#sorry for ooc javier | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gothcsz · 2 months ago

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Summary: Another chaotic shoot... but at least it's in Malibu?

Tags: more plot keeps sneaking into the porn, angst, frankie has entered the villa, jealous!javi, reader stands on business, it's a porn set other people are also fucking, masturbation on camera (m), dirty talk, lots of cursing (f bombs my beloved), an attempt at a blowjob, javier can't get it up, a dash of misogyny, author projects her ooc thoughts about problematic age gaps in the porn industry, no use of y/n, reader has a degree in film production, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: me nervous that part 3 isn't going to live up to the hype? more likely than you think! 🙂‍↕️ this fic is taking on a brain of its own and i'm just along for the ride, baby! for my just the tip stans— i'm sorry but i'm going to have to edge you until part 4 *crowd boos and i'm dragged off stage* i was going to wait to post this, but i really wanted to get it out because i'm so damn proud of it lowkey, lol, so i hope you all like it 🖤 let a bitch know what ya think! also, shoutout to my pookie @persephone-girl for reading over this 💋 love u mamas

Your phone’s shrill ring pierces through the haze of sleep, and you groan in frustration, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

The comforter is pulled tight over your head, shielding you from the annoyingly bright sunlight filtering through your window. Your hand shoots out, fumbling blindly across the bedside table until your fingers finally close around the receiver.

“What?” you grumble, voice thick with sleep and muffled beneath your sheets.

“There she is! My beautiful, talented camerawoman. Have I ever told you how much I appreciate what you do?” Robbie’s overly cheerful voice blares through the phone, so you pull it back from your ear slightly, wincing.

“Why are you calling me this early in the morning?” you snap, already regretting picking up.

“Early? It’s almost noon—”

“What do you want, Robbie?” You cut him off, not in the mood for small talk, especially since last night’s bar shift ran past four in the morning. You were hoping to sleep through most of the day, recovering in your bed with no interruptions. Clearly, that plan has gone out the window.

“Look, I’ve got a big shoot happening in Malibu today and I’m short-staffed. I could really use your magic touch behind the camera.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” he drags the word out, “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for working on your day off.”

You rub your eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to you. “How much?”

He tosses out a number, and despite your best effort to remain indifferent, your eyes widen. Damn. That’s more than decent money.

“Malibu’s all the way across town,” you point out, “I won’t make it there in time if I take the bus. And a taxi? That’ll cost me a fortune.”

“Don’t worry about that. Your ride’s outside waiting for you.”

You blink, confused, and get out of bed, dragging the corded phone with you as you move toward the bay window. You pull the curtain back just enough to peer down at the busy street below.

Sure enough, Steve is there, leaning casually against his Jeep with sunglasses on, a cigarette between his lips. The second he spots you looking down, he grins like the cheshire cat and waves.

“Seriously?” you mutter to Robbie, flipping Steve off with a half-hearted smile. “And what if I’d said no?”

“We both know you wouldn’t have.”

After a few more quick exchanges, you hang up, glancing once more at your ride through the window before turning to rush and get yourself ready for the day ahead.

Truth be told, you’re still not fully awake, your body moving on autopilot as you shuffle through your morning (midday) routine.

It’s been ages since you’ve been to the beach— especially one as nice as Malibu’s. The thought of it softens the blow of losing your rest day. You tell yourself you’ll make the best of it, turning this unexpected workday into something that benefits you, too.

After shooting wraps, you’ll indulge in a quiet evening by the shore, sinking your toes into the warm sand with a good book in hand. No rush to head back. This time, you’ll gladly take a taxi if it means getting some peace seaside.

With that plan in mind, you dress for the day accordingly. Your halter-style bathing suit doubles as a cute top, the color complimenting your skin, while your favorite denim shorts sit comfortably over your bikini bottoms.

You pack a few essentials into your beach bag and make sure to grab your camera bag as well. Once you’ve double-checked that everything’s packed, you make your way downstairs, feeling a bit more awake now.

Steve catches sight of you approaching and flashes a dramatic grin, straightening up like he’s about to chauffeur royalty.

“Your chariot awaits,” he announces with an exaggerated flourish, swinging the passenger door open.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the bemused laugh that escapes your lips. “God, you’re ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head as you climb into the seat, tossing your beach bag onto the floor.

He shuts the door behind you with a smirk. “Ridiculous? I prefer charmingly dedicated to my craft.” He hops into the driver’s side, flicking the cigarette away before starting the car.

You snort at his self-satisfaction, leaning back against the seat and putting on the seatbelt.

“Malibu, huh? How the fuck did he manage to swing that?”

He chuckles, one hand lazily draped over the wheel, the other tapping out a rhythm on his knee. “He didn’t tell me much either— just asked me to stop by and pick you up on my way.”

That makes sense. Robbie’s always been a bit scatterbrained, occasionally running around like he’s managing a multi-million-dollar empire when, in reality, he’s holding it together with duct tape and half-assed enthusiasm.

The drive is surprisingly fun, Steve’s constant jokes keeping your spirits high. He always manages to make you laugh, which is why you tolerate his quirks.

“I’m pretty sure Javi’s going to be there,” he says, almost too nonchalantly, meaning he’s in the mood to be messy.

You keep your gaze focused on the coastline, watching as palm trees blur past. The wind from the open windows has you squinting momentarily, but it can’t cool the sudden heat spreading through your body.

“It’s not going to be weird seeing him, right?” He presses and you finally turn to face him, moving your sunglasses to the top of your head.

“Why would it be weird?” you ask, the challenge clear in your voice.

He shoots you a look, brows raised and lips quirked in that irritating way of his. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe ��cause of the whole flirtin’ with you during the middle of a scene thing? Or, y’know, the elevator incident… which, by the way, what the fuck even happened there?” He glances at you, curiosity practically oozing out of him.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, but you can’t stop the way your thighs rub together at the memory.

Javier’s mouth... God. “None of your damn business.”

“Don’t tell me you fucked him.”

You laugh, loudly, the sound bordering on forced. “Absolutely not.”

He shoots you that okay, sure look, and you groan internally.

Steve’s like a dog with a bone when he gets curious, and you know he’s not going to let this go until you give him something. You sigh, deciding to indulge him— partially.

“He was being an asshole,” you start, and he immediately interjects with, “Nothing new there,” causing both of you to share a laugh at Javier’s expense.

You shake your head, returning your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose. “No, seriously. He was pushing my buttons, being his usual peacock self. I don’t even know how it escalated, but one moment we’re arguing, and the next... he’s got his tongue in my pussy.”

Steve chokes on his own spit at your bluntness. He’s heard and seen much worse on set, yet your confession has him all tripped up.

“So, you did fuck him?”

You roll your eyes again, shifting in your seat as the horny flashbacks hit you all at once— Javier’s lips wrapped around your clit, the perfect rhythm of his tongue, his fingers.

You shove those thoughts away, focusing on the road ahead, annoyed at both Javier and Steve now. “Getting head isn’t fucking. It’s, like, third base. And anyway, I made it clear— that’s all he was getting from me. I’m not about to waste my time rolling around in bed with him.”

He gives you a look— a knowing look— and you scoff, shaking your head. “What now?”

“Nothing. You’re just the first person I’ve heard say that about him.”

“Someone’s gotta humble his ass,” you mutter, though the words feel heavier than they should. You try to act like you’ve put Javier out of your mind, like that moment was nothing but a blip in your life, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

You’ve never met anyone like him, and the fact that he can elicit such reactions from you pisses you off so bad.

As the coastline stretches out in front of you, Malibu drawing closer with every mile, you can’t help but wonder if seeing Javier today will be as easy as you’re pretending it will be.

The mansion is far more extravagant than anything you could have imagined. Its grand facade, with towering columns and ivy crawling up the sides, feels like something out of a movie set, and for a second, you almost forget why you’re here.

But then, as soon as you step past the threshold, you hear it— echoing from deep within the house are the unmistakable sounds of exaggerated moans, grunts, and the rhythmic thump of bodies meeting.

You adjust the strap of your camera bag on your shoulder, your beach bag abandoned in Steve’s car. As you step further into the foyer, Robbie appears, that infamous smirk plastered on his face.

“Long way from home, aren’t you, Dorothy?” he jokes, taking in your wide-eyed amusement as you scan the expensive decor— the towering glass chandelier overhead, the marble floors gleaming beneath your feet, the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You can’t help but be a little impressed.

But of course, he’s there to give you shit about it. You turn your wide-eyed gaze into a glare, bringing your attention to him. “So funny. You should quit your current sleazy day job and take up another sleazy one— stand up,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He just grins, unbothered by your sharp tone. “You’re always a joy to work with. No wonder Javi asked for you specifically.”

Your entire demeanor shifts viscerally and you curse yourself for it mentally, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? Javier asked for me?”

He shrugs, indifferent to your confusion. “Yeah. He’s set for a solo shoot upstairs in one of the bathrooms before he’s on with...” He snaps his fingers, trying to remember. “...Mariella. Real pretty girl, it’s her first on-camera gig today.”

The world blurs a little as your mind zeroes in on that one bit of information: Javier asked for you. And not just for any shoot— a solo one. You blink, shaking your head to clear the fog. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the part where I was summoned here by someone who isn’t my boss?”

“Oh yeah, he made a real fuss about it. Sent away the other guy we had lined up for the shoot. Told me he wouldn’t do it unless you were behind the camera. Even offered to pay out of his own pocket just to get you here. It’s the only reason we’re paying you as much as I promised over the phone.”

Your stomach twists and you can feel your face settling into a deep frown, the kind that pulls some of your mood down with it. So that’s why he dangled such a big paycheck in front of you this morning.

After the elevator incident (as Steve has so eloquently named it), after the intense heat of his mouth on you, the way he had you— he said he’d leave you alone. He was supposed to respect the boundaries you set, but here he is, yanking you back into his orbit.

You can already picture him upstairs, lounging in one of those stupidly lavish bathrooms, probably smirking that damn smirk of his, waiting for you.

You try to squash down the way your pulse quickens at the thought, the lingering memory of his fingers digging into your hips, his tongue working between your thighs, is beckoning you into temptation again.

“Fucking great,” you mutter, more to yourself than your boss. You have half a mind to storm up those stairs, find the pornstar, and give him a piece of your mind before marching right back out to spend your day on the beach— free of drama and distractions and him.

But the reality is, you’re being paid nearly three times what you’d normally make on a gig like this. It’s enough to drown out the temptation to walk away, however satisfying that would be.

You’re an adult. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.

Robbie gives you a sidelong glance, clearly sensing your hesitation. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

With a sigh, you force a smile and shake your head. “As good as it’d feel to leave, no, I’m not. I’ll be up in a sec.”

Relief flashes across his face, and he gives you a few pointers before rushing off into this maze of a house.

You linger for a second longer, taking a deep breath to shake off the nerves. Come on. Get it together. After a final mental pep talk, you head toward the grand staircase that winds up to the second floor.

The sight that greets you at the top of the stairs stops you in your tracks: Lexxie is splayed out on her back atop some console table, currently getting the life fucked out of her. The visual is chaotic but nothing new. You’ve seen it a hundred times before.

A guy with a scruffy beard and a beat-up baseball cap stands behind the camera, looking more bored than impressed, barely watching as the two stars go at it.

You lean against the nearby railing, your voice cutting through their heavy breaths and grunts. “Guess your marriage to Javier didn’t last very long,” you tease from off camera, referencing the honeymoon shoot.

The star’s eyes snap open at the sound of your voice, and she flashes you a playful, almost sweet smile in between heavy breaths. “Kinda regretting stepping out on him—oh, fuck.” Her snappy comeback dissolves into a breathy moan as the guy currently rearranging her on the table pushes her legs up to her chest, hitting just the right spot.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your shot,” you say, throwing a glance at the cameraman, knowing how annoying it can be when someone messes with your focus.

He waves it off with a lazy shrug. “It’s not ruined. Honestly, I would’ve quit filming ten minutes ago. It’s starting to drag. I’m impressed they’re still going.”

You let out a small laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, they’ve got stamina like you wouldn’t believe. Makes me feel lazy in bed sometimes, but then I remember how unrealistic this shit actually is.”

He chuckles, scratching at his jaw. “Should make it an Olympic sport. Bet we’d bring home gold.”

“Pretty sure that already exists and it happens in the Olympic Village.” You smirk, finally peeling your eyes away from the couple to look at him properly.

He’s cute in that disheveled, stray-dog kind of way. His curls poke out from under a worn baseball cap, his beard patchy, and his clothes rumpled, like he just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he could find. He fits in perfectly with the kind of guys you’d expect on a porn crew.

Earning a genuine laugh from him, he extends a hand. “I’m Frankie.”

You shake it, offering your name in return. “I’m also part of the crew. About to go shoot a scene in the master bathroom.” You explain, noticing how his grip lingers just a little, his smile playful and easy. You feel a bit of warmth rush to your cheeks, and he’s about to say something when—

“Oh fuck, I’m about to cum!” Lexxie’s voice is piercing, loud and breathless, pulling your attention back to the scene.

You shake your head, stifling a laugh. “Well, that’s my cue,” you mutter, stepping out before you get too caught up flirting with him.

“Nice meeting you,” he says before dismounting the camera, moving in closer to capture the so-called money shot.

Cute. Too cute. It’s almost enough to make you forget about the man you’re about to see.

You push open the door to the room Javier’s in, and the sight of him has you doing a double take.

He’s standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, his defined Adonis belt drawing your eyes in a way you hate to admit.

His toned, brown torso glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat, the sunlight pouring into the room making him look like he’s glowing.

You need to toughen up, and in order to do so, you have to bitch at him. It’s the only way to keep that lustful cavewoman instinct away.

“You’re a piece of work,” is what you settle on, making sure to let your tone really punctuate how annoyed you are by the stunt he pulled today.

The second his eyes lock onto yours, amusement flickers behind them, as if he’s been waiting for this confrontation.

He quirks a brow, lips curving into a lazy smile. “¿De que hablas nena—?”

“What happened to ‘if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone’? Was that something you said just to lower my guard? To get me to give you what you want?” You cut him off, keeping your distance even as you notice him inching closer.

Your eyes are daggers as they bore into him, and for a brief second, you hope he feels at least some of the fire burning in your chest. But if he’s affected, he doesn’t show it. He is frustratingly calm, like he’s above it all.

“You gave me no indication that you didn’t want me anymore.” His voice is casual, almost patronizing.

You groan as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “I literally said, ‘Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again.’ What the fuck else do I have to say or do to get you off my back?”

Silence settles between you two as you stand there staring each other down. He’s unreadable, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

“Well?” you demand, impatient.

“In my defense— it didn’t sound very convincing.” You stare at him incredulously before turning on your heel. Hell no. He can keep his money and his bullshit. You’re not doing this.

But just as your fingers graze the doorknob, his voice sharpens with a hint of panic, calling your name.

“Wait, look,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to start anything. I just thought—” he pauses, searching for the right words. “I’d feel more comfortable if you were behind the camera during this shoot. Not the other guy Robbie brought in.”

Frankie? He seems so harmless, and besides, Javier’s never had an issue with whoever’s in the room when he’s filming, so why is it a problem now?

However, his tone does sound sincere. You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes and refusing to let your guard down. “This better not be another one of your tricks, Javier. If you’re doing this to try and get into my pants—”

He almost grins, but catches himself just in time, clearly biting back a remark. You can see it in the way his mouth twitches, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. Already have, his brown eyes seem to say. But he holds his tongue, offering a faint nod instead.

“I promise. No tricks. Just a professional shoot. That’s it.”

You give him one last warning glance before sighing. “Fine. But I’m telling you, Javier—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts, holding up his hands. “I get it and please stop calling me Javier.”

You arch a brow. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but everyone calls me Javi.”

Ugh, whatever. “Okay, fine, Javi. Just show me where I’m supposed to set up.”

He bites back another grin and motions you with a flick of his head, and with the weird tension simmering, you follow him toward the ensuite bathroom. The door creaks open, revealing an elaborate setup, and you pause in the doorway, eyes widening.

It’s surprisingly... beautiful.

In front of a massive window that overlooks the sprawling blue ocean outside, there’s a porcelain clawfoot bathtub filled with what looks like a milk bath. Various colored flower petals float delicately on the surface, scattered in an almost artful arrangement.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Well, damn. This actually looks nice.” This bathroom is bigger than your entire apartment.

Javier notices your reaction and leans against the doorframe to the connecting walk in closet, arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Catering to the female gaze,” he says with a cocky shrug, “At least, that’s what my agent told me. Seems like I’m very popular among the ladies.”

The way he says it makes you want to smack him upside the head. He’s pushing your buttons again in the most subtle way, and you hate how good he is at it.

“Cute,” you reply dryly, walking past him to set your camera bag down on the large counter.

As you begin to unpack and set up, you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, lingering on the exposed skin of your back then dripping down to your legs.

It kind of feels good to have him ogling you like this. The whole look but don’t touch thing is really doing it for you, more than you’d care to admit. There’s a certain power in keeping him wanting, yet also forcing the distance.

“It’s not just about the ladies, you know. I actually want this to be good. I trust you to make it look that way.”

You glance over at him. His playful arrogance has slightly faded, shaded in by the genuine want to make this feel more than just some raunchy scene.

“I’m not a director, I just film it,” you remind him, adjusting the camera lens as you try to play it off. “So just do whatever you think is right. Robbie gave me some pointers, but it wasn’t much.”

“Still,” he presses, “there’s some finesse to what you do.”

At least he’s aware of that. “Let’s just get this over with,” you say, deflecting the compliment.

You finish setting up the camera, adjusting the tripod to get the perfect angle. It’s important to capture the full picturesque scene to begin with— the soft light spilling in through the window, the sparkling blue ocean in the background.

You clear your throat, “Okay, I’m all set for whenever you’re ready.”

Javier moves casually as he unwraps the white towel from around his waist. His cock, already half-hard, demands your attention, but you force yourself to look away. You rub your lips together then lick at them unconsciously, trying to focus on anything other than his naked body.

“Got plans after this?” he asks as though he’s asking you about the weather.

You blink at the normalcy of the question “Just going to hang out by the beach,” you reply plainly, trying to keep your focus on the camera and not on his crotch.

It almost feels strange talking to him like this, without the usual teasing or sexual tension-laden bickering.

“Sounds fun,” he says as he steps into the tub, the water sloshing around him. “Real nice out here. The weather is perfect for it today.”

You watch as he settles in, the milky water rising around his body, and for a moment, you’re completely mesmerized.

The scene in front of you looks like something out of a romantic painting, and it hits you how undeniably beautiful he looks. His skin, a warm golden brown, contrasts perfectly with the creamy white of the bath, and the colorful flower petals floating on the surface make the whole thing look like a dream.

He leans back, the water just kissing his chest, and you catch yourself imagining what a soft, hazy vignette filter would do to the shot, how it would add an enchanting glow to an already intimate scene.

You shake your head slightly, snapping yourself out of the reverie. You’re supposed to be filming him jerking off, not admiring the aesthetics like this is some fine art shoot. But fuck, it’s hard to separate the two when the visuals are this damn good.

Javier, of course, senses your brief distraction. He watches you, eyes thoughtful as he stretches out, letting the water ripple around him. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand, despite the heat pooling between your thighs. “Is there a clear direction for this scene, or are you just improvising?”

“I’m just winging it,” his voice is a rich, velvet drawl, a little rough from all the smoking he does. “No dirty talk. They want my natural noises to be the main focus… amongst other things.” He cocks his head to the side, one arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

Heat blooms low in your belly, shooting straight to your cunt at the sight. The way his bicep flexes, the muscles shifting smoothly beneath that taut, sun-kissed skin, showcasing just how defined he is while still looking so maddeningly soft.

Calm down, girl, you silently reprimand your pussy. She’s fucking purring right now.

You clear your throat and give him a nod, signaling him to begin. Stepping behind the camera, you focus through the lens, grateful for the distance.

Javier moves slowly. His head tips back against the edge of the tub, eyes falling closed, the soft curve of his lashes fanning out like shadows against his skin. One hand trails down, lingering at the hollow of his collarbones. The movements are unhurried, almost reverent, as though he’s savoring the feel of his own skin.

The intimate build-up draws you in, despite your best efforts to remain detached.

You unmount the camera from its tripod after a few moments, stepping closer to him, framing the shot tight around his chest, the slow glide of his hand along his torso. You can’t help but notice the pounding of your heart, each beat mirroring the steady, throbbing pulse at your clit.

The sight of him— relaxed, fully in his element, bathed in the soft glow of light— stirs that fucking feeling deep within you.

It’s not just desire, though that’s certainly there. It’s the maddening awareness of how sensual, how magnetic this man is. And even though you try to tell yourself you’d feel the same about any other attractive man in his place, you know that’d be a damn lie.

Javier’s hand moves lower, ghosting over the ridges of his soft stomach. His other hand trails slowly through the water, sending gentle ripples through the milky bath. You swallow hard and focus the lens on his face— the slight parting of his pouty pink lips beneath his trimmed mustache that you just now realize has a small patch right above his cupid’s bow.

Even his imperfections are attractive.

The flushed skin of his cock makes an appearance, his thick, swollen head breaking the surface of the water with each subtle movement, teasing you and the camera. The way it peeks through, the slick tip glistening in the milky bath, almost feels like a taunt— winking at you.

Doing as you’re supposed to, you adjust the lens to zoom in on the way his cock flirts with the surface.

If you were anyone else, one of his usual co-stars maybe, you’d lean down and give it a few kitten licks. You’d tease the sensitive crown with your tongue, circling the tip before letting it slide past your lips— just enough to drive him wild.

Your tongue twitches at the thought.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he gets closer to where he’s aching to touch. It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he knows you’re imagining the feel of his cock in your mouth, the taste of his salty skin, the way he’d twitch against your tongue as you tease him until he begs for more.

Maybe he’s picturing your lips wrapped around him, too.

You bite down on your lower lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, to stay focused, even though your body is betraying you. The mess in your panties, the way your nipples stiffen beneath your bathing suit top— everything about this moment is dangerous.

Then finally, his fist wraps around his cock, a soft slosh of water accompanying the motion. The eroticism of the scene— paired with the proximity, the memory of those hands on you— ignites that annoying need deep inside.

He strokes himself slowly, eyes still closed as though lost in the pleasure of it all. You focus the camera on his hand, on the way it moves with purpose, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, slick with precum.

His groans start to fill the air, and your own body reacts, hips shifting slightly as you try to ignore pressure at your cunt.

“Still with me?” His voice cuts through the silence, raspy and knowing, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

Oh. Have they always been this golden?

“Yeah,” you’re proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

Javier’s body is pure, unfiltered sin in motion. As you move around the bathtub to capture every angle, you can’t help but admire him. His muscles shift with every slow pump of his hand, the sinewy lines of his arms and torso rippling just beneath the milky water.

His stomach contracts with each exhale, drawing your gaze lower to the faint trail of hair leading down to his cock, which you catch glimpses of when his hips buck up inadvertently.

His breathing grows heavier, his pouty bottom lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowing in concentration as his pleasure builds. It’s mesmerizing, the way his face contorts, his expressions almost too intimate, too personal for the lens. But you can’t tear your eyes— or the camera— away.

His fist moves with such confidence, touching himself with an unhurried rhythm that only a man used to his own pleasure can manage. Every time his thumb glides over the tip of his cock, a heavier grunt rumbles in his throat and it’s so hot.

You’re too focused on capturing every inch of him that it almost catches you off guard when he begins to speak.

“Wish it was your pretty hand around me right now, baby.” His voice is husky, laced with want, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You blink rapidly, heart stalling in your chest as the camera wavers slightly in your hands. “Javier,” you sigh, his name slipping from your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Fuck, I know, but shit—” His words are more ragged now, spoken between heavy breaths. “You’re all I can think about still. You stay in my mind, muñeca. Can’t get you out.”

Even though every rational part of you knows you should stop him, should leave or at least say something to shut him up, you don’t.

You don’t run, you don’t protest. You just... let it happen.

“Talk to me, please.”

“I-I—” The words get stuck in your throat, “I can’t. I’ll ruin the shoot.” Why is that your priority right now?

“You won’t.”

The way he says it chips at the walls you've built around yourself.

“What do I even say?”

“Anything,” there he goes again, using that tone that makes him sound like he’s begging.

So, you say what you’ve been thinking of since he got into this damn tub. “Your cock is so pretty, Javi.” You purr, throwing all caution to the wind, lying to yourself that this means nothing.

The effect is immediate. He groans, a deep sound from his chest, and his hand moves faster over his shaft, the slickness of the water amplifying the movement. “Fuck,” he says, his breathing now erratic, “say it again.”

Your gaze flicks down and it’s mesmerizing watching the way his body responds to his own touch, but it’s the fact that he’s unraveling in front of you that leaves your mouth dry.

“Such a pretty cock, Javi,” you repeat, voice steadier this time, growing bolder with each passing second. Every flex and contraction of his body feeds the arousal pulsing in you. “I bet it would feel perfect sliding down my throat, hitting the back of it until I’m choking on you.”

All those hours spent listening to cheesy porn dialogue are finally paying off.

His head falls back, exposing the strong column of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. A guttural groan escapes him as the image of what you just said sets in. His other hand moves down to cup his heavy, swollen balls, the water around him rocking more violently now as he starts to lose himself in the fantasy.

“Shit… I’m close,” he growls, voice breaking with need, the words barely coherent. “Keep talking to me, fuck…”

You lean in slightly, the camera momentarily forgotten. “You want to come for me?” Your whisper is dripping with lust, the idea of him falling apart because of you making your pussy ache. “You want to make a mess? Pretend I’m kneeling right here, my mouth open and waiting for you to fill it, warm and wet just for you?”

