#steve murphy and I are hillbillies

[thirsty-flygirl]

All my Javi and Poe writing, and Steve Murphy has the most notes.

Do Better

Steve Murphy x f!Reader

About 2800 words. Not proofed or Beta-read. Good luck.

I don't know what happened here. I haven't written anything for months, this was sitting in my WIPs and I just decided to finish it.

Contrary to what this suggests, I am NOT a Steve Murphy girl. Javier Peña for life. But if Steve showed up, I probably wouldn't kick him out of bed. Not surprised, just disappointed.

OVER 18 ONLY! Warnings: oral (m and f receiving), PIV- no protection (use a condom, kids), slight degradation, Steve being a southern boy with an attitude, some language, a Reader much sexier and confident than I could ever be, my overuse of commas and italics.

“Just this once,” you panted, the pair of you stumbling through your doorway. 

“Never again,” Steve agreed, his hot breath fanning across your skin as his mouth traversed the column of your throat. You moaned in response, tilting your head so he could have better access, and let his strong hands push you back against the door until it closed. 

“Fuck, you smell good,” he muttered, letting his nose trail across your collarbone, “always smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pressed his thigh between your legs and you eagerly rolled your hips against the strong muscle, the seam of your jeans rubbing against your clit and stoking the flames of arousal in your belly. 

“I should, it’s expensive,” you moaned, dropping down over, and over, and over to feel the delicious friction against your folds.

Steve huffed out a laugh, pressing his hot mouth against the swell of your tits as his hands came up to grope you through your blouse.

“Such a fuckin’ smartass, always runnin’ your mouth,” he emphasized his words by roughly squeezing your nipples between his fingers. You cried out and rutted harder against his thigh, feeling your slick dampen your panties. Steve groaned his approval and pressed against you harder.

“That’s right, baby, rub that sweet pussy on me...get you nice and wet so I can just slide right in.”

Reached up, you grabbed a fistful of blond hair and jerked his head up, slanting your mouth over his in a bruising, sloppy kiss. He growled, urging you on, and you let your tongue tangle roughly with his for a moment before pulling back and nipping at his pouty bottom lip.

“Let me show you what else I can do with my mouth,” you purred, dropping down to your knees right there in your entryway. You made quick work of his belt, palming him through the rough denim and squeezing lightly. 

“Well, fuck, Murph,” you laughed lightly, “looks like you’re finally happy to see me for once.” 

He braced himself against the door with one hand, dropping his head to look down at you like an angel just before the fall. 

“Quit talking and just suck my dick, honey,” he rasped, reaching with his other hand to rest on the back of your head.

You grinned and pulled him from his boxers, long and thick, ruddy tip weeping. Letting your tongue dart out to swipe against the tempting swirl of precum, you moaned lowly in the back of your throat before wrapping your lips around his shaft. 

Bobbing along Steve’s length, you used one hand to stroke whatever wasn’t buried in your mouth, listening to his gasps and growls in order to guide your movements. You let your tongue laze against his frenulum, slowly running it back and forth and driving him insane.

“Not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” he gritted out, his fingers knotting in your hair and urging you forward. You let him guide you, hollowing out your cheeks as he pumped his cock into your hot, eager mouth, trying to take as much of him as possible on each pass.

Your own arousal roared within you, pussy fluttering at the thought of finally getting him between your legs. Your panties were completely soaked, your position at Steve’s feet with your knees tucked together making them bunch up against your clit. You writhed around, trying to find that same sweet friction that you had on his leg, but you needed more, more of the man gazing down at you, like a merciful god absolving you of all your sins.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his eyes shining appreciatively in the dim light. “Such a good girl, gettin’ down on your knees for me. Taking that cock so well…..”

His praise made you blossom, your eyes wide and acquiescent, lifting up to meet his. You whimpered around his length, moving your hand faster, bobbing enthusiastically. 

“Yeah,” he continued, nodding his head as he watched his dick disappear between your plump lips, “you like gettin’ your pretty face fucked, don’t ya?” You moaned in return, your eyelashes fluttering as his words alone made you soar.

Steve smirked crookedly down at you. “Looks like someone enjoys being on their knees for me . . . you like me using you like a whore?”

Fuck, he’d found your weakness without even trying. As assertive and confident you were in your professional life, there was something about being on your knees in front of a sexy man and letting him just control you, defile you, just absolutely fucking use you that made your cunt throb.

