arms.

“W-who are you?” Suguru stammered into her dampened neck. Hugging her just as tight because it’s what his body told him to do.

“Someone who hates you. And loves you more than I could ever hate you.” She was hushed and pressured. Pressing angry, short kisses along his forehead. Sore with a linear cut and stitches that stung.

“You have to go.” The woman stuffed an envelope bursting with yen into his hand. Stuffing a wallet full of IDs and note cards into his other.

“What is all this?” Was the last question he squeezed out to the pretty stranger.

She hissed strict instructions on how to leave the city. Where he came to life was no longer safe. But she emptied her savings into his hands. Because if he just listened to her. If he followed her directions to a tee and make it out of city limits alive, he would be set for the next decade at the very least.

This same memory plagues Suguru’s otherwise empty mind day in and day out. He’s learned to live with the sudden flashback that catches his heart mid-beat. And holds it hostage for a minute or two.

Suguru shrugs the chills sprinting down his spine away. Circling a damp napkin along the counter. Less than a minute before the doors unlock and he can just tell today is going to be one of those—

7:00 AM on the dot.

A familiar wind chime interrupts his train of thought.

Already?

Suguru eyes land on the reason for the prompt melody.

And his souls halts where he stands.

He can’t be real.

A dream maybe? A hallucination?

He must be. The light that halos around him from crown to feet originates in Heaven. Bright enough to pierce lightyears away through earth’s insignificant clouds and blind Suguru in his tracks.

Satoru.

A celestial prince walking among the likes of him.

Wholly unworthy of witnessing something so beautiful. So above the plane of his existence. Suguru doesn’t deserve to breathe around the ethereal being, much less serve him coffee.

But he’ll count his blessings, nonetheless.

“Hard night?” Suguru forces a steady tone to his casual greeting.

He’s anything but casual.

“They always are.” Satoru’s boyish smile is the first sip of warm hot cocoa on a wintery Sunday morning.

Suguru could nibble and suck and roll the demigod’s words over his tongue all day and never grow tired of the taste.

He flips a freshly cleaned espresso mug under the machine. Mulling over the number of times he can claim “it’s on the house” before Satoru realizes he could ask Suguru for anything and it would always be on his dime.

“You don’t sleep very much do you?” The barista probes. Swallowing the elaborate rock formation that somehow materialized in his throat the second Satoru landed the Aegean Sea on him.

Those eyes stretch a million miles and Suguru would happily swim to the end of the earth to experience the entirety of them.

“No.” A sheepish smile curls up Satoru’s full baby pink lips. Baring a 10,000 kilowatt smile that nearly electrifies him to death.

Suguru settles an espresso and lavender latte in front of him. Waving away the outstretched credit card.

“You can call me, you know.” The offer tumbles out of Suguru before he had the wherewithal to edit the frivolous statement.

“What?” Satoru’s gorgeous eyes widen and Suguru digs sharp nails into his sweaty palm.

“Call me.” He’s stupidly bold.

“—When you can’t sleep. I’m not that interesting and don’t have much to by way of advice given that I only started creating memories a couple months ago. But I’m a good listener.” Suguru’s cheeks ascend in degree with each word of his sloppy rant.

“You are…” Satoru corroborates his egregious claims as if it’s truth.

How would he know if he’s any good at listening? They just met yesterday morning.

“So, call me.” Suguru shrugs his shoulders with the familiarity of someone who has known Satoru his whole life.

Before the voltaic being can protest, Suguru scribbles digits that are plastered all over his apartment walls. Spaced repetition of his own phone number for fear that his memory would decide to rip away the little he is currently storing.

Time freezes while Satoru studies the scribbled numbers. His lips form that devastatingly beautiful blue smile more brilliant than his eyes. With the depth of twenty seas combined.

“Yeah, okay.” The angel captures Suguru gaze. “I’ll call.”

And for the first time his new mind can recall, Suguru is dismantled piece by piece. His insides turned over by the searing pain that is disappointment. Because when he watched the mercurial boy leave the shop. And make the same right turn he did yesterday — Suguru’s heart knew.

The phone wouldn’t ring.

And the call would never come.

“Couldn’t exactly have him walking around Shibuya, with everything—“

“I know, but Shoko we can’t…”

Satoru’s voice stalls and he hovers on frustrated feet. Less than 10 paces from facing the love of his life on a Tuesday morning like his world hasn’t been turned upside down.

“We can’t just abandon him here. Alone. Confused. I won’t—“

“What do you want me to do Satoru?” Shoko interjects. Her frustration is palpable, yes, but the point is valid.

Satoru drags in more liters of air than he knew possible. Letting it all out like storm winds in a category 5 hurricane.

“I don’t..I don’t know but I won’t leave him like this, Shoko. I can’t.” His voice couldn’t convince a fly with how shaky it is.

But thankfully, Shoko can read him like a children’s book. She always could.

“Let’s talk about this in person. How soon can you get here?”

“I’ll be on the next flight out.” Satoru perks up. Urgency crashing into him like rip tides.

He eyes the dark-haired barista through the window pane. Adjusting his eyes before fully taking in the boy of his dreams.

And nightmares.

Suguru is vibrant.

In a way that hurts so good you can’t help but come back for seconds. And thirds. Fourths, fifths, whatever scraps he would be willing to give you’d get on your knees and beg for.

Satoru would. Any day.

“Hard night?” The former sorcerer calls out.

“Yeah, but..” Suguru looks up and Satoru relaxes into a lovesick smile. “Good morning.”

A few seconds of wonderfully familiar silence falls between the boys. Suguru flips the espresso cup into place like he was born to do anything.

Anything he touches is artisan. That hasn’t changed in this new universe they exist in.

“You never called, Satoru.” His voice is sweeter than whipped cream. Satoru gnaws on his cheeks to keep from choking on his desire.

“I know.”

“I would’ve come.”

“I know.” And the traitorous tears well up without his consent again.

“Okay, okay.” Suguru is hushed. As if a decibel too loud would break Satoru’s dam.

Beautiful boy.

His dam broke the night Suguru left him on the sidewalk for righteous ideals and the people who would follow them.

It hasn’t been repaired since.

“Lavender latte and something sweet. Back table?” Suguru whispers the order to himself and Satoru’s heart breaks.

“To go, actually.”

The sudden change in routine startles Suguru still. “Oh.”

Satoru rolls his abused lips under his teeth. Shuffling on his feet because it would take nothing for him to stay. And play this new game of life with his soulmate like the rest of it never happened.

He would swallow the pain of his past everyday if Suguru so much as looks at him a certain way.

“Why are you leaving?” Suguru’s brows crawl together in a way that’s so earnest. Satoru could fall to his knees.

“I um…I know a doctor. She’s smart. And m-maybe she can help get your memories back..”

“A doctor?”

Suguru probes quicker than Satoru expected. Given that his response sounded insane to even his own ears.

“Honey brown eyes and hair…” The barista speaks to his hands as if he’s reading from cue cards.

“Satoru this is going to sound crazy.”

Suguru’s eyes light up and Satoru falls deeper in love. Like it’s the logical next step. An obvious response.

“But I feel…did we—did we know each other?”

Those gorgeous, amethyst eyes unravel the heavy chains around Satoru’s heart.

You knew each other.

Loved each other.

Fought for, gave to, sacrificed it all for each other.

Satoru unravels at his battered seams. Only able to hold the facade of a lopsided smile for a few more moments.

“It’s a long, bizarre story.” It hurts to laugh.

“Tell me,” the barista can’t hide his excitement.

“We..we have time now. You mentioned it the other day, Satoru.”

This boy will be the death of him. In every lifetime he’s reborn in.

Satoru doesn’t even try to slap away the hot salty shower lining his sleep deprived eyes.

“An infinity.” He nods. “So don’t…don’t forget about me, Suguru.”

The sun shines through his romantic smile. The stupid, boyish dimple cratered in his left cheek.

“How could I?” Suguru hands over the latte and espresso in to-go cups.

Blissfully unaware that he has already forgotten Satoru once.

And he forgives him. He’s forgiven the special grade for much worse without question.

And Satoru will continue to forgive him.

The memories may be gone.

The curtain may be closed on their first novel together. But if there’s anything Satoru has come to love it’s time.

The Gods saw it fit to give them a little more time and Satoru would rather die than squander it.

“You’re unforgettable, Satoru!” Suguru calls out, just as he exits the small town coffee shop.

Yeah, well.

Maybe in this new lifetime, he will be.

334 notes · View notes

pascals-doll · 10 months ago

Text

like you mad at me

javìer peña x reader

🫧 lovely gif by @ilovejavierpena ! (took me a min to find the post again 💔)

🫧GO ON STRETCH THAT COOCHIE OUT LIKE U MAD ATTA BITCH 😩 sexyy red been stuck in my head!! based on all those sex scenes in narcos, I KNOW THATMAN FUCK LIKE HE MAD

🫧 pedro pascal speaking spanish ouuuu voy a llorar hasta que se me caigan los ojos

🫧 spanish keywords for my non-spanish speakers

-mirame: look at me

- lo adoro: i adore it

- bebesita/cielto: heaven/baby

- gatita tan linda: such a pretty kitty

-dentro de/ de que hablas: inside of / what are u talking about

🫧 description: literally just smut, slutty smut, angry sex, dom!javier, husband!javier, sub!reader, rough sex, backshots!, unprotected p in v sex, hair pulling, face grabbing, mentions of spanking kink, reader speaks spanish, mentions of putting a baby in reader at the end!, little bit of breathe play (if u squint frfr), javier is stressed and angry, no use of y/n, use of pet names (cielito, bebesita, good girl) javi just desverves good pussy

you knew being a DEA agent was not a very easy job, especially with the rise of colombian drug dealers.

he needed to come home to blow off some steam, it was just human.

in fact, you even encouraged your husband of an idea you’ve had in mind.

one night you knew your beloved husband, Javíer came home because the slamming of your front door rung through your shared home.

you knew it must’ve not been a good day, you get up from the couch.

you began to walk, turning the corner once you reached it turning towards where the front door is.

there he was, running a hand through his roughed up hair tucking away his gun in the drawer he always leaves it in.

he looked up at you with dead eyes, a tense broad frame, and furrowed eyebrows.

you came up to him, you open your arms to him causing him to lean in slightly as you immediately embrace him.

he cursed under his breath, you knew it was from his frustrations ”mi amor, how about we release some of that stress and anger” you whisper in his ear. you could tell by his face he was confused.