You’ve seen him come so many times, watched him fill too many cunts with his spend and paint different parts of their pretty bodies— but none of it compares to the sight before you.

The way his body jerks in response tells you everything you need to know. His grip tightens on the edge of the tub, knuckles going white as he pumps faster, rougher, pushing himself toward the brink. His hips start lifting out of the water with every thrust into his own hand, chasing that final release.

“Fuck, yes…,” he groans, voice strangled, barely holding it together. His eyes squeeze shut, every muscle in his body tensing, going rigid as he falls over the edge.

His bilingual expletives cut off into a long, drawn-out moan as his cock twitches, thick ropes of cum spilling out in messy spurts, splattering against his fist, swirling into the milky bathwater. The petals float lazily across the surface, some clinging to his skin, as the evidence of his release drifts around him.

You stand there, heart pounding, frozen as your brain tries to catch up with your pussy.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, fumbling with the camera as you stop the recording. You quickly move to pack everything up and try your damndest not to look at him.

“Wait, don’t—” Javier’s voice is still hoarse, but there’s a touch of urgency to it now, breaking through the post-orgasm haze. You hear the water sloshing violently behind you as he moves, and you know he’s getting out of the tub. “Just… hang on.”

“No. I-I gotta go,” you stammer, your hands frantically packing up the camera, the lens cap slipping through your fingers. You try to grab it, but your nerves are shot and it fumbles. Thankfully, it doesn’t take damage. You’d hate to hear Robbie bitch at you for breaking the brand-new camera.

Just get out of here is the only thought running through your mind. Every time you’re around him lately, you end up a confused, horny, exasperated mess, and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Hey—wait!” Javier slips as he tries to step out of the tub, nearly falling as he reaches for you, his wet feet squeaking against the floor. You turn just in time to see him catch himself, water dripping from his body, his skin still flushed from what just happened.

“What the hell?” You shoot him a look, “You’re gonna break your neck trying to stop me from leaving—”

“I wasn’t—fuck, just let me talk for a second.” He runs a hand through his soaked hair, water dripping down his neck, over the curve of his shoulders, and you hate how even now, you’re distracted by how good he looks. He reaches for the towel and loosely wraps it around his waist. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Neither did I,” you snap, stuffing your gear into your bag, not caring how haphazardly it’s packed. “This— this isn’t what I signed up for. I’m here to work, remember? Not… whatever the fuck that was.”

He steps closer, reaching for your arm, but you yank it away before he can touch you. The last thing you need is his hands on you right now, reminding you of everything you shouldn’t want.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice softens, but there’s a frustration beneath it, like he’s grappling with the same confusion you are. “I wasn’t trying to mess with you, okay? I just… I don’t know what the hell is happening between us either.”

You stop, finally meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that pulls at the part of you that’s freakishly tethered to him, but you can’t let that get to you now. Not when everything feels so damn complicated.

“Javier, this—” You struggle for words, shaking your head. “This can’t keep happening. I can’t—” You pause, your breath catching. I can’t have you. “I don’t want you,” you correct yourself.

His jaw clenches, muscles ticking under the strain. “Stop bullshitting me,” he growls, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not,” you shoot back, but it comes out too quickly, too rehearsed.

“You’re lying through your fuckin’ teeth, and it’s pathetic. What is so wrong with giving me a chance?” He keeps circling back to this— chances.

One thing about him, he knows how to trigger a fucking migraine.

“Everything!” The word bursts out of you like a confession. “Everything about this is wrong. It’s why I’ve been trying to stay away since day one, but you’re so— ugh!” You throw your hands up, exasperated, the bathroom suddenly feeling too small and claustrophobic. He’s got you spinning in circles, tying you up in knots, and you can’t think straight around him.

Without a second thought, you turn to leave, your feet moving as if you’re fucking levitating. So what if you’ve made a habit of running away from him? You don’t owe him shit.

“Nena—” Desperation laces his voice and that stupid nickname makes your skin curl. “I don’t want you to leave like this.”

“Well, too bad,” you snap over your shoulder. “I’m leaving so you can’t sweet-talk me into anything.” The slam of the door echoes behind you, a final punctuation to your statement.

As you step out into the hallway, the distant sounds of people fucking filter through the air, kind of grounding you back to the real world.

You can’t keep working with him, not if every interaction is going to end like this. You make a mental note to talk to Robbie after today’s shoot. No more Peña.

The day drags on, the tension from earlier still lingering, but now, sitting outside on the shaded patio, you feel a small reprieve.

A half-eaten sandwich rests before you on the table, your eyes lazily tracing the lines of the zero-edge pool that blends into the horizon. The soft rustle of palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze lulls you into a sense of temporary peace. You glance around, taking in the pristine luxury surrounding you. Rich people really have it made, you think, marveling at the extravagance of someone else’s life.

The spat with Javier lingers but you’ve done your best to ignore it by keeping busy. The other shoots happening in the house have kept you distracted, but you know what’s coming: the last scene of the day— with him— and the new girl, Mariella. A small sigh escapes your lips as you sink deeper into the patio chair, absolutely dreading it.

Your tranquility is shattered when you feel a presence nearby. Already anticipating another confrontation with Javier, you steel yourself and don’t even bother looking up before snapping, “Oh my god, can you just leave me alone—”

The words get jammed in your throat as your eyes land on Frankie, not Javier. He stands there, looking taken aback, a paper bag in one hand and an awkward smile tugging at his lips. You instantly feel like a bitch.

“Shit— sorry,” you stammer, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I thought you were someone else.”

Frankie lets out a small chuckle, brown eyes softening as he rubs the back of his neck. “No worries, I can leave if you want—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, waving him off. “Please, stay. I didn’t mean to be snappy.”

He hesitates for a moment before motioning to the empty chair across from you. “Mind if I sit?”

You shake your head, and he lowers himself into the seat, setting his lunch down. The small talk starts easily, flowing naturally as you both munch on your food. He tells you about his daughter, a proud smile on his face as he recounts how she’s the light of his life. Then he goes on about how his friends call him Catfish because of some dumb inside joke, and also the fact that he’s a retired pilot. It somehow doesn’t surprise you— the career fits him.

“How do you go from flying helicopters to shooting porn?” you ask, the question half serious, half teasing as you lean back in your chair, eyes hidden behind your sunglasses.

Frankie raises an eyebrow and smirks, clearly amused. “Shit happens,” he says with a shrug. “How do you go from having a film production degree to spending your days staring at tits and ass?”

A wry smile tugs at your lips. You tilt your head, pausing for effect. “... Shit happens,” you echo, the irony not lost on either of you.

He snorts, taking a slow sip of his water, the sound of his laughter rolling into the lazy afternoon air. You can’t help but steal a glance from behind your shades, your gaze wandering over his rugged features.

There’s something about the way the sun hits him just right, casting a golden glow over his tanned skin. You swallow, feeling a subtle pull in your chest, an unexpected attraction. He’s not flashy, not like the other guys you’re used to working with— there’s an unspoken confidence in his ease, a solidness that makes you want to keep looking.

“So… who’d you think I was? Just then?” He asks, adjusting his cap.

You try not to let your small smile falter. “Oh, just an annoying coworker.”

“Ah, the kind who shows up at the worst times, huh?”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh, “You know the type.”

Frankie leans in just slightly, lowering his voice. “Well, I’m glad I’m not that guy.” There’s a flicker of flirtation in his tone, his eyes lingering a beat too long. “But if you ever need someone to… keep him under control, you just let me know. Got the remedy for that right here.”

He exaggeratedly flexes his biceps, and the snug t-shirt he’s wearing pulls taut around his arms, highlighting their impressive size.

You can’t help but admire the view— he’s really fun to look at, all charming smiles and playful confidence.

“I might just take you up on that, actually,” you reply, matching his energy with a teasing smile of your own. “I could definitely use someone who knows how to handle things.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his pink lips. “I’m more than equipped for that, trust me.”

For a second, it feels like the two of you are in your own little world— until, of course, it comes crashing down.

A voice cuts through the moment like a knife. “We’re ready for the last scene.”

You turn to see Javier standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight, his gaze flicking between you and Frankie. His entire posture screams annoyance.

“And who are you?” Frankie retorts, squinting one eye against the harsh sunlight, playful defiance dancing in his tone.

Javier doesn’t seem to like that response at all. “I’m ready to get this shit done with,” he snaps, and you narrow your eyes, practically shooting daggers at him.

Frankie clears his throat, sizing up Javier’s bristling energy. “Right.”

You catch the word presumido slip from his lips— the Spanish insult that has you exhaling a light laugh through your nose, because he’s so spot on and he doesn’t even know it.

Both of you stand, Frankie gathering the remnants of your lunch. “If you’d like some company down by the beach later, I’ll still be around,” he adds smoothly, sliding the proposition in there as casually as if he were just suggesting grabbing coffee. You almost don’t mind him crashing your solo date.

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, pushing your chair in. “It would be great to not have to take the taxi back, but I was willing to do it for a nice afternoon by the water.” You can feel Javier’s possessive stare burning into you from across the way.

Frankie, absolutely unbothered, leans in closer, a charming grin on his face. “Here’s my number if you need that ride.” A pen appears out of nowhere, and he scribbles down his digits on a clean corner of his napkin, tearing it off with an effortless confidence before handing it to you.

“Definitely,” you say with a flirty smile, tucking the napkin into your pocket, feeling a thrill against the scowling presence of the spectator watching from the sliding glass door

Frankie branches off to use the restroom and you push past Javier, no intention of speaking to him until—

“If you spent less time flirting with the crew and more time focusing on your job, we’d be finished by now.”

You can practically taste his jealousy.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him, your patience running thin. “Really, Javi? You’re jealous of Frankie? That’s what this is about? Did our last conversation not put shit in perspective for you?”

He steps closer, eyes hard, voice low. “Jealous? Of him?” He scoffs, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. “I just don’t appreciate having to wait because you’re too busy cozying up to someone else. Especially someone who looks like they just got picked up off the side of the road.”

“And you wonder why I don’t like you.” Is all you can say, brushing past him yet again, his presence looming heavy as you head toward the living room where the last scene is set to be shot.

The moment Robbie goes on with his usual pre-shoot rundown, your attention shifts to the newbie Mariella immediately, drowning out his usual spiel.

The girl— and she is a girl, no matter what the paperwork says— looks painfully young. Her cropped tee hugging her braless chest, barely keeping her breasts from spilling out, and those flimsy pajama shorts riding high on her thighs. It’s the kind of outfit that makes you uneasy— one you’ve seen too many times in this industry, designed to play into the fantasies of men who want their women to look barely legal.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the sour taste of frustration building in the back of your throat. This is the part of the job that gnaws at you— the undercurrent of exploitation that no one acknowledges.

You’re not naive, you know exactly what sells in porn. You know what these people want to watch, what they get off on. The younger, the better.

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach when you’re standing on set, watching it play out in real time.

Just as Mariella positions herself, preparing for the camera to roll, you can’t stop yourself. The words come out before you can think to censor them. “How old are you?”

Suddenly, everyone’s attention shifts to you. Robbie. Steve. Frankie. Even Javier, who’s lounging in the corner, waiting for his moment to shine. They all freeze, the casual banter dying off as your question lingers in the air. Mariella blinks, looking around as if unsure who you’re even talking to.

“I—I turned twenty last week.”

Your expression hardens, and the disapproval is written all over your face. “She’s not even old enough to drink, and you’re having her fuck Javier?” Your eyes cut to Robbie, who’s staring at you like you’ve just sprouted another head.

The silence stretches for a beat too long before he scoffs, shaking his head like you’re being ridiculous. “I don’t pay you to hear your opinions on shit,” he snaps, clearly irritated. “Just sit there and record the damn thing.”

Your eyes roll hard enough that it almost hurts. “You’re all a bunch of perverts.”

Poor Frankie catches a stray with that one. It’s like everything is grating on you in ways it usually doesn’t. Normally, you can shove it down and keep your head low because, at the end of the day, you’re just here for the paycheck.

“Perverts pay your bills, sweetheart,” Robbie throws back, all nonchalant. What’s worse is that he’s right.

Moments like this make you wonder how long you can keep doing this without losing a part of yourself in the process.

You look around at the other three men, none of them stepping up to say anything in your defense. Useless.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but it stings. Even Javier, usually quick with a sarcastic quip or biting comment, says nothing. He just sits there, stuffing out a cigarette that’s magically appeared between his lips.

It feels like a betrayal, even though you know better than to expect any different.

And Mariella? She’s clearly distracted, caught up in the magnetic pull Javier has over people. The way she’s looking at him with that starstruck, wide-eyed awe only makes it worse. You can see it in her expression, the way her gaze flickers over him like she’s already imagining how it’s going to feel when he fucks her. Thinking with her pussy instead of having common sense.

You recognize it because you were just in her exact position, drawn into that same orbit. You find empathy for her, but not the other motherfuckers.

The room descends into awkward silence, as if everyone’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you’re not in the mood for a full-blown argument, so you shut down, slumping into the chair behind your camera with your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

You know it’s only a matter of time before all these feelings you’ve been aggressively pushing down come back up and make you snap, but for now, you continue to force it all away.

You’re assigned to shoot the stoic, wide shots while Frankie’s in charge of the close-ups, and honestly? You’re relieved. The last thing you need is to be up close, watching this trash unfold.

The scene starts with the typical, raunchy premise: Dad pays babysitter with his cock! It explains Mariella’s barely-there outfit and the cluttered coffee table with school notebooks, setting the scene.

Then there’s Javier who looks the part too; dressed in dark blue slacks, a typical white collared shirt with a few buttons popped open to give that I’m stressed, come take care of me vibe.

He’s the picture of temptation, and it’s obvious Mariella’s already in the clouds.

The filming begins and they share that cheesy, erotic dialogue and lustful touches. You feel yourself sink further into the chair, silently counting down the minutes until you’re decompressing by the beach.

She sinks to her knees before him, her doe eyes looking up at him with that practiced innocence they all seem to perfect so quickly. She reaches for the buttons on his slacks, her delicate fingers fumbling just a little before she pulls down the zipper and tugs at the waistband. She nuzzles her face against his thigh, brushing her lips against his skin, and finally pulls out his cock. Even soft, it’s still an impressive size— but it’s definitely not how this was supposed to go.

“Well, are you going to suck it or just stare at it?” Javier snaps, his tone cutting through the air with an edge that feels too sharp, too real. It doesn’t sound like the crudeness that’s meant to spice up the scene.

His hand shoots out and tangles in her hair, yanking her closer. He’s rougher than usual, harsher, as he forces her mouth onto him.

She wraps her lips around his head, suckling softly at first, then taking him deeper into her mouth. She’s trying to do her job, playing the part of the eager babysitter, but something’s off.

Javier’s head tilts back, eyes squeezed shut, but it’s not the usual look of pleasure that crosses his face. It’s more like he’s concentrating, forcing himself to feel something that isn’t there.

You can’t help it— your eyes flick around the room, looking at the rest of the crew. No one seems to be noticing what you’re seeing, their eyes all honed in on the action in front of them.

But you’re catching the small details like you always do.

After a few more moments, it’s clear that it’s not happening. Javier lets out a frustrated curse, pulling out of her mouth with an audible, wet pop. “Fuck—just, give me a second,” he grumbles, stepping back. Mariella wipes the saliva from her lips with the back of her hand, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and hesitation.

You take that as your cue. Reaching over, you stop the recording, your finger hesitating on the button for only a moment before pressing it. Frankie does the same, Steve lowers his mic and pulls his headset off.

Javier runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the floor, like he’s trying to avoid looking at anyone directly. “I just need a minute,” he says again, but it’s more to himself than to anyone else.

Your gaze lingers on him for a second longer than you intend, and your mind flashes back to earlier, to the way he was with you. The memory is sharp and clear, the contrast striking. He’d come undone for you without hesitation, without needing any coaxing or forcing. Just words. But now, with Mariella kneeling in front of him, offering herself up like a gift, he’s struggling.

“How long will this minute take? We gotta be outta here soon so get it up before I get one of these two to take your place.”

Javier scoffs, dismissive, “Tape wouldn’t fucking sell.”

“Well one featuring a soft dick won’t either,” comes the retort, and the two of them start their back-and-forth bickering.

You rub at your temples, trying to ease the pressure building behind your eyes. This has to be some weird-ass dream; it sure as hell feels like it. Maybe you’re still in bed, blissfully sleeping until three in the afternoon.

Javier storms off and Steve puts his equipment down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Robbie just waves him away. “Take five,” he mutters to the rest of you, going in the opposite direction. This is such a mess, and poor Mariella remains on her knees, picking at her cuticles.

“Please get up and sit on the couch. You look pathetic,” you say to her, not cruelly but bluntly. It’s not her fault, but the sight of her there is making you itch. She complies like a chastised child.

Frankie drops down beside you, letting out a breath that mirrors your own. “These things usually go like this?” He takes his hat off, ruffling his hair before putting it back on.

“No,” shit has just been weird amongst this group for weeks now. “Burnout is inevitable, I guess.” You’re not about to sit there and shit-talk Javier, despite everything. You might have a mountain of complicated feelings when it comes to him, but you won’t kick him while he’s down.

Before Frankie can respond, Robbie comes barreling back into the room, his face flushed with anger. His eyes lock onto you, and you can see the accusation in them before he even opens his mouth.

“This is your fault,” he spits out, voice sharp, acidic. “All that shit you were talking earlier— now he’s fucking broken.”

You narrow your eyes, standing your ground. “Excuse me?” you snap, incredulous. “I was making a valid point. How the hell is it my fault that he grew a conscience?”

“Y’know,” he starts, his words dripping with the kind of vile, misogynistic shit that makes your blood boil. “You’d do me more good in front of the camera. Have somethin’ shoved up in there to keep you fucking quiet.”

The reaction is immediate. You shoot up from your seat so fast the chair scrapes against the floor, the sound sharp and angry, mirroring how you feel. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Frankie stands too, his face hardening as he takes a step in front of you, finally coming to your defense. “Watch it,” he warns, and it feels like the whole situation could explode into something much worse.

Robbie, of course, just sneers “What? You gonna defend her? She’s been a pain in my ass for weeks—”

“I’m done.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think them through, but they feel right.

You’re tired— so damn tired— of this whole mess. Of dealing with assholes like Robbie and Javier who think they can get away with saying whatever they want. “I quit.”

Your boss’s mouth opens as if he’s about to say something else, but you cut him off with a cutting glare. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you treat me like shit because your precious Javier can’t get his dick hard. Go fuck yourself, Robbie.”

You don’t wait for a response. You turn on your heel and head for the door, your heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’ll double up on shifts at the bar or go back to waiting tables like you did throughout college. Whatever keeps you away from this bullshit.

As you stride down the hallway toward the entrance, you pass Javier and Steve. Javier’s face is stormy, brows knitted together as if he’s still reeling from whatever heated discussion they just had.

The moment he spots you, his expression shifts. There’s a flicker of surprise, maybe even concern.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks.

You yank the heavy, probably expensive for no reason, front door open, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I just quit,” you snap, voice sharp as glass. “See you never.”

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @libre-sol . @cherrysugarx . @goodvibesonly421 .

finally started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out. muchas gracias mis putitas (gn) (endearingly) 🖤

#pedro pascal #javier pena smut #javier peña smut #javier pena fic #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña narcos #javier pena x you #javier peña x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic

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spongeyspot · 1 year ago

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Toxic Traits/Red Flags HC

Characters: Arthur, Javier, John, Lenny, Dutch, Micah, Charles, Sean, Hosea, Mary Beth, Abigail, Tilly, Karen, Sadie, Molly

(A/N): WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS DAWG. I LOVED @cowboyfromh3ll 's take on that shit sm and these hcs have literally been swimming in my head for weeeeeeeeks bro

Edit: some of these were kinda hard because there's not a lot of bad in the characters themselves... I had trouble with specifically Charles, Lenny, Mary Beth, and Tilly. Sorry if they may be OOC. IM EVEN DOING THE GIRLS BECAUSE IM IN A SILLY GOOFY MOOD

Content Warning: female reader, jealousy, self hate, narcissism, gaslighting, physical abuse, verbal abuse, mental abuse, mentions of murder and violence, mentions of infidelity, mentions of sex (Sean, Micah, Sadie kind of) (MINORS DNI)

Not edited btw

The boys

Arthur Morgan

- Honestly, I feel like Arthur would have this insane, crippling fear of rejection, especially when it comes to dating. - His self hate/deprecation plays a huge part in this, and quite honestly, him and Mary not working out probably also probably contributed to it. - Very emotionally distant. Has a hard time expressing his feelings openly due to that same fear of rejection.🚩 - Bottles shit up until he feels like he's gonna explode 🚩 - His impulse control is almost nonexistent 🚩 - Will resort to saying things that he doesn't even mean. He just says things when he's angry🚩 - Will hate himself even more if he makes you cry - Won't hesitate to run away from camp for a while to cool off. This isn't necessarily a bad thing per se, but he usually takes his time away to overthink the fuck out of everything - Prone to acting violent. (not to someone he cared about, but to other people, absolutely)Also due to his poor impulse control. 🚩

Javier Escuella

- Has a flirty personality, but around women, it just seems to get worse. 🚩 - Tells you you're overreacting if you tell him it bothers you🚩 - Overprotective of you. Always has his eyes on you, and practically orders you to stay in camp where it's safe. - As if you step one foot outside the camp without him, you'll spontaneously drop dead - Jealous asf. Are you laughing at what Bill just said? It wasn't even that funny. Why are you standing so close to him? You should be at least 6 feet away from him, not 5 and a half. 🚩 - Also has a problem with how you dress sometimes. God forbid your shirt is ever low cut. He'd probably ask you to change. 🚩 - And if you get offended or upset, he'll lie and tell you it's because he can't stop staring at your chest, and he'd like to focus of whatever it was he was doing.🚩

John Marston

- Stubborn as all hell. Doesn't listen to anybody for anything.🚩 - Commitment issues up the ass - Says mean things out of anger and sometimes actually means them 🚩 - Won't apologize half the time. He thinks kissing it better actually makes it better 🚩 - Regularly ignores his own bad habits instead of actually facing them 🚩 - Will run away from problems like Arthur, but worse. He'd be gone a really long time.🚩 - Gets annoyed with you if you get angry at him for leaving and staying away for a while. He told you he needed space, didn't he? What else do you need from him?? 🚩 - Ignorantly clueless half the time. Head empty, no thoughts.

Lenny Summers

- Not assertive in the slightest, and usually, respectfully, keeps to himself. -Takes orders without verbal complaints but inside he's annoyed as fuck 🚩 - Even if he hates doing something he'll probably just go "Okay" and do it anyway, and he'll sulk all day afterwards - Refuses to tell you what's wrong because he thinks he'll sound childish.🚩 - If you push the issue, he might snap at you out of annoyance like "Would you just let it be??" - Immediately feels guilty and shameful, and he'll hide away until he's ready to apologize and face you again - Also kind of a know-it-all... He'll correct you a LOT. It would get annoying 🚩 - Would blatantly tell you you're wrong before correcting you🚩 - Not necessarily an asshole about it but he still tends to get under your skin sometimes

Dutch Van Der Linde

- The BIGGEST Narcissist you'll ever meet.🚩 -He loses another piece of his mental state with every breath he takes. Slowly but surely losing his mind.🚩 - King of gaslighting🚩 - How could you even think that about him? He could never do anything wrong! You must be crazy...🚩 - Tries to recite his "pretty words" from Evelyn Miller to try and sound smarter than he actually is 🚩 - Expects you to just feed his ego without him actually doing anything to earn it🚩 - Will try to correct you even when he's wrong🚩 - Refuses to admit he's wrong. He can never be wrong. That word isn't even in his vocabulary unless he's talking about literally anyone but himself🚩

Micah Bell

- Where do I even start with this guy - Not above putting his hands on you if he doesn't get his way. Let's be honest here.🚩 - Mega Narccisist, almost as bad as Dutch 🚩 - Will brag and share every sexual encounter you've ever had with him like he's talking about the weather🚩 - VERY prone to Violence 🚩 - NO impulse control. Murders people for fun.🚩 - Backhanded and borderline abusive compliments 24/7 "You'd look so good if you weren't so fucking fat..." 🚩 - Selfish lover. Thinks just sticking it in will do the trick, and it does, for him at least.🚩 - Little to no affection. What are you? His girlfriend? Wait...🚩 -If he actually does show you affection, and you react in surprise, he'll tell you to go fuck yourself, and that that's the last time he ever does anything nice for you.🚩

Charles Smith

- Impossible to read sometimes - Like Arthur, Charles tends to keep a lot of his emotions bottled up until he feels like he's gonna pop 🚩 - Like most of the men in the Van Der Linde gang, Charles is also prone to acting violently. I mean, he started a bar fight with a fucking chair, and he fights in street fighting rings, let's be real for a second.🚩 - He's incredibly quiet and reserved a lot of the time, and sometimes you just assume that he's listening to you when you talk, but a lot of the time, he's lost in his own thoughts. - Will do everything anyone asks him to at the expense of his own free time and energy, and sometimes he works himself to exhaustion just to try and please everyone.🚩 - In doing so, he sometimes doesn't have time for himself at the end of the day. It also seems like you spend time together less and less as the days go on. - If he ever got himself hurt and you tried to help him, he'd decline any help with anything to save his own pride. The last thing he needs is you thinking he's weak. 🚩 - Extremely Overprotective. Like to the point where he'd beat the shit out of anybody you asked him to🚩

Sean Macguire

- An Alcoholic🚩 - horny 99% of the time, but half that time he probably has whiskey dick. Still asks you to try but doesn't understand that it's like trying to play pool with a rope... - If he can manage to be sober enough to actually get it up, and you're not in the mood, he'd get pissy and annoyed with you for "wasting his boner" 🚩 - Will probably also brag about having sex with you to everyone🚩 - Needy as all hell - Bro sulks on purpose - Low key loves the attention you give him when you continue to ask him what's wrong, but he never actually tells you and constantly says "I'm fine..." or "It's nothing..." 🚩 - But then sighs dramatically and continues sulking and dragging his feet so you keep giving him more attention 🚩

Hosea Matthews

- Ignores his physical health until he's practically dying. You've told him to get that cough looked at for literal years and he just says "I will" and does nothing 🚩 - sometimes talks to you as if you're a child especially if he's around Dutch -low key gaslights you sometimes 🚩 - and he says it with such a gentle tone, its hard to catch it 🚩

The girls

Mary Beth Gaskill

- Daydreams way too much - Likes to live in her romance novel fantasy land rather than face reality 🚩 - Cries a lot - Tries to be angry but can't help but cry instead - If crying makes you feel bad for her, she'll probably do it on purpose so you comfort her and give her attention🚩 -If you're in a fight, she'll turn on the crocodile tears to get you to stop being angry with her or whatever it is you're arguing about.🚩

Abigail Roberts

- She can be verbally abusive if she's pushed far enough 🚩 - Holds in a lot of her emotions🚩 - Neglectful of her own personal needs to make sure you or Jack are fully provided or cared for🚩 - a lot of the time, when she's upset with you, you're probably given the cold shoulder and the silent treatment - incredibly protective. Not necessarily a bad thing, but she can sometimes be super overbearing.