“Get up here, honey,” Steve ordered, pulling you up against his body, cock hard against your stomach, and taking your mouth roughly. He gripped your chin tightly as he kissed you, the sharp bite of pain making you moan wantonly.

He tore his mouth from yours, panting as he pressed his forehead against your temple. “Bedroom, now,” he demanded. You slipped past him, leading him down the short hallway and into your room. He grabbed you the moment you crossed the threshold, twirling you in his arms and walking you backward to the bed. 

“Let me see those tits,” he ordered, his deep voice hoarse with lust. You met his eyes and began unbuttoning your blouse, watching his pupils dilate as you exposed the lace of your bra. “Yeah, that’s it.” He reached out and ran his thumbs over your nipples, admiring them as they hardened under his touch. “So pretty,” he mumbled, tweaking them until they ached.

You whimpered, arching your back and  thrusting your chest further into his warm hands. “Steve, please,” you begged, letting your head loll back, “please fuck me.”

That deep, cocky chuckle rumbled through his chest as he regarded you. “Damn, honey, you do know how to make a man feel good. Let me take care of you.”

Steve slipped his hands behind your back, deftly unhooking your bra and letting it drop down to the floor, forgotten. He bent his head to lick at one perfect nipple, rolling his tongue around the bud until it tightened, then sucking it sharply into his mouth. His other hand drifted down between your thighs, rubbing unceremoniously against the thick seam of your jeans with his long fingers.

“I can feel you,” he mumbled against your breast, “soaking fuckin’ wet.”

His words thrummed through you like live wires dancing across your skin. You felt absolutely electric, overstimulated, nerve endings sizzling wherever Steve touched you. Keening, you bucked against his hand, letting a breathless whisper tumble from your lips.

“‘S’all for you, Steve, my pussy’s ready just for you.”

Your filthy words spurred him on, a low, gritty laugh escaping him as he shoved you gently back on to your bed.

“God damn, honey, keep talkin’ like that and I’ll fuckin’ blow my load all over those beautiful tits.” He crawled over you, hovering there while he slowly unfastened your jeans and slid them down your legs, leaving you nearly bare in your bra and panties. Once he had you where he wanted you, he leaned back on his heels, running a hand appreciatively down your body.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re gorgeous?” 

You arched into his touch, his long fingers tracing over your throat, your breasts, your stomach, finally to the ache between your legs, where he dipped them under the elastic of your panties to tease at your heated folds. 

“That’s right baby, you are drenched, aren’t you?” His voice was soft, intimate, but his tone was rough with need. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, meeting his icy-blue gaze and nodding as touched you. “Yeah,” he continued, a smirk sliding across his lips, “that pussy’s all mine tonight, isn’t it? You gonna let me do whatever I want to you?”

“Yes,” you moaned, arching into his touch, urging his fingers to slip inside your soaked cunt. Steve obliged, sliding them inside you and curling them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made your pussy clench.

“God, that’s nice,” Steve murmured absently, staring down at the spot where his fingers disappeared inside you, “you got such a pretty pussy, honey. I bet it tastes sweet, too.”

He pulled his fingers out and licked them clean while you watched, his tongue dancing over the digits. You felt like you would burn up at the sight, right there in your bed, the flames of your raging fucking need for your partner to just fuck you, torching you right where you lay.

“God damn, I was right,” Steve smiled at you when your essence was cleaned from his hand. “Now I’m gonna eat that pussy while you lay there for me, okay? You gonna be my good little whore and cum on my fuckin’ tongue?”

You whined in response, writhing your hips involuntarily, seeking out the friction you needed. Steve placed a large palm against you, fingers splayed against the softness of your lower belly while his palm pressed firmly on your clit. A whine left your throat at his touch.

“Fuck me, honey,” he swore, “those pretty sounds make me want to get inside you.” Looking down at his hand, he contemplated his next move while you waited breathlessly. His eyes flicked up to yours, pupils blown out in anticipation. You let your hand drift to his lap, once again roughly massaging his dick through his jeans and feeling a victorious surge of arousal when his own groan cut through the silence, long and low and deep. 

In a flash, Steve moved away from you to stand next to the bed, tearing off his pants and boxers to reveal his cock bobbing proudly against his lower abdomen. The slick spot of precum trailing from the tip had you licking your lips hungrily; as much as you wanted him buried deep inside your pussy, you’d take him down your throat again, too.