“de que hablas?” poor javì, he was just so tired. you gave him a soft smile.

you began to massage his broad shoulders, finding his muscular pressure points. you made sure to put slight pressure and squeeze.

“fuck me like you mad at me, baby”

ever since then, he does exactly that.

you were sure your neighbors hated you, they had too by now.

but the both of you could give less of a fuck.

you were too busy screaming into your pillow as javìer pounded into you.

his hand keeping your head down as he fucks you doggy-style ruthlessly.

your face was so far into the pillow, feeling his grip on the back of your neck. you had completely drooled all over yourself and the pillow as your moans and incoherent words were muffled.

you reach your arm back, giving him two taps on his hip signaling him that you couldnt breathe.

he pushed your face into the pillow once more before grabbing you by your now disheveled hair.

“how does my cock feel-” Javìer began, leaning down to connect his sticky back to yours.

“fuck!-dentro de ese gatita tan linda” his vile accent spits out as your hands reach up to claw at the headboard of your shared bed.

Javìer’s cock was fucking in and out of you at a devilish pace, his hips not halting; not even for a second.

“J-Javi! fuck!” you cry out, literal tears streaming down your face at the feeling of his cock hitting you as his hand burned into your hair was mind-boggling.

he had his other hand on your hip, using that one to scoop you up against him by your stomach; bodies completely pressed together.

you were completely encaged by him, one hand still in your hair and the other wrapped around your stomach as his cock continues to pound you.

the sound of skin slapping just got louder throughout the room.

“such a good girl. the most per-perfect-letting m’use this sweet pussy” he praises, almost moaning out himself as your wet warm cunt clenches around him.

“g-god! f-fuck! s’fast!” you babble out as you try your hardest to keep your head up, Javìer lets go of your hair, his other hand now going to your neck.

he let his hand rest there softly as his hips began to stutter, his hot breathy grunts ringing through your ear.

Javìer detaches his chest away from your back momentarily, his dick moving from inside you aswell.

“i adore you.” such a sweet sentence being spit out so harshly; slamming his cock back into you.

you cry out “oh my! Javí!” his lips peppered kisses throughout your sticky neck and shoulder; not caring.

“i adore your soul. i adore your body. everything you do-lo adoro” he grits out, the hand that was around your stomach now going down to slightly lift your leg; causing you to arch down more.

he was fucking you in such a mean way while being so loving.

the new angle he was pistoling his dick into you from had you seeing stars as he stretched you out more as if that was possible.

you could hear Javíer’s grunts and groans turn rougher and into deep short breaths.

your pussy took him perfectly, loving the way his hips slapped against your ass so meanly, his hands gripping your hips and ass, sometimes even spanking you till your ass turns cherry.

your hands claw at the bedsheets as you slightly spread the leg he was holding, engulfing him completely; to his balls even feeling his bush against your juiced up cunt.

the action caused his hips to stutter, signaling he was close.

the hand that was resting on your neck, now goes up to grab your face: slightly gripping your jaw.

Javíer’s hips continue to thrust into you as your voice goes hoarse, turning your yelps into just above-silent squeals and pleas causing you to shut your eyes.

“mírame.” his low tone sends your shaking body shivers. you open your eyes but the overstimulation being too much to keep them open.

“dije-mírame!” he grunts out loudly, you force your eyes open; never leaving his.

you admire his mouth slightly agape, his hair and forehead glistening, the way his mustache looked, and his deep eyes concentrated on your face; just as much as he was taking you in.

“ay! ay-mph! gonna cum!” you moan out, your mind barely hanging on to any conscious-sense.

“c’mon, cielito, c’mon” Javìer encourages, getting close to his release aswell.

you share the room as you and Javíer take it over with the sounds of both of your moans combining as the sound of skin-slapping dies down.

once he pumped you full of his warm white load. he fell onto the bed, bringing you with him.

“how do you feel, amor?” Javíer asks you, one hand massaging the hair he was once pulling while the other loving fondled your breasts as your legs interlocked.

your mind was still beyond processing and answering.

you gave him a weak nod which caused him to give you a soft smile.

“i’ll ask in the morning bebésita, lets hope i fucked a baby into you.”

505 notes · View notes

bucketslutz · 4 months ago

Text

Don't Be Late (Professor Logan Howlett/Fem Student Mutant Reader)

A/N: This one's a doozy, don't know how I feel about most of Logan's dialogue in this one but oh well! Enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Awkwardness ensues when you arrive at Logan's class on Friday, finding no one there but him.

Warnings: 18+, mindors DNI!!!!, drinking, reader getting drunk, puking, swearing, light depiction of anxiety disorder, sexual harassment (nothing bad happens to reader, light harassment only)

Word Count: 4,712

Chapter 3

This is the fourth night this week you’ve masturbated to the thought of your professor. Unfortunately, your fingers don’t offer the same release that you’ve been seeking from Logan. Instead of relieving the pressure that spreads through your body, your orgasms leave you dissatisfied and in need of more relief. But you can’t. He’s your professor, and downright terrifying to speak to. He makes every hair on your body stand on end, like your body is in a constant state of flight or fuck. Plus, you’re pretty sure he hates you. He stares at you, makes rude remarks, and barely even pays you any mind. But, goddamnit, sometimes you swear his lips curl into somewhat of a smile when he sees you. And you haven’t seen him smile at much of anything. But you cannot misconstrue tolerance with infatuation. He just might hate you less than everyone else, which could be enough for you to get through the semester without anymore anxiety than you already have.

You turn over in bed with a huff and glare at the clock. 2:14 am. If only you spent as much time studying as you did masturbating, maybe you’d get your masters a year earlier. You almost fear going to sleep. Afraid that another dream will leave you hot and bothered in Logan’s class tomorrow, and you don’t like that he has that effect on you. You repeat a mantra as you doze off, I do not want to fuck Logan Howlett.

…

It’s been a good morning. You woke up, no explicit wet dream, with enough time to manifest a Colombian dark roast and one of the best breakfasts you’ve had in a while; which you enjoyed while watching the sunrise from your roof. For a brief moment, you considered flying to class. The weather was perfect, making you long for a place you could traverse the sky in peace without a worry of who might see you. You often find yourself dreaming of such a life. How freeing would it be to fly around the world, helping people in need, exploring areas unknown? As much as you daydream of this life, you still know deep down that your dream can never become a reality. No, every day you hear of someone else being killed just because they’re a mutant. Or others disappearing off the streets and thrown into secret government labs where they conduct god knows what kinds of tests on them. That’s not a reality you ever want to face. You don’t want to think about how the government might exploit your powers. The thought of them abusing the atomic structures you manifest to create weapons of mass destruction makes you sick. No matter how desperately you wish you could display your strengths for good, you can’t. And that breaks your heart.

Despite the unfortunate stifling of your powers, your morning still ends up going just as well as it started. You’ve timed your commute perfectly; slipping into your favorite parking spot with just enough time to walk to class, Colombian dark roast in hand. You open the door to Logan’s class, quickly stopping dead in your tracks once you see that not a single one of your classmates are here yet. You check the time on your phone, there’s only 3 minutes until class starts.

“I was beginning to think it was something I said,” Logan’s voice calls from the front of the room, his broad frame leaning against the white board., “Did everyone tell ‘ya to skip?”

You chuckle softly, “No, Logan, I think it was actually something you said.” He furrows his brow, you clarify, “Wednesday when you left class you sorta said ‘see ‘ya Monday.’ So I think people just got confused.”

“Huh, and I guess you’re here…” he trails off, wanting you to explain.

“The convenience store. You said you’d see me on Friday, so, I just assumed you misspoke the other day,” you conclude, your fingers fiddling with the lid on your thermos. He just stares at you for a beat, making your anxiety swell in your throat. Is he mad at me? I think he’s mad at me, you think to yourself, “Not that you messed up or anything! It’s definitely everyone else’s fault for not following up with you, or whatever.”

“Right,” he says, giving you an incredulous look. You definitely weirded him out. The way he’s looking at you makes your breath hitch, and not in a good way.

“Anyway,” you continued, setting your coffee on a nearby desk, attempting to drive the topic of conversation elsewhere, “I might as well give you this.”

You approach Logan slowly as you rifle through your shoulder bag in search of your essay. Your fingers anxiously fumble between each folder and binder in your bag, incapable of grasping anything. You halt your approach, digging deeper in your bag to find the folder containing your essay. Jesus Christ where the hell is it. You’ve been searching for hours, has it been hours? Or 15 seconds? You cannot tell because time has halted right here. Blue folder, blue folder, blue folder, you repeat to yourself, hoping your thoughts do something to pop the folder in your face. Finally, after years of searching, you’ve found it. You pull it out of your bag with a breath of relief, stepping forward as you intend to hand it to Logan. A gasp escapes your lips when you slam straight into Logan’s tall frame, stumbling backwards, nearly falling until hands grasp your waist and keep you upright.

“You alright?” Logan asks, his hands remaining fixed on your waist. You look up at him through your long eyelashes, your hands planted flat on his chest for support. You cannot help the fluttering in your heart at your proximity to him, feeling your arousal swirling inside you at the feel of his strong hands holding you tightly. Logan stares at you from above, breathing heavily through his nose; his sharp, repetitive inhales almost sounding like a dog sniffing the air. You struggle to form a coherent thought, the only thing flooding your senses is the smell of Tobacco and pine emanating from Logan. Only a few seconds have passed, but as far as you know time doesn’t exist anymore. Logan loosens his grip on your sides, smoothing your jacket down with his hands before letting you go. You clear your throat, trying to shake the impure thoughts that are swarming your mind.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” you exhale, handing him the folder, “Um, my essay. Here you go.”

“Right, thanks,” he smirks as he takes it from you, “Don’t suppose you want to be the only one hearing my lecture today.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you affirm eagerly, watching Logan’s smile dissipate into a pursed line. He was joking, oh my god. Kill me. “Oh! You were kidding! No, I’d much rather be home right now. Definitely do not want to be here…with you.” Your words grew quiet towards the end, unsure if your recovery was even remotely smooth at all. If you could even call that a recovery.

“Oh, so you don’t want to be here with me?” he questions, his arms crossing over his stiff chest.