Tilly Jackson

- Tells it how she sees it, sometimes accidentally sounding a lot colder than she means to 🚩 - Too sarcastic for her own good 🚩 - Laughs a little too much sometimes when you tell a joke, and you can often tell it's actually incredibly fake🚩 - gets irritated really easily, especially if she's bothered while doing her chores. The last thing she needs is Grimshaw on her ass again.🚩 - irritable a lot of the time, unintentionally becoming short or snapping at you - like john, she also believes that kissing it better is better than actually apologizing

Karen Jones

- An alcoholic 🚩 - picks fights with you for fun, finds it entertaining to see how red your face can get from anger 🚩 - Screaming matches are a regular occurance between you guys, and she starts it almost every time 🚩 - Pretty jealous when it comes to the opposite sex🚩 - Has self doubt and believes that she can't give you everything a man probably could

Sadie Adler

- The nosiest woman in America. No chill. She reads everyone's mail. - Makes a lot of loose threats 🚩 - Anger issues🚩 - Low impulse control🚩 - Can be a little too rough sometimes 🚩 - If she's upset with you, she'll either yell or storm off. Sometimes both. 🚩 -(She tends to walk away a lot more often because she's actuall self aware that her anger issues are a problem) - She'd never admit that to you though.

Molly O'Shea

- Even more jealous than Javier🚩 - Glares at and envies anyone you talk to that isn't her🚩 - Has immaginary conversations with people in her head🚩 - Rubbing her hands together when the real life conversations are following the script she had planned out in her brain - Needs constant reassurance - "D'you even love me anymore?!"🚩 - Overthinks everything 🚩 - Paranoid as hell about infidelity - Gets mad at you when she dreams about you cheating on her🚩

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soullumii · 2 years ago

Text

carry out | javier peña x f!reader

javier peña x afab!reader

summary: javier’s messy way of dealing with business causes the two of you to work late. he offers to buy you carry out to apologize for making you stay late (and, more reluctantly, for making you miss the date you had planned). then he offers something else to make it up to you. warnings: 18+ content mdni, smut [oral sex (f receving), unprotected piv], soft!javi, smiley!javi, sassy!reader, praise kink (for both reader and javi), javi likes to please, pet names (chiquita, baby, querida, sweetheart, angel), lots of uses of the word ‘fuck’, might be a little ooc?, no use of y/n. word count: 5k-ish?

inspired by carry out by timbaland

---

The last time you looked out the windows of the U.S. embassy, the sky was fading from blue to a pale orange. Now, when you peek up from the mountain of paperwork in front of you, the stars are the only thing visible, everything else bathed in darkness.

You can't remember the last time you actually went home on time from your job as a secretary. It had to be before Peña and Murphy started working here. With them around, your overtime hours stretched longer and longer.

It’s for a good cause, you remind yourself. Because, truly, it is. Catching the Narcos is top priority. It’s just hard to remember that when you’re drowning in paperwork and have to cancel the plans you had made a week ago for this shit.

“Look, I’m really sorry again. It’s still crazy over here,” you apologize into the plastic transmitter for the second time this evening, twirling the curly wire around your finger. The first time you called your date was a couple hours ago when you had to relay the unfortunate state of your situation: multiple things to do and not nearly enough hours in the workday to do them. Thus, staying overtime.

“No worries. We can go out tomorrow instead.”

You smile, “Thanks, Michael. That sounds great.”

You hang up the phone and the moment it hits the switch, your expression transforms into a deep frown. You send the most withering glare you can manage to the only man left in the room and the cause of all your problems: Javier fucking Peña. If looks could kill, yours would, but unfortunately, they cannot. And Javier doesn’t even seem to notice, his nose buried in his own respective papers. The hard line of his brow is furrowed over his dark eyes, the skin between his brows pinched in a way that makes you itch to smooth it out. Not for his benefit, but for your own, because it is awfully infuriating.

His normally perfectly coiffed hair is curling over his forehead, ruffled a bit at the edges as if he’s been anxiously running his hands through it, and one hand twirls a pen between his fingers while the other is pushed up against his temple. Seems like the long hours are getting to him, too.

Good.

“Michael again, huh?” Javier comments, still staring down at his documents. His pen scribbles on a notepad. “He’s… clingy.”

You staple a few papers together, and if the stapler clamps down a bit harder than you mean it to, you can hardly be at fault for that.

“If that’s clingy, I worry about the women you’ve been with. They probably thought you hated them.” You retort, not looking up.

“Quite the opposite, angel.”

Arrogant bastard, your mind supplies.

You don’t grant him the satisfaction of a response, focusing instead on the work in front of you. And you want to scream. Or cry maybe. Because this is literally all his fault.

If it weren’t for the shit he bothered you with earlier, and the multiple times he interrupted Ambassador Noonan, you wouldn’t be here trying to play catch up—rescheduling all the meetings she had to miss and filing reports for the classified information Javier “stole” from the files room, to which you did not give him permission to take, but still received shit for anyway.

And, of course, you received shit for “letting” him in. Which you did not do! He had just waltzed in, hours after you had told him multiple times that he was not allowed in and that you were not allowed to let him in.

You glare at him again, and this time he’s looking at you, a single dark eyebrow raised.

You’d quite like to strangle him.

“You gonna tell me what these looks mean or am I just supposed to guess?” He asks, bemused.

“I’m mad at you,” you grit.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

The papers in your hold crumple as your fingers tighten. You can hear your molars grinding against each other as you try to hold back your anger. This fucking asshole—!

“Is this about earlier?”

“Yes. It is.”

He sighs, setting his pen down. “Look, we really needed to get that information and I already said—“

You interrupt him again with a barely concealed snarl. “Sure, right. You’re sorry, and you needed it, but I’m always the one that has to deal with the fallout, while you go prance about and fuck whores and get congratulations. And now we’re here late and I had to cancel my date and I’m so behind.” You bury your face into your palms with a groan of exasperation.

You peek through your fingers to glare at Javier again only to notice... is that …guilt reflecting in his brown eyes? Gods above, you didn’t think he was capable of feeling that emotion, or any, for that matter.

(You know he is. There had been a few times at the local bar with Steve, or in the parking lot after a late shift when he had shown the other side of him. When he’d talk about his family, or life back in the States, you saw something other than a flirtatious smirk or a tense look on his face. Something softer. Warmer. It was…disarming. And terribly addicting.)

Even so, this whole situation is because of him, so you push away the instinctual urge to forgive him just to wipe that look off his face.

Javier stands, straightening his papers and shoving them in a manila folder stamped with the word “CLASSIFIED” on top. You drop your gaze back to your work, trying to drown out the sound of him packing up.

Yeah. Fine. You go home, while I’m stuck here.

You’re almost able to read the words swimming in front of you when you’re interrupted by Javier leaning over your desk on his elbows, his leather jacket stretching audibly over his broad shoulders. He drops your coat down next to him on the polished mahogany and you tilt your head to regard him with suspicion, a snarky remark on the tip of your tongue.

He beats you to the punch.

“Are you even getting anything done anymore?” He asks, gesturing to your papers. You’ve reread the same paragraph about five times by now, you think.

“Actually, yes—“

He rudely interrupts you with a crooked grin. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. You’re terrible at it.” He taps your coat with two fingers. “Come on.”

“But I’m not done y—“

“I don’t care.” He interrupts, again. “I want to get out of here and you need to get out of here. Seriously. Let’s get something to eat, I’ll pay for it to make up for my shitty behavior.”

You stare at him in genuine surprise, jaw slack. “Wow, the Javier Peña can actually admit when he fucks up? I’m in shock.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a complete ass.”

“That’s debatable.”

He frowns. “Do you want food or not?”

“Are you threatening to go back on your word? That’s low even for you, Peña. I’m pretty sure when you’re in debt to someone you’re supposed to be treating them with respect—“

He grumbles and turns for the door. “Never mind about the empanadas, then.”

Your chair audibly screeches over the tile flooring as you jump up, slinging your jacket over your shoulder. “Wait! I’m coming.”

You try your damn best to ignore the amused smile on his face that, to your chagrin, makes him look rather handsome as you follow him out to his Jeep Cherokee.

“If I had known food won you over so easily I would’ve used that a long time ago.” He jokes as he turns the car on. You buckle yourself in.

“Yeah, well, don’t expect me to be so eager next time. I’m only accepting this because I was deprived of my meal tonight.”

He pulls out onto the road.

“Sorry you didn’t get to have a date full of awkward pauses and subpar food, sweetheart.”

You scoff at his audacity. "Goes to show how much you know about enjoying something other than sex with a woman."

"I know how to take a woman out on a date," he insists, glancing at you.

"Don't lie to me sweetheart, you're terrible at it," you echo his words from earlier back at him with a saccharine smile.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

After a moment, he finally speaks again, tone genuinely sincere. “I hope you know I really am sorry for everything and making you stay late."

It takes you by surprise, and you meet his stare. His brown eyes look almost black in the darkness. A shiver travels up your spine.

His eyes should be illegal.

You clear your throat, straightening in your seat. “Yeah, well, we’ll see if I forgive you after my food.”

He chuckles at that, “Okay.”

Eventually he pulls the Jeep into the parking lot of your favorite local place (how did he know?) and then you’re standing in line to order. It’s ten at night and somehow there is still a line. Well, it is your (and everybody else’s) favorite for a reason.

Javier manages to convince you to bring your empanadas back to his place.

“We live right next to each other.”

“All the more reason for me to go home.”

“I have dessert. I’m trying to make it up to you.”

“Ugh, fine.”

(You really don’t mind it. You just like to give him a hard time.)

So you order carry out.

His keys jangle as he unlocks the door to his apartment, and he sets the containers of carry out on his coffee table. He shrugs out of his leather jacket, and you do the same, trying not to stare at the way the sleeves of his button up stretch tantalizingly over his biceps, nor at the way his strong forearms are on display.

Listen. He might annoy the fuck out of you, but you can admit that he is quite...attractive.

“Make yourself at home. Want a drink?” He asks, already grabbing two glasses.

“Sure, whiskey is fine. Since I’m assuming that’s all you have.”

“You know me so well.”

You look around his apartment and notice it's sparsely decorated, which makes sense to you, although, it still feels cozy in a way.

The lamps reflect a gentle warm hue over the barren walls, save for a few government installed abstract paintings. Somehow, compared to your apartment in the same building, his place feels more comfortable.

There’s a hand-knitted afghan sitting over the back of his couch and you twist the fraying yarn between your fingers as you admire the handiwork.

“My abuela made that, before she died.” Javier says gently, handing you a glass of whiskey.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah. She was really talented. This was the only thing I wanted to take with me from the States.” He takes a sip from his glass.

“Did she knit a lot?”

He nods. “All of the time, it felt like. Can’t remember the last time I didn’t see her in a rocking chair, a ball of yarn at her feet.” He muses, and these are the moments with Javier that you crave. You wish you had more of them. The way he softens when he gets that damned smile on his face… the way the crows' feet around his warm brown eyes deepen... It's, as you said before, terribly addicting.

You smile gently. “Where’s all her work now?”

“With my dad. He hardly let me go with this.”

You chuckle, and then Javier’s gesturing to the couch.

“Come on.”

You follow him over to the couch and he settles down into the cushions with a sigh, resting an arm lazily across the back. You sit perched awkwardly on the end. All of a sudden, the room feels too small. It smells like him, like tobacco and sage and… man.

You’re finally realizing how close you’ve been to him this entire evening, and your body is certainly realizing it too.

See, this is why you had a date tonight.

“Relax,” he tells you.

“I am.”

“You’re not,” he leans forward, a smirk growing on his lips. “I’m not gonna bite, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You scoff, but a stubborn flush works its way into your cheeks. “No, ‘course not.”

You grab your container and Javier follows, and soon he’s got the TV on and you’re both enjoying your empanadas with the gentle noise of the Price is Right in the background. You relax into the cushions, your exhaustion encouraging you to do so before your brain can stop you.

It’s nice though. He’s… nice.

“Hey," Javier eventually mumbles into the space between you.

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna make sure the guys don’t come after you again for the bad decisions I make."

You roll your head to look at him, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s about time I took responsibility for the shitty things I’ve done."

“No truer words have ever been spoken.” You deadpan. It earns you a quiet chuckle, and you smile, turning your attention back to the TV.

You polish off your empanadas, licking the juices and bread crumbs from your fingers, and you think you see Javier watching you raptly out of the corner of your eye, but then you blink and his eyes are on the TV, as if he’d never been looking over at you in the first place.

Damn, you need to sleep.

“So,” he clears his throat, “Is this better than the date with Michael would’ve been?”

You groan dramatically. “Why are you so bothered by him?”

“‘M not.” He says, but it sounds unconvincing even to your ears. “Just curious.”

“Are you jealous, Javi?” You grin into your glass of whiskey, the alcohol pouring warmth into your bloodstream, along with that heady, outlandish, and fleeting thought of him actually being jealous, maybe even possessive over you.

You really need to sleep.

“‘Course not. Just want to make sure our little secretary is treated right.”

“I’m hardly treated right at work, this guy would probably be a step up from the people that talk to me on a daily basis.”

“I hope you don’t mean me.”

“I especially mean you.”

He sighs heavily, his head falling back against the cushions. He levels you with a pleading look, lips in a pout. “Come on, chiquita. When will you forgive me?”

Chiquita. That’s new.

You tap your chin, glancing about as if in thought, attempting to ignore the giddy feeling curling in your stomach at the pet name. “I dunno…You still haven’t convinced me that you’re truly sorry.”

Of course he has. You just like to stir the pot.

“No?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ dramatically, grinning smugly as you tease him. “You’re missing the whole groveling and begging on your knees, bit.”

It’s a joke. Seriously. You think he'll just laugh, wave it off, and then you’ll actually forgive him. But that’s not what happens at all.

Because he’s slowly lowering himself to the floor, all while keeping strict eye contact with you. The air rushes out of your lungs in a single, astonished, harsh exhale.

“What…what are you doing?” You breathe, because seriously, what the hell is he doing?

“Groveling. Isn't that what you want, chiquita?”

He places himself in between your legs, and you really should be pushing him away, but instead your legs spread to make room for him. The movement has his eyes darkening significantly.

Fuck. What are you doing?

“Javi…” You whisper, eyes wide.

A large, warm hand comes up to grip your right calf, massaging your muscles gently with thick, strong fingers while the other kneads at your left ankle. His lips press up against your leg in a soft kiss.

“Let me show you how truly sorry I am,” he whispers against your calf, chocolate eyes boring into you. Heat licks at your core in white hot flames.

Okay. Okay, wait, this is actually a really good way for him to repay you. He had deprived you of potential sex, but now is offering it to you on a silver platter.

Still, you hesitate, remembering his reputation.

“Javi, I don’t know… I don’t want to be another notch on your belt.”

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, his voice rough with sincerity. “You’re not. You never will be, you’re so much more than that, querida.” He reassures you, laying another soft kiss against your skin, and a shiver rattles your spine. “Wanna make you feel good…wanna make up for what I did..."

You take a shaky breath, warmth fanning out over your body.

Fuck, this could either be a really good idea, or a really bad idea that could fuck up your already fucked up work relationship.

But shit, if you aren’t wet right now…and he really does have some apologizing to do…

“Okay…show me.”

He sighs into your skin, his smile in relief edging on a satisfied smirk. “Thank you, chiquita.”

And then he’s pushing your pencil skirt up your thighs with his big hands, eyes raptly watching the way your skin is revealed to him, like carefully unwrapping a gift. Soon enough your skirt is pooled around your waist, your throbbing cunt trapped behind the lace of your black panties. Javi sucks in an appreciative breath, eyes scanning every inch of you.

He pulls at the elastic hem of your waistband, then releases, letting it slap against your skin, and looks up at you with barely concealed disdain, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. “These for Michael?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, trying to ignore the way his possessive question sends tingling heat through your core.

He tsks, squeezing your thigh. Why are his hands so goddamn big? “Now I'm glad I kept you late. He doesn’t deserve to see you like this.”

“Oh like you do?”

“Chiquita, I know I don’t. Still, who's in between your thighs right now? I bet Michael doesn’t even like to eat pussy.”

“Javi!” You scold, embarrassment traveling up your body. He just smirks.

“That’s certainly not the tone you’re supposed to be using with my name. Let’s fix that.”

He maneuvers his hands to grip your lower back, and he scoots you to the edge of the couch. He inches his fingers beneath your panties and slowly peels them off of you, pupils dilating when he notices the slickness of your cunt.

“Fuck, baby,” he mumbles, “you’re soaked.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been awhile.” You grumble, clenching around nothing at his words.

“You sure it’s not just because of me?”

“Positive, Peña.”

He leans in, warm breaths puffing over your aching core. “Mm, I love it when you’re mean, baby.”

And then he’s licking a hot stripe through your folds, and your hands that hold you upright jolt to his dark hair, threading the locks through your fingers. You sink into the couch on a high pitched whimper. “Javi—“

“Yeah, there we go, that’s it,” he hums against you, smiling into your pussy, and the vibrations travel through your spine, sending a wave of pleasure crashing into you.

His cockiness should make you mad, but all it does is make you crave him more.

He presses in, licking again, this time into you, and the tip of his curved nose bumps against your aching clit, releasing a wrecked moan from your lips.

“Shit,” you huff, eyes screwed shut as he continues to lap at you. “Remind me next time to ride your face—“

He stops his ministrations to look up at you, pupils blown wide, his glistening mouth curling wickedly. “Next time?”

“We all know men are prone to making mistakes,” you tease. “It’s just a matter of when. And when you do, I'll need another apology."

He goes to respond, but you tug on his soft hair, urging him back into your warmth. Whatever response he has is muffled into your slick, and he’s lapping you up like a man in the desert, moaning graciously.

You feel him start to pull back, and you open your eyes, glaring down at him. “What are you—“ Your protests fade into a moan when you feel two long, thick fingers slowly slide into you. Your head falls against the back of the couch.

“I knew you were a brat at work but I didn’t think you’d be the same in bed.” He jokes quietly into your thigh, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. They reach so much farther than yours do, and it feels so fucking good. God, you really needed this.

“Different from your usual whore, hm?” You quip in between moans.

“Yeah, I like it though,” he admits. “Could get fuckin’ addicted to your attitude and this pussy.”

You should be embarrassed by the new wave of slick running down his fingers at that, but you’re not. If he claims he could get addicted, you know you already are. You’re craving your next hit and Javi needs to be the one to give it to you.

He seems to know what you want without you having to say, leaning in to wrap his lips around your clit again.

You slouch into the couch, hips chasing his warm mouth, scooting you toward the edge. His other hand splays across your lower back, holding you upright, and you buck into him. You grip his hair, urging him closer to your heat.

You can feel your orgasm building, ebbing and flowing, like the waves of an ocean. Each lick and suck and prod from Javi paired with the skilled way his fingers thrust in and up and out of you feels like a tug from a rip current, threatening to pull you under.

God damn, he’s good.

“Fuck—hng—shit, Javi!”

“Mmhmm, taste so good, chiquita.” He moans against you.

“Mmngh, fuck, need you—your mouth on me all—all the time. So good.”

He sucks on your clit as if in agreement, and your hips jerk, the muscles in your thighs and abdomen spasming, just on the edge of your orgasm.

“‘m gonna come—Jav—“

He gently scrapes his teeth over your clit and—oh shit. You’re fucking gone.

Your orgasm punches the air out of you, exploding white hot, tingles zipping through your nerve endings. Warmth spreads across you like a roaring wildfire. You hardly register the moans leaking out of you in an endless stream, your body so overwhelmed with pleasure.

Javi’s moaning too, his other hand palming himself through his jeans as he laps up everything you give him.

Your legs shake as you ride it out, and he gently strokes them as he licks you through your high.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” he mumbles against your heat. “So fuckin’ good for me. Look so pretty when you come.”

He doesn’t stop, continuing to lick you through the aftershocks.

You tug on his hair, pulling him off of you when you’ve had enough. “Okay…that’s enough, Javi.”

Javier laughs as extracts himself from your legs, sitting down on the edge of the couch. You scoot back to sit properly again, though you're practically boneless against the cushions.

Comfortable silence settles over the both of you as you catch your breath. He smiles at you, his dimple showing, and you smile back at him, your heart jumping in your chest. He looks like he thoroughly enjoyed himself, all ruffled and flushed. His dark hair stands up in multiple directions from your tugging, and his mustache glistens with your arousal.

He looks so cute. Damn it!

Angry feelings for Javier were normal. But these…lovey dovey-esque feelings simmering beneath the surface are not.

You just can’t stay mad at him.

“…’Kay maybe I forgive you now.”

He raises a brow. “Just a ‘maybe’?”

You nod, eyes dropping down to where his cock is pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans, just begging to be freed. “Think I remember you mentioning dessert.”

He follows your line of sight and outright laughs, smiling so wide his eyes actually disappear. Fuck, why is he so cute? “I actually meant that—I have tres leches in the fridge but—shit, really?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “I mean, you might as well actually fuck me at this point.”

“Jesus Christ—okay.”

He pulls you toward his bedroom, but you both get distracted along the way.

He finds your lips at the entrance to the hallway, pressing you into the wall and kissing you roughly, hands unbunching your skirt to find the zipper, uttering under his breath about how unprofessional the garment is. Once the metal piece is in his fingers, he tugs it down, pulling away to watch your skirt fall to the floor.

He loses his shirt next, at the door to his bedroom, with you scolding him about how you’ll call HR on the amount of skin he dares to show at work. You only unbutton it enough for him to be able to pull it over his head, and then your hands are on him, squeezing the muscles of his arms and scratching lightly over his tan pectorals. You run your fingers up the long valley of his spine as he kisses you, delighting in the way he shudders against you at your touch.

He tugs yours off next, choosing now to bite your neck with a teasing “Guess I do bite”, and running his warm hands along your waist and breasts appreciatively.

You finally make it into his room and he’s pushing you onto the bed, climbing over you, still clad in his dark, too-tight jeans. Those need to come off.

“Fuck,” he swears, watching as you unbutton his jeans, tugging the zipper down. Arousal floods through you as you palm him through his briefs, hot and warm and big in your hands.

“Been thinkin’ about this for a while,” he says, voice rough. He tugs his jeans and briefs off then reclaims his spot over you, leaning down to mouth at your neck.

“How long,” you whimper, head tilting to allow him access. You shiver at the feeling of his light five 'o clock shadow scraping your neck as he moves up to your ear. He bites gently down on your earlobe.

“Too fucking long.”

Your hand wraps around his thick, warm length, and he jerks, thrusting into your loose fist. He groans, a sound so wrecked it’s like he’s in pain, and you take that as the sign that you need to get things moving.

You direct the head of his cock to your entrance, your gaze catching his own. Heavy eyes framed by thick lashes watch your face scrunch in pleasure as he slowly sheaths himself in you. God you feel so full as he bottoms out, more than you have with anyone else.

“Been wanting this too,” you admit.

He smirks, “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You roll your eyes, but then he thrusts into you and they actually roll into the back of your head as he pulses inside you.

“Fuck, Javi.”

“That’s it, chiquita.” He grips your thigh, pushing it up to gain a new angle. And then he picks up his pace, fucking into you with abandon. It’s like you can feel it in your throat, his cock hitting deep inside you. You jerk against the bed, the headboard slamming into the wall rhythmically. How many times have you heard this through the wall being his neighbor just on the other side? And now it’s you in the place of the multiple women he’s had over. And you think, maybe, that he’s enjoying it more with you than he was with them.

He’s grunting above you, moans and whimpers escaping his lips as he fucks you with all the skill and expertise he’s gained over the many years of fucking his informants. He’s louder than he was when you heard him with the others.