“You’re gonna have to wait,” he warned, dropping to his knees and pulling you to the edge, “I’ve been thinking about gettin’ my mouth on this pussy for months.” 

With that, he dove in, licking a long, hot stripe from your soaking folds to your clit, then again and again, urging you toward your release. His tongue pressed just right against you, earning cries and moans that spurred him on more.

“God, you taste good,” Steve mumbled against your skin, alternating long and slow licks with quick flicks of his tongues, praise and filthy declarations falling from his lips as he worked you.

“That’s right, honey, you’re such a good girl, lettin’ me taste you like this.” He wrapped his lips around your clit for effect and sucked lightly, the sensation nearly sending your body off the bed in blinding ecstasy. “Yeah, that’s right,” he whispered against your swollen bud, “you’re gonna cum for me right? Right here in my mouth? ‘Cause I’d sure like to drink you up . . .”

He returned to sucking you, applying just the right amount of pressure to get you off, and slid three fingers into your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, Steve!” you cried, arching your back off the bed. You heard his low laugh from between your legs. 

“You’re gettin’ close, aren’t you, honey?”

“Mmmhmmm.” You were beyond words now, unable to form a coherent response at the onslaught of Steve’s mouth and fingers working you. His tongue was magical, sucking and licking you just right, as if he somehow knew exactly how to get you to shatter. You felt that sweet, electric heat start to spiral right from your pussy throughout your body, your limbs growing tense at your nearing release.

“Fuck, Steve - fuck - right there, yes,” you babbled, words tumbling from your lips as your climax roared through you. You cried out, again, over and over, relishing the feeling of your lips circling the sound of his name, and he stayed with you through it all, licking and moaning as you flooded his senses with your delicious orgasm. 

Steve pressed his face against you, lapping your cum as it trickled over his fingers. It was almost enough to make him cum, right there between your legs, his mustache and chin drenched. 

“My god,” Steve uttered once you had come down from your high, trailing his tongue lazily up your slit again to capture anything he’d missed, “you taste better than I could have imagined, honey.” He pressed a kiss against your inner thigh before rising from the floor and flopping beside you on the bed. 

“C’mere,” he pulled you over to roll on top of him, watching you with hungry eyes as you settled your still-aching core over his pulsing cock. “You’re beautiful,” he said, almost reverently, reaching up to brush a thumb over your nipple. Smiling bashfully, you rolled your hips slowly against his cock, the tip nudging your entrance on each pass. 

“I want you inside me,” you whispered down at him, smiling softly at the glazed, sexed-out look in his eyes.

“Nothin’ I want more,” he smirked, guiding you up so that he could hold himself in place, a low groan escaping him as your pussy swallowed his dick inch by inch.

“Fuck, honey.”

You began to move, slowly, your pussy clenching against him on every stroke. He felt better than you thought possible, like you were made just to take him like this. 

“Steve,” you whimpered, your pace quickening already, the sensation of him sliding over your g-spot bringing you closer and closer to your climax. 

“What do you need, baby? Tell me,” he urged his big hands resting against your hips, helping you move against him. Unable to express what you needed in words, you planted your hands against his chest and rolled your hips down roughly, taking him as deep as possible so that you could feel every delicious inch of him.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last long," Steve breathed, hips rising to meet yours. "So pretty, so perfect," he mumbled, "wanna just fuckin' make you feel good."

"God, you are," you sighed, bending over to kiss Steve softly. He responded eagerly, his mouth slanting against yours, tongues tangling languidly. You felt that fire building throughout your body and moved faster, harder, his hands gripping the flesh of your ass to help slam you down on his cock.

You sat up straight again, your fingers traveling down to where you were joined and rubbing tight circles on your clit. Steve watched, open-mouthed, as you helped him bring you to the brink.

"Touch that pussy, honey," he ground out, his own thrusts becoming sloppy. His balls tightened and he pushed his fingers against yours, both of you sliding through your slick to stimulate your clit. "Fuck, I'm gonna come soon," he growled, "need to you tell me where, pretty girl."

Your cunt clenched around Steve, your orgasm sparking down your spine, lightning heat growing low in your belly. 

“FIll me up,” you managed to moan, bright white flashing behind your eyes as you came around his cock, hard, your release soaking the coarse blond curls beneath your pussy.