“No! No, no, of course I do, you’re lovely, I mean, not—I don’t hate you is what I’m saying. You’re lovely, as far as professors go,” you stutter, a clammy layer of sweat forming on the palms of your hands. He’s silent, his eyes burning a hole into your soul. Surely, he’s mad at you, “I would so love to sit and listen to you lecture, if you want, totally up to you. I’ll be here taking notes and listening if—“

Logan calls your name with a chuckle, interjecting your ramblings and bringing them to a halt.

“I’m just messing with ‘ya, bub,” he assures with a self-satisfied smile, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You can tell he gets a lot of enjoyment out of making you uncomfortable, giving himself personal satisfaction every time you squirm under his gaze.

“Oh,” you mutter dejectedly, your face blushing red from embarrassment, “right, well, you sure got me.” You attempt a laugh to hide your anxiety. Fiddling with the strap of your bag, you try to focus on anything else than the tears of embarrassment that prick the corners of your eyes. You hate this feeling, someone making a fool of you just because of your gentle, people-pleasing demeanor. It makes you feel weak, even though you physically aren’t, but no one knows that. They just see a meek, quiet girl that they can walk all over and take advantage of.

“Shit, are you okay?” Logan asks, a surprising level of concern in his voice. His knees dip slightly, craning his neck to your level to try and meet you face to face. You keep your eyes to the ground, not wanting to embarrass yourself further by crying in front of your professor just because he teased you a little bit. You’re surprised to feel fingers grasp your chin, gasping as Logan lifts it to so you’ll meet his eyes. Tears haven’t fallen down your cheeks yet, but you’re sure you look embarrassing; flushed cheeks, watery eyes, parted lips inhaling air shallowly. Logan looks concerned, which surprises you. It seems out of character for him, considering he only speaks to cuss someone out.

“You look like you need a drink,” Logan says, not a hint of humor in his face, fully meaning this seriously and earnestly. Like it could solve all of your problems.

“I can’t drink I have class,” you whimper, slightly confused.

“Not now, later, here—you got a paper? Pen?” he asks as he drops his hold on your chin, holding his hand out while he waits for you to hand him what he’s asking for.

You nod, shuffling through your bag for a notebook and pen, retrieving it and handing it to him with a sniffle. He starts scribbling something on an empty page.

“9 o’clock,” he hands you the paper, an address is written on it, “go there, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Oh, no, I can’t ask you to do that,” you declined politely.

“You’re not asking me to do anything, I’m asking you,” he corrects, a firm tone in his voice making you nervous to say no. It’s almost as if he isn’t asking, merely telling you what you’re supposed to do, but disguising it as an ask to seem less brute.

“Okay, 9 o’clock,” you conclude, nodding your head in agreement.

…

What the hell are you doing here? This is inappropriate. This breaks multiple codes of conduct. But free booze? Who are you to decline an offer like that. The outside of the establishment is like any other mountain-town, backwoods, rural dive bar. It honestly wasn’t too far from where you live either, maybe you ought to give this place a visit more often. You step out of your car and approach the front door, lit with a neon red “open” sign flickering in and out of consciousness. The door jingles and creaks when you open it, causing a few of the patrons to turn their heads towards you before promptly returning back to their drinks and games of pool. The air smells of stale cigarettes and salt, rock music droning through a busted jukebox in the corner. Straight ahead, you see the bar, lit dimly by more neon signs and faulty overhead bulbs. A familiar figure is already there, Logan’s flannel-covered back is to you, hunched over what you can assume to be a drink he’s been nursing. You approach the bar-seat next to him, pulling it out with a sharp scratch to the ground, causing Logan to turn his head in your direction. Before you can even mutter a greeting, the bartender has already intercepted your attention.

“What can I get you?” he asks, scratching at his scraggly beard, a rag draped over his thin, tattooed shoulder.

“Um, Woodford and coke?” you ask as you get comfortable on your stool. The bartender laughs at your request.

“This ain’t that kind of place, missy,” he quips, you try and look at Logan for support but he’s focused on his beer, “I got Maker’s, Jim Beam, and Jack, what’ll it be?”

“Maker’s, I guess,” you concede, watching as the bartender walks down the bar to make your drink.

“Bourbon girl, eh?” Logan remarks, adjusting in his seat to face you.

“Um, yeah, I don’t like much clear liquor,” you say, trying your best to avoid eye contact, “or, it doesn’t like me at least. Some of my worst nights started with a bottle of vodka.”

Logan laughs, catching you off guard, you laugh lightly with him. The bartender sets your drink in front of you, you thank him with a smile.

“Open or closed?” the bartender asks, but before you can even think of a response, Logan answers for you.

“Put her on mine, Jim,” Logan says.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—“

Logan gives the bartender a stern look, and he walks away, no contest.

“Thank you,” you grin, taking a sip from your glass.

“Don’t mention it,” he waves off, the same warning in his voice as last time. There’s a beat of awkward silence. You’re not sure what to say, or why he even asked you here.

“I um—“ you pause, trying to find the right words, “I appreciate you going out of your way to try and make me feel better about earlier.”

“I didn’t go out of my way,” he corrects, turning back towards the bar, his body now parallel with yours, “this is usually where you can find me this time of day.”

“Oh, well, thanks for inviting me, I guess,” you correct your previous statement. You purse your lips, wanting to explain your behavior earlier. But you’re not sure if that’s appropriate, you feel bad that he had to take pity on you just because you got choked up from him making fun of you. “Look, I at least want to apologize for the way I acted earlier and—“

“Save it,” he interjects with a raise of his hand.

“I’m…sorry I—“ you stutter, trying yet again to apologize for your presence, causing Logan to cut you off with a wave of his hand again.

“You don’t need to keep doing that. Have your drink. Relax. I’m not pissed at you,” Logan reassures, his voice stern. You’re convinced that his voice doesn’t fluctuate from that kind of tone too often. But despite the sternness of his voice, you feel your shoulders relax. You’re holding his gaze but you don’t feel like you’re about to combust. You feel…fine. You feel just fine.

“Huh,” you mutter, a curious tinge to your voice. Relax. Have your drink. You ponder the glass for a moment, considering it. Fuck it. You raise it to your lips and chug, swallowing every burn the Maker’s leaves down your throat without a care. Logan’s brows raise at your sudden gratuitous impulse.

“Okay then,” he remarks with a grin.

A buzz floats around your head, your chest heaves from your uninterrupted drinking.

“Rick!” you call, attempting to get the attention of the bartender.

“Jim,” Logan corrects you quietly, smiling in amusement as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Jim! Can I have another?”

…

You’re four bourbon and coke’s into your evening, and you cannot recall the last time you had this much fun. You beat Logan twice at pool and watched him take fruity, girly shooters for each loss, per your request. Currently, you’re in the middle of another game, a tied score bringing out your competitive edge. Logan’s frame is bent over the pool table, lining up the perfect shot. You chew on the straw in your drink as you unabashedly ogle his ass. Damn, he looks good in those jeans. He makes his shot, the cue ball ricocheting off of the edge and barely skimming the 8 ball he was trying to get in.

“Damn it,” he grunts, turning away from the table, his chest rising and falling in frustration. You giggle in excitement, ready to take your turn.

“Jim! I’d get started on that lemon drop if I were you!” you call, your voice slurring slightly as you’re ready to claim your victory over your professor.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, bub,” Logan warns, clearly a bit more annoyed at the fact he’s losing than he’s letting on.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me, baby,” you counter, a teasing, almost sultry edge to your voice. Logan holds his eyes on you, watching as you bend over the pool table to make your shot. You close one eye, carefully trying to line up the cue ball in the direction you want to go. The ball is towards the center of the table, but you’re so sure that you can manage on your own, balancing on your tip-toes.

“Need a hand?” Logan asks, trying his best to hide his amusement at the precarious position you’ve put yourself in.

“Shh!” you snap, “I’m concentrating! 8 ball, corner pocket.” You make your shot, but your feet slip out from under you with the momentum you built. You almost crumble to the floor, but Logan’s hands catch you around your ribcage first. He lifts you onto your feet, but in your buzzed state you’re having a hard time maintaining balance.

“Easy there,” Logan drawls, keeping his hands so temptingly close to the side of your breasts. You’re jelly in his hands, letting him take hold of you in whatever way he wants. You could spin around and make out with him right here, which you honestly consider for a moment. But before you can, Logan leans his face close to your ear, his beard tickling your cheek.

“Looks like you scratched,” he whispers, his gravelly voice reverberating around your skull. Any other day, this would make you wet immediately, but the competitive monster inside of you is awoken. You shake your head in disbelief, turning your focus back to the pool table. There’s no sight of the white cue ball anywhere. You suddenly find your balance, scrambling out of Logan’s grasp to search for what pocket the ball got shot into. ‘Lo and behold, it made it into the corner pocket you were aiming for.

“Goddamnit,” you curse, stomping your foot in frustration, gripping the table with white knuckles.

“I told you not to get ahead of yourself,” Logan taunts, one hand planted on the pool table, the other on his hip. You scowl at him, trying to find a clever comeback, but your liquor soaked brain is coming up dry. The sound of your name turns your attention towards the bar.

“I got ‘yer lemon drop right here,” Jim calls, setting the sugar rimmed shooter on the edge of the bar closest to you.

“Get her a shot of Tito’s to wash that down with, will ‘ya, Jim?” Logan chimes, maintaining eye contact with you. Your jaw drops in shock at the deliberateness of his actions. The nerve.

“Are you trying to get me to be more sloppy just so you can beat me again?” you question, your eyes narrowing as you cross towards him. You stand just a few inches in front of him, squaring up to him with a challenging look in your eyes.

“I think you’re doing a good enough job at being sloppy by yourself,” he teases, eyeing you up and down. You roll your eyes as you brush past him and towards the bar to retrieve your punishment. Lemon drop in one hand, Tito’s in the other.

“Bottoms up,” you chime, maintaining eye contact with Logan as you lick the sugar off the rim of your glass, taking the shooter down with one swift gulp. You wince slightly, before humming in satisfaction, the sweetness masking the vodka just enough. You exhale in preparation for your next drink, closing your eyes and willing yourself to not think too hard about what you’re going to inevitably do to yourself. A single lemon drop is not enough to make you blackout and puke all over your house, but another shot of vodka on top of that might just put you on that track. Swallowing your hesitance, you bring the glass to your lips and choke it down in one gulp. Frowning at the way it burns your throat, sending tingles down your spine.