And you…you’re louder than the many times you got off by yourself just on the other side of the wall. Moans and praises drop out of your lips unfiltered—you just can’t stop.

“That’s it, Javi–yes. So good. Fucking me so well.”

And he’s fucking…loving it.

You can feel his dick jumping inside you with each compliment, and it sends a new wave of arousal crashing within you each time.

He’s getting close, but so are you, everything is tightening, a catapult ready to sling you off the deep end.

"Javi—I'm—“

"Yeah, that's it, baby." His hand gravitates down to circle your clit. "Come for me, being so good—you deserve it after today. Come on—“

You deserve it.

That's what fucking gets you.

Heat and fire and light and everything heavenly bursts within you as you come on Javier's cock, muscles spasming as they rejoice in that fact that you're finally getting laid. You're practically screaming, back arching off the bed as you ride the wave.

And Javi's fucking you through it, trying to hold off. But you don’t want him to.

"Come in me, Javi."

“You sure?”

“Please.”

How is he supposed to deny you?

He comes right on command, releasing inside you, and the feeling is euphoric. He's warm and hot as he coats the inside of you, and...shit...

...how are you supposed to live without this?

He collapses next to you, and you both lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

You turn on your side to look at him, but he's already watching you. His hand idly traces the inside of your arm.

You think you could get used to this.

"So," he says, dragging out the syllables, "forgive me now?”

You run a hand down his chest in thought.

“Hmm… I think I might need a little more convincing.”

He just grins. “You’re a fuckin’ menace.”

And then he’s reaching his hand up to cup your jaw and pull you in for a kiss much more sweeter and tender than before, as if this kiss is the real apology, and everything else before was just him buttering you up to prepare you.

If that’s the case, you accept it anyway, because you deserve it. And so does he. And you know he’ll just keep making mistakes—he’s only human, after all.

But at least he has a method to earning your forgiveness.

Oh, and carry out.

#javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña smut

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wannab-urs · 11 months ago

Text

Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you.

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here.

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH.

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar.

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming.

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet.

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners.

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?”

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading.

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?”

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap.

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file.

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work.

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner.

“So what are your plans tonight?” he asks.

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe.

“Your plans? For your birthday?”

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet.

“Me and Murphy could take you out?”

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,” Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look.

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door.

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life.

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve?

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door.

“Peña? What are you doing here?”

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face.

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.”

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware.

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it.

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.”

“Fine… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you.

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better.

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you.

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little.

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip.

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty.

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue.

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips.

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.”

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?”

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt.

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you.

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you.

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.”

He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?”

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you.

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.”

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you.

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter.

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly.

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

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maskedteaser · 6 months ago

Note

I feel you about rdr2, I feel like I'm walking through a desert with no water😭

But if you don't mind me requesting something...

Maybe Sean or Kieran (or whoever you want, I'm fine with anybody) with a crush on s/o who's just an absolute ray of sunshine and they're too nervous to ask s/o out because of this

hii! i'm so glad to be able to do my first request ever! hope you like it! I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes - english is not my first language! requests are open. Sorry it took so long to write - it is like...my second time writing an actual thing with plot in english! [not proofread i'm sorry i cringed too hard when i tried to read it] CW: none? i think? mentions of alcohol if you squint in javier's part the spanish petnames he uses are feminine(?) but i think there is no other use of any gender comfirming things so i guess it's gender neutral reader fic? ALSO THEY ARE PROBABLY OOC IM SO SORRY :((( 05.06.2024. signed TEASER 📺 [ BANNERS ARE MADE BY ME! ]

SEAN MACGUIRE

You were ethereal in his eyes. Always shining, blooming, filling every space you were in with joy and feeling of safety. Soft hair sparkling in the sun, pupils always wandering around, looking for a sad soul to cheer up. Hands in the air, moving around uncontrollably when you tried to tell a story, gesturing the things that you were imagining. Truly mesmerising, he felt like he just had to have you, but his every attempt at flirting with you was just taken as a joke, rewarded by a small smile from you, a little giggle, and it broke his heart, making it rush at the same time.

But Sean MacGuire was an impatient man. Impatient and so obvious with his emotions. Expressive, always made it known when he felt good or bad, when he was falling apart (which was a really rare sigh anyways) or his heart was full of passion. But you made it easy to feel euphoric and then send him to the lowest mental state he could ever be. He couldn't wait to tell you how he wanted you to be his and only his, but for some reason - you were always busy, someone always wanted to talk with you, stealing your attencion. And when you were free, he was too stunned to speak. That never happened in his entire life! His never ending monologue, his mouth that was always talking, everything stopped. Sean MacGuire smiled, excused himself for bothering you and left, leaving you confused but a smile didn't leave your soft lips. He was sitting alone, planning a new way to confess to you. Never in his life would he admit that he was, simply but truly, scared. Of rejection? Maybe. Or of the fact that you might take it as a joke. That would be even worse in his eyes. Sean suddenly remembered the fact that Arthur one day came up to him and asked about his relationship with you, he said that it was so horrendously obvious that he likes you, that he's sweet on you, but he also told him that he might be too simple for you. Too straightforward but at the same time - not cultured enough. Bascially telling him that he might be too dumb for you, straight into his poor face, into his lost puppy eyes. The truth was that, in fact, Sean was just lost without you. With you around, he felt like a better version of himself. That's why he wanted you so badly. He asked Lenny to teach him to read, so he could become a well-read person for you. But Sean MacGuire was an impatient man. Abandoning his mission after only few pages. His impulsitivity took over, he decided that if he's not the one for you, it's better to know as soon as it's possible. In case he had to move on, in case you decide to break his young, so obsessed with you heart. Stealing Dutch's cologne, Lenny's good shirt and wearing his only pants that were clean and somehow not holey - he got ready for you. He even washed his hair in the river, using actual soap that one of the girls from the camp once gave him. What a sweetheart. His plans were suprisingly really detailed. Sean wanted to pick some flowers for you and ask you to go to the town with him, he wanted to mount his horse, see you mount yours and go. But his dreams and distant goals got interrupted by hearing your voice coming near his tent. — Sean! Javier was just asking if you... — you didn't finish your sentence. Halfway in his tent, you laid your eyes on him, clearly preparing for some event. A date? Maybe? How could you know? — Oh! Sean, you look really good! What happened? — you looked up, his soft hair, freshly washed, much more shinier, looking healthy for once. — you washed your hair, so it must be something big. — you added, smiling. It was semi-dark in his tent, light being casted only by a little lamp with a candle inside of it. So you couldn't see how his cheeks got redder when he heard your compliment. — well, I actually...You know... — he started, nervously, but who wouldn't be nervous in that kind of a situation? Being caught preparing for a date, that wasn't even accepted by the other side in the first place. — It is something big. — Sean's voice still had his iconic cheerfulness, but you could hear the little shakes in it as well. But you didn't interrupt, you listened. He took a deep breath and said quickly, his accent almost making it incomprehensible — I was wondering if you'd like to go to the town with me and maybe you know have a drink or two? Like a party, just the two of us, you know? Ay, yeah! Actually I also wanted to say that I really like you! Maybe love...Yeah, that might be a better word for that. I love ya. So? Would you like to go with me? — he looked up at you, his heart beating so fast, he could almost hear it. It's now up to you. Do you agree or not?

JAVIER ESCUELLA

Absolutely smitten with you. Sitting by the fireside on a warm night, you were situated at the opposite side of the fire, watching people that were finishing their chores around the camp. Your delicate presence, hair moved by wind, shining eyes. His mind was in a different place. Holding his guitar, trying to play and sing, but you were distracting. It was almost impossible to get him to the state that he forgot how to play, but with you around, he literally seemed like he just bought this intrument, constantly making little mistakes. Blood rushing to his cheeks every time he got out of rhythm or the sound his guitar made was closer to a scratch than to any melody. But you seemed to not mind, accepting him the way he was, quietly giggling, but not laughing at him, you were just so full of happiness, your gaze only encouraged him to keep playing and he loved it. Loved you. Badly.

But he felt like loving you was never enough, since you seemed to never actually acknowledge his feelings, the deep desire that made his dreams full of you. Everything reminded him of you. You joined the gang a few months ago, how could you fuck him up so badly in such a short period of time? Wrapped around your finger, willing to give you the entire world if you asked him to. He just knew that you'd never ask him to, you were just too...good. You never asked for help yourself, but always wanted to help others. Putting everyone above yourself, taking care of everyone, even Micah, who said so much bad things about you, spitting poison at you every time you walked by, but when he felt ill, you still was a first person to give him health cure.

Javier could only watch from afar. Fascinated, hypnotised by your moves, your energy, how your voice could put everyone in a good mood. When you were telling stories, you'd tell them with so much passion, but when someone else needed to be listened - you were all ears, asking questions, made everyone feel welcomed and safe. He sometimes really thought that you are not real, that you are an angel sent to the camp in those hard times.

Lost in his thoughts again, he missed a string while playing and his guitar made another weird sound. Immediately grounded by that, he looked in the direction you were sitting, only to realise - you were not there anymore. He started looking for you, and he saw that you were sitting next to him. How could he not notice? God, were his reflexes that poor? If it was a life threatening situation, he'd probably be dead by now.

— I noticed that you are a bit lonely here, Javier, — the way his name slipped of your lips so softly, how he'd kill to hear his name coming from that sweet mouth again and again, until he lost his senses. — Mind if I keep you company? You seem stressed, is something bothering you? — when he heard your voice, and your body getting a bit closer to him, his muscles tensed. He put his guitar away, gently, laying it on a ground, leaned it against the barrel that was near.

— what can I say, hermosa. — he sometimes called you Spanish pet names, because he was sure you didn't understand them (if you could, well, he was not aware...) — There is that one girl that completely took over my mind and I can't focus on anything else because of her. She's not even mine, but I'm jealous of everyone that makes her laugh. It's probably wrong, but it's the truth. She's like a milagro walking on this sad country, healing everyone with her presence, so I'm almost certain I don't deserve her, but oh...I can always dream, can't I? — he could swear you put a spell on him. He never meant to open up about his feelings, especially not around you, especially talking about you.

What a fool he was. He couldn't even manage to raise his eyes up to meet your gaze, so he was not able to see the sadness flicker in your face, soft sigh escaping your lips, which was a sign of your heart getting a bit broken, he taken it as a sign of stress and fatigue.

— do you want me to help you with asking her out? I'm a woman myself so I know what most of us like to do... — you said, and oh, he knew that it would happen. Your first thought when someone has a problem is to help them out, any way you can, no matter your own feelings and struggles.

— tell me...how your perfect date would look like? I think she's really similar to you, she might enjoy the same things. — he said, still nervous, his eyes locked on the ground.

So you started to talk about your perfect date. How you'd spend it, and his head was full of ideas by now. He knew exactly where to take you, what to do, so when you finished your monologue, he offered, finally looking up, making eye contact:

— are you free tonight, angelita? Your wish is my command. — his cheeks a bit red, the orange light from nearby fire slightly shining on his skin.

Not it was up to you if you'd like to go with him. What do you say?

KIERAN DUFFY

Oh, that poor boy. His heart couldn't take it. The only person that showed him any kind of affection in this camp, the only one that cared, listened to him, believed him. When he was still tied to the tree, he used to spend all day looking at you with fascination, trying to understand who you were to other gang members, his gaze was subtle, always looking away just in time before anyone would notice. But he was sure you would never look at him the way he looks at you, and his heart ached every time he reminded himself of the fact that he was just a stranger in this camp, he was considered a spy, traitor, enemy. Yet you still treated him with such kindness and care, always asking if he needs anything, if you can do something to ease his pain and stress.

Sometimes you sat near him and talked with him, not caring about what others might think, saying that as long as there is no proof of him doing anything wrong, you will not act like he is a criminal. And he was honestly so thankful for that. He was not sure what he deserved to have you as some sort of ally, but since you were the only one he trusted (even if it was only a little bit) he started to actually feel something deeper than friendship towards you.

He didn't want to admit that it was love. But if not love, then what was it? Unreasonable high blood pressure when he saw you, his eyes sparkly, heart beating faster, his body always felt so full of life, shattering when he saw that someone disrespected you or treated you badly. He couldn't do anything, so he just watched when Micah, because he was literally the only one that ever mistreated you, decided to yell at you. He could only sigh, waiting for you to come to him and moan about how you hate this blonde, egocentric guy.

His most common way of showing his affection to you was by taking care of your horse while listening to you, always remembering everything you said, whether it was a mention of your favourite food, people that you like, your dream future or what beautiful clothes you saw at the shop when you travelled to town the other day. Your complaints that you couldn't afford them though... How Kieran wished he could be rich, so he could buy you those clothes, so he could see you happy. But he knew he could never be able to do that.

He dreamed of asking you out. You were on his mind all day and night, but, god, how was he supposed to do that? He couldn't leave the camp, and if he could, it was supposed to be a fishing trip or something, no going to town, no having too much fun, no buying things (he had no money anyways).

So the day you came to him and said that Micah once again told you that you are an useless addition to the camp, instead of passive listening and nodding his head, he actually asked: — how about we go fishing? I will teach you how to do that so next time he says something like that, you can prove him wrong by bringing bunch of fishes to the camp! — his voice started to shake at the end of his sentence, when he understood that he is basically asking you out on an almost date. He looked at you with hope in his eyes.

— fishing? I don't know if Micah would consider fishing as an useful skill...I don't think if anything that is done by a woman is useful in his eyes. I actually believe he might be jealous of Dutch, he wants him all to himself... — you said, giggling a bit. And Kieran had to agree with you. The way Micah was always complimenting Dutch was actually a bit concerning, but as long as he could stay in this camp, he didn't want to ask. He guessed that "that's how the things are in this gang".

— well, you're probably right. He will treat everyone badly regardless of their hard work. But hey, fishing is a nice thing to do anyways, right? I promise you, it's really relaxing! — Kieran was nervous, of course, but you could also see an honest, bright smile on his face, he showed signs of happiness, and that was something really nice to see.

So? Do you agree to go with him? It's your choice.

pls give me any feedback, even as anons <3 much love, teaser

#rdr2 x reader #kieran duffy x reader #rdr2 fic #sean macguire #javier x reader #javier escuella x reader #sean macguire x reader #kieran duffy #arthur morgan x reader #fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 x you #javier escuella #javier escuella x you #sean macguire x you #teaser.writing.rdr2

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mentally-a-slut · 7 months ago

Text

Three Days (Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader) (SMUT)

Anddddd here we are! Part two of 'Staring Problem'! This can be read as a stand alone, but if you want a suggestive lead up, then go read part one! I tried my best with this one, but I haven't written explicit smut like this in a long time, so go easy on me! Writing this also reminded me that I loathe writing in second person, so from here on out I think I'll either do first or third. I won't bore you with details here, but I'll put up a separate post updating y'all on some stuff. Anyway, enjoy, and please leave feedback! Silent readers are appreciated but leaving comments helps me get motivated to continue! Even just a one word comment or an emoji helps! - Azi >:)

Summary: Arthur's been gone on a job for three days, which isn't a new development. However, a new development in your relationship just before he left leave you wanting. But fear not, as your troubles will be soon solved!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unprotected PinV sex, smut, oral (f receiving), overall filth, reader is female, unedited (sorry), probably OOC Arthur but we're here for dick not character analysis!

You had always hated when Arthur went away on jobs, but ever since he left you hanging, your distaste for his long absences had grown.

You hadn't seen the man in three days, only getting a parting kiss and a heavy, heated promise as a farewell. The first day he was gone, you were mostly in awe of what had happened, wistfully going about your day and daydreaming of things to come.

The second day left you a little frustrated, the ache for him only growing with his absence. The other girls had noticed too, only making you more irritable as they teased you relentlessly for your obvious attitude change.

The third day was when you started to get worried. He'd been gone on longer jobs than this before, but you still couldn't help the nervous bouncing of your leg as you sat across from Tilly, trying to busy yourself with patching up some clothes.

"I'm sure he's fine. He's been gone much longer than this before."

Your lips contorted into a line, eyebrows knitted as you shook off the pain of the needle piercing the soft pad of your thumb. "I know. Just miss him, I guess."

Tilly just smiled and let you work in silence alongside her.

Arthur had gone to rob some stagecoach close to Emerald Ranch, along with Javier and Micah. You trusted Javier to help bring him back safely, but the addition of Micah made you nervous. He had a reputation of losing his cool and endangering the lives of everyone in a five mile radius.

Abigail had been very helpful the last couple of days. She understood every minor shift in your demeanor in the time he was gone. John was no stranger to long jobs, so Abigail knew exactly how it felt to sit idle while the men were out in danger.

John tried to be helpful, saying things about how Arthur had been bled half to death before and still made it back alive, but that only made things worse. You appreciated the effort, though.

It was getting close to evening now, the light of the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon. You tried not to feel disappointed, knowing that if they were on the way back, they would likely stop and make camp for another night before arriving. Riding at night was never good unless they were on the way to a job. Riding back during the day was safer, and helped them keep an eye out for any witnesses or general hinderances along the way.

Just as you were about to resign yourself to your lonely bedroll for the night, the sound of rumbling hooves shook the ground under your feet.

You whipped your head around to see three healthy horses slowing to a walk near the hitch posts, each one carrying an upright, unharmed figure. You silently cursed the fact that Micah had made it back alive, but figured it was too much to hope that you'd get Arthur back and get rid of Micah in one day.

You didn't care what it looked like to the others, throwing all cares out as you rushed over to greet the man that had been haunting your thoughts for the last three days. He was just finishing up tying his big black shire to the post, taking the weight off his horse for the night, when you tackled him into a hug.

He stumbled slightly, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist as he snaked an arm around yours to steady himself. His breath tickled the top of your head as he chuckled. "Miss me?"

You scoffed and pulled your head from his chest, still gripping the sides of his jacket as you looked up at him. "You were gone three days!"

He smiled down at you and pulled you back against him, settling his other hand to cradle your head against his chest. "I missed you too, sweetheart."

All of a sudden, he withdrew, his eyes landing on the man a few feet away that was tending to his horse. "Javier!"

He turned. "Yeah, Arthur?"

"Tell Dutch me and my lady are goin' on a little vacation for a while, will ya?"

Javier nodded with a smirk, and you shrieked as Arthur lifted you onto his horse without warning. He followed shortly after, kicking his horse into a fast walk as a few wolf whistles resounded from camp.

You held onto his waist tightly as he sped up. "Where are we goin'?"

"Just into town."

"What are we gonna do there so late at night?"

You felt more than heard his responding chuckle. "Get a room."

"Oh. Oh."