Steve groaned, his dick locked in your grip. He managed to thrust once more up into you before his own orgasm tore through him. Pressing you down against him in a bruising grip, Steve let your pussy milk his cock, jets of cum pulsing up into you.

He groaned through his release, a whine in the back of his throat sending you over the edge again. You whimpered, head thrown back, your fingers tangled with Steve’s where they clutched your hips. 

Reaching up, Steve cupped the back of your head and brought you down to him in a searing kiss, your breasts pressed against the sheen of sweat coating his chest. His tongue twisted with yours, devouring your mouth possessively. 

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, honey,” he whispered roughly, breaking the kiss you rest his forehead against yours. Gently, he rolled you over so that you were tucked under him, his cock still seated deep inside of you. He kissed you again, deeply, sweetly, his hand coming down to cup your cheek.

Despite being bone-tired, you responded eagerly, letting your own fingers twist in his hair. Your cunt clenched around his length, now hardening again. Rolling your hips experimentally, you broke away and grinned up at him.

“You wanna try again?”

Steve smirked above you, a roll of his blue eyes making you giggle. “You just don’t know when to fuckin’ stop, do you?” His forearms rested on either side of your head, his mouth hovering over yours.

“I thought you said ‘just this once,’” Steve teased, his lips brushing against yours. 

Your stomach gave an odd flip as you looked up at him, that cocky smile lighting up something warm inside you. Offering a little shrug, you responded with a smile.

“I just think you can do better.”

[toxicanonymity]

The Raid, Part 2.

panty-dropping javi art by @bonezone44

8k words | dark!javi x f!reader x dark!steve | The Raid SUMMARY: Javi and his partner get you settled in. WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon (captivity & more), kidnapping, drugs, mild withdrawal, manhandling, sharing, degradation, praise, homoerotic tension, thigh fucking, somnophilia (javi), p in v (steve, but Javi's involved), orgasm denial, cumplay, size kink if you squint, mfm adjacent, hillbilly cock. Javi & Steve RECS: Lie Still by @milla-frenchy , Crossing Lines by @lunitawrites , Helping Hands and Polaroids by @clawdee , You can be the boss by @girlboybug . TY all!! A/N: Could've been 2 parts (4.4k/3.6k) so there's a divider (ty @cafekitsune) if you want 2 reads. Ty @debbiequinn for your sleep thot and @ghoulettesinspace for your styling thots. Tagged people who asked for part 2 at the end.

✨NEXT: Javi isn't home - Steve PWP.

The DEA has left the scene, aside from Javi and his tall, blonde partner. The partner managed to catch your (ex) boyfriend while Javi was “supervising” you. Javi has given his men a talking-to and told them you were never there.  With a strong grip on your arm, he's dragged you to a Ford Bronco where he's now forcing you into the back seat. 

"My shirt," you beg. 

Javi shrugs mercilessly. "Should've put it on before you ran." He glances at your bra before beginning to shut the car door. 

He and his partner talk outside the car. Javi stands with his hands tucked into the top of his vest. The taller man leans with one hand just above the back seat window and his other hand on his hip. He ducks down to look at you, but doesn't acknowledge you. He asks Javi, "You sure we need to be drivin' around with her half dressed?" 

"What'd I say?”

The blonde agent holds his hands up in mock defense. “No Carrillo, no questions." He walks around front to the driver's seat. You have a better view of him once he's seated. He's strong, like Javi. He has a thick mustache, too.

Javi gets in the passenger seat and puts on a voice like he's teaching a class and would rather be anywhere else. He addresses you by name, then says, "This is Steve Murphy." 

Steve nods in the rear view mirror, and your eyes meet. Then he turns on the engine and asks Javi, "safe house?" 

Javi tilts his head back and smooths his mustache. “Mm,” he contemplates.

Steve offers, "I'll head to the closest one."

Javi answers, "No. My place."

"Yours?" 

"Yeah, you know, the place I live? Right downstairs?" 

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Alright." After a few moments of silence, Steve asks, "informant?" 

"Eh," Javi ponders. "We'll see."  He puts a cigarette in his mouth, then takes the cigarette lighter out of its socket and lights up. Javi reaches down to crank the window open a little more, then exhales, aiming the smoke outside. He asks, "We need to worry about Romeo?" as he hands the cigarette to Steve. 