“Oh, wow,” you grunt, your face twisted into a pained expression. “Okay, fuck you, m’gonna win this next one.”

Logan snorts at your drunken confidence, already anticipating what might happen next.

You did not, in fact, win the next one.

Logan cockily slams a shot glass of clear liquid in front of you, causing your jaw to drop in surprise.

“Thisn’t fair,” you pout, leaning against the pool table for support.

“I choked down 2 lemon drops because of you, the least you can do is take this shot of tequila, princess,” Logan counters, offering you a slice of lime and a flimsy packet of salt.

“Bitch, this’s tequila?!” you exclaim, too drunk to even comprehend the fact that he just called you princess.

“Bottoms up,” he says teasingly, pushing the glass towards you, clearly quoting you from when you were more confident earlier. “Unless you’re feeling like chickening out on me.”

“No! I jus’ don’ wan’ get too drunk before our nex’ game,” you slur, almost tripping over yourself. Logan sighs, considering your drunken state for a moment.

“Tell you what,” he starts, “I’ll do half this shot with you if you quit your whinin’, got it?” You nod eagerly, accepting his proposal. With your confirmation, Logan takes the lime in his mouth and bites it in half, giving you part of it. You secretly wish he gave you the half that was in his mouth. He rips the salt packet open, and you watch earnestly as his tongue swipe along the back of his hand before he pores some of the salt on it. You follow suit, wetting the back of your hand with your tongue and allowing Logan to pour a bit of the salt on it. Logan goes first, licking the salt up, swallowing half the shot down, and finishing it off with a bite of the lime. You try and stifle a gag when you look at the glass of clear liquid. You sigh, closing your eyes tight as you lick the salt off the back of your hand, choke down the tequila in one gulp, hoping the squirt of lime juice in your mouth will save you. It does not. Your throat burns and you involuntarily shiver at the contact of the liquor on your tastebuds.

“I’m gonna get these back to Jim,” he gestures to the stack of glasses that’s accumulated over the course of your games, “rack ‘em up for me, princess.” Logan nods to the pool balls, indicating for you to get another game started. You oblige, leaning over the table to retrieve the balls and placing them into the plastic triangle. A gasp escapes your lips when you feel a pair of hands grasp your waist. Assuming it’s Logan, you smile, craning your neck to get a view of him. You startle when you see a complete stranger pressing up against your rear. A yelp leaves your lips as you scramble up onto the table in an attempt to get away.

“Don’t be like that, baby, I was just saying hi,” the strangers gruff voice beckons to you from where your feet are hanging off the table. You scrunch your face in disgust. He has a long, unkempt beard with yellow teeth peeking out behind it. His hairline is thin and greyed, his figure broad and heavyset. He towers over you, making your stomach churn.

“No thanks,” you say, sternly, sobering up slightly in an act of self preservation. The stranger doesn’t let up, though. Still attempting to pull you towards him by grasping at your ankles. You don’t register anything else around you. Not Logan’s shouts from the other end of the bar, you don’t see him rushing towards the stranger either. Your preservation is the only thing on your mind.

“I said no, asshole!” you shout, reeling your legs back before kicking into his chest with as much force as you can muster, your abnormal strength sending him flying all the way into the back wall 10 feet away. He crashes against the wood paneling, leaving a dent in his wake, groaning and writhing in pain on the ground. Your adrenaline dissipates, allowing the realization of what you just did to really sink in. Someone of your size should not have been able to send someone like him flying in the way you did, and the way that Logan looks at you, indicates just that.

“…You okay?” Logan asks carefully, reaching towards you, helping you down off of the pool table. You tumble off the surface, allowing Logan to fully support your weight. “You, uh, seemed to have it pretty under control there.”

“I don’ skip leg day,” you slur, feeling your mouth suddenly fill with saliva, your natural instincts of self preservation just dissipated, and you now are feeling the full brunt of every sip of alcohol you had tonight. The blood drains from your face and a wave of nausea washes over you, “Logan, I think’m gonna—“

You can’t even finish your sentence before you hurl the upset of your stomach all over the floor in front of you, Logan just barely missing the line of fire.

“Shit,” Logan hisses, trying to support you as best as he can without getting your puke all over him, “Okay, let’s get you out of here before you kick someone else through a wall.”

You’d find that funny if you weren’t painfully nauseous right now. Logan slings your arm around his neck, you’re limp around him, like a rag doll. The next few hours are a blur. You’re delirious, incapable of forming a coherent thought. You might recall Logan asking for an address, or directions. But you don’t remember what you said, or if you even said anything in response through your drunken stupor. Which leads you here, hunched over the toilet in Logan’s bathroom, as he tries to shove croutons in your face in an attempt to soak up the liquor that’s strangling your stomach. You’re half awake, ready to fall over and sleep this off. So you do just that, fall over, that is. You’re snuggled into the shag rug on his bathroom floor, reveling in its softness. Oh, this is perfect. You think to yourself, dozing off already.

“C’mon, you can’t sleep on the floor,” Logan grunts, scooping you up off of the bath mat. An incoherent whine escapes your throat at your loss of comfort. You snuggle into his chest, seeking the same comfort you were just robbed of. Your body lowers onto something soft and plush. You sigh in approval, spreading your arms across the expanse of this luxuriously soft bed. Ready to get comfortable, you groan in indignance at the stuffiness of your jeans. You ungracefully unbutton and prod them down your legs, freeing your body from the stiff discomfort of the pants. You hear a throat clear, and feel the comforter get pulled out from under you and then promptly over you, cocooning you in a soft, pillowy heaven. The soft fabric feels so nice and cool against your bare legs, clad in nothing, save for your panties. You silently thank your sober self for wearing a tank top and no bra today, allowing for optimal sleepwear.

“There’s water for you here,” Logan tells you, gently, gesturing to what you think is the nightstand, but you can’t bear to look at it.

“Don’t puke on my bed,”Logan warns. The light gets turned off and you sigh at the peaceful nature of the space. You inhale, reveling in the scent of Logan that lingers on the bed.

“Hm, bed smells like you,” you hum in satisfaction, finally feeling your sleep begin to overtake you. There’s a beat of silence that hangs in the air.

“Night, princess.”

...

A/N: hehehehehehe😈😈😈😈 I hope y'all had as much fun reading the bar scene as I had writing it. I loved writing reader letting loose a bit and not being so anxious, hopefully she stays that way but you'll have to wait and see. I'm getting oral surgery tomorrow so I'm not sure when the next update will be. click here to view on ao3.

Tags: @wolviesgirl @sanemis-piss

#logan howlett fanfiction #hugh jackman #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #x men #wolverine #logan gets reader drunk but in a trying to get her to have fun way not a pervy way #deadpool and wolverine

146 notes · View notes

honeyedmiller · 1 year ago

Text

Firsts | Javier Peña

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

warnings: smut (f & m oral receiving, unprotected piv, fingering, slight size kink?), cursing, teasing, tension, some tooth-rotting tender fluff, no use of y/n. 18+. minors dni.

word count: 4.9k

synopsis: Agent Peña is determined to give you something you've been craving for a long time.

not revised. sorry for any mistakes :')

Javier Peña never let anyone sleep in his bed.

Sure, he's had multiple women in it, but not once had any of them ever stayed longer than a little aftercare from the Agent himself. He used those women to get information; fucked them so good they just couldn't stop sputtering where they've seen this guy or how they know this other man. And, deep down, he used them to fill an empty void in his heart of loneliness—something he was no stranger to, but wanted to avoid altogether.

No woman had ever slept in his bed, until you.

See, if anyone told you months ago that you would've even spared Agent Peña a proper non-work related conversation this time around, you both would call bullshit.

It all started out in the field, a few months ago. Steve kept nagging Peña about his little crush on you, and it drove him crazy that you were the only woman in the office that wouldn't give him the time of day. Of course you talked to him about work related things, puzzling together the missing pieces to finally fucking catch Escobar.

Tensions were at an all-time high in the office, and the last thing on your mind was tossing the insatiable Agent a flirty smile. You were an intense, strong-willed go-getter who was an absolute badass in the field. Even the Colombian military and police liked to work with you, which was good, because it meant they'd cooperate more with the DEA. Flirting, especially with a coworker nonetheless, was completely off limits and your one set-in-stone rule you had for yourself.

You were no stranger to the rumors roaming about that Agent Peña was a good fuck. You were also no stranger to the giggles and nudges your female colleagues gave you when they caught him staring at you. You just chose to ignore them.

It wasn't until one late night in the office that had everyone exhausted and quite literally ready to get back to the States that you gave Peña the time of day.

Steve had told the man something rather interesting that day, which he knew you'd kill him for, but he thought it was worth Javier knowing. When you went over to Steve and Connie's place to have 'girl's night' with his wife, he overheard you say that no man has ever been able to make you orgasm.

Steve immediately thought of Javier when that information sprouted, and of course, being the wingman he was for Peña, he told him. Peña wanted nothing more than to be the man that could give that to you. Luckily for him, he was sort of an expert in that area, which is why all those women he fucked ended up talking.

You never paid any mind to how suave Peña could be, mainly because you genuinely weren’t interested. Your disinterest in the Agent bothered him at first, as you shot down all of his advances and flirting tactics. It just determined him further. It’s not like he kept harassing you or anything, but he tried his best to do little things for you here and there like get you a coffee when you needed it the most or a file that would help you in the spur of the moment.

On this particular night, it was just you and Peña left in the office. The two of you were paired up for a specific assignment because Murphy was unavailable, and the assignment needed to be done quickly.

You were efficient with your work, but having the Agent stare at you like a meal on legs wasn’t helping. You couldn’t deny that he was a good looking man. A man you swore you’d pay no mind to, and up until now, it was working.

“Can I help you Peña?” You ask without looking up from your paperwork. You were jotting something down when he cleared his throat, straightening in his seat.

“I think I should be asking you that, Agent.” He shot back incredulously, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. He gave you a smug look, and his words halted your writing mid-sentence.

“Excuse me?” You look up at him, quirking an irritated brow. Though, you found yourself faltering to his heavy gaze; hooded puppy dog eyes making your panties dampen a bit. You squeezed your legs together, ignoring the nagging feelings of want and desire.

“Heard that no man’s ever been able to please you.” He tilts his head and eyes you, from your intense gaze down to the way the first couple of buttons of your work top were unbuttoned.

You scoff in disbelief. You know Connie would never say a word, so it had to’ve been Steve fucking Murphy.