The excitement that tingled through your body was electric, buzzing the whole ride there.

~~~~~~

You would have flustered at the knowing look on the hotel receptionist's face if you had been at all aware of anything but Arthur.

Arthur thanked the man before leading you up the stairs to the room, his large hand gripping yours the whole way there. You expected him to jump straight into action the second the door closed behind you, but instead his strong arms pulled you into a hug.

His arms encircled you and pressed you against him as he nestled his face into your neck. The vibration of his words against your neck sent sparks through your body straight to your core. "Thought about you the whole time."

You sighed into him, holding onto his as if he would disintegrate upon letting go. He only pulled back to gently tilt your chin up, pressing a sweet kiss against your lips.

The kiss was so soft, so filled with emotion, his fingers brushing lovingly across your cheek as your lips molded together. You were the one to lean into it, chapped lips parting and teeth nipping lightly at him.

The responding noise from him fueled your desire more, the desperate groan making your whole body ache for his touch. His hands moved from your waist to your hips, fingers bunching up in the fabric of your shirt as he fought your tongue with his.

When his rough fingers brushed against the bare skin of your waist, you whined into the kiss, arching into him. He chuckled against your lips, brushing his hands even further up your shirt and coming to a stop just under your tits.

You broke the kiss just for a moment to lift your shirt over your head, discarding it wildly behind you. You yelped as he lifted you and spun you around, walking you backwards towards the bed. You tugged him down on top of you, slipping a hand under his shirt to feel to ripples of muscle on his chest and stomach.

"Arthur," you whined, tugging at his shirt. He got the hint, discarding his shirt before meeting your lips again. His kiss was rougher this time, wet and messy as he took in the feeling of your body against his. You brought your legs up to circle around his waist, and you whimpered when he pressed his hips forward against yours, his hardened cock straining against his pants.

You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging lightly. He squeezed your hips in response, kissing down your neck and nipping at the skin on your chest.

His hands snaked around your back, undoing your bra without even pausing. He broke the kiss only when he pulled the straps down, revealing your chest to the open air. Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but he didn't even give you the chance.

You didn't have the brain capacity to be embarrassed at the sound that came out of you when he took a nipple into his mouth, gripping the other with his large hand. He groaned against you, his erection brushing against you. He was growing harder by the second, the mere sight of you arousing him intensely.

His unoccupied hand stroked down your stomach, slipping two fingers in the waistband of your pants. You nodded and begged desperately, writhing against him. "Please! Please, Arthur..."

He moved his lips to your other nipple, quickly unbuttoning your pants and ridding you of both them and your panties in one movement. His lips separated from your chest as he moved up to you, staring into your eyes with intense lust. "I'm gonna get you ready, baby, that okay?"

Your heart swelled with emotion, only intensifying your desire. Even when he was desperate with lust, he looks at you with such caring, always making sure your okay. "Yes, yes, please!"

He smiled at you before kissing you sweetly, slowly kissing down your body. You whined as his hot breath brushed your core, your head tilting up to look at him between your legs.

His eyes glittered with amusement as they met yours, a teasing finger brushing your inner thigh. It was so close to where you needed it, but so far. "You're a tease."

He chuckled, "Can't help it when you look so pretty beggin' for me."

You threw your head back and groaned, half in frustration and half in arousal. Your noise quickly shifted to a whine when he suddenly slid a finger across you folds, head fuzzy with pleasure. "So wet already. All for me, sweetheart?"

You groaned and nodded, hips shifting towards him in an attempt to get him to do it again. "Ah, use your words."

Your words were half whimpered. "Yes! All for you, only for you, please!"

"Good girl."

He swiped his finger through your folds again, this time teasing his fingertip around your aching entrance. You bucked against him when his thumb brushed against your clit, breathing coming out in short, whiny sighs. "Please."

"Whatever you say, baby."

You moaned as a finger slid into you, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. Before you could complain at the lose of stimulation when he removed his thumb, his lips connected and sucked harshly. Your moans were surely loud enough to be heard, but the pleasure that wracked your body was so overwhelming you couldn't bring yourself to care.

His finger slowly moved in and out, brushing against your sensitive walls as his tongue assaulted your clit. You tangled a hand in his hair, tugging harder than you intended. He groaned against you, making a jolt of pleasure shoot through you.

The stretch of another finger was added, making you cry out. It wasn't enough to be painful, just enough to make you stretch around him so deliciously. He pulled his lips off of you and looked down at you, eyes hungrily watching as your cunt swallowed up his fingers. You looked down at him, lips parted with pleasure as he worked his fingers inside you. "More."

He glanced up at you with a smirk, slipping in a third finger. It sent a small jolt of discomfort through you, but it was quickly overwhelmed with pleasure as the third finger pressed against the most sensitive parts of your walls. "Oh, fuck, Arthur!"

"Feel good, huh?"

"Yes! Please, please, I'm gonna cum!"

He sped up, his fingers pumping in and out of your relentlessly. He leaned back in to swirl his tongue against your clit, which made you walls start spasming around him. Your thighs tensed, threatening to close around him, but he pulled back and held your legs open.

"Go on, baby, I wanna see your pretty face when you cum."

You couldn't form any words as his fingertips curled inside you and prodded against you in a way that made you see stars. His encouraging words only pushed you closer and closer.

"Good girl, doin' so good for me." You moaned and clenched around his fingers, muscles spasming as the dam broke. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you came, short, whiny moans escaping your lips as he fingered you through it.

With a gentle kiss against your clit that made you twitch, he pulled his fingers out of you and rose to look at you. You forced your eyes open, smiling breathlessly up at him. "You okay?"

You couldn't help but laugh, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. "More than okay. That was amazing."

He smiled and kissed you again, slow and loving. You knew you could tell him you were done for the night and he would agree in a heartbeat, not even caring about his own unresolved desires. But his sweet kiss only fueled another spark, already tingling through your body. His moaned against your lips as you arched against him, legs moving to wrap around his waist and pull him against you.

He pulled away with a raised eyebrow. "You're a needy one, aren't you?"

"Only for you."

You pulled him back down, kissing him roughly and pressing your hands all over his bare skin. His hips bucked forward when you tugged at his waistband, his desperation shining through even when he tried to stifle it.

You pushed him back, catching him off guard and shoving him onto the bed. He chuckled and shifted further back, letting you swing your leg across his hips and straddle him. You leaned down to kiss down his neck, smiling at the soft murmurs of content as you nipped at his collarbone.

You reached between the two of you, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down. He helped you and kicked them the rest of the way off, leaving him in only his boxers. You stared down at the bulge that strained against the white fabric, a wet spot of pre cum soaking a part of it. You looked down at him with a proud smile. "I do that to you?"

His hands slid up your thighs and caressed you hips. "You do so much to me. More than you could ever imagine."

You leaned down to kiss him, pouring all your emotions of admiration and lust into it. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing as he groaned against your lips. Your hips pressed down against his. sending a shock of pleasure through you as your clit brushed against his clothed bulge.

He would have been content to kiss you like that forever, but you were growing more and more desperate with each touch. You slid your fingers into his boxers without breaking the kiss, gently stroking his cock. His reaction spurred you on, and you pushed his boxer down to release him.

You marveled at his size as he helped you discard his underwear, leaving him fully bare underneath you. He was thick, and longer than anyone else you'd ever had. Your hand continued to slowly stroke up and down his shaft, thumb smearing the beads of precum around him. You were transfixed on him, lost in the feeling of his soft skin against your palm.

"Fuck, baby, as pretty as you look doin' that, I don't wanna cum just yet."

You slowed your movements to a stop and looked up at him with a soft smile. The admiration you felt for the man beneath you was overwhelming, and you didn't know if you could ever truly explain to him how much he meant to you.

You slowly moved to kiss him again, soft and sweet. You let your hips relax against his, smirking as his hips shifted under you to gain friction. You moved your hips against his shaft, your cunt dragging against him. You continued grinding on him, breathing growing heavier as the tip of his cock teased at your entrance with each movement.

After a few more seconds of torturing him, you lifted your hips and gripped his cock, prodding him against you entrance. Before you moved, you pulled away from his kiss, sitting up and placing a hand on his chest for balance. He groaned as he looked up at you, poised above his cock, cunt dripping with anticipation.

Emotion shone in his eyes, gaze still so loving even when clouded with lust. With a sigh, you lowered yourself slightly, taking his tip inside. You knew it was going to be a stretch, so you had to restrain yourself and take it slow.

He groaned at the sight of your cunt swallowing him, even just the tip of him. You held his gaze as you lowered another two inches, fingers gripping his chest at the slight stretch. Soon, his hands gripped your hips tightly as he helped you sink down all the way, clit brushing against him as you were finally fully seated against his pelvis.

Your eyes were dark with lust, cunt clenching around his cock as you adjusted. His eyes flickered over you, rapidly moving between your joined bodies, your heaving chest, and your face. "So perfect. Take me so well."

His words spurred you to move, lifting your hips slightly and moaning sweetly as you sank back down. The pain of the stretch had completely disappeared, replaced with a blinding pleasure. You rolled your hips a few more times before rising further, speeding up.

His hands held your hips tightly, his thighs tensing as he tried to hold himself back. "Fuck, sweetheart, look at you. Swallowing me up like that."

His words only increased your desire, your hips rising and falling faster, legs lifting you further off his cock. His moaned as he stuttered out praises, hands tightening on your hips as you rose fully off him and slammed back down again. Your pace increased, his length filling you up perfectly and brushing against the sensitive spots within you.

You struggled to hold yourself as you got closer and closer, pace faltering. You whined, every breath coming out as a soft moan. "You're doin' so good baby, want me to take over?"

You managed a messy nod, and his hips immediately rose up to meet yours, hands moving your hips up and down on him. You threw your head back as your cunt spasmed, orgasm coming down hard and fast. "I'm- fuck! Gonna cum!"

"Go 'head baby, I've got you."

With his words, you moaned with your release, his cock still pounding into you as you rode it out. Your senses were fuzzy, everything covered in a blanket of pleasure. You didn't even realize he had flipped you over, your head against the soft pillow. As your vision cleared, you looked up at him, blissful smile on your face.

"You did so good, honey, think you can gimme another?"

You nodded blearily, spreading your legs further as he continued thrusting into at a ruthless pace. You were building up to another one fast, barely even recovered from your previous one. His hand rested against your throat, grounding you but not squeezing. "So gorgeous, my pretty girl. Look so good stuffed full of my cock."

You moaned pathetically, hands going up to hold his face and grip his hair. "You feel so good, Arthur, I- I love how you make me feel."

He groaned in response, slamming into your cunt even faster. "So tight for me, gonna make me cum. Where d'ya want me?" He struggled to get the question out, his voice stammering through moans.

"Inside. Fill me up, Arthur."

His hand tightened around your throat for a moment at your words, and he moaned loudly. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me."

His movements grew sloppier, fingers pressing against your throat as he pressed his lips to yours in a messy kiss. With a few more thrusts, your own orgasm came to a head, only slightly preceding his.

His groaned against your lips and your walls clenched around him, his cum painting your insides as you milked him. He fucked you through it, kiss growing softer as he slowed to a stop. He stilled inside you, pulling back to look in your eyes.

You looked back at him, lips curled into a soft smile as he rested his forehead against yours. He pulled out carefully, planting a sweet kiss on your lips to distract you from any discomfort.

He shifted to lay next to you, turning his head to look at you. "You okay?"

You smiled and looked at him. "With you? Always."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #fem!reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #smut #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption #rdr2 smut #female reader #afab reader #one shot #part 2 #part two #azi's creations

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toxicanonymity · 1 year ago

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when raider met sweet pea

1k words | analysis of raider!Joel x f!reader

Raider Joel Master List

This is a peek inside early, unevolved raider joel in the original fic from March. We know how much he’s grown since then, but he’s done terrible, inexcusable things, and he knows it. NOTES: You're referred to as sweet pea in this, Joel's pet name for you. General HC followed by Q&A. Thank you @milla-frenchy for always having good Qs. I have great Qs from others too that I'll get to as I can (looking at u @javier-penas-wifexx420, and others). To raider's pr team, sorry for going back in time but FIWB. WARNINGS: References to noncon, assault.

Here’s how I HC what happened under the surface: When Joel interrupted the men from taking sweet pea, it wasn't a noble rescue mission. Mainly, he was fed up with the men and wanted to put them in their place. But then, one of the men used the butt of his rifle under her chin to make her look up, and this is what unlocked or triggered something in Joel: She looked at Joel thinking he was saving her, and something in her face had a subconscious effect on him -- like he saw her hope and appreciation, and saw someone looking at him like he was a good man who mattered to them. It made him feel needed, which he hadn’t felt for so long that he didn’t even recognize the feeling, or know how to feel it, much less what to do with it.

That moment created the tiniest crack, a minuscule window into the man buried under the persona built by trauma and the apocalypse. The crack was too tiny to change his behavior yet, but that tiny window allowed him to see a glimmer of something else possible and allowed him to subconsciously connect with her in a way he hadn't connected in ages. From his raider persona, everyone is pretty 2D, so consciously, he's not seeing or treating her (or anyone) as a real person at this point. But that moment still resulted in a “spark,” like a magnetism, and the crack in his shell grows over time.

When he takes her inside: it was likely unusual that he took her somewhere private. Normally, he does things in front of the other men to show dominance (see Stash House). Subconsciously, that tiny part of him wanted to feel like a protector, and taking her somewhere private may have been his pathetic idea of a protective gesture, physically picking her up and taking her away from the worse (more violent) guys.

He takes her to the room intending for her to suck his dick by default, but I don't think P in V was always his intent: He doesn't threaten or mention fucking her upfront when he’s telling her what’s going to happen. He tells her she's gonna suck his dick and to be a good girl and it'll be over quick. While she sucks him, he decides he has to have her (be inside her). He says "alright sweet pea, now pull down your pants for me." He was acting on his primitive urges and what his body wanted in that moment for whatever reason -- he's a raider and has a huge sense of entitlement. Even though his escalation wasn’t out of malice, the effect is that he made the attack worse. He’s a bad person and a r*pist, and he knows it.

(Note, I’m only censoring this word because other people censor it and I sense some people find it jolting to see even if they read noncon. I'm not censoring it to try to make him look better. His past is a part of him, there's no getting around the fact that he's a r*pist. He's the last person who would want it forgiven or excused. He kinda hates himself ).

Q: I've been wondering if he could have done to other women what he did to sweet pea in the 1st chapter

He did at least make other women suck his dick in the past. As for how he sees his past behavior now, it'll come out eventually, not like an OOC monologue, like a word in passing or implied here or there.

Q: I think you wrote somewhere that Joel didn't approve of the behavior of some of his men with women, and that Carter wasn't like that (was I dreaming?)

The men who had sweet pea at the beginning of ch 1 are more physically aggressive and violent with women, physically forcing them and hurting them, whereas Joel calmly told sweet pea what to do (while he was heavily armed) and didn’t physically hurt her. The other men will smack them around and gang rape them. Joel feels like that behavior from men is weak, like if you're going to physically hurt someone, pick on someone your own size. He doesn’t feel moral superiority for this (I mean he doesn't see himself as a good guy), but he sees himself as stronger and more dominant than men who need to hurt a weaker person.

Q: Why is he so possessive and jealous, since day 1? In failed rescue : "He describes you. Joel’s jaw clenches and his eyes darken. He waits a beat before answering." I love that 😏 but it's super fast. Did she trigger something in him from day one?

When he initially decided she's his so quickly, most importantly, he means she's not anyone else's. He's in charge, he's claimed her, he's dominant, and he's the boss. That was his original intent and he didn't expect it to go further than that. But it goes beyond that because of the moment explained above. So it's also his primitive instinct that she's his, and that’s what you see when her bf describes her in your quote. Whatever connection or feeling was created by the way she looked at Joel made her special, and he couldn't let go of it. So she became like a precious possession at that point. Since then, he’s slowly evolved to where she’s not just a possession, but certainly still his.

—

Thank you so much for reading. I really adore everyone's interest and investment in raider!Joel. If you love raider joel, please interact with his fics -- it's always better late than never. Comments mean a lot no matter how small, and reblogs mean a lot regardless of blog size. I know most of raider's fans started as lurkers, and I don't judge for your lurking era. Most of my tumblr bffs started as lurkers.

Ik the tense is all over the place in this sorry lol

TY ILY 🖤🖤🖤

#raider!analysis #raider!joel #raider!joel miller #dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tw noncon #cw noncon #toxicanonymity ☠️

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purplesoulcollection · 2 months ago

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Wait… Are You Envious?

Hi, I'm planning to writing something really hurtfull for Lloyd.

So warning tag : Hurtful comment, lashed out with no reason, slightly ooc, and a lil bit angst to happy again.

Stay tune to see more...

I’m so happy today, Mrs Marbella gives me the recipe that passed down from generation to generation to me. It means she gives me the heads up to marry Lloyd, is my intention being so clear to her?

His father also is so nice and so lovely to his wife. I wonder if Lloyd will be like that, probably… yes? We’re still in the beginning of the relationship.

But don’t be bullheaded first, Lloyd still have his unfinished projects. I don’t even know their progress of their project already done or not yet?

But he already doing so much and he’s still not done yet, are he trying to become a legendary hero?

Puft…

Maybe if he’s someone else, I’ll believe it. But Lloyd… no way. He didn’t have any desire to that glory.

His fortune is the more important to that useless glory.

Of course, his family more important than his fortune for him. I believe it without even needing him to prove it.

So I go to visit him. Like usual he usually lullaby Javier first before he can sleep, so I wait in front of the Javier’s room.

And Lloyd coming out from that room, with the stressed expression.

“What’s wrong, Lloyd? Is there any problem for you?”

“Oh it’s you. Why you are here at night?”

“I visit you, Lloyd. Night time is the moment you’re free from your work, I don’t want to disturb your work.”

“Oh, okay.”

And then we headed to his room, we walk in the silent atmosphere, not like usual chattering.

Why he’s so gloomy. Usually he will be enthusiastic about working hard and thinking about his evil plans which makes Javier and I shake our heads.

This is not like him at all.

Is there something troubling him?

“Lloyd, are you not being enjoys planning something evil for other people today?”

“You! You also got me wrong too, Name!”

HUH

“What are you talking about, Lloyd?”

He grabbed my arm and shake it. “Everyone always say that I’m the worthless one, not enough handsome to being a noble, always scheming people to their end, not marriageable partner, didn’t even recognize me as a human anymore, and only care about money. And you too, Name?”

“N-no, Lloyd, calm down a bit? Are you being drugged right now? We can talk about this carefully.”

He shakes his head and continued his rambled, “I hate to hear that! I’ll always be compared to Javier, just because he was stronger, handsome, shiny, and an expert swordsmaster. And what annoyed me was that I knew that too, so I just tried to laugh it off. But it's so hard to forget.”

And then he cried. With his eyes so visibly hurting.

And here I am being speechless and clueless. Is this what buried inside his mask?

Inside his scheming persona?

So I hugged him, hugged his head from the hurtful comment.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you Lloyd, but I oblivious that you’re being hurtful and jealous. Especially toward Javier. I’m sorry.”

I pat his head. His hair became straight smooth, not like his usual style.

“But I also know, that you are not Javier. You don’t need to be like him, the brightest and the handsomest knight I ever know, Lloyd.”

“You who are obsessed with money and wanted a good life with lazy and rich fortune, want to have a simple family, and always work hard to build the facilities that everyone needs are you, who charm everyone with your irreplaceable charisma.”

“Even if your responsibilities grow bigger every day, you are still passionate about completing them perfectly and making everyone happy. That's the reason why everyone in this village and I love you for who you are."

“Even if your look is slightly dimmed because of the look of Javier and his skill as the expert swordsmaster is irreplaceable to this kingdom. But you’re still his boss. He can never refute your orders because he is a knight loyal to the Frontera.”

“Really, you think so too?”

His face look brighter, it’s a good sign for me.

“Yes!”

“You are really trying to say that I’m better than Javier?”

His face looks like he wants something fishy now. He's like usual again.

“Hmm… who knows?”

“Name…”

And here he is, with his scheming face comes out.

“Wha, someone, help me from this schemer…”

“Not that fast…”

Really Lloyd, maybe you’re not the best man in this world. But your charm and existence makes my world and this world looks better than before.

The End

#fanfic #x reader #manhwa #manhwa x reader #the greatest estate developer #the greatest estate designer #tged #tgedlloyd #fem reader #reader insert #gn reader #female reader

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joelsmochi · 2 years ago

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Desperation - Javier Peña

Plot — [ofc] Jackie is visiting Columbia for a short getaway and meets a man who can satisfy her…In more ways than one.

Part 2 here.

Warnings: horrible spanish sentences + grammar (bare with me y’all i haven’t studied in a few years), speaking of spanish there is quite a bit of spanish conversation in (mostly in the beginning but some during the… act), some typos (edit: i did a lazy proofreading) smut (MINORS DNI beyond this point).

Smut Warnings: this will be disgustingly long and descriptive and perhaps a little awkward to read so this is your warning now, cocky!Javi (as expected), unprotect piv (it's a story y’all std’s don’t exist in this timeline), choking, hair pulling, light (?) slapping (out of praise), squirting, good girl bombs, daddy bombs, oral (f & m receiving), LOADSSSS of pet names, anal + (judge me 🤗), drinking + tipsy sex, vaginal creampie, possible ooc javier?

Word count: 6.9k (i didn’t mean to i just couldn’t stop writing😭)

translations will be in purple at the end of paragraphs ! so the format will be a lil ugly but ik not everyone speaks spanish + if my spanish is worse than i remember/could figure out then i want y’all to know what i’m trying to say without having to scroll up and down [BIG SORRY]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ✮ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

The warm air is thick tonight, pooling a layer of sweat over Jackie's skin as she swings her hips around to the music. Her newly made friend, Angie, startles her by yanking her arm and pulling her from the middle of the bar.

“Jackie, miras!” Angie exclaims. Jackie finds a smile playing on her lips at how pretty Angie sounds saying the most simple words; she admired how beautiful the language is, and how much more precious it sounds coming from the Colombian woman. “Este es el hombre del que te hablé,” she says while pointing to a blonde-haired man. Jackie’s lips curl downward as she examines him, impressed with his leather jacket and choice of haircut. “Se llama Steve Murphy. Èl es muy, muy lindo, ¿verdad?”

[Jackie look! // That's the man I was telling you about. // His name is Steve Murphy. He is very cute, right?]

“Meh,” Jackie mumbles, “No es mi tipo, pero… Tú y èl, veo, pero ¿conmigo? No.” She looks from Angie back to this Steve Murphy, suddenly seeing a man just as well dressed by his side, but much more her type. Dark hair, tan skin, and pants that give her flashbacks to the 1970s (which made her all the more interested as hers were as well). He seems a little more brooding than the other man, but Jackie isn’t one to back down from a challenge especially when it consists of getting a fine man like this one’s number. “Angie… ¿Quién es el hombre en la derecha?” She wonders while looking at her friend.

[He's not my type. I can see you and him, but me? No. // Angie, who is the man on the right?]

“Hmm,” Angie mumbles. “No sè. ¿Por qué?” She drunkenly giggles. “¿Crees que él lindo?”

[I don't know, why? You think he's cute?]

Jackie scoffs, batting her eyes back at the man whom she makes eye contact with. She maintains the stare they are sharing while she responds with, “No. No lindo. Él es sexy.”

[Not cute. Sexy.]

“Well,” Angie urges in English which catches Jackie's attention once more. “Go say hola, perra.” Jackie laughs at her friend’s persistence and stumbles over her heels after being gently pushed. The man watches her strut over to him and his friend, eyeing her outfit up and down and making the mental note that she’s not dressed like the average Colombian woman.

[perra = bitch]

American? He wonders.

“Buena,” she says after reaching their bubble. “¿Cómo estáis?”

[Hello, how are you (guys)].

“Somos bien,” the dark-haired man says with a cheeky smile, “¿y tú?” Jackie watches his eyes follow the curvy lines of her legs and hips. He finds the way she bats her eyes a huge turn-on for a reason he cannot explain and he almost falls to his knees when she sends him a more-than-obvious flirty smile.

[We're good, you?]

“Mas o menos,” she shrugs earning a curious looks from the two men, “me sentiría mejor si me dijeras que eres soltero.”

[More or less... I'd feel better if you told me you were single.]

“What’s she saying?” Steve asks with a questionable expression.

“She’s flirting with me, shut up,” Javi utters out of the side of his mouth. Jackie threw him off of his own game, making him feel slightly incompetent but it intrigues him nonetheless. Although he finds her formality a bit strange. “Eres Americana?”

[Are you American?]

“Sí. Mi español es poco formal, claro… Espero que encuentre lindo… Mister.” Jackie sends the tall man a sensual look through her eyelashes, watching his partially exposed chest rise and fall with anticipation. She hopes that maybe he will find her lack of cultural exposure cute or funny enough to keep him intrigued which works wonders on him — he chuckles at her words, admiring her confidence despite the jab he made.

[Yes, my Spanish is a bit formal, of course... I hope you find it cute.]

Why is she here, he thinks, vacation? School? Family? Relocating? He wants to—needs to know more.

“Sí, sí. Eres formal, mm-hmm, pero no limitada,” he adds before offering her a cigarette. She takes it gently and he swears she has the touch of an angel, though he is already a bit tipsy so he might just be being dramatic.

[Yes, true. You are formal, but not limited.]

“Cómo se llama, Papacito?” She daunts seductively after he lights her cigarette.

[What's your name?]

“Me llamo Javi, y el es Steve.”

[My name is Javi and this is Steve.]

“Ah-huh, my friend thinks you’re sexy,” she says to the blonde man. She raises an eyebrow as if she misspoke. “Well, cute. She used the word cute.”

Steve obviously blushes, but slaps his hands on his knees and shakes his head bashfully. “Lo siento, but I am a happily married man.”

[lo siento = i'm sorry]

She feels a bit saddened for her friend but Angie always bounces back fast, so Jackie turns to find her friend dancing in the crowd on a random guy; laughing she looks back at Steve and shrugs. “Looks like she’s already forgotten. She knew you by name though, you come ‘round here often?”

“Yeah, sometimes,” is all he says. He senses the tension between his colleague and Jackie but notices the tension in Javi's pants a little more.

Jackie squints at Steve for his shortness but regains focus on her original intention. She raises her head to watch Javi fold his glasses into his shirt pocket, trying her best to not drool over the prodding veins in his arms or the peak of hair on his chest. Instead, she maintains eye contact (with the occasional glance at his lips) and takes a small step closer to him.

“May I pull you away from your friend?” She asks, just barely speaking above the music. Javi catches the briefest glance into the gaping space between her cleavage and chest, in fact, the glance is so brief that Jackie doesn’t even notice it. He begins to think about what her nipples looked like as well as if she has any hidden tattoos anywhere and if she did, then what would they look like? He can see she’s not one to wear a bra so that makes him wonder if she’s not wearing panties either.

“Only if you tell me your name,” he says hoarsely.

“Jackie. Jackie.”

Jackie Dawns, what a pretty name, Javi thinks, very fitting for the beauty standing in front of me.

She catches Javi looking towards Steve for permission to which Steve doesn’t give him much of a reaction or response, just a sly smirk. Growing impatient, she grabs one of Javi’s hands and pulls him gently. “Only for an hour or two,” she promises.