“Nah,” Steve replies as he accepts the cigarette. He looks at the tip of the filter and takes one puff before handing it back to Javi. Steve exhales out the window, then reaches back and puts his hand behind Javi's seat to put the car in reverse. 

"Nah,” Steve repeats. “Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that dumbass. . .Told him we'd fuck her in front of him, know what he said?”

“What?” Javi asks, bemused. 

“He said go ahead."  You’re not surprised. 

"Ouch," Javi pretends to sympathize, then looks back to check on you. "Sorry, sweetheart."

—-

Once they get you to the apartment, the first thing they do is take you to the bathroom. You have to walk through a bedroom to get there. In the middle of the bedroom, there's a bed with leather restraints. It makes your stomach turn to look at. 

Steve’s eyes fixate on it and he asks Javi, "You kept this stuff?"

Javi retorts, "Where'd you think it went, the Salvation Army?” 

Javi pauses to take off his tactical vest.  “Let’s wash that place off her.” 

“C’mon,” Steve gently urges you by the arm toward the bathroom. You go in the restroom and stand, awkwardly awaiting instructions. You lean your back against the wall and the handcuffs drag.

Steve plugs the drain and turns on the water. Javi walks in, takes out the keys and uncuffs you. Steve retires to the doorway and leans against it, tucking his hands into the top of his tactical vest and watching. He seems to take up the whole frame. 

There's a toilet next to the bathtub/shower combo. Javi closes the lid and sits down, facing you, and manspreads in his tight jeans. His shirt is stained with sweat, and the glimmer of a gold chain catches your eye on his tan chest. Javi pats his thigh closest to the tub. You sit on his thigh, facing the door and Steve. Javi strokes your face, and you look down at the floor, cheeks warm, heart racing. 

“It’s okay,” Javi tells you, “Vamos a ponerte limpia y lista para una vida nueva.” (We’re gonna get you clean and ready for a new life). He unclasps your bra and you let it fall off into your lap. Javi tosses it to Steve, saying, “Check the closet out there.” 

Javi reaches over to feel the water, then rests his large hand between your shoulder blades.  “Now take off your pants.” He gives you a gentle push out of his lap. 

You stand again and remove your pants. Javi stays seated.

You’re cowering with your arms in front of you, but Javi beckons you with a hooked finger. You come to stand between his knees. He nudges your inner elbows and you let your arms fall out of the way. 

“Good girl,” he mutters, not taking his eyes off your tits. His hands come to your chest without even a glance to your face. He lightly massages your breasts until both nipples are erect. He slots both his hands under your armpits and thumbs your nipples, then slides his palms down to your hips where he hooks his thumbs into your panties and keeps going, bringing them down to the floor. 

Steve comes back from the closet and sets some clothes on the bathroom counter. 

Javi looks over and tells him, “Keep Carillo off my back for a while.” 

Steve nods and leaves. “Hasta luego!” he shouts with an American accent on his way out. 

Javi chuckles and shakes his head. 

-

Javi eyes the water level of the tub and turns off the faucet. “How do you feel?” he asks you with kind eyes. 

“Fine,” you mutter without meeting his gaze. 

He extends his hand for you, and you hold it for balance. You dip a toe in and it’s lukewarm. “Get in.” He nods toward the bath and you do. He takes off his shoes and socks and puts them outside the door, then cuffs his jeans. 

“How’s the water?” He asks then reaches under the sink, and you watch his ass strain his pants as he gets a bath poof. 

“Uh, good.” Your answer echoes off the tile. 

He sits on the side of the tub and uses a light orange bar of soap to make some lather, then scrubs you. He holds you with one hand for leverage while he scrubs you with the other. He starts with your arms, and your neck. He's not gentle. 

“Ow,” you mutter at one point.  

“Ay, pobrecita” (poor little girl). “You're going to feel so clean,” he reassures you. He makes you lift your arms. Then each leg. The tub squeaks under you as you scoot forward. He scrubs your legs and between your thighs. He does your breasts and your back. His arm muscles flex with his effort. When he leans over you to reach your other side, his back muscles strain his shirt and his gold chain escapes from his collar, revealing a little cross on it. 

“You’re bottoming out,” he mutters. 

“Huh?”

“In life.” He pauses and makes sure you're looking at him as he explains this. “It’s a good thing. Know why?” 