Bastard.

“I don’t see how my dilemma in my personal life has anything to do with our work, Peña.”

“I was just simply observing.”

“Well you don’t work for the BAU. Stop trying to profile me.” You snap, rolling your eyes.

He holds his hands up in defense. “You know, cariño, I could help relieve you of your tension. Noticed you’ve been real… irritable, these days.”

You shoot him a nasty glare.

“Fuck you, Peña.”

“If that's what you'd like, baby. And I’d prefer it if you called me Javi.”

“I’m not one of your whores. We don’t need to be on a first name basis.” Your tone was cold as you looked back down to your papers, annoyed at the fact that you were getting turned on by his advances. What you really should've been doing is reporting him to Messina, but it wasn't worth all of the stupid paperwork.

You were cold toward him because you needed to distance yourself. It was your own fucking rule. No flirting with coworkers, even if they're ridiculously hot and tall and tan and broad and—

"Say all you want about not wanting me, but I saw the way your legs clenched and your breathing became more rapid. Why deny yourself a good time, hm?" He tilts his head.

This motherfucker was watching you like clockwork.

You slapped the manila folder that the file was in closed, tucking it into the top drawer of your desk before gathering your things.

"Good night, Peña." You hastily exited the building, fumbling with your car keys to unlock it before getting into your car. You let out a loud sigh, head hitting the back of the headrest as you rubbed your hands over your face in exasperation.

You put the keys in the ignition and left Peña at the office alone with a stupid smirk on his face.

And, that night, you had an even stupider wet dream about the smug-faced Agent.

As the week went on, the tension between you and Javier became nearly unbearable. It was stolen glances and soft touches and close proximities that had you stiffening, keeping your guard up to avoid succumbing to the ache in your core. It was the very thing that clawed at you from the inside, begging to be fulfilled.

You had no doubt Javier could be that man, but you were stubborn. You didn't want to give him that satisfaction. Not yet, at least. The insanely hot wet dream you had about him definitely didn't help your case, though. It made you want him to fuck you right there on his desk.

Luckily, you knew you had self control. What you didn't know is that Javier could feel you literally buzzing with anticipation, likely waiting for him to make the first move because you were too proud to do so.

You were in the kitchenette, pouring yourself a fresh cup of coffee when Javier walked in behind you. You didn’t really pay any mind until you felt the heat of his body behind you, and you turned around. Your back was pressed up against the counter as he towered over you, his dark brown gaze ever so enticing.

He reached up into the cabinet behind your head to retrieve a coffee mug himself, never breaking eye contact with you. Your eyes flickered to his lips for a brief second. To anyone else, it would’ve been the world’s most subtle glance. But to Javier, he took it as a message.

Game on.

He lightly brushed his hand against your waist to scoot past you, pouring the remainder of the fresh coffee into the mug he was holding. His touch sent a jolt of tingles down your spine, and you swallowed harshly as you tried to remember how to walk again to get away from him.

“You look beautiful today, cariño.” He simply said, halting you in your tracks. You slowly turn to him, wide-eyed and stunned. Your throat went dry as your lips formed into a tight smile.

“Thank you.” You meekly said before heading back to your desk. In this moment, you wish a black hole could form underneath the ground you walked on and swallow you whole. The affect that Javier had on you was embarrassing, especially because you were very anti-Javier Peña, aka Mr. Sex-On-Legs.

You thinking about him like this, and the undeniable tension between you both was everything you were against. Flirting with coworkers was dangerous and having sexual relations with them was lethal, especially Agents of yours and Javier’s rank. It could easily affect your work environment and being a woman in the field was already hard enough. You didn’t need shit from your counterparts or higher-ups. You wanted to be taken seriously, and giving in to your desires was going to get you anything but.

On the other hand, the need to have your desires fulfilled clawed at you aimlessly. You wanted to experience an orgasm. One that would have your toes curling and eyes rolling back. A fucking earth-shattering one—one that would ruin any other man for you.

Javier would easily oblige and give that to you, but it was up to you to let him do so.

Oh, fuck rules and fuck morals and fuck workplace gossip.

You wanted, no, needed Javier to show you what it was like. So, you decided to play along. You knew you’d both be stuck in the office late again tonight, so you wanted to have a little fun with it.

The first move was rather bold, but you weren’t going to back down now. Later on in the day, you got up from your desk to hand him a file. In doing so, your nimble fingers softly wrapped around one of his thick biceps as you dropped the file down on his desk. You leaned down, your voice barely a whisper.

“Thanks, Javi.” Was all you said before uncurling your fingers from his arm, sashaying away from him. He stared at the back of your figure quite literally stunned, and you saying his name like that had his dick twitching in his pants.

What the hell had gotten into you? He didn’t know where the sudden flirtatious behavior came from, but he was definitely going to find out.

Steve was catching on to what was going on between you, and it was amusing him to no end. It was nice to have a distraction from all the bullshit the DEA has been dealing with regarding Escobar.

By the time everyone was starting to head home, tension was so thick it could’ve been cut with a knife. Steve even threw in a ‘just bone already!’ to the both of you, and Javier couldn’t even stifle the small smile that had curled onto his plush lips.

It was around nine in the evening, and as promised, it was just you and Peña left. He was sitting at his desk when your hands suddenly slid over his shoulders from behind, sliding down to his chest. You reached over him to grab a file you needed without asking him, just so you’d have an excuse to do that.

By that time, he’d had enough of the teasing. Before you could retract your hands completely, he gripped both of your wrists and stood up, spinning your bodies around so you were pushed against his desk.

"Enough of this cat and mouse game. Do you want me or not?" Javier whispered, trapping your body with his against the cold metal of his desk. It almost looked like he was pained, like this whole past week had been hell for him.

And honestly, unbeknownst to you, it had. He laid awake every single night wishing you'd just give in to him. He wanted to treat you right. Worship your body as it should've been worshipped all along. He didn't want to fuck some random woman for intel anymore if it meant he got to be with you.

You were too stunned to speak, and quite honestly, the arousal pooling in your panties was way too noticeable to ignore at this point. You nodded your head, breath ragged and cheeks flushed.

"Gracias a Dios." He murmured. He cupped your face with both hands, finally sealing the space between you both as he brought his lips to yours. As cliché as it sounded, your whole body reacted to his touch as you felt sparks when his lips moved with yours. You dropped the file in your hand onto his desk behind you before wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer.

He gripped your thighs and easily hoisted you up onto his desk, moving between your legs to be as close as he possibly could. You moaned softly when your clit caught onto the seam of your jeans, and you could feel Javier's growing bulge against your jean-clad core.

If it wasn't going to be your first time with him, he would've happily taken you right here on his desk. But, he wasn't a total asshole.

"Come back to my place with me," He sighed against your lips. "I can take better care of you there."

You nodded vigorously in agreement, and you both hastily gathered your things before heading out to Javier's Jeep.

He opened the door for you and you softly thanked him, trying to catch your breath and steady your heart rate from everything that just happened. You hadn't even gotten to the best part of this all and you were already falling apart at the seams. It'd been awhile since you've had any special kind of attention like that in general, so it really wasn't helping your case.

Javier clambered into the driver's seat, starting up his car to head back to his apartment. A naughty idea crossed your mind, and you'd be completely humiliated if Javier rejected your advances.

Fuck it.

You reached your left hand over, rubbing his now completely erect cock through the fabric of his jeans. He twitched slightly, giving you a look with burning desire. His eyes snapped back to the road thinking you were going to stop there, but boy was he wrong.

You began to undo his belt as best as you could given your position, and you swiftly unbuttoned and zipped down his jeans.

"Wh-what are you doing?" His voice was hoarse, eyes going wide.

"Relieving you." Was all you said before tugging his jeans down the right amount so you could take his cock out of his boxers.

He was thick and heavy, the head already bedaubed with pre cum. Your mouth watered at the sight, seeing that he had girth and a good length.

He inhaled sharply when your thumb ran over the swollen flesh of his weeping head. You wasted no time, giving his shaft a few pumps before taking him into your mouth. He hissed in pleasure, the feeling of your mouth so wet and warm around him. The sounds you elicited while pleasuring him were nothing short of erotic, and it was driving him crazy.

"Fuuuck. Yeah, just like that baby." Javier coaxed you on, wrapping his fingers in your hair. His other hand was gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were turning a ghost-white color. You kept going, easily licking up his silky flesh before deciding to try and take him all into your mouth.

You eased down slowly until your nose was eventually met with the dark, coarse curls at the base of his cock. Javier accidentally hit a bump in the road at the same time your mouth was completely full of him, so it made you gag around his length.

He nearly came right then and there.

"Fuck, okay, okay," He panted, gently gripping your hair to bring your mouth up and off of his cock. "I don't want to cum yet."

You pouted at him, wanting to taste him as you made him cum. Another time, you suppose. You helped him get his boxers back up over his still painfully erect member, pants following suit.

It was only a couple of more minutes before Javier parked outside of his apartment building, nearly dragging you upstairs and into his place. Once the door was closed, he pushed you up against it, capturing your mouth onto his once again. He moved you away from the door and to the couch, where he sat down so you could straddle him. It was a bit hard with the tight jeans you were wearing, but not unmanageable.

His tongue slipped over yours furiously, teeth clashing together as you both simply seemed like you just couldn't get enough of one another.

His mouth moved from yours down to your neck, leaving hot, sloppy kisses in its wake. He got to one spot on your neck just below your ear that had you shuddering with pleasure, and he chuckled softly at that.

He nipped at that particular spot and licked over it, repeating the action a few times until you found yourself grinding your hips into him. The ache in your core was unbearable, and all you wanted was to just be touched.

"Javi, please." You weren't above begging at this point, because fuck did you want his fingers in you and his tongue on you.

"Please what, princesa?" He rasped, grabbing your ass harshly as he purposefully rutted your hips against his.

"I- fuck- need you to touch me. Please." You whine, biting your lip as you look down at him with a pout. He groaned quietly when you gave him that look of feening innocence.

His lips attached themselves to yours again before he grabbed the back of your thighs, parting from your lips to take you to his bedroom. You kissed his neck while he was walking, giving it one long lick up to his ear before he placed you down on his bed.

He hovered over you, placing one knee in between your legs. He grabbed the hem of your shirt before slowly lifting it up and over your head, eyeing the soft flesh of your breasts that spilled out of your bra from this position. His mouth found itself on aforementioned flesh, lightly nipping and sucking down the valley before moving down to your torso. He eventually got to the hem of your jeans, to which he took his time in taking off.