Well, the hour or two slipped away pretty fast and the sun is beginning to set painting the sky oranges and pinks. The pair can’t seem to get enough of each other, it certainly rolled Steve’s eyes more times than anybody could count, who, by the way, is beginning to regret not bringing his wife as they had originally planned. Watching Javi and Jackie dance together, whether it was slow or fast or romantic or sexual, makes Steve realize how little he has done to show his admiration for his beloved spouse so he gets up from his seat after paying for their drinks and walks towards the tipsy couple.

“Hey, Javi, I’m gonna get home to the misses,” he says in his real thick accent.

Jackie notices the time on a clock nearby, immediately feeling guilty. “Sorry, I musta let the time slip,” she says.

But Steve shakes his head. “No, don’t apologize. Real quick though, when a lady becomes your wife does she still want flowers?” Jackie squints at him again but with more annoyance laced throughout her features. Steve takes that as a yes and nods stiffly. “Flowers it is.”

“Get her flowers she actually likes, not roses just because they're a classic.”

Steve stiffens up even more. “I—…” Guilt riddles his face and Jackie gives him an incredulous look, basically calling him a lousy husband without actually saying it. “I’m gonna go now, uh… See you in the office Monday? All right, bye Javi.” He gives Jackie wide eyes indicating either annoyance or intimidation. “Jackie.”

Javier laughs at Steve as he walks out before turning back to you. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen him speechless,” he laughs.

“Dumbass doesn’t know his wife’s favorite flower,” Jackie as well. She places her hands on his chest and he smiles down at the red nail polish on her long nails. “See something you like?” She flirts after they’ve begun swaying to the music again, both of them noting the Phil Colins song Another Day in Paradise playing.

“Your nails are pretty, just like you,” he practically coos. She touches her nose to his warm one and smiles big and wide. “So… What are you doing here in Colombia?”

“I could ask you the same,” she says, “but because you asked first… I am in medical school.” Javi gives her an impressed look which bothers her, but not for any reasons he could control. “I hate it. It’s not what I wanna do.” She slowly puts space between their faces so that she can look at the specks of sunspots barely showing along his cheekbones.

He shrugs. “So why do it?”

She scoffs and looks down for a moment. Her nails tangle together behind his neck and her cheeks blush at the way he looks at her. “Because my parents would cut me off if I didn’t go.”

“So?”

“You say it like it’s simple.”

“It is.”

She slaps his chest playfully. “Stop using that tone, it’s rude.”

He chuckles. “Sorry, honey.”

Jackie finds herself smiling even harder at the nickname wishing she could hear the way it rolled off of his tongue a hundred more times before the night ends. He has a way of speaking that makes her feel like a teenager in lust again. She feels his hands dip an inch below her waist, and if she could take him on one of the counters nearby she would have her way with him. Those sultry brown eyes of his are the only thing she is praying to see for the rest of the night, though she is willing to sacrifice looking at him if it meant him fucking her through an orgasm.

But she played it cool. A little too cool for Javi’s taste.

“What d’you mean? It’s simple?” She asks.

He wishes he wasn’t so nonchalant about it, knowing good and damn well it’s not that simple most of the time. But he knew what he truly meant. “You won’t get to enjoy any pieces of your life if you ask for permission for everything.”

Jackie is amused, her expression not hiding it either. “Oh, this is coming from the grown-ass man who was about to ask his coworker to dance with a pretty girl?! That is rich.”

Javi takes the hit with stride, using her laughter as a reason to bring his lips to her ear. “You know if you like asking for permission so much… I can make you beg.” He pulls back to look into her now idle eyes. “All you gotta do is ask,” he teases in a whisper.

“What kinda car you drive?”

“Uh…” He is confused by the change in topic. “Cherokee, why?”

“Bigger than mine.” She slowly steps away from him to the door nearby. “I hope that’s okay, Mister?” She pouts at him, waiting for a few seconds.

He pushes the door open and walks behind her. “It certainly is, honey.” They reach his car and he leans her up against the trunk door, hanging his head over hers. “The sunset looks beautiful,” he speaks quietly, gently tracing his calloused fingers over her smooth jawline.

“You’ll look even more beautiful once I get you moaning my name,” she mumbles against his lips.

While he certainly did not doubt her abilities, he wanted to appear stronger than that. “Oh, mi amor, I’ll get you speechless before I’m done with you so then you can beg me to stop.” She shuffles her legs a few times to relieve some tension on her clit, to no avail of course. She’s hoping he’s not all bark and lives up to the aura he gives off. Javi noticing her prolonged silence smirks and gives her lips a sensual kiss. “Looks like I’ve already done it.”

Rolling her eyes, she can’t contain her smile. “Your dick better be good, you little cocky smart ass.” He laughs and opens the passenger door for her, but she just lets herself into the back seat. “Drive somewhere secluded.” He obeys without question, and after only about five minutes of driving he sees her moving in the backseat but before he can process what’s happening she sits her panties over his jean zippers.

He adjusts his rearview mirror so that it’s down on the seductress and sees her eyes reflecting a devilish grin his way. Then he sees her hand trail over her slit, watching her pretty red nails work wonders around her folds to get her juices flowing. He can see that as desperate as she is to please herself she is saving her most sensitive bit for him. His foot presses harder on the gas pedal causing her to giggle; he looks at her reflection again and watches her spread her slit open for him to see. He lets out a heavy sigh and palms his stiff length through his tightening jeans.

Javi makes it to a secluded part of a beach not too long after, wasting no time getting in the back seat next to Jackie; he moans loudly when he presses his lips to hers in hunger, loving the way she clings to him so perfectly. He lays her on her back and gently curls his nails over the outside of her thighs making her whimper. He savors the taste of tequila on her tongue and the smell of her Love’s Baby Soft perfume.

As their tongues tangle together Jackie reaches between their heavy bodies for his belt buckle. He lifts his hips a little to give her more room to work with, but she fumbles over her own eager hands regardless. “You’re an impatient little thing, aren’t ya?” He laughs over her chin once his pants are unzipped. “Gonna have to teach you some manners.”

“Oh yeah?” Jackie quips, Javi responding with a hum. “How you gonna do that?” She coos while palming him beneath his briefs.

“I can show you better than I can tell you, pretty girl.” She moans and giggles at his response, throwing her head back on the seat and running her hands up his back just to dig her nails into his shoulder blades, dragging them down his back. He hisses at the pain but chuckles regardless. He smacks this side of her thigh a little sharper than he intended, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “I was gonna be a gentleman about it, but—“

“No,” she interrupts, “I want you to use me.” Her nerves are becoming needier and needier, making her feel antsy and more submissive. She doesn’t want just to fuck anymore, she wants to feel controlled and tamed which is out of character for her. Javier normally doesn’t mind obtaining a dominant stance, but he worried he wouldn’t be able to fulfill her particular desires. She seems much more in tune with this realm than he is and the thought of not being able to please her enough crosses his mind more than once…

Much like her, however, he doesn’t back down from a challenge.

“You want me to use you?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

“Is that it? Huh?” He slides his trembling hands up her stomach to her chest to her neck, gripping it tightly causing her to choke and cough a little bit, but the smile on her face tells him to not remove his hand so he tugs at her neck to lift her face to his. “Is this what you want?” He groans. She only nods, feeling out of breath from her excitement, but grips a little tighter making sure he isn’t hurting her. “Use your words.”

“Yes.” She tries to kiss him but he pulls back feeling unsatisfied with her shortness, urging her to use her words once more. “Yes, Javi, te deseo mucho. Dentro de mi.”

[I want you a lot. Inside of me.]

“Mm, mm-hmm,” he moans finally releasing her neck, “Not yet.”

“What?” She exclaims, propping herself up on her elbows. She watches him untuck the rest of his shirt before sliding down to her naval, kissing it tenderly and sending a devious smirk her way. She jumps at the ticklish feeling, giggling out of embarrassment which he finds cute. His mustache scratches at her inner thigh where he places his kisses as she constantly bucks her hips upwards in an attempt to get his lips to her clit, succeeding after a minute or two. He forces her hips down onto the seat and glares at her. “Please, please, I’ll be so good if you do this one thing for me.”

“Well,” he says tauntingly, “that’s an offer I just can’t refuse now, is it?” He drags his tongue all around her vulva for a few seconds to see how impatient she grows but to his surprise, she remains pretty steady, so he decides to reward her with a juicy kiss to her clit.

Her body had been begging for stimulation for so long that the single kiss he gives her is enough to eject a loud moan out of her, one that was full of relief. He chuckles at her response and kisses it the same way again, only this time darting his tongue out for a quick second to get a taste of her skin. He doesn’t taste much, so he goes down to her slit, using his thumbs to spread her sopping lips before laying his tongue flat on her entrance and giving her a series of kitten licks; he moans at the combination of saltiness and sweetness, swearing to himself that he can also taste the fruity shots she was taking earlier. The mix of alcohol and hormones coursing through his body has him feeling more pleasure from eating her out than he would have ever expected. He loves the way her hair falls over her eyes, how her hands fondle her breasts and nipples over her shirt to add to her physical experience as well as his visual one, and how gentle but confident she sounds while she pleads for him to keep licking the way he is—all of the little things he normally doesn’t pay attention to just adding up and giving him reasons to keep going.

His lips permanently planting themselves atop her clit so that he can begin sucking on it is what drives her to the edge. She hits the top of her head on the door behind her from how hard she throws her head back, but she ignores the pain. Realistically she has no choice but to ignore it with how rough he is sucking her into his mouth, still managing to maintain some comfort with his slick lips. As the tingles build deeply inside of her clit her fingers go flying to grip the short hairs on his head. She feels layers of sweat pooling on her forehead and her inner thighs, and her nipples perk up indicating her nearing her orgasm. She cries his name louder and louder, before remembering she promised to be good.

She asks, “Can I come? Can I please come?!” He refuses to lift his head up out of not wanting her to lose this feeling, so he just nods eagerly onto her clit while mumbling mm-hmm’s. “Fuck,” she screams, “yes, please, please, please—“ Her pleas are interrupted by air getting caught in her throat when he clit begins to throb.

Javi almost cums at the feeling of her pussy throbbing between his lips so he lifts his hips a little to halt any friction from the seats. He shakes his head up and down to make a grinding motion on her clit wanting her to feel this good for as long as possible. Her thighs tremble around his ears and his scalp begins to sting with how hard she’s pulling; the knots in her stomach only seem to get bigger and she refuses to pull away. Not like he’d let her anyways, that is until his jaw begins to hurt. He comes up to kiss her again not even bothering to wipe his face clean.

“You wanna be used?” He asks against her lips.

“Mm-hmm,” she moans into their kiss.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“How do you want me to use you, baby?”

“Use my mouth.”

His brows raise and he grins wide while she licks her juices off of his stubbly chin. “Your mouth?”

“Mm-hmm,” she repeats.

“How ‘bout…” He pauses to analyze her facial features, spotting some wet mascara on her cheekbone beneath her fallen curls; he smirks as he knows it from her squeezing her eyes shut so hard from her orgasm. “…You ride me until you’re about to cum… And then you let me fuck that pretty little mouth of yours?” She melts beneath him at his request, fluttering her eyes shut and peppering kisses along his cheeks. “Does that sound good?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy,” she corrects. He gives her hip a few love taps, helping her up onto his lap. For the time being neither of them even bother taking his pants off, she just pulls his semi-hard shaft out and traces his warm tip along her folds, sinking onto him slowly. They both gasp the closeness, indulging in the feeling of him stretching her out gently. She pops a hand behind his ear, the other laying flat against his sheened chest. She feels his member twitch and grow harder inside of her, and gives him pleading eyes as she fully sinks him inside of her. “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” He encases her face in his clammy palms, adjusting his posture to get more comfortable for her.

“Can I come just one time on you first?”

“No, baby, I told you what I wanted.”

She whines, rolling her eyes. “Just one time, it’ll be so quick—“

“Don’t be stubborn,” he hisses, landing a smack on her ass cheek. He struggles to maintain his composure at how it practically jiggles back into his hand. He smacks it a few more times just to watch her ass move against him, grinning wide at her her body moves. “You said you’d be good for me.” She bites her lip nervously, annoyed at her promise. His dick is now fully hard and he admits, “Your stubbornness is sexy, though.”

She grins bashfully and lifts her hips slowly. “Mmm, I have that effect on you, huh?”

“Sí, mama, me gusta una reto.”

[Yes, mama, I like a challenge.]

“¿Una reto? ¿Qué eso?” She questions as she builds up a steady pace. “A challenge?”

[qué eso = what's that]

“Verdad.” He gently tugs at one of her nipples, memorizing how her discharge feels pooling around the base of his shaft onto his balls. His face contorts when she digs her nail into his chest and feels her walls swell around him.

[Correct.]

He loves the way he fits so perfectly inside of her, the way they both curve into each other is majestic for the pair. She props her feet up onto his thighs and rocks her hips in a grinding motion which makes her pussy feel tighter as he enters and exits repeatedly. His hands grip her hips so tight his knuckles slowly turn white, and he notices that she is out of breath but continues fucking him relentlessly. She had never been so needy for a fuck before; her hair is sticking to the sweat on her forehead, her shirt is clinging to her back, her hips aching from the grip this man has on her — all of these uncomfortable things and all she could think about was riding him as he told her to.

Jackie switches from a grinding motion to bouncing, rounding her shoulders so that her head isn’t hitting the roof. Javier’s fingers find their way to her top to tug some of the buttons loose. He goes to pull it off of her so she moves her arms to make it easier but ends up losing her balance which makes him slip out of her and she nearly falls off of his lap. She laughs at how evident her being tipsy is.

“You okay?” He asks after lifting her back up, placing a few kisses along her newly exposed collarbone.

Giggling some more she nods. “I didn’t realize how much I was leaning on you.”

He smiles, pulling her hands behind her waist and slouching himself further down after putting his aching cock back inside of her. “Let me help you out,” he says, his tone hinting at yet another dare. Locking her arms in place he begins thrusting up into her heat going well beyond her g-spot, but never too far. Her walls begin to spasm against his length and he grunts seemingly angrily. “You better not cum.”

Insistent, she shakes her weak head. “I’m not, I’m not, I promise.”

“Good girl.” He raises one hand up to smack her cheek lightly; she buries her cheek into his palm afterward to signal she wants him to make it feel better which he does. She holds his forearm with her locked hands, scratching at the skin nicely just to feel as much of him as possible. “Cógeme, cariño, ¡cógeme como un rey!”

[Fuck me, honey/love/darling! Fuck me like a king!]

She moans, starts bouncing on him again earning the freedom of her arms, and touches her forehead to his. “Eres el rey de mi mundo, Javi.”

[You are the king of my world, Javi.]

He sweeps her lips up into a kiss as if he were trying to swallow the words as fast as they had come out. Despite his typical confidence with women, he must admit that no one has ever made him feel the way she does. He likes the excitement and the praise, hell her looks alone were getting him rock-hard earlier. He can’t even respond with words, he just reaches his arms around to grab handfuls of her ass to bring her in closer while still kissing her sweetly. Jackie feels the pressure inside of her growing again intensify when Javi uses the pads of his fingers to rub tiny circles on her clit. She claws at his neck and shoulders to draw out the feeling as long as possible without cumming again and before she knows it she hops off of him and kneels between the small space of his legs and the center console.

She practically shoves whatever she can fit of his cock into her mouth, gagging when his tip tickles the back of her throat. His fingers tangle themselves in her hair and he pushes her head down carefully, craving the feeling of her throat closing around his dick. She bobs her head up and down occasionally stopping to take him in her throat whenever she can; a few tears fall from her eyes after gagging so many times so she pulls his length out of her mouth to stroke it with her spit-covered hands and props her mouth on his balls, sliding her tongue around every inch she could reach.

“Oh, fuck, babygirl,” he moans, “you’re doing such a good job… Yeah, you’re doing so good right now, cariño.” His muscles tense and he flinches when her thumb rubs around his tip so she goes to put him back in her mouth but he stops her. He stares at the strings of spit mixed with her precum all over her chin before enveloping her in a sloppy kiss. He moans at the taste of his cock mixed in with her juices and licks her lips much like he did her clit earlier. “Will you lay down for me right here?” He coos after wrapping his hand around her jaw, the other holding the back of her head in place. She nods and hums to confirm. “Yeah?” He smacks her cheek and it makes her smile. “You like that, princess?” He smacks her a little rougher this time.

“Yes, baby, I love it,” she says.

“Good…” He pecks her lips and taps her jaw a couple of times. “Lay back right here.” They switch spots so that she’s laying where he was once sitting and he removes his pants and boxers. Although her neck feels a bit stiff from her head being pushed up against the back of the seat she knew that once he fills her up again with his cock the pain wouldn’t even be noticeable. She eyes his thick shaft and tip while he slaps it over the skin of her pussy, her eyes growing wide when he slides the head over her sensitive bud. “You want it, baby?”

Jackie doesn’t even bother trying to come up with something witty or bratty to say, all she can say is yes over and over until he teases her dripping entrance. “Javi, te quiero mucho. I want you to fill me up with your—“ A gasp interrupts her begs of desperation after he slides the tip in slowly. He quickly readjusts his legs and pushes her thighs back so they’re flesh against her stomach. “Fuck,” she drags out, “it’s so fucking big.” He fills her up only halfway which gets her to tighten her legs around his hips in an attempt to push him in deeper but he remains idle and slaps her breast. “Please,” she whispers. After he asks what she wants she answers, “I want you—fuck, I love the way you stretch me out, I wanna feel you deep inside of me, baby.” He barely slides inside of her a little more earning whimpers from either of them but mostly her. “Please,” she begs.

[te quiero mucho = i want you so much (in this context).]

He presses his palm onto her pelvis with fingers pushing into her stomach so that she can feel him in even the deepest parts of her body. She whines out at how deep he goes, thankful he’s doing just enough to not hurt her cervix. She feels an awkward urge to pee but before she can say anything her squirt begins to splash everywhere.

“Look at that!” Javi boasts, not even thinking to stop his rhythm. “My God, girl, you are just full of surprises, aren’t ya?” Profusely blushing at his compliment she puts her hand down to signal she needs a break, but he just frowns at her and goes, “Move your hand.”

She decides to defy him and tries to wiggle out of his grip to get a reaction out of him. “No,” she quips with a grin.

“I said…” He slams her hand above her head and buries his cock deep inside of her. “Move your fucking hand.”

She sarcastically pouts. “Awe. What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

In the blink of an eye, his warm hand is wrapped around her neck. “I can do that.”

But still, she doesn’t let up, wondering how much she can get away with. “How you gon’ do it? Stick it in my ass?”

He incredulously chuckles and ponders on whether or not this is just an extremely vivid dream he’s having. He decides speaking would just egg her on to push his buttons even more so he pulls out, lines his tip up with her ass, and pushes it in slowly. She gasps with alertness in her expression—she didn’t think he would really do it. Most guys she asked didn’t, and if they did they asked if she was sure.

Not Javi. Not tonight. Not after the shitty fucking week he had. He took this woman’s confidence as a sign to take what he wants as long as the offer was on the table.

That’s what makes her even more aroused.

Watching his spit drip from his lip straight down to his dick before he slides deeper inside of her Jackie finds herself rubbing her clit and admiring the man above her. A man that knows what he wants, she thinks, and takes it? I like him. She knows the chances of them ever seeing each other again were slim to none, but she’ll always remember him.

Javi. Dark and unruly curls, soft brown eyes with harsh wrinkles surrounding them, broad but slender shoulders and calloused hands that touch her so gently, and a voice so deep it nearly rumbles inside his chest.

She bites her lip trying to ignore the pain she feels. Instead, she focuses on his mannerisms: his chest rising and falling while he slides his length inside her tight hole. The way he will pause to glance up at her ensuring her comfort. He feels her tighten around him so many times he was sure it must have hurt but every time he looks at her he sees her pleading for more with her pretty and low eyes. He manages to get about two-thirds of the way in before it becomes too tight for him.

“That feel good?” He questions, pursing his lips anxiously after she says yes. He spits a couple more times to help relax her muscles, but he notices her eyebrows furrow. Placing a few kisses on her forehead he tells her, “I got you, honey. Tell me what you need.”

“I’m fine, it’s just been a while,” she chuckles nervously. “That’s good!” She squeaks when he settles at a steady pace. He smiles down at her and slips his tongue into her open mouth, moaning at the sound of her whines. He rubs his thumb over her clit and fights her tongue with his own, letting her into his mouth eventually. She moans at the taste of her still on his lips, digging her knees into his sides and tugging at the ends of his hair. Her wetness overflows onto his cock helping lubricate her entrance. She tightens around him to add more stimulation for him and that causes him to collapse atop her body. His body is overwhelmed but he can’t get enough of how dirty she is by letting him have her—all of her. “Quiero hacerte amor con mi culo, papi,” she shouts. “Mi cuerpo te pertenece.”

[I want to make love to you with my ass, daddy. My body belongs to you.]

“Tu español suena mejor con mi reata dentro de ti, ¿sí o no?” He grips her ass to lift her hips higher, to make her more level with him.

[Your Spanish sounds much better when my dick is inside of you, no?]

Jackie trembles in his arms, crying out at the feeling of constantly being stretched out by him. “Claro, claro que sí,” she screams breathlessly. She reaches to grab the door nearby as she doesn’t want to scratch him and her fingers wipe away some of the thick fog on his car windows. She glances outside and notices how dark it has gotten, but she didn’t want him to stop edging himself inside of her. She sees how much he loves being in her mouth, her pussy, and now her ass, she just doesn’t know how much more pounding she can take.

[claro = of course; claro que sí = of course it does (in this context).]

Sweat drips down from his temples to his jawline from the thick air inside of the car and the amount of restraint it’s taking him to not finish inside of her ass. He isn’t sure where she wants it, so before he cums for her he pulls out so suddenly it takes her a few seconds to realize he’d done it. “Where do you want it, babygirl? Hmm?” He whispers against her ear.

“Hmm?” She questions.

They nibble and kiss each other enjoying the small break. “My cum. Where do you want me to cum?”

“Wherever you want,” she speaks strongly with a shrug of her shoulders. “Didn’t I just tell you that my body belongs to you, daddy?”

His eyes roll beneath his heavy eyelids. “If you had to choose…” He says regaining his composure (or what was left of it).

“If I had to choose?” Jackie grabs his dick and lines it back up with her vagina, forcing her hips forward to push his tip inside of her. “My pussy.”

He likes her answer so he just presses the rest of his dick inside of her. “Mm, I’m thinking right…” He rubs the deepest parts of her with his swollen shaft. “Here.” Her nipples harden at the feeling of him grinding himself against her walls and the stubbly hair on his pelvis tickles her clit enough to elicit a few moans from her. “You’re still so goddamn tight for me, my fucking God.” She clenches even harder around him at his little praises, telling him thank you and littering kisses all around his neck and shoulders. “Sweetheart, if you wanted I would fuck you every day.” At last, he pumps in and out of her, telling her, “You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight… You anything else you want me to do—do for you?” He grips her ass even harder, holding off his nearing orgasm as long as possible.

Her fatigued eyes barely open to look up at him, and she sloppily pushes her wet baby hairs out of her face. “I ju—oh, I just want to feel your cum.”

“Yeah?”

She cups his face in her hands lovingly with a persuasive smile on her lips. “I want you to empty your balls inside of me.”

“Oh, fuck.” His face drops into the curve of her neck.

She feels his cock twitch inside of her and it encourages her to keep talking. “I want you to fucking use me, use my pussy to cum. Yes!”

He buries himself as deeply as possible for a few thrusts, and she feels him pouring his seed inside her. Their moans and pleads mixing in the air is just enough to get one final, but short orgasm. Nothing near as powerful as before but an accomplishment for her nonetheless. He pushes his shoulders up and off of her to give their warm bodies a sense of space, but he fails to stay up for long and lands right back on her chest once again which gets a tired laugh out of her.

After a short while, he pulls out and spreads her shaky legs apart to watch his cum slowly pour out from between her wet lips. Admiring how pretty her messy body looks he leans down to place a warm kiss on her clit one last time. She flinches at the feeling but remains still in her position. She rests her eyes and runs a hand over her stomach.

He remembers that he has some napkins in his glove compartment, reaching for them and then carefully cleaning her up before he cleans himself. He sees how much more worn out she seems than him so he helps her move to give him space beside her, then twists her legs into his lap. He grabs his cigarettes from the car floor along with a light; he pops one in his mouth and hands another to her.

The pair are silent for about five minutes as neither of them feel the need to speak immediately to fill the air. They want to enjoy their highs and prolong it with nicotine. After they smoke up half their cigarettes and air out the car a bit by rolling a window down an inch or two Javi finds himself the first to break the silence.

“¿Cómo estás ahora?”

[How are you doing now?]

“Muy, muy bien, querida. Thank you for being so gentle with me.”

[querida = love/dear/darling]

It takes him a moment to realize that despite the domination she was seeking from him she still wanted to be cared for. “Of course, sweetheart. You don’t need to thank me.”

“Mm,” she groans before tossing her cigarette out of the window just before he does the same, “I know that, but you’re a man who deserves all the praise.” He smiles at the comment, reaching a hand between her hair and jawbone. “You never answered my question… Why are you in Columbia?”

“Work, confidential bullshit.”

She reaches for his chin to give it a small pinch. “I’m sure you’re amazing.” He scoffs and shakes his head. “Come ‘er.” They move so that he is lying between her legs and his head is resting on her chest.

“Hey, Jackie?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite flower?”

She laughs loudly at this and plays with his hair while she thinks of her response. “Tulips. I love tulips.”

“Tulips, eh?”

“Don’t be surprising me at my job with some damn flowers now.”

He pops his head up defensively. “I’d have to know where you worked to do that… Where do you work?”

They both laugh and she gives him a tender kiss. “I actually don’t work right now, I’m living off of trust fund money.”

“Ah, where do you live?”

She frowns seemingly offended. “I am not telling you where I live after only knowing you a day!” He can see through her bullshit easily. She wants to see him again, she’s just being cautious. Not like he blamed her for it, but he found her attempt at lying cute.

#javier pena imagine #narcos smut #narcos imagine #javier pena #pedro pascal is daddy #javier pena smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #javier peña #narcos #javier peña narcos #javier peña smut

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gaybatmanenthusiast · 1 year ago

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BRIDGES BEYOND WORDS (oneshot)

(JAVIER ESCUELLA X GN! READER)

⋆★ word count : 439

⋆★ warnings : n/a

⋆★ summary : reader and Javier meet one fateful day and have a language barrier ! :)

⋆★ extra : 3rd person pov! wrote this for a friend, also sorry if this sounds off/ooc I don’t play rdr 😭

The vast expanse of the Mexican wilderness stretched before Javier Escuella, a former member of the Van der Linde gang seeking redemption. On this particular day, fate had an unexpected encounter planned.

As Javier wandered, lost in his thoughts, he stumbled upon a traveler, (Y/N). With a backpack slung over their shoulder, (Y/N) looked equally perplexed, trying to make sense of their surroundings.

Javier approached, a mix of curiosity and concern etched on his face. With a tentative smile, he greeted them in Spanish, "Hola, ¿necesitas ayuda?" (Hello, do you need help?)

(Y/N) stared blankly for a moment, realizing the language barrier that stood between them. Clearing their throat, they replied, "I'm sorry, I don't speak Spanish. Do you speak English?"

Javier's face fell as he tried to formulate a response in his limited English. "A little," he replied earnestly. "We find a way to communicate."

With an open mind and a touch of humor, they both began to communicate through gestures, pointing, and using simple words in both languages. Laughing at their attempts to bridge the gap, a connection began to form.

Javier motioned towards an abandoned but charming little cantina nestled in the distance. (Y/N) eagerly followed, the prospect of a shared adventure outweighing any language barriers.

Inside the cantina, they sat across from each other at a worn, wooden table. Despite the uncertainty, there was an unspoken warmth between them that transcended words. They relied on expressions, laughter, and a mutual wanting to understand one another.