You stare at him vacantly.

“Once you hit rock bottom, you go back up.” 

You look away, and your cheeks burn. You get it, he found you at a low point, he doesn’t have to rub it in. It doesn't feel great. 

Javi washes your stomach and downward. He gets close to your intimate parts, but he's clinical about it. He gets you up on your knees and scrubs your bottom. He flattens his hand and slides the side of it down your crack, making you gasp with an unexpected rush of warmth to your core. 

Your skin feels almost numb in some areas by the time he's done bathing you. Then he lathers a softer sponge and washes you more gently.  He drains the tub and takes his time lazily rinsing you. When he's finished, he turns on the shower and tells you to make sure he got it all. 

Once you’re squeaky clean, he dries you off with a pale, yellow, threadbare towel. He inspects the clothes on the counter. It’s a Hawaiian shirt much too large to be Javi���s. Some pants, too, but he only puts the Hawaiians shirt on you. You eye your underwear on the floor, but Javi bends down and snatches it up before you have the chance to collect it. 

“I’ll start some laundry,” he offers.

—. . .----

Javi makes pork and beans for dinner. While you’re eating, someone jogs up the stairs outside. “Steve’s right upstairs,” Javi tells you. “Ever need anything and I’m not here, just yell.” He takes a bite of his beans. “He’s a better cook, too,” he smiles with his eyes. 

During a quiet moment, you’re startled by the sound of a woman moaning from upstairs. You look up at the ceiling. 

[ohhhh, she whines. give it to me.]

“Just a porno,” Javi tells you with a smirk. 

“So,” He studies your face. “What did you want to be when you grew up?” 

“You make it sound like my life is over.” 

“No, there’s still time,” he shrugs. 

You refuse to answer. 

[upstairs, a man’s voice joins in. oh yeah, take it, baby.]

Javi tries, “Favorite color?” 

You don’t answer that either. 

[yeah, just like that]

“That’s okay,” he says. “We’ve got all the time in the world to get to know each other.” 

“You can't keep me here forever, if that's what you're trying to do.”

Javi’s eyebrows knit in concern. "Oh, sweetheart.” With sad eyes, he asks, “You really think someone will report you missing?" 

"I have a job," you protest. 

“Oh,” he sounds fakely impressed. “Well. . . Be a good girl, and I'll get you a better one.”

Upstairs, a deeper, clearer voice sighs, “Ohh, fuck,” making you squeeze your thighs together. That has to be Steve. It sounds like him. 

[Steve sighs and grunts over the faint sounds from the television.] 

You bite your lip and look away. 

Javi lowers his head and raises his eyebrows at you. He reaches for your face and smirks as he makes you look at him. “Like what ya hear?” Blood rushes to your face. He chuckles as he lowers his hand. 

[A long groan from Steve.]

Oh, wow. You wonder if Javi will notice the wet spot under you. You take a deep breath. When you regain your focus, he’s studying your eyes with an amused sparkle in his.  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he nods, then pats your cheek. 

“He’s a good guy,” Javi adds, then looks upward in thought. He tilts his head back and forth as though debating himself. “Kind of.” He pushes a glass of water toward you. “Drink.”

—-

When it’s time to sleep, Javi takes you to the bedroom you walked through on the way in. He watches your face as you eye the bed with its restraints. 

“You’ve been pretty good so far,” Javi muses. “Maybe we don’t need this yet.” 

“Please,” you beg. “I promise I’ll behave.” 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

“Fine.”

“Alright, then. I’m not sure if you’ll like the other option much better, though.” 

He brings you to his room and heads toward the closet, which rolls open with a four-panel door. you wouldn’t really mind sleeping in Javi’s bed with him, but that’s not what he has in mind. He pulls out an old futon mattress with a striped fitted blanket and throws it on the floor.  “You can choose where to sleep, how’s that?”

“Here,” you answer without hesitation and he chuckles. 

“Muy bien, pobrecita. But I *am* going to have to secure you.”  He takes his handcuffs out and cuffs one to a radiator under the window. Then, with his foot, he pushes the futon mattress over to it.  

“Really?” You ask. “I promise I’ll be good.”

“I believe you. But you need protection from yourself right now.” 

His bed has plenty of room for both of you. He’s just being an ass. 