He carefully undid your belt, then the button and zipper. He shimmied the material off of your legs, staring at your nearly naked body in pure hunger and want. He noticed the dark patch of wetness on your panties, and he teasingly chuckled.

"All this for me, baby? Haven't even touched you yet." He cooed, moving between your thighs. He gave your sopping clothed core a kiss, then proceeded to lick over the wet fabric. You moaned, gripping onto his shoulders.

"Need you, Javi." Your words were nearly incoherent as they squeezed out of your throat. You didn't know how else to make the man just devour you already.

"I know, baby. Need you too." Was all he said before gripping your panties and sliding them down your legs. His gaze met your glistening core, and he hummed at the sight.

He got on his knees at the edge of the bed before wrapping his arms around your thighs, tugging you down so your legs dangled off the edge. He moved both of your legs so your calves rested on his shoulders which flexed underneath the leather jacket he was wearing.

He dragged his lips slowly up the inside of your thighs, kissing your core once, before dragging his lips back down. He repeated that twice before he finally decided to stop being a tease and devour you shamelessly. He lapped up your existing arousal before softly sucking on your clit, moving his tongue down your folds and into you a few times before just focusing on your clit. He took his middle and ring finger and slipped them both into you, the thick stretch of his fingers nearly sending you over the edge.

You couldn't fucking believe it. All these years, no man has ever been remotely close to even making you cum, and then Javier Peña comes along. He nearly had you unraveling with just his tongue and fingers with such ease that it honest to god seemed way too fucking good to be true.

"Baby you taste so goddamn good. Fuck." Javier mewled, pulling his fingers out of you. He reattached his lips to your clit as he gripped your thighs tighter. You were rolling your hips into his face at this point, but he was making movement nearly impossible with the weight of his arms.

He then solely focused on your entrance, swirling his tongue teasingly around you before slipping his tongue inside of you over and over again. You choked on a gasp at the sensation, feeling a nearly foreign tightening sensation in the pit of your core.

"Javi." You whined, the sensation getting stronger and stronger until your body trembled, a lick of flames coursing through you as you cried out. You convulsed around Javier's tongue as you came, tears pricking the corner of your eyes at the heavenly sensation. He lapped up your sweet arousal, moaning against you before pulling away.

Your chest was heaving up and down uncontrollably ears ringing and mind hazy.

Javier looked down at your disheveled state, truly quite honored to be the first man to ever make you orgasm. He leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to your lips, tasting your own arousal as his tongue slipped into your mouth. You gripped both sides of his face as your lungs began to burn, desperate for some air. You separated from him reluctantly, looking up into his eyes.

The sight before him was truly pornographic. Your hair was disheveled, eyes glossed over and parted, swollen lips glazed with your own cum as you breathed rapidly. As his eyes traveled south, one of your bra straps hung off of your shoulders and your manicured hand rested on your abdomen. Your legs were spread just for him, and he wished he could take a photo of you like this. Not to be a creep, but because you belonged in a museum.

Part of him was secretly happily selfish that he was the only one who could see you like this in this moment, though. To look so fucked out and needy because of him. The thought alone nearly made him cum in his pants.

"How do you feel, corazón?" He asked, standing up to finally take the constraints off of his erection. He groaned softly at the release as his cock hit his stomach, still red and weeping and glistening with pre cum.

"Amazing." Was all you could muster up before hooking your legs around him, causing him to topple over you. He laughed at your sudden movements, both hands resting on either side of your head. Your hands found purchase on either side of his face, thumbs softly caressing his cheeks.

No one had ever been so affectionate with him. A warm feeling invaded his stomach, eyes feverishly scanning yours.

"You have a beautiful smile and laugh, Javi. Why don't you do it more?" You ask, brushing a curl off of his forehead. He leaned down and nudged his nose with yours, softly kissing your lips.

"I'll do it more for you, corazón." He whispers, and you pull him down for another kiss. This one was soft and slow, a much different pace than the previous ones. This one was full of tenderness and care, something you both desperately wanted but never seemed to get.

In the midst of the slow kiss, Javier moved one hand down to grab his cock so he could slide it between your folds. You gasped against his lips and he peered down at you with a gentle gaze, searching your eyes for permission. You grabbed the sides of his legs gently, silently letting him know it was okay.

He pushed into you slowly, and you closed your eyes at the sensation. He stretched you in a way that was so heady, having you feel so full when he got to the hilt. You closed your eyes in pure bliss, and Javier leaned down once more to kiss your forehead softly. Your eyes fluttered open again and met his soft gaze.

"Keep your eyes open and on me, cariño. Wanna see you." He says as he juts his hips forward, causing you to suck in a breath through your teeth.

He started to pump in and out of you languidly at first, but then it became rapid hip snaps against yours. The sound of pounding flesh and ragged breathing was all that was heard in the room. Javier made sure to kiss you everywhere he could possibly reach in this position, even moving down to softly suckle on your erect nipples after tossing your bra somewhere in the room amidst all of this.

Pleasure washed over your body and you felt that familiar heat licking your core once again. He paused for a second to bring your calves back up to his shoulders, this new angle hitting even deeper inside of you. It was hitting a spot you didn't even know was possible. You cried out his name as you tried to keep your eyes open, but it was nearly impossible with the way he was thrusting so deliciously into you.

"Javi, fuck, I'm gonna cum again." You cry, clawing at the bedsheets.

"Yeah? Go ahead, princesa, I'm right here. I've got you." He says, keeping his pace steady. He felt his own orgasm slowly building, and he knew it was a matter of time before he found his own release. Before your hazy mind could even process it, your body was shuttering again as you clamped tightly around his cock. Your orgasm washed over you once more, a little stronger than the last time.

You were so spent and fucked out, but Javier kept going. He was so close to his release, and he wanted to make you cum for him one more time.

"One more time, baby. C'mon, I know you got it in you." His teeth are gritted, jaw clenched and face so determined.

"Fuck, Javi, I-I can't." You cry, your breathlessness catching up to you. Your lungs were constricting and it was hard to breathe, but it burned so fucking good.

"Yes you can baby. I know it." He says, snapping his hips against yours at a relentless pace as he moved a hand down to rub swiftly over your already abused and overstimulated clit.

"Fuck!" You cried, clamping down on him once more but this time, a gush came out of you. That was enough to send Javier over the edge.

"Where do you want me?" His voice was so severely strangled that you barely understood him, and understood the fact that you only had a couple of seconds to answer him.

"Inside, please. Need you." You clawed at his back now, feeling his warmth spill into you at your words. His hips stuttered as they slowed to a halt, and both of you spent several minutes trying to catch your breaths.

He pulled out of you slowly, both of you groaning at the loss of contact. He plopped down beside you, sweat adorning both of your bodies as your chests heaved up and down.

"Fuck, Javi. That was..." You started once you controlled the raggedness of your breath.

"I'm glad." He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You both sat in silence as you propped yourself up on your elbow, tracing mindless patterns on his bare chest with your fingertips.

"I should probably head out soon." Your voice is meek once again.

"Actually, I was hoping you'd want to stay." Javier says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You hesitated for a moment, before nodding slightly. "Yeah, I'd like that."

And so you and the Agent you swore you despised just days prior to this cuddled up in his bed, not worried about the repercussions that would follow in the morning.

Not the fact that your car was still there at the office and Javier's wasn't, not the fact that you'd be wearing a button-down shirt of his that was way too big on you to work the next day, and definitely not the fact that you two were much friendlier and touchier now more than ever.

It most definitely didn't have anything to do with the fact that you both provided something to each other you haven't had in a long time—

firsts.

hehehe hope u enjoyed @cool-iguana ily :')

#pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #javier pena one shot #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #javi pena #javier pena x reader

895 notes · View notes

ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 2 years ago

Text

𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Javier Peña

pedro pascal has me in a chokehold and i'm not gonna apologize for it. take this smut. also, this is basically just a self insert cause i couldn't help myself

Summary: All alone at a bar after being stood up by a blind date, you catch Javier's lustful eye.

Warnings: self insert basically (I'm half Mexican so...yeah, I made reader Mexican too. sue me), alcohol and drug consumption, dancing and leaving no room for Jesus (grinding), SMUT (MINORS DNI), one night stand, fingering, oral (m!receiving), spanking, kinda mean dom!Javi

word count | 4.3k🤙🏻

You didn’t think your night could get any worse.

First, you get all dolled up just to be stood up by your date, then the friend you came to the club with abandoned you to hook up with some random guy. You hoped you’d at least meet someone here to soothe your bruised ego, but there weren’t any takers or anyone that met your standards. Yeah, tonight seemed like it would be a bust.

Unbeknownst to you, across the bar, Javier Peña couldn’t keep his eyes off you. After a rough day on the job, his partner encouraged him to come to this club to blow off some steam. He was content just hanging out with Murphy, until he saw you. The expression on your face is what caught his eye first, the way you had a permanent frown and look of disappointment. He instantly knew you must’ve gotten stood up, or broken up with. Why would anyone stand up someone as gorgeous as you? He’d never know. He really thought you were. Gorgeous. The way your eyes sparkled in the club lights, the way your lips wrapped around the rim of your margarita glass, leaving a subtle red stain with your lipgloss. Of course, he couldn’t help but notice your attire; a dress just above knee length lined with lace, hugging the form of your torso but flowing around your hips. He followed the curve of your ass down your legs until he got to your freshly pedicured feet that sported wedges that matched the dress. He hated knowing that you must’ve gotten dressed up for nothing.

You were such a stunner, Javier didn’t even register Steve was even talking to him. “Sorry, what?” He tried speaking over the music blaring over the speakers.

Steve only laughed, shaking his head as he took a swig of his beer. “You’ve been eyeing that bird ever since we got here. Just go talk to her, man.”

Javier shook his head, turning back around to face his partner. “Nah, I came here with you. It’s fine.”

Steve gave him an unimpressed look, totally not believing him. “You’re so full of shit. Right now, I know the last thing you wanna be doing is spending time with little ol’ me when you could be chatting up a beautiful woman. I’m alright, thinking about heading home to my woman actually.” He finished his drink and started to get up before Javier could even respond. “Enjoy yourself, you’ve earned it after the day we’ve had. See ya on Monday.”