Javier offered a glass of water, and (Y/N) responded with a grateful nod. They each drew rough sketches on a napkin, depicting scenes from their lives, sharing snippets of experiences, and discovering similarities.

As they bonded over life's simple joys, Javier revealed his passion for music. He picked up an old guitar that stood in the corner, strumming a melody that echoed throughout the cantina's walls. The moment became magical as (Y/N) joined in, humming along, blending their voices in a harmonious duet.

Though their words may have been lost, their shared connection transcended language, forming an unbreakable bond. They explored the surrounding landscapes, discovering hidden treasures, and immersing themselves in the vibrant culture, whether through dance, art, or indulging in traditional cuisine.

As their time together neared its end, (Y/N) stood at the crossroads. They had learned valuable lessons, not only about a new culture but also about the beauty of human connection.

Gazing into each other's eyes, they knew that their journey was not over. Holding hands nodding at each other, they promised to continue crossing language barriers and to keep seeking new ways to understand one another.

#javier escuella #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #javier escuella x reader #x reader #gn! reader #writers on tumblr

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valpoupdates · 4 months ago

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RESIDENT OF THE MONTH : JULY 2024 .

Congratulations to our July 2024 Resident of the Month recipient, Javier Dominguez-Herrera ! As if people weren't impressed enough by your filmography and all the good ideas in your head that are just ready to make it to the big screen, you're also the blueprint for the perfect older brother ! Your good ideas extend past the film industry, and we recommend you look into patenting the Talking Stick™. Hearing you go on ( and on and on ) about Yugioh lore may not be our favorite way to spend our Saturday nights, but it reminds us that, no matter what age you're at, you can always keep a little bit of that childlike wonder. We hope to see you at 80 with the biggest card collection, the biggest filmography, and the biggest heart. ( @vroyales )

OOC NOTE:

HI KIWI !!! WE'RE SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE ! We wanted to take the time to really express how much we adore you and your characters. This RP wouldn't be complete with you and your Genshin lore, fortnite pleading, and your very silly gifs ! Your characters are so well developed; we love the small little details and headcanons you share about them. It really shows how much love you pour into your characters, and we love that you decided to explore them here in our little RP group ! We especially want to thank you for how open and friendly you are in the OOC ! Our group mission has always been to create a safe space for people to write their silly characters in a place where they feel welcomed and loved, and we don't think this place would be as successful and welcoming without you. WE LOVE YOU !!!! <3

#valporotm #GOD AGAIN CANT EXPREESS HOW SORRY WE ARE THAT THIS IS SO LATE

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aliorsboxostuff · 1 year ago

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can I request Javier Peña x ftm reader ?

Like reader maybe works at the us embassy and he becomes friends with javi and tries not to fall desperately in love so fluff angst smut whatever all is good idk or care what happens haha I will do anything for that man 😓 tysm for being another male writer i am so sick of Pedro universe characters being written about with only women :((

and if y are not in a fixation (am the same way with that too) of Peña I would love maybe Tim Rockford +ftm reader or Joel if u are into them at the moment. just Pedro simping out rn it’s insane

thank u so much again ! am stoked to see this or any other fics yu write!!

Holy SHIT this took a while!! I'm so sorry but i literally finished Narcos s3 and fell into a writing slump T-T I finally got this out tho and tbh, i like this one, so i hope you all too! Tysm for requesting, I hope this is a good enough Javier Peña fic! If there are any mistakes please don't hesitate to tell me! <3 Remember to Reblog!

Rookie

Tags: Javier Peña x FtM!reader, Javier Peña x m!reader, Javier Peña x agent!Reader, Steve Murphy, Connie Murphy, Colonel Carillo, other DEA personels, First Meeting, Fluff, Slight smut, making out, Kissing, EXCESSIVE eye contact, Slight OOC, Smitten Javier, Javi is DONE FOR, Bisexual Javier Peña, supportive Steve, He’s an ally!, I dont understand how police ranks work okay, so sorry if theres mistakes about those!, Period typical Homophobia, Period typical Transphobia, Use of queer slurs, sorry guy!, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Patching up, All English, Gunshot, Alcohol, injuries, No one dies! (Note: I can reclaim the slurs used in this fic as I am in fact a queer, trans man.)

Javi’s breath got caught. The man simply meets his dark browns, thick lashes blink slowly before he promptly tilts his head. Then he breaks eye contact, turning back to Carillo, continuing their conversation. The colonel said something which made the man laugh, creases on the edges of those captivating eyes, the way his lips curled with a professional laugh. Javier finds it hard to rip his attention away. Only when Steve promptly cleared his throat did Javi blink, glancing over to his workmate, who was fixing him with a glare.

Javier scoffs, turning away.

—

Javier was at his desk when an unfamiliar face came waltzing into the department. The guy seems to follow behind Steve, a confident smile on his lips. The agent takes a sip of his coffee, following the man with his eyes before he disappears into Carillo’s office. He blinks, promptly places his mug back down and rereads the passage before he got distracted.

A minute later, Steve walks out without the mystery man and makes his way to his desk, facing Javier. Curiosity got the best of him, so when his friend went to take a seat, he leaned over his desk enough to whisper to him.

“A new guy? One of yours?”

Steve blinks, before he huffs. “Yeah, the embassy sent him over, apparently he’s got a record with tracking down slippery dealers back in the US, and thought we need more help,”

“Sure, more mouths to feed,” That made Steve scoffs. Javier sits back down, still eyeing Careillo’s office, which makes the blond raise a brow.

“Don't break him Jav’s,”

“What are you even talking about?” The agent picks up his cup, taking a gulp.

“You know what I mean,” Steve simply replies, already pulling up his file folder and looking into it. Javier shakes his head, backing up into his chair and resuming his work.

The new guy spent half an hour in the office before he came out, shaking Carillo’s hand with a firm nod. Seems like he already got the guy on his side. Carillo talks to him out of earshot, then suddenly points to Javi’s and Steve’s direction, which makes Javi meet the guy's eyes.

Javi’s breath got caught. The man simply meets his dark brown, thick lashes blink slowly before he promptly tilts his head. Then he breaks eye contact, turning back to Carillo, continuing their conversation. The colonel said something which made the man laugh, creases on the edges of those captivating eyes, the way his lips curled with a professional laugh. Javier finds it hard to rip his attention away. Only when Steve promptly cleared his throat did Javi blink, glancing over to his workmate, who was fixing him with a glare. Javier scoffs, turning away.

“Gentlemen, meet our new field agent,” Carillo stands next to their desks, beside him the man stood, button up and in casual pants as he hugs a briefcase, a dark denim jacket over everything.

“This is Agent Javier Peña, and you’ve met Murphy,” He continued. The man nods at Steve before extending his hand to Javi, which he shakes easily. He notes the calluses on the man's hand before he lets go.

He introduced himself, stating his purpose. And Steve was right, the embassy did send another agent they thought could help on the hunt. “Pleasure meeting you, Agent Peña,”

He smiled, a small nod before he moved back beside the colonel. Javier only ran his gaze up and down the man, before promptly nodding. “Welcome to the hunt,”

—

Agent Peña looked at you up and down, before he nodded. “Welcome to the hunt,”

The colonel smirks, before he pats you on the shoulder. He turns, presumably to return to his office, which leaves you in front of the two agents. On Steve's left, there's an empty desk, which must've been cleared out for you. You gave Agent Peña a once over, the man currently blowing smoke from his lips, before you cleared your throat. “Good luck on today, agents,”

And with that, you left the two to set up your own space. You heard a huff from one of them, you couldn't pinpoint who, which made you roll your eyes. The embassy entrusted you to help the Search Bloc on locating Pablo Escobar, or at least find more of his sicarios and drug kitchens in order to stop and raid them. You did your job well back in the US, easily finding many drug distributors, often leading the raids there. Seeing your rapid success, you’ve been transferred to the DEA, which you took with pride. In the midst of all the wars, the good guys need all the manpower they can get.

You begin to open your case, pulling out files you brought from the US of what leads you’ve gathered even before getting assigned to Bogota. After setting them out, you slide off your jacket and drape it over your chair. Maybe it was your mistake of wearing denim to a hot climate, but there wasn't as much time as you anticipated when Steve picked you up from the apartment you were staying in, so you picked the jacket you arrived with the day before, which resulted in a steady gathering of sweat near your collarbones. After securing your jacket, you begin rolling up the sleeves of your beige button-up, exposing your forearms to what air is still available in the stuffy office. You sigh, before taking a seat at your desk, beginning work.

—

The brunette swore under his breath as he saw their new agent standing meters away from him, just behind Steve. He begins to roll up his sleeves to combat the heat, which exposes his forearms, the soft smattering of hair running up the lengths of them. Javier could keep his thoughts to himself when the man only took off his denim jacket, which Javi almost snickered at and almost commented on the ‘rookie mistake’, but when he peeled the jacket off, it reveals the way his pants hugs the swell of the man's ass, which raises heat under Javier's collar.

He tried to look back down to the important paperwork he should be pouring work into but he’s long abandoned that when steady hands reveal entracing arms. When he sat down, Javi instead bit the inside of his cheek before taking a long drag of his cigarette. There's no way Steve didn't notice, but he appreciates the silence he gives him instead of an accusatory glare.

Javier had his fair share of experiences with women, mainly his valuable informants around the city, but aside from that, men are unfamiliar territory for him. That doesn't mean it deters him, Javi is anything but exploratory on that side of the spectrum. But finding interest in a co-worker is new, especially a fresh face that showed up mere hours ago in the compound. It worries him, something small in the back of his head telling him to reel back, to run away from those hypnotizing eyes and soft smile, but another part urges him to know, to be curious. Javier stands, pocketing his cigar packets.

“Where are you going?” Steve glances toward his friend, brows furrowed.

“Out, smoke,” Javier simply says before he leaves his partner. Steve only stares at him incredulously before shaking his head, turning back to his papers.

—

It had turned late. When everyone in the office had decided to retire, some of the guys invited themselves to one of the bars near there, and somehow Javier found himself roped in with the others. To be fair, Steve was the one that invited him, and Javi doesn't really refuse a chance to get himself drunk, maybe pick up a gal before bringing her home for the night, but all his plans went straight out the window when he heard that they also invited the rookie.

He was standing beside Steven when the man decided he has had enough of socializing with the others and excused himself, heading to the bar. Javier has already started to miss his short laughs and nods as if he understood what his co-workers said. It would surely surprise him if he knew Spanish, maybe basics and everyday words, but unlike Steve, he only arrived in Bogota this week. But it’s rude to assume, people come with varying background knowledge, so Javier turns to the group instead.

“I heard some gossip about the new guy,” One of them says, eliciting a curious glance from Javi. “Something about him not being a man?”

“Like one of those queer freaks?”

“Apparently they're called a tranny now,” Some laugh, others shudder before muttering the Lord's prayer.

“God save them,” A couple drinks to that. Steve meets eyes with Javier, something wary in his glance. Javi only rolls his eyes before finishing his shot. He has no business spending time with the likes of these men, if they even deserved to be called men. For all he knows, the man that currently has his back turned toward the table is more of a man than any of them.

He’s glad to have Steve as his partner. Maybe it's due to the nature of having grown up somewhere like the USA, but the first time Steve found out that Javier has an interest in men, he only shrugged and never saw Javi in another light. From this conversation, Javier also clocks how tired Steve is over the homophobic bullshit their co-workers have. The brunette sighs, blowing out smoke. He goes to take another sip but realizes his empty glass, and pats Steven to indicate his leave to the bar.

He saddles up next to the rookie, the man's fringe slightly blocking Javi to those addictive eyes. He orders another drink, which catches the man's attention.

"Peña,” He nods and takes a gulp of his drink. Javier is momentarily distracted by the long column of the man's neck, before he shakes his head, resting one arm on the counter.

"So, what's a handsome man like you doing here?” Javi tries to smile, which might have worked, judging by the grin that appears on the man's lips. He looks down, the condensation coating those lithe fingers, Javier notices.

“Just trying to pass the night,” He shrugs with a small smile, deciding to humor him. He swirls the alcohol in his glass and Javier follows the movement. He hadn't realized how close he was sitting next to the man. “Listen, Agent Peña-”

“Javier- Javi,”

Javi’s response made him chuckle. He sips at his drink, before fully turning to face the brunette. “Isn't there a rule against fraternizing with a fellow co-worker, Javi?”

“Not when it’s outside of work,” That makes the man grin, subconsciously leaning into Javi’s space.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been following me with your eyes,” He says, glancing briefly at Javi's lips before returning to his eyes. Javi gulps.

“What can I say, I have an eye for attractive people,”

“Well, considered me flattered,” Javi tilts his head just so, breathing in the tang of alcohol in the man's breath. They’re dangerously close, too close for just ‘co-workers’. Regardless, Javier finds himself entranced by those deep eyes.

“But,” He suddenly leans back. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that,” The man picks at his breast pocket before putting down some bills, already reaching for his draped jacket. He swiftly pulls it on, making Javi scramble out of his seat, before he pats his shoulder twice, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Peña,”

Javier is left starstruck. He stays in his seat, following the sway of the man's hips as he walks across the bar, waving to Steve, before exiting through the door. Javi swears, his brows furrowed as he gulps down what's left of his drink. He turns in his seat, spotting Steve still at the table with the others, an accusatory brow raised.

Steve drives back to the apartment with Javi. They share an understandable silence.

—

It's the second month since your arrival.

To your disappointment, progress was slow. To no one's surprise, it seems, but from your prestigious work back in the US, the expectation that you’d help with the hunt was high. To just be another field agent with no lead on Escobar in the compound would be a failure to you.

Though the search hasn't gotten any easier, your relationship with your co-worker has. Mainly with Murphy and Peña, and at this point they’ve insisted on you using their first names, so it's Steve and Javier now. They've invited you to drink more than once, spent late nights with you when the paperwork came down like an avalanche, and most of the time, Steve always brings back three boxes of food when it comes to lunch.

Somehow, Steve has grown closer to you than you expected. When you were overcome with work, Steve would make sure you and Javi weren't missing your break time. He’d pull the both of you out into the cold night air when it turned too late. He fusses over your choice of fashion more times than you could count, commenting on your choice of jacket or shirt, reminding you of the weather and how it’ll be affected with heat. On stakeouts and recon missions, Steve would be the one to pat your jittery leg softly, an encouraging smile beneath his stache. You’d nod, inhaling deeply before releasing the air alongside your tension.

Then there is Javier. Though you met Steve before him, Javier had caught your interest since the first day. His constant sharp eyes and the lingering smell of nicotine become addictive, the memory of that night at the bar in constant repetition. You could still remember his scent, a combination of something heady, a touch of smoke and sun underneath it all. You were a breath away from his lips, the dimmed light of the bar didn't help to distract you from his captivating brown eyes.

Ever since then, thankfully, you’ve gotten closer to him. Javi spends more time with you than Steve. Some nights, he’d stay behind when Steve needed to retire earlier. He’d give you a ride back to your apartment, which turns out just a couple blocks down from where he and Steve stayed. Some nights you’d stop by, from Javi’s invitation, and chat about nothing and everything while sharing a couple of bottles of beer. He’s good company, and you always find yourself hoping for an invitation from him whenever it gets too late.

This week was different.

There was a shootout. While raiding one of Escobars many drug kitchens, a stray bullet from one of the guards shoots your arm. You screamed and dropped to the floor, immediately gripping your upper arm. You were sure the bullet was still inside which doesn't make it a clean shot. The pain shoots throughout your upper body, making you wheeze out every breath, sweat gathering on your crown. A minute later, Steve was crouched beside you, hauling you up, putting most of your weight on him.

He brought you outside and into the awaiting medical group. You were rushed into the emergency room, and you shortly passed out.

Buzzing fluorescent lights woke you up. Blinking away the groggy sleep, you notice a heavy weight on the back of your arm and realize it must've been the IV. Finally regaining enough strength to fight against the blaring lights, you open your eyes to find Javi slumped on a seat next to your bed, a thin blanket draped over him. Seeing him asleep, clear lines of exhaustion under his eyes, something wells inside your heart. You quickly dismiss the feeling as dehydration instead and try to turn your body to reach for the glass of water on the tray next to you. The noise must've awoken your partner, because as soon as you try to stretch your arm for the glass, Javi quickly fills it up with water and hands it to you. You blinked, before slowly accepting the cup and taking big gulps.

The water extinguishes your drought, but not the other growing feeling. The cup sits on your lap, both of your hands holding it while you catch your breath. Javi has taken his seat again, the blanket draped over the back of the chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” You scoff, glancing at your currently bandaged hand. Javi looks at the tiled floor. “But, not my worst,”

“You’ve been shot before?”

“Yeah, on my calf once, the other near my ass,” You chuckle, remembering those years prior before officially gaining your Agent title. “Almost made my legs not work if it weren't for the surgery,”

You found yourself looking into Javi’s deep browns, his brows knitted. “This is just another day on the job,”

“Yeah…” Javi nods solemnly. You were back to staring into the half-empty glass before you felt your partner's warm hand wrap around yours.

It had been a couple of days after that.

Your arm was sadly still in a light, and you were lucky it wasn't your dominant one. Menial tasks are made difficult by the pain that still spreads sometimes, which also raises your annoyance.

Javi has graciously allowed you to crash in his apartment until your arm has properly healed up. The doctors said it’d take another week or two for your arm to sort itself out, so you're stuck doing things one-handed for the time, sometimes helped by Javi. You've been given orders to stay out of the office because you were insistent on finishing work there, but Javi and Steve brought back your paperwork into Javi’s apartment against your wishes.

The clock reads 8 PM. Javi has decided to come home earlier than his usual shifts, his excuse; is to help you prepare dinner. Javi has gone as far as to get a cookbook with the help of Connie, making dishes he’s familiar with.

The sound of the door clattering pulls you away from your paperwork, and you spot the brunette bringing two whole bags of groceries inside. You quickly stand and rush over, prying one bag from his hand.

“Javi, what's all of this?” The man only blinks as he hauls the bag onto the countertop.

“We can't really survive with just beer,” He shrugs, which makes you chuckle, and bring the other bag, putting it next to it.

“What were you working on?” He continues, pulling out groceries from the bag. You leaned on the counter, caressing your bandaged hand.

“Just finishing up the report from our last bust,” You wiggle what you could of your bandages arm. “Y’know,”

Javier solemnly nods, pushing a can into the cupboard. You've moved on pretty quickly from the incident, but something hangs around Javier, making him hard to reach sometimes, especially if you bring up the subject. You know trying to pry the reason out of him would result in coming up empty, so you've decided to wait until he's come to his own term.

“I'm gonna start on dinner,” He turns, hips leaning on the counter so he faces you. Your eyes impulsively trace the languid way he sways before turning your head slightly, not meeting Javier's dark browns.

You nod quickly, already feeling the blush forming. “Yeah, sure,” You add before walking back to the couch.

—

Dinner went by quickly, Javier whipped up something easy for you to digest and quick to make. When you were writing down other notes in your report, Javi calls you to eat and spends the rest of the time talking about his day in the office. Apparently, Steve was worried, asking Javi if he’s been taking care of their partner correctly. He’s had to shrug off Steve’s insistent questions the whole day, which made you chuckle.

After cleaning up, Javi joins you on the couch, bringing two bottles of beer. He hands one to you which you accept with a thankful nod. The couch dips as Javi takes a seat, his head tilts back as he takes a gulp. You blink before taking a short sip, averting your eyes.

When the man beside you shifts, you half-heartedly thought he was reaching for his pack of cigs. He hasn't been smoking since you crashed in his home, and it slowly became odd, watching Javi’s relaxed posture whenever you both sit together without silver smoke framing his profile. But you've been expecting wrong, because he only shifts to adjust his seating before settling back, his usual pack of cigarettes nowhere in sight. You worry slightly if he stopped because of your presence, even though you enjoy sneaking glances whenever he inhales, the muscles on his neck almost prominent, the way he’ll tilt just the slightest to reveal the expanse of skin, most of the time glistening under the Columbian heat.

“Listen… About the last week,” Javier’s tone sobers you from your daydreaming. The man is hunched over, arms on his knees, one hand swirling the alcohol. Something in the air sours.

“I should've been there, I should've- Shouldn’t have gone for that fucking guy, I should've stayed behind-”

“Javi there wasn't any way we could've known-”

“But it shouldn't have been you.” His hand lands on your injured arm, his body facing you. He hesitates; the movement seems accidental, but your hand covers him before he can move it away. You can't keep letting Javi get away with blaming things on himself.

“Javier, it wasn't your fault. Like I said,” Your head tilts, mustering a small smile to coax Javi from staring at the floor. He notices the pause and meets your eyes. “It's just another day on the job,”

The air hangs heavy, only mere inches sitting between you and Javi. His brows furrowed slightly, hand tightening beneath yours. Your eyes follow the minutely twitch on the man's lips. Javi gulps when his eyes go to your lips fleetingly. Your breath catches. You feel yourself quiver.

“Javi….” was the last you breathed out before the man pulls at your shirt, closing the gap and pushes his lips against yours. Javi’s staches tickle the top of your lips, the slide of his slightly chapped lips against yours. Your hand holds his jaw, before brushing at the short hair on Javi’s neck. He shivers, shifting himself to press harder against your lips, his hand releases your shirt but moves to hold your hips, eliciting a gasp from you. He uses the chance to slip his tongue between your lips, making you shift until you hit the back of the couch. Your hand travels down from his jaw to brush over his chest, you stored the slight hitch in Javis' breath inside your memory, before you find the man's waist and he moves to straddle your thighs, aware of your healing arm but somehow not breaking the kiss.

When the need to breathe finally separates you and Javi, his chest heaves, pretty lashes flutter against his cheek. A steady hue of red spreads on his face down to his neck. You manage to regain your composure slightly, one thumb pressing slithy into Javi’s hip, making him drop to your shoulder, burying himself between your neck. You grin, now patting Javi’s hair softly. Your mind focuses on the unsteady beats of Javi’s heart that matches yours, still trying to tap down your adrenaline.

“I should be careful about your arm,” Javi suddenly says, sitting upright on top of you. It makes you laugh slightly, which Javi smiles at.

“I’ll be alright, Javi,” You grin, cataloging the way the dim light reflects in his dark irises. “We’ll be alright.”

Requests are open! Remember to reblog! ^-^

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arezenithofyouthlove · 11 months ago

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Congratulation manhwa. You managed to turn hell arc, one of the most emotional parts of the novel, into some half-half shitty ass comedy show. I'm so disappointed I swear. My quick review of current arc, beware of strong language

Chap 112: overuse of Lloyd's face as normal. Javier has better interaction with a demon than with his master???

Chap 113: using the information in the hell Internet with only 40% true to bet for your life is stupid Lloyd. Why don't they just stick to the original where Lloyd knew Helkaro's personality through the Knight of Blood and Iron novel??? Wouldn't that make so much more sense??? All Helkaro's inner thoughts were removed. Javier casually asked Lloyd about his real identity. Urgh Lloyd's faces again 🤢

Chap 114: I don't think in the novel Lloyd acting like that or it's just manhwa adaption. But the fact they draw Lloyd tried to kill a satan crossing the lava river is disgusting. Also Lloyd's face 😮‍💨

Chap 115: the reaper adaptation is fucking stupid if you are asking me. Why didn't the reaper get that dark wizard dude soul from before? So if you practice dark magic you won't be dragged to hell at all? And you can stay on the living realm killing more people??? And the reaper talk with ogLloyd. Please shut up. Pretending to be a meaningful life lesson but it just didn't work. If Suho has system power back in Korea would he still be hardworking? Or will he also get corrupted by it too? That hypothetical question is so stupid. They are trying to make original Lloyd to be less hate-able. Since when did him care about the estate at all? Why do you need to reduce his crime?

Chap 116: this is when I feel they massacre Lloyd's character trait the most. They already did it for a long time but I will focus on this chap. How he treat to ogLloyd is completely different to the novel. Novel Lloyd knew he stole OgLloyd body so he tried to find a way to compensate him back, but manhwa Lloyd just told him to get lost cuz he didn't gain anything from doing that? Suho would never say something like that. Deep inside he is a kind hearted so he always felt guilty and wanted to help ogLloyd if he could. But look at him now? He only helped OgLloyd cuz he think he is a nuisance. Next we have the rail building situation. Lloyd was clearly in the wrong side but he acting like a real scum. He didn't even say sorry and just told the lava monster to accept it? And told Javier to kill it? For real? I can understand in the novel it was self defence since the lava monster didn't accept Lloyd's apologies but I can't make any excuse for his wrong doing in the manhwa. Are they trying to make him look like a jerk as much as possible in front of the satan eyes? Even Javier knew what Lloyd doing was wrong. Lloyd even shoved the satan to the ground while he is running away. Where is his "safety first" rule now? I know they are in hell but he didn't care about life of other at all. Novel Lloyd even built a grave for the unlucky satans died in the lava monster attack in secret but I guess doing that is too ooc with the current manhwa version of him.

Chap 117: Really? They draw Javier having fun by putting Lloyd in danger? Is this really the same Javier who swear he will protect Lloyd with his own life? And let Javier question that? This is just absurd and not funny at all. They are too focusing on drawing "comedy panel" to the point of making a person who already read the novel like me get sick of it. What irritating me is the fact that the adaption team knew they are ruining the novel source just so they can make Lloyd a money-making machine for them. Manhwa good art can't save it completely from a badly written plot lack of character development and interaction.

Chap 118: The summon acting like Lloyd. Also it seems like they forgot Bibelhyung original size is a giant beaver so they just draw the chibi version of him. Lloyd and OgLloyd talk... I wanna to strangle LHM so bad. This is not my Lloyd at all! HE DID NOT TREATING OGLLOYD LIKE THAT IN THE NOVEL. Now helping ogLloyd is just he doing free charity, oh how noble of him is that? Here come Helkaro and thing about system. I can see the adaption team try to make thing more interesting by bullshiting all the stuff about higher-being and upper side but I think it won't come to anywhere. The system is helping Lloyd too much, acting just like a convenient plot armor. This bring me back to the Destiny Point system, another stupid adaption in my opinion. It's an attempt of them to spoiler about the Prince Making Drug sequel, which in turn end up a total plot destroyer. It is literally a free version of Ending Spoiler now since it could notice Lloyd something bad happen in the future. The way it works is also questionable. How long can the butterfly effect last? The way it calculate the number of people life like mere data? Isn't it behaving like a chain sackle Lloyd at a predestined future now? It appeared after Alicia got that eyes but it didn't take that into calculation?

Phew. I will wait for chap 119 to get translated first then continue to vent, unless Tumble shadowban me like last time lol

#tged #the greatest estate developer

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somedaylazysomeday · 2 years ago

Text

Oaths - Part One

Javier Peña x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

You are a nurse to the Escobar family. When you decide you can't stand by and watch the carnage any longer, you choose to give information to the American DEA. You don't care for the agent assigned to your case...

*This is not related to my previous Javier Peña x fem!reader fic! I realized that one has a terribly OOC Peña and I wanted to start fresh. I still think the other one is cute though, so I'm leaving it up.

Rating: mature, lemon, etc. Mind the tags. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 5,900

Warnings: some mentions of medical work, mentions of drug trafficking, mistaken identity, mentions of prostitution, grinding, fingering, piv sex, and references to canon-typical violence.