-

Javi lets you watch television, sitting side by side with him on his sofa. He periodically looks at you skeptically, as though wondering if you’ll make a run for the door, but you don’t. It sure has been a long day. You yawn. 

“Ready for bed?” Javi asks. 

You nod. 

There’s a knock at the door. 

It’s Steve. He’s come by to drop off a couple of bags. One is from the grocery store. Javi steps into the breezeway to talk for a couple of minutes. When he comes back in, he brings the grocery bag to the table and puts the others aside. In the grocery bag, there are brand new toiletries for you, including a toothbrush. 

Javi takes you to the bathroom and watches you while you brush your teeth, then he brings one of the other shopping bags into the bedroom. There’s a nightgown. The material is thin and it’s on the shorter side. Not exactly modest. Javi puts it on you, and at least it’s more comfortable than whomever’s shirt you were wearing. 

He gives you a thin pillow and pats the mattress for you to lie down. He cuffs you to the radiator. Then he goes to another room and comes back with a blanket. He tucks you in. 

“If you need to go to the bathroom or anything, just wake me up, okay?” He moves your wrist to clank the handcuffs on the radiator in demonstration. “I hope tonight won’t be bad, but you might start to feel sick, or get chills. That’s normal okay?” 

You nod.  

He pats your head affectionately and bids you goodnight. “Sweet dreams, mi pobrecita.” He goes to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. When he comes back in the room, you try not to watch him, but you hear him rustling around near the bed. You tilt your head up enough to steal a quick glance, and he’s taking off his shirt. He doesn’t get in his bed right away, but eventually you hear the mattress creak. 

—--

You wake up in the middle of the night feeling a little queasy, but you’re unsure if it’s the circumstances, the beans, or the detox. You can’t tell if you’re hot or cold, but this sleeping arrangement is not doing you any favors. You don’t want to wake Javi up, but the night feels like it might last forever otherwise. You rattle the cuffs against the metal. 

“Ay, pobrecita,” he whispers. “Okay, I’m coming.” He gets out of bed. 

He approaches you, barefoot. As soon as he kneels down, he mutters, “Ay, cabrón” (oh, bastard) under his breath and returns to his nightstand for the key. 

“It’s okay,” he reassures you when he comes back. He uncuffs you. As you sit up, he helps you with a warm hand on your back. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Javi responds as if he didn’t handcuff you to a radiator. 

As he helps you up from the floor, something brushes your thigh and makes you tingle. Your body knows what it is before you do. When you register what grazed your leg through his sleep shorts, your face heats up and the tingle turns into a throb. Javi walks you to his bathroom with one arm around you in case you have trouble. He takes you all the way to the toilet. “You good?” he asks. 

“Yeah, do you mind if I?”

“Sure.” He backs up into the doorframe, but he doesn’t close it. You glance over, and he’s not hiding the massive tent in his shorts. He’s not shy about it at all. He’s also not trying to do anything about it. “Alright, I’ll be right here.” He closes the door halfway and stands outside. You sit there for a few minutes on the cool tile in front of the toilet. The urge to be sick has passed. He peeks his head in to check on you. “How about some water?”

“Okay,” you nod. He comes in and helps you up, hard-on still blazing. He takes an empty, upside-down glass from his clean bathroom counter, fills it up, and hands it to you. You’re aching at the silhouette of his length just casually standing at attention. It takes all your energy not to look right at his shorts. 

“Good girl,” he gently palms the back of your head. 

You try to look anywhere but down. You focus on his bare chest. His chain drapes over his collar bone and sits above his strong, golden pecs. There’s a light smattering of dark, soft hair. And then, lower, a happy trail.  You yank your eyes away. You look at the counter: A brush, a comb. Maybe he does his mustache with that. You look at his hair. It’s messy, out of place. Bedhead looks good on him. He casually rakes his hand through it when he sees you looking. Your gaze drifts back to his body. It’s really a beautiful torso you’re looking at. Broad shoulders, strong arms, narrow waist. A hint of abs under the light padding of his flesh. 

“You okay?” he asks with his puppy dog eyes, which gives you an idea.

“Yeah.” You look up at him, widen your eyes, and let your face fall. 

He nods. “Back to bed?”

You hold your wrist as if it hurts from the cuff and nod sadly. You check his shorts in the corner of your eye–yeah, it’s still there, as commanding as ever. The tent bobs as he walks. He walks you back into the bedroom and pauses at your futon mattress on the floor. He reaches for your hand and holds it as his other thumb brushes the indentation on your wrist. 