“But, I-” Javi’s voice trailed out the farther Steve walked away, leaving him alone and slightly buzzed. He looked back over at you, somehow looking even more pitiful and on the verge of completely giving up on fun. He sighed heavily before chugging the rest of his beer. “Fuck it.”

You didn’t hear the approaching footsteps over the music, getting startled out of your thoughts when you heard a voice from beside you. “Te ves como si te estuvieras divirtiendo.” The man beside you said, his voice straining a little so you could be able to hear him. At first glance, you thought about leaving right away, but once you got another look, this man was actually pretty attractive. He was tall, gruff looking, but his smile was sweet.

You smiled apologetically. “Lo siento, no hablo español.” You cursed yourself for never learning Spanish.

“Oh, no problem. I’m originally from the States, so. You’re not Colombian?”

“Mexican, actually.”

“Ah, muy bien.”

You giggled, taking a sip of your margarita to calm your nerves in front of this very handsome man. “Spent my whole life around Hispanics and never seemed to pick it up. My father is very disappointed in me.” His laugh made a blush bloom across your cheeks, but thankfully the lights in the club were dim enough to make sure he couldn’t notice.

“What are you doing in Colombia?”

“Holiday, invited by a friend.”

“And what brings you to this club tonight? Got a hot date?” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

You huffed. “Well, I was supposed to meet someone here, but he was a no show. I came here with my friend too, but said friend has ditched me tonight.”

His eyebrows furrowed into a frown. “They left you after you got stood up?”

“Oh, no, she wouldn’t do that. I told her she could, but that was before I was ghosted. She’s probably back at our hotel getting dicked down right now. So, I figured I’d stay here a while to give her some privacy or snag someone here for myself.”

“Any takers?” Javier already knew the answer to that, but he wanted to hear it from your mouth.

You sighed with a sad smile. “Nope. I’m completely alone here.”

He leaned in closer to you, resting his forearms on the bar stand. “Well, not anymore. Can I buy you a drink?”

You smirked. “I don’t even know your name.”

He reached out his hand. “Javier Peña.” You closed the gap, taking his course, warm hand in yours. He grinned as you told him your name, as if you just told him the secret of life. “Bonita. Two whiskeys, por favor.” He spoke to the bartender. Oh, this guy was good.

“You’re a bold one, aren’t you?” You giggled.

He shrugged. “Have to be in my line of work. Plus, if I wasn’t, I’d never get laid.” You almost spat out your drink. Well, bold was an understatement.

“And what line of work would that be?”

Javier seemed to hesitate at that, scrunching his face in a frown for a brief second. “DEA Agent.” You nodded in acknowledgement, your expression plain so he couldn’t guess what your stance was. You weren’t running away immediately, so that was a good sign.

Throughout the next hour or so, you both talked each other’s heads off. Each of you telling each other about your work, hobbies, likes and dislikes, even some political stances (the alcohol may have loosen your tongues).

Then, your eyes lit up as a popular Spanish song sounded through the speakers. “Oh my god, I love this song!” You beamed, your body instantly swaying to the beat in your chair.

Javier smiled, stepping away from the bar and extending his hand. “Dance with me?”

“You’re just gonna assume I know how to dance?”

“You’re Mexican, aren’t you?”

“Half.” You chuckled nervously.

He shrugged, grabbing your hand and pulling you off the stool you were sitting on. “You’ll be able to keep up. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. Promise.” He purred, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. Oh, he was trouble.

You let out a surprised squeal as Javier spinned you around with his hand before getting into the dance. The song was more fast paced, so you both settled on a messy salsa. Javier led you well, laughing off whenever you accidentally stomped on his foot. You had taken a salsa class before, so you weren’t too terrible. But you could tell Javier could’ve looked much better with a more experienced partner. But he didn’t choose someone else, he chose you. “See? You’re not that bad!” He shouted over the music, causing you to grin.

“Well, you’re an excellent dance partner.”

As the energy died down and a slower song came on, you and Javier stepped closer together, wrapping each other’s arm around the other as you started to sway to the music. Your heart thumped in your chest as he looked down on you with those dark, mysterious eyes. He didn’t even try to hide every glance down to your lips or your chest that was pressed up against his. Taking a look around, all the other couples on the dance floor were in similar positions, most making out which caused a blush to form on your cheeks. Javi seemed to notice as he smirked, stepping back to twirl you around, pulling your back against his chest, still keeping up with the beat.

“And what about this song? Is this another favorite?” He spoke against your ear, eliciting a shiver down your spine as you felt his breath fan across your skin.

You shook your head. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“Oh, it’s a great song. It’s about getting to know a woman’s body for the first time.” Your eyes widened. “What she likes, how she likes to be touched, learning if she likes it slow…or rough.” You silently gasped as Javi gripped your hips tightly, pulling your ass against his pelvis, bringing one hand to press against your lower stomach. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the music or maybe it was just you, but you subtly smirked as you grinded back against him, a soft groan escaping from his lips as he tightened his hold against you.

“That does sound like a great song. I bet you know all about that, hm?”

“I am a fast learner.” He growled, running his tongue up the side of your neck, instinctively allowing your head to loll back to rest against his shoulder. You bit your bottom lip to keep in a moan that threatened to escape as his teeth dug in gently. You smiled as you felt Javier’s bulge against your ass, the music allowing you to grind against him without raising any brows.

“Should I guess what you like?”

He hummed. “If you come back to my apartment with me, you won’t have to.”

You turned back to face him, a bright smile on your face. “Will you be gentle?”

He smirked darkly. “I don’t think that’s what you want, querida.”

The both of you didn’t waste any more time in that dance club. You felt your arousal pool in your underwear as Javier all but dragged you outside to slam you against his car, his lips already brushing against every piece of exposed skin he could find before kissing you roughly, his mustache tickling. You moaned at the intensity of it, not having been laid in a long, long time. But you couldn't get too ahead of yourself, you weren’t at his apartment and you were still in public, but by how handsy Javier was being, you figured it didn’t bother him. “Are we going to your place or should I just take off my panties right now?” You giggled as you gently pushed him away, keeping him at arm's length.

“Sorry. I don’t normally take my time…” He whispered breathlessly, placing a feather light kiss on your cheek.

You smirked. “I have some weed if that’ll make you relax.”

Javier narrowed his eyes and pinched your side playfully, making you wince. “You know, I could arrest you for that.”

“Yeah. But from the hard on that pressing against me right now, you really want to get in my pants. Can’t fuck me when I’m in a jail cell.”

“I can be creative.” You let out a whimper as he smacked your ass hard, groping the fatty flesh through your dress before reaching behind you to open the passenger side door of his truck. “Get in.”

You chuckled at his demanding tone, clearly worked up, but you didn’t have the heart to tease him anymore so you obeyed. You almost flinched as he slammed the door shut, speed walking to the other side of the car and starting the engine as soon as he got in. On the road, Javier extended his hand towards you, palm facing it. You raised a brow in confusion. “The drugs.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Seriously? It was a joke. I don’t have any weed.”

Javier looked you up and down with a glance before a smirk came to his face. “So you wouldn't mind if I search you?”

“Where would I ever hide it? My bra? My cunt?”

“Scared I’ll find some?”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from smiling, shifting in your seat to slightly face him, leaning up against the door as you removed your underwear but keeping your dress covering your modesty. “I’ve got nothing to hide, sir.”

Javier’s eyes darkened as he glanced between you and the road. There wasn’t much traffic, so he figured he could get away with it. He reached his hand over and patted your torso down, reaching further and further until he got to your breasts, kneading the flesh softly until his fingers dipped in past your dress and bra. You sighed out as he roamed your tits, pinching your nipples until they hardened. “All clear?” You teased, squeezing your thighs together to get some friction.

“Not yet. I have one more place to check.” You tried not to shiver as his hand trailed down your body, lifting the hem of your dress out of the way and pushing your legs apart to lay his eyes on your glistening pussy. You could hear a soft growl from him as he slid one of his fingers through your slit, your wetness gathering at your entrance quickly. “Been a while, has it?” You gasped as his middle finger started to press against your clit, heat rushing to your face and neck, contrasting against the cold window your head rested against.

“A bit, yeah.” You exhaled shakily.

Stopping at a red light, Javier’s eyes were fixed on your face as he inserted two of his fingers inside you, watching the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head briefly as your lips parted in a moan. He groaned, curling his fingers rhythmically and trying to stretch you out preemptively. “So fuckin’ tight, babygirl. Squeezing my fingers so hard.” Well, it was hard not to when his fingers were so thick and long. He definitely was an expert in this field, finding that place inside you that always had you panting and whining, which is exactly what you were doing as he paired the thrusts of his fingers with his thumb circling your clit.

“Fuck, that feels so good Javier.” You moaned, holding on to the dash for dear life as you tried not to squirm too much.

“Call me Javi.” A sudden honk of a horn jerked you and Javier out of the moment, the spotlight turned red minutes ago, causing the car behind to lose their patience. You giggled as he cursed in Spanish as he sped off, faster than before, anxious to feel all of you. With his fingers still inside you, Javi hastily parked his vehicle on the street outside his apartment, ripping off his seatbelt to lean over to kiss you sloppily. “You were close before, weren’t you?”

You nodded with a whine, the windows starting to fog with your panting breaths. You held onto his shoulder as he forced you to that peak once more, just the right move to push you over the edge. “Javi, fuck-!” You whimpered, the wet squelching of his fingers moving in and out of you echoing in the truck.

“So wet.” He chuckled darkly. “Gonna come on my fingers, querida?”

“Yes. Yes, Javi!” You moaned loudly, heat taking over your whole body as you rode out that wave of ecstasy on his fingers. Javier groaned as he watched your face contort in pleasure, it almost making him come in his jeans untouched. He grinned as he watched your slick coat his fingers and pool into his palm, pulling his hand away to see your cunt make stringy cobwebs of cum. “All clear on those drugs, agent Peña?” You joked when you noticed his oblivious fixation.

He chuckled softly. “I don’t know. I think you’ll need to join me in my apartment for a further evaluation.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Your hands shook as Javier led you up the stairs to his apartment with heavy and hot gazes towards you, almost to make sure you were following him. Like you’d ever want to leave with the promise of getting laid. He seemed to be antsy like you, fumbling with his keys and having to take a deep breath before unlocking his door. But once you stepped over the threshold, all possible nerves promptly left his body as he pinned you to his wall and kissed you passionately. You whined as his hands wandered until they gripped onto your ass, grinding his clothed erection against you.