Next | Masterlist

---

This was a stupid idea.

It was something you needed to do, but that didn’t make it any smarter.

But at least the American DEA seemed to be taking things seriously. They had taken your offer of information over the phone, created an extensive file on you, and set you up to meet with one of their agents. You had wanted to pass along the information over the phone, but that was apparently against some kind of policy. You had to meet with an agent in person.

Fortunately, the DEA seemed to understand the risks in what you were offering. They had provided you with a hotel room, given you a false name to check in under, and given you the name of the agent who was to meet you. That agent - Peña was his name - called you from the phone in the lobby. He set up a complicated pattern he would use to knock on the door of your room. When you answered, he would give his last name again, along with a code word.

All of that went smoothly - impressive in its own right. When Agent Peña stepped into the small but well-appointed hotel room, he asked you to verify your middle name and birthday, then went about searching the room for signs of surveillance.

When he was finally satisfied, Peña turned to face you where you were sitting comfortably on the bed. “You have some information for me?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “I have the address of one of Pablo Escobar’s safehouses.”

You held out a slip of paper, but he made no move to take it. Instead, a crooked smile sprouted on his handsome face. “My usual type, huh?”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked politely.

“The guys at work said you were exactly the type of informant I typically work with,” he explained, though it didn’t truly answer any of your questions. His dark eyes studied your face before traveling a leisurely route down your body, lingering on a few key areas that made you straighten up with irritation. “What do you normally charge per hour? I can probably match it. The DEA is willing to pay for information about Escobar. And if I’m a little over, we’ll think of a way to settle the difference.”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked again, this time significantly less politely. “What exactly am I charging hourly for?”

Peña’s brows furrowed for a moment before he froze, a look of terror and regret crossing his face. “I’m sorry. Never mind.”

“No, say it,” you requested, suddenly exhausted.

“I thought you were a prostitute.”

You nodded slowly, the anger leaking from you like water from a cracked cup. At least he had admitted it. That was more than you had expected. “That’s what I thought you meant. I’m not a prostitute.”

“I realize that now.” Peña had taken a sudden, intense interest in the curtains. You couldn’t really blame him. There was really no tactful way to recover after first having assumed someone was a prostitute and then openly propositioning them. Unexpectedly, he seemed to rally after a moment. “What do you do for a living, then?”

“Is that important?”

He shrugged. “The information is in your file, but it would make the process of writing my receipts a lot faster.”

That at least made sense, even if you didn’t particularly like it. “I’m a nurse.”

Peña grimaced. “The last time I ran into a nurse with ties to Escobar, things got… complicated.” You waited for more of an explanation, but he only shook himself. “Why does a nurse have information about Escobar’s safe houses?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time.”

You sighed. “Fine. When I first started at the hospital where I currently work, I met Pablo Escobar. He was there for the birth of his daughter. I didn’t know who he was at the time. I saw a man who looked moments from passing out and asked if he was okay. He told me he was fine, but I brought him a drink and something to eat. I ended up assisting in Tata’s room later and held their daughter. Now Pablo considers me one of the few people he can trust for the medical treatment of his family. I’ve been their private physician ever since.”

“You’re a nurse, though,” Peña pointed out.

“I do realize that,” you responded dryly. “But I know a little bit about several fields and can usually diagnose or treat minor things. If there’s something I can’t handle, I can suggest the right type of physician for them to bring in.”

Peña didn’t look satisfied with your explanation. “Being an informant is a dangerous thing, especially since Escobar would view this as a personal betrayal if he found out.”

“I know.” Your voice was quiet, but firm. “But this is the right thing to do. I knew I had to do something. I can’t stay quiet and watch him slowly destroy this city.”

A quiet scoff from across the room made you glance up. Peña was shaking his head. Anger snapped in your stomach, sharpening your voice.

“I’m not stupid, Agent Peña. I’m giving you the name and location of a property I was brought to several months ago. The Escobars recently hosted a gathering there. Plenty of people can be tied back to this information, but I will be far down the list. Now…”

You held the paper out to him once more, silently urging him to take the information before you changed your mind. Not about giving the information, of course. Any moral struggle you had undergone was concluded long before you called the DEA. But the longer you spoke with Peña, the more tempted you were to ask for any other agent.

Fortunately, Peña seemed to understand your wordless demand and took the slip of paper from you. The angle was awkward, leaving his warm fingers brushing your arm, and the unexpected touch made you shiver.

That made you pause, seizing the time Peña took to study the neat writing on the paper and tuck it into his wallet. He was a handsome man, even if his personality left much to be desired. He was healthy and strong, and when he wasn’t talking, you could almost imagine testing those soft lips with your own. He was confident, self-assured as he paced around the hotel room. This was a man with whom Pablo Escobar had declared an all-out war, and yet he didn’t seem troubled. Perhaps that was more stupidity than bravery, but you were willing to believe it was more the latter than the former.

“What are you trying to get out of this?” he asked, snapping you out of your charitable reverie as he turned to level a suspicious glance in your direction. “We pay our informants, but the money isn’t great. Especially compared to what Escobar probably pays.”

“I’m not doing it for the money,” you told him, stung by the accusation. “I- I just want to stop seeing Medellín subjected to this violence. The city - and the people - are being torn apart.”

Peña squinted at you. “I can’t get you a passport.”

You laughed. The sound was far too abrupt in the tenseness of the room, but this at least made sense to you. Most of the DEA’s informants must have been asking for far more than a small reward for their information. “I don’t need one. I’m a Mexican citizen and I can leave when I want.”

“Why would a Mexican citizen help the American DEA?”

You had expected the suspicion in his voice - hell, you almost understood it - but you still bristled at the implication. “Your media has reported that Escobar’s cocaine travels through Mexico to reach the United States. Do you really think it does not impact every area it passes through? Mexico is harmed by Escobar as well.”

The agent relaxed slightly, but he shook his head. “What are you doing here in Colombia, then? No one is here if they don’t have to be.”

“I have to be,” you replied with a wry smile. “I heard on the news that Medellín needed medical staff, especially nurses. I came to help. When I saw the violence and trauma… I knew I had to stay.”

Peña was silent for long enough that you fell into a sort of trance brought on by the quiet room, interrupted only by the occasional sound of another guest passing by the door. You couldn’t say why you hadn’t tried to leave yet. You had delivered the promised information and risked a lot to do so. There was nothing keeping you there.

Just when you were ready to stand and leave the room, Peña began walking slowly toward your place on the bed, looking thoughtful. “If you can get out of Colombia whenever you want… there are some other opportunities here.”

Opportunities didn’t sound like something you should be interested in, and your sense of foreboding was justified when Peña came a little closer. “Being treated for anything can be dangerous. There is always a chance that something can go wrong.”

“What are you saying?” you asked, frowning at him.

The agent shrugged. “I’m saying, one mislabeled medication, one injection with the wrong concentration…”

“No.”

Peña sat on the bed beside you, crowding you and even going as far as pulling your hand to cradle between both of his own.. “My partner’s wife is a nurse. I know how easily things can happen.”

“I swore to never do harm to a patient,” you argued, tugging ineffectively at your hand. “Don’t ask me to break my oaths. I don’t like what Escobar is doing, but I don’t even know you.”

“That will change,” he assured you, one side of his mouth quirking up as your fingers twitched in his grasp. “With a connection to Escobar like the one you’ve got, you and I will be working together a lot.”

“Thrilling,” you said dryly.

Peña traced a fingertip down the center of your palm and you gasped, pulling at your hand again. This time, he let go. “Hey, if you don’t want to work with me, I’ve already come up with two ways to end the whole thing now.”

“I won’t do it and frankly, it’s offensive that you’re still asking.” You shook your head, standing up. “This whole thing may have been a mistake. Enjoy your information. I’ll have to consider whether I can give you any more.”

You ignored Agent Peña’s urging to wait, walking toward the door until you found your path blocked by the agent himself. When you tried to step around him, his large hand wrapped gently around your wrist. “You can’t leave yet. We have to stay in this room for a while longer. About another hour.”

“Why?” you demanded, pulse suddenly picking up. “Are we being watched?”

Peña rubbed at the back of his neck. “Not in the way you mean.”

“In what way then?”

“There are DEA agents stationed around the building. If anyone associated with Escobar even looks in this direction, they’ll call me on that phone.” Peña jerked his thumb in the direction of the room’s phone, sitting silently on the bedside table. “If that happens, I’ll get you out of here the back way.”

“I’m glad the DEA takes such good care of its informants,” you mused, pulling away from him. “I’ll assume it was a hard-learned lesson.”

From the flex in the muscles of Peña’s jaw, your guess had been a direct hit. Still, he pressed, “You can’t leave yet.”

“Yes, I remember. Another hour.” You sighed, smoothing your blouse as you crossed the room once more. You didn’t sit on the bed, instead opting for the small table tucked neatly into a corner.

Agent Peña joined you, his hand brushing over the small of your back as he passed you to take the seat opposite the one you were about to settle into. When you were both seated and watching each other, Peña leaned forward to break the silence.

“Why are you in such a hurry to get out of here? You got a boyfriend you didn’t list in your interview?”

You blinked at the suddenness of the personal question. “I had to fill out an extensive file before the DEA would even consider accepting my information. You know I’m single, but you didn’t know I’m not a prostitute? Why did the DEA want a file if no one is going to read it?”

“Ease down, hermosa,” he told you, gesturing as if you were a spooked horse. “I didn’t read your file. I doubt anyone did other than my supervisor. All I knew was your name and where I could find you. My coworkers were the ones who said you were my usual kind of informant.”

“You have terrible coworkers,” you informed him.

He gave you a sheepish grin that somehow made you doubt its sincerity. “That may have been an honest mistake. My usual informants are prostitutes, but the United States government isn’t happy paying them off. I usually list them as nurses in my receipts.”

You frowned. “I know you think that made you sound better, but it really didn’t.”

“It’s a compliment,” he said. “Lots of pretty women in both fields.”

“There are male nurses.”

“There are male prostitutes, too. Not my thing, but I know there’s a market.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to volunteer any more information to the handsome agent than was necessary, but you hoped to end the conversation. “I am single.”

“I figured as much.”

You couldn’t fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Yes, you’ve proven you have a keen understanding of human behavior.”

Peña’s mouth twitched. “I do, actually. If I had taken another minute or two, I would have been able to tell that you weren’t a prostitute.”

“Is that so?” you challenged. You weren’t overly offended by his incorrect initial assumption of your occupation, but listening to him backpedal was entertaining. “How would you have guessed?”

“First, it wouldn’t have been a guess. It would be my keen understanding of human behavior,” Peña reminded you. He leaned forward a moment later, pinning you with the intensity of his dark eyes. “Second, a prostitute wouldn’t react the way you do when I touch you. Not unless she was the most expensive prostitute in Medellín.”

Your heartbeat picked up pace, but you did your best to feign disinterest as you asked, “And how exactly do I react when you touch me?”

“That’s the point - that you do react.” He leaned back, a smirk playing across those full lips. “You shiver when I touch your arm, your heart pounds when I hold your hand. I thought you would hurt something with the way you tensed when I put my hand on your back.”

“Maybe I just hate you.” It wasn’t true, but you fervently hoped he believed it.

Peña dashed those hopes an instant later when he smirked at you. “If you did, you wouldn’t be staring at my mouth.”

Damn. And you thought your admiration had been subtle.

“So not only did I know you weren’t a prostitute,” Peña summarized, looking amazingly self-satisfied, “but I could also tell that you’re single. Unless your boyfriend wasn’t treating you right. You need someone to take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied automatically.

Peña’s smirk only widened. “I hear that too much of that can give you carpal tunnel.”

You gaped at his crassness. For your entire acquaintance, Peña had been vacillating between attractive and irritating. At the moment, he was definitely falling closer to irritating. “This conversation is ridiculous.”

“Okay, but you’re attracted to me and I’m attracted to you,” he pointed out. “And we’re stuck in a hotel room for the next hour.”

The man had gone from asking if you were a prostitute to propositioning you, all in the span of a few minutes. You couldn’t keep up. “Peña…”

“I’m clean. Just got tested last week.” He shrugged. “It’s your choice. All of it is your choice. Give us more intel, don’t. Sleep with me, don’t. But personally, I think you could stand to loosen up. At least this way, you don’t have to worry about finding someone, seeing if they’re interested, and trying to avoid a relationship.”

“Why would I avoid a relationship?” you asked before you could think better of it.

Peña gave you a disparaging look. “You’re a personal doctor for Pablo Escobar’s family and you’re giving intel about him to the DEA. I’ll keep it under wraps, but you know the risks. I don’t think you’re too concerned with starting something serious right now. You’ve got enough serious going on.”

He wasn’t wrong. About any of it, if you were being honest. Your job kept you busy, and moonlighting for the Escobar family made things even more difficult. Pablo was pushing you to leave the hospital and work for him full-time, traveling with his family and their sicarios. You couldn’t do that, but the conflicting responsibilities were backing you into a particularly dangerous corner.

And as for being attracted to Peña, you could freely admit that was true. You had found him magnetic since he had stepped into the hotel room, despite the fact that he was an asshole and regularly slept with prostitutes. There were so many reasons you should turn him down and watch television until you were free to leave. Hell, you saw and treated enough STDs at the hospital to know the risks of sleeping with someone you barely knew. But he had said he was clean and… you believed him. You weren’t sure why, but you did.

Peña had been watching as you struggled with your own motivations, and you finally met his gaze. You frowned. “I don’t like you.”

“You don’t really need to,” he countered.

It was an excellent point. “Do you have a condom?”

“Always.”

“Fine.”

Peña barked out a short laugh as you stood and turned back to the bed. He stopped laughing as you lifted your shirt off over your head and deposited it in a nearby chair. His eyes were dark as he watched you slip off your shoes and reach for your bra.

You lifted a brow. “Keep up, Peña. We only have an hour.”

You had never seen a man so eager to obey an order. Peña fumbled for a moment as he pulled a condom from his wallet, but the moment he had it free, he set to work removing his clothes.

When you had finished draping your clothing onto the chair, Peña’s eyes locked on your bare form. “On the bed, hermosa. I’ll be there in a second.”

He was trying to do what you had done: drape his outfit somewhere so it wouldn’t be wrinkled when you got dressed once more. But with the way he haphazardly tossed his shirt and pants onto the table, you knew it wouldn’t do much good.

Peña turned back as you were crawling to the center of the bed and he let out a deep groan. When he joined you, lying on his side to mirror you, his hard length bobbed between his legs.

He was larger than you had expected. You had a moment to wonder if you would regret agreeing to this deal before Peña gently grasped your chin, pulling your face to break the staring contest. “Don’t worry about that for right now. I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

“Please,” you said, noting the pleasure that bloomed in his eyes when you did.

You were almost more nervous about this kiss than anything that would follow. Peña’s lips had captivated you with their plushness and you would hate for them to be a disappointment. You shouldn’t have worried - your breath caught in the moment before your lips touched and Peña hummed softly as if to encourage you, his hand settling solidly into the curve of your waist.

The kiss was tentative at first, but settled into something languid as you began exploring each other. Peña seemed infinitely patient, but your temperature was soaring until it felt like you were burning with the need for more. You nipped at his bottom lip and deepened the kiss until it was something messy and heated. Peña’s thumb stroked gently over your side before he began to move lower.

That was fine with you. In fact, you felt encouraged to continue your own explorations. You let your hands travel across Peña’s back and deliberately downward until you could squeeze the firmness of his ass.

He made a surprised noise and you swallowed it with a laugh. Peña’s lips tightened with his own smile, but he soon took revenge as his fingertips brushed between your legs. You groaned, bracing your foot against the bed to push your knees further apart. That gave him the space he needed to toy with your clit, fingers exploring your folds.

Everything seemed to shift a moment later as Peña pushed you onto your back and leaned over you. Your lips - having separated from his to avoid chipping a tooth or something equally mood-ruining - parted around a silent gasp as he sank a finger into you.

You managed to keep from making any noise… until he started to thrust that finger inside of you. “Peña,” you said, hating how much it sounded like a whimper.

“Shh, baby,” he soothed. “I’m gonna take good care of you.”

You probably would have objected to that if he hadn’t pushed another finger into you. Instead, you gasped out his name again, lifting your hips as if to encourage him. Instead, all you did was crush his forearm where it was resting on your lower stomach - and brush against his cock where it was pressed between you.

Peña’s entire body jolted away from you at the touch. The sole exception were his hips, which pushed toward you as if begging to keep in contact with the softness of your skin. How could you ignore such a plea?

You reached between you, finding Peña’s length first with your fingertips, and then wrapping your entire hand around him. He hissed out something that could have been a curse or your name or a prayer. All you knew was that you liked the sound of it, and you stroked the velvety skin in hopes of pulling the noise from him again.

Above you, Peña bared his teeth, fingers working faster inside of you. Somehow, this had turned into a battle of wills and it was clear that you were losing. The tension became overwhelming as your stomach tightened and your body started to contract around his fingers in long, lazy waves.

When you were slack beneath him, Peña pulled his hand away from you and relaxed slightly. His mouth returned to yours, lips gentle despite the insistent hardness you could feel prodding at your hip. By the time you had caught your breath, Peña had stoked your body back to a fever pitch of wet wanting and you were struggling to keep from wriggling against the pillows. Then his tongue slid along yours and you lost that particular battle.

“I guess that means you’re ready to keep going, then,” Peña said, lips quirking. “Normally, I like to do a little more for my partners…”

The way he trailed off, glancing meaning toward your core with his lips pursed, made his meaning clear, but you shook your head. “We’re short on time. I remember.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, moving away for a moment. For a strange moment, you thought he was getting out of bed, but you soon realized he had retrieved the condom from the bedside table and was rolling it over his length.

As Peña settled his hips between your thighs, you took a brief moment to check in with yourself. Was this still something you wanted? To sleep with a man you didn’t know, didn’t trust, and didn’t like?

Peña glanced down at you, lifting his eyebrows to check that you were still interested. Maybe he was an asshole, but you wanted him badly. For once, you were going to forget about your plans and responsibilities. You could do something for yourself. More specifically, you could do Peña.

You nodded and Peña recaptured your lips as his hips surged forward. It was a good thing he had kept your mouth busy, because something between a gasp and a wail fought its way out of you. His fingers had been a lot, but they had been nothing compared to Peña’s full length. You felt stretched, invaded. He pushed himself in shallow thrusts, working his way deeper inside of you until your hips were flush.

It wasn’t clear who broke the kiss first, because you both seemed to need a moment.

You were panting, eyes closed as you tried to reconcile yourself with the stretch of having Peña buried to the root in your channel. Maybe it wouldn’t have been quite so intense if it hadn’t been so long since you had slept with anyone. Or maybe it was just him.

For his part, Peña had his forehead pressed against yours. You didn’t know if his eyes were open or closed since yours were squeezed shut, but he was definitely talking. Assuming you could call it talking. He seemed to be repeating variations of, “Shit. Shit. You’re so tight. Not gonna- Not gonna last long. Shit. You’re so- you’re perfect. Feels so good. So tight. Shit.”

By the time he had been through this litany a few times, your body had started to change its mind about how Peña felt inside of you. Your channel had adjusted, your walls stretching until you didn’t feel like you were going to split in two. In fact, you were having the opposite problem now: the weight of Peña on top of you, the feeling of him inside… you needed more.

“Peña,” you muttered, frowning. You still weren’t willing to open your eyes, so you couldn’t tell if he could hear you over the sound of his own desperation. “Peña.”

The frantic tumble of words paused. “Yeah?”

“I really need you to start moving,” you told him.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You’re still really-”

He was going to say ‘tight’, you could tell, but you squeezed your internal muscles around him, letting out a little sigh at the feeling. Peña’s hips stabbed forward automatically, seeming to move on pure instinct.

“You’re really ready?”

“I said I was.”

“Then open your eyes.”

You responded to the challenge, cracking your lids open to peer up at him. He was studying your face intently, though you didn’t know exactly what he was searching for.

The silence stretched until your inner muscles spasmed around him and your lids fluttered. “Are you going to move now, or do I have to do something drastic?”

“Much as I’d like to see that,” he started, withdrawing from you with a deliciously thick pull, “I’ll start moving.”

And then he did, plunging himself back into you with a strength and sharpness that drove the air from your lungs, forcing a small cry along with it. He paused, eyebrows raised and you panted. “Keep going.”

Peña took you at your word, settling into a driving rhythm that left you jolting and scrabbling at the sheets. Your hips lifted and fell with him, participating as smoothly as if it was a choreographed dance. And maybe it was, in a way. Humanity’s oldest dance. And you reluctantly admitted that Peña was one of the best dance partners you’d ever had.

He seemed intuitive, somehow. You had known him for such an incredibly short span of time, but he was listening to your body and responding accordingly.

When your thighs started to cramp, he reached down to wrap your legs around his waist instead.

When you had worked your way too far up the bed and your head was in danger of hitting the headboard, he wrapped you in strong arms and pulled you more tightly against himself.

And when you were gliding tantalizingly close to the orgasm you could feel shining on the horizon, his head dipped down and captured one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking and nibbling and laving it with his tongue until you were pushed over the edge.

You said something as you came, you were sure of it. Maybe it was his name, but you didn’t know for sure. The roaring of your blood in your ears was too loud to hear past.

The feeling of Peña pistoning inside of you drew out your orgasm so long that you were left utterly spent at the end of it. Your eyes were closed once more, your mouth slack as you tried to regain your ability to think.

Above you, Peña’s breathing had changed to something harsh and desperate. He was still fucking into you, but his rhythm was beginning to stutter. As he moved, he hit something inside of you that sent an aftershock ricocheting through your spent body, tightening your tired muscles. You moaned, hands coming up to brace yourself on Peña’s shoulders.

Something in the moment must have pushed Peña over the edge. He buried himself in your center, shudders racing over his body until he slumped heavily on top of you. He was panting as if he had just run a marathon.

You were torn as higher thought returned to you. You liked a bit of closeness after sex, you always had. But you didn’t know Peña that well. More importantly, he was heavy.

Fortunately, he solved the puzzle himself, rolling off of you but not so far that you weren’t touching anymore. You caught your breath in shared silence, but Peña broke it before it could grow uncomfortable.

“That was almost perfect on time,” he said, glancing at the clock on the beside table.

It was a good way to get yourselves moving again, you had to admit. It wasn’t overly harsh, but it reminded you both that there was a clear line here. You weren’t dating, weren’t friends, weren’t anything. You were essentially strangers, ones who had decided to scratch a biological itch together.

You rolled toward the edge of the bed. “Guess I’d better clean up and get dressed, then.”

Peña started to say something behind you, but cut himself off before you could even guess what it would be. Instead, you heard him shifting against the sheets and assumed he was removing the condom.

Since you were already in the bathroom by that point, you offered the small trashcan around the corner so he could dispose of it without any more fuss than necessary. There was a pause before the bit of latex hit the can, but not a long one. You wet a washcloth to give yourself a businesslike swipe between the legs, cleaning up the majority of the evidence of how you had spent your time in the hotel room.

When you walked back into the main room, Peña had started to get dressed, his clothing already slightly wrinkled from the way it had been bunched on the table. Your own clothing was fine, and you had put yourself back together in only minutes. Your hair was slightly worse for wear, but nothing too noticeable. If anyone asked, you could tell them you had been trying not to pull it out during your interactions with Peña. You got the sense he was known for being frustrating - even in government agencies.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called ‘Peña’ during sex before,” he commented casually.

You paused, thinking that over. It sounded bad, but… “I only know you as Peña. No one, including you, ever told me your first name.”

He shook his head wryly. “It’s Javier.”

“Nice to officially meet you, Javier,” you said.

“You-” Peña cut himself off, clearing his throat. “You can call me Javi.”

“Javi,” you repeated softly.

His gaze grew intense once more, but the phone rang.

In a moment, Peña had pushed you further into the room, maneuvering you until you were around a corner from the door. He stood shielding you from the window with his body. “Get down while I answer that.”

How a sniper or anyone else was going to attack you through a closed door or a window with the heavy curtains drawn was beyond you, but you did as Peña ordered.

The phone call was short and in English. You couldn’t tell if either of those were a good sign or a bad one. When he put the phone back on its hook, he nodded at you. “They’re ready for us to go. You’ll leave first and then I’ll follow. We’ll be in contact if we need anything else from you. And if you find out any more information you want to share, you know how to contact us.”

You nodded, heart beating faster for some inexplicable reason.

Peña opened the drawer below the telephone, retrieving the small notepad and pen he found there. He scrawled something on a piece of paper, then tore it out and handed it to you. “And here is how you can contact me directly. The first one is for my work phone and the second is my home phone. If you don’t get an answer at work, call my home phone. If I don’t answer that, leave a message. Do not say your name, just tell me when you’ll call back. I’ll know it’s you.”

You nodded again, this time a little too fast and shaky. It was a lot of information and, even as you were struggling to absorb all of it, you were suddenly struck by the reality of the situation. You were in danger. You would continue to be in danger for the rest of your life, as long as Pablo Escobar lived.

“Hey,” Peña said lowly, drawing your attention back to him. “Be careful. You may know Escobar, but you don’t know what he’s capable of.”

No matter how soothing you found his confidence, Peña’s tone of superiority irked you. You snatched the piece of paper from his hand, folding it with motions made jerky with irritation. “I do know. I know better than anyone.”

Peña scoffed. “You’re a nurse. I get called to look at the bodies of anyone who may have been killed by Escobar or his sicarios.”

“I may not be DEA, agente, but I live in Colombia. I see bodies almost every day. Maybe not as many as you do, but you see the ones Escobar killed. I see the ones he hurt. The ones who have to live with what he did to them, have to live with it every day. And I honestly don’t know which is worse.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself and Peña tracked the motion. “Let’s try not to figure it out. We’ll do everything we can to keep you safe.”

“Worry about yourself, Peña,” you countered, not unkindly. “You’re in just as much danger as I am, if not more.”

With that, you left the hotel room. When you had gone in, you were a nurse and an unwilling staff member of Pablo Escobar. When you left, you were an informant to the United States DEA. Your life had irrevocably changed, but it had been the right call. You were sure of it.

---

Author's Note - I tried, but I couldn't find any information about travel between Colombia and Mexico for Mexican citizens during the majority of Escobar's exploits. I'm not really sure if the reader could leave as easily as she claims she could. Just stating that outright in case anyone had some different information!

Thanks for reading! I'll be back with the second chapter tomorrow!

#ink's fics #fanfic february #fanfic february 2023 #fanficfebruary #narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena x you #reader insert #lemon #minors dni #reader insert fic

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