“You’re sure you don’t want the bed?” He nods toward the other room with the restraints. 

“I’d love a bed, but no. That one’ll give me nightmares, I’m sure.” 

He nods thoughtfully. “Are you asking to sleep in *my* bed?” His thumb continues to brush the indentation from the cuffs. His light touch gives you butterflies. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him and your hand joins his, on your wrist. His thumb freezes. Your fingers rest lightly on top of his. “I guess I’m okay down there.” You glance at the mattress on the floor.  

His bare chest rises with a deep breath. “You’re being such a good girl,” he marvels with your hand on his. “Come on. It’s okay.” He guides you to his bed and pauses when you’re right in front of it. He faces you and puts his hands on your shoulders. He dips his head and his tone darkens. “But if you leave this bed, things are going to change here,” he warns. “And you’re not going to like it.” He shakes his head. The gentleness of his voice and the look on his face sends a chill down your spine. 

-

Javi gets into his bed, under the covers. He lays on his side and makes room for you, albeit not much. “I still have to restrain you,” he informs you as you lie down. “Do you want the cuffs or my arm?”

“Your arm.”

“Good girl.” He extends one arm and raises the other, making room for you.

You scoot back against him, mentally bracing yourself for what awaits under the covers. You're already twitching before you feel it. He inhales sharply as the hardness in his shorts hits you. With a hand on your lower abdomen, he pulls you into him, and his stiff length presses against you.  

“I’m sure that’s not going to bother you, is it?” he asks and your breath hitches. You shake your head just barely on the off chance he wanted a real answer. But it is, it's going to bother you as long as he won't put it in you. You’re human, you can’t help it. He’s a bad person but you can only imagine what a good lay. He curls his strong, lean body around you like a big spoon, and he nestles the warm rod in his shorts against your crack.

One bicep is under your neck. His other arm settles over your waist. You don’t need to test his strength to know his arm is solid. Heavy. There’s no escaping as long as he holds this position. 

He inhales your hair, and the hand in front of you cups your breast through your thin nightgown. He slowly palms your breast, and lightly grinds against you. You can’t help but push back on him. The shape of his arousal against you makes you salivate. 

He whispers just above your ear.  “Sure do love cock, don’t you?”

As he thrusts against you at a slow, steady rhythm, his hand slides off your breast, down your gown, sliding over your stomach and down to the fleshy triangle where your thighs meet. His hand stays flat. He doesn’t dig between your legs. He gently presses your mound, bringing you back against him harder as his cock throbs even harder against you. 

“That can be a good thing for recovery,” he offers. “You need something to replace that high.”

He thrusts against you slower, lighter. It’s excruiating. “Mmm.” He begins to gather the nightgown’s fabric into a fist, raising the hem of the gown and exposing more of you to the air between the sheets. No underwear. 

His hand rests on the bare skin of your lower abdomen, then slides down just low enough that his middle finger can tease your most sensitive place. He slides further down until his middle finger reaches the pool between your legs and he growls almost silently. He begins to move his fingers between your legs. Slowly, expertly, leaving his thumb and pinky braced on your front. The movement is just enough to drive you crazy. His index and middle fingers slide through your dripping folds and apply pressure to your swollen bud, moving to the rhythm of his gentle thrusts against your crack. 

“Mm,” your moan is barely audible.

“Ohh, I know,” Javi coos reassuringly. “I know.” He ruts against you slowly. He sighs as he moves against you. The heft of his arousal pushing against both asscheeks makes you weak. If only he’d just stuff your pussy. You can hardly stand it. He must feel you gush on his fingers. “Oh, yeah,” he whispers into your hair. His throbbing erection grinds against you. His hand leaves your cunt and you feel cold, exposed. He pulls down the waistband of his shorts, then his hand–wet fingers and all–slightly lifts your thigh, making your heart skip a beat. 

He wedges his naked cock between your thighs, right against your cunt, and you gasp. His swollen tip glides through your wetness and you moan, “Ohh.” He slowly slides forward and back through the warm, wet pocket made by your thighs and cunt. You push back against him. “Mm,” he grunts softly as his tip reaches your clit. 

His hand returns to your breast. He massages your breast as his cock keeps sliding between your thighs and nudging your