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you, hermosa.” He growled before latching onto the crook of your neck with his teeth.

“Then don’t.” You whispered shakily, palming his bulge which elicited a low, deep groan from him, the noise causing a pang of arousal to resonate through your entire body. You wanted to hear more, but Javi grabbed your wrist.

“So eager, babygirl. Want me to make you come again that badly?” He chuckled mockingly when you nodded. He led you to his bedroom, sitting you down on the edge of his bed with his lips latched onto yours. “Wanna feel those pretty lips around my cock.” He hummed as he unbuttoned his jeans. Your eyes widened and mouth watered as Javier took his cock out, thick and long. Obviously his jeans had hidden its actual size, you didn’t know if you’d be able to fit it inside. “Think you’ll be able to take it?”

“I’ve just never had someone as big as you, Javi.” That seemed to make him smirk with pride.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll go easy on you. First, at least.” Javier gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, suddenly feeling intimidated by his domineering stature; but it only turned you on even more. “You wanna suck my cock, princess?” You smiled in reply, licking your lips and leaning forwards to lick up the small bead of precum gathered on his slit, the action making him hiss softly. Making sure to keep eye contact with him, you licked the underside of his cock from base to tip, wrapping your lips around the head and suckling on it gently. “Oh, you’re a tease, huh?” You yelped as Javi grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled harshly, taking advantage of your surprise and shoving his cock in your mouth. You instantly tried to relax, sucking on him until he let out a lovely moan. “That’s it. That’s it…good girl.”

His praises and moans went straight to your core, making you even needier than before. He sounded so pretty. Even if your jaw started to ache, you wanted to keep hearing his breathless noises of pleasure. You made a pretty picture, Javier thought. Your lips and tongue around his cock, looking up at him with tears spilling out the sides of your eyes whenever he hit the back of your throat, your moans of exertion causing a delightful vibration. He wouldn’t last much longer like this. He needed to fuck you. Now.

You gasped as Javier pulled you off his dick, kissing you roughly before removing his shirt, your lips upturning in a smile as you admired his body. “Clothes off and lay back on the bed for me, sweetheart.” He ordered, and you had no problem obeying, might’ve even been a bit too eager, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Your face flushed with heat as his gaze fixed on your breasts, licking his lips and smirking. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous, baby.” You giggled as he pounced on you, sloppily kissing you while positioning himself in between your legs.

You bit your lip as Javier rubbed his dick in between your slick folds, gasping as the head nudged your clit. “Want you inside me so bad, Javi.” You whispered, one hand cupping the side of his face and the other bracing yourself on his shoulder as he started to slowly push in. Your head fell back to the pillow beneath you with your mouth open in a moan, Javi fully sheathing himself inside your velvety walls.

“Fuck, babygirl.” Javier groaned, his brows furrowed, trying to restrain himself from plowing into you right away. He had a vice grip on your hip, while his other hand was groping your tit. “You feel so good.”

“Fuck me harder, Javi, please.” You whined, canting your hips upwards to try and get more friction, but he roughly pinned you down with his hands.

“Ain’t gonna last long if I do that.”

“I don’t care. Please.” You begged, looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes. Javier growled as he pulled out of you, flipping you over on your front, head down and ass up, pushing himself back in your pussy harshly, setting a cruel pace. “Fuck!” You groaned, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull in a pleasured haze. He fucked you hard and slow, each thrust making you jerk and cry out every time he hit the ends of you, a loud slapping skin against skin noise echoing through his entire apartment. You’d be surprised if his neighbors didn’t come banging on his door telling you to keep it down.

“You like this better, slut?” He mocked before letting out moans of his own, the new position one of his favorites, that much you could tell.

“Yes. God, yes, Javi!” You started to prop yourself up on your elbows, but Javi pushed you back down, keeping your face pressed against the pillow.

“Keep your fuckin’ head down.” He demanded, grunting loudly with every thrust. “Anything else you wanna complain about, sweetheart?”

“Can you…can you spank me, please?” You couldn’t see him from your position, but he grinned, followed by a couple hard slaps to both your ass cheeks, making you moan in appreciation. You could tell he enjoyed spanking you, since he did it often, your skin throbbing and raw but it felt so good. His grip on your hip he used as leverage started to turn painful as opposed to the pressure it previously felt, just knowing you’d have plenty of marks afterwards, and you couldn’t wait to see the masterpiece of bruises he left on your skin in the morning.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re making it real difficult to keep it together. I don’t think I’ll be able to last much longer.” You lifted yourself with your arms, trying to turn yourself on your back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I wanna watch as you come.” You smiled sweetly. Now how could Javi deny you when you looked like that? He allowed you to turn over, then he sat up on his haunches and wrapped your legs around his waist. He looked so fucking angelic from this angle, looking down at you with a pleasure ridden face, the sweat coating his body making him shine, his hair disheveled and a dark look his in eyes. The sight paired with his ruthless thrusts, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you, made your second climax of the night get closer and closer, you could almost taste it.

Javier watched as goosebumps rose all over your body, your nipples hardening and your walls clenching around him tightly, signaling you were close. If it weren’t for how close he was as well, he’d surely have an arrogant smirk on his face from how drunk you were getting off his cock. “You gonna come for me again, querida?”

“Yes, Javi!” You cried, your body starting to shake uncontrollably as the first shock waves of your orgasm washed over you. “Oh my god, fuck, I’m coming!”

Javier let out a strained moan as your walls pulsed around him, soaking his cock and your face contorting in pure euphoria. He couldn’t resist grabbing ahold of your hand, giving you an anchor to ground yourself as you came down from your high, additionally giving him something to hold on to as he started to reach his own climax. “Where do you want me to come?”

“Inside…” You whispered breathlessly. “Come inside me, Javi. I want it. I need it.”

Javier grunted loudly as his warm ropes of cum painted your walls, his muscles tensing and soft whimpers escaping his mouth as he stilled inside you, panting as if he’d just run a marathon. He surprised you by kissing you softly, then your chin, cheek, and finally your forehead. Much more tender than he previously was. You almost whined at the loss of contact as he laid beside you, immediately lighting a cigarette, offering you one, but you politely declined, claiming you had your own. Instead, you slightly sat up in the bed and pulled out a joint from your bag, smirking to yourself as you knew he’d throw a fit.

You took glances over at Javier as you lit up your joint, resisting the urge to laugh as his eyes widened at the smell, immediately snapping his head towards you with furrowed brows. “Are you really smoking grass in front of me right now?” He scolded. “Seriously? You lied to me.”

You smiled. “What’re gonna do? Handcuff me?”

His eyes darkened, setting down his cigarette in an ashtray and leaned over to hover above you.“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You only replied by taking a puff of your joint and blowing the smoke in his face. You whimpered as he kissed you hard, biting your lip until he broke skin. “You know marijuana is a gateway drug?”

“Oh, shut up!” You chuckled, putting out your joint so you could focus on kissing him. “You really gonna arrest me, Javi?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, just…just don’t do it around me, alright?”

You raised a brow playfully. “Oh, so this wasn’t just a one time thing?”

He didn’t meet your gaze. “I mean, not if you want it to be. I was going to ask if you wanted to, ya know, do this again sometime?” He spoke softly, looking back up at you with a hopeful expression.

You giggled giddily, feeling like a teenager who just got asked out by your crush. The grin that stretched across Javi’s face at your reaction made your heart thump in your chest even faster. “Of course, Javi. I’d love that.”

“Good.” He smiled, kissing you one more time.

You smirked. “Hey, maybe you could use your handcuffs on me next time.”

“Whatever your heart desires, querida.”

fuck sake

#narcos #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña imagine #javier peña smut #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena imagine #javier pena smut

2K notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 8 months ago

Text

Temporary Fix. || cheater!Johnny

Rating: E + TABOO Words: 5K with the bonus (this one got away from me, I'm sorry) CW: cheating (on Johnny's part, Reader doesn't know), smut smut smut, a bit of BAD dirty talking, oral sex (m!receiving), protected piv sex, breath play (if you squint), praise kink (lots of 'that's it' + 1 'good girl'). Tags: afab!reader, fat/chubby!reader, you/your pronouns, one-night stand but more like one-week stand. Summary: Johnny's a dog who cheats on his girlfriend, unbeknowst to reader. a/n: this is for my chubby gals and also for my @/☠️ anon, who motivated this with a DM of hers (spot the DM at the bottom of the post).

Even those who have a family, a wife, a partner of any kind, waiting for them at home do it. It’s an open secret. Your buddy might be cheating on his wife… And you might know your friend’s wife, hell, your wife might be great friends with his wife. But you’ll never tell her. All things considered, she might already know and be turning a blind eye.

This is a lot more common for enlisted soldiers in the Army. The types that get deployed for 9 to 18 months at a time, fighting in a way that keeps them far away from home for so long that they “can’t help” but seek affection on the side.

But that’s not to mean Special Forces soldiers, especially those kept on ‘stand by’, always ready for a quick deployment that, at most, lasts a month or two, don’t do it. They do.

John Alistair MacTavish has a bird at home. He does. He really does. But you wouldn’t think that, seeing as he cheats on her as often as he breathes.

He goes on and on about his bird every chance he gets, has phone and video calls with her whenever he has the time, coos at her as she talks about her day, tells her how much he misses her…

Only to end the call and leave base with his team to end up at some bar or club in civvy clothes, find a nice bird or bloke (he’s not picky) and go home with them.

A dog, any normal person would call him, a womanizer, a skirt chaser, a player, a cheater.

He’s not above calling himself that. He knows it’s wrong. That doesn’t mean he’s stopping. Hell, that doesn’t mean he even feels guilty. He doesn’t.

It’s not that his girl back home is bad in bed, or boring, or that he feels trapped or… It’s simply that he has an itch that he wants scratched…

Now that he’s in the 141, the philandering just gets much worse. Whenever they have downtime on a foreign location somewhere, a night free before they return to England, a night before they get the go-ahead to go on a mission, what have you… He’s out getting himself a shag.

And, worse of all, he brings Gaz along.

Gaz doesn’t have the same issue, he’s not got a partner at home, so he can do all of this with a clear conscience. Maybe that makes Gaz a bit bad too, because he knows that Soap has someone at home, and he still goes out with his mate and they both get wasted and laid without a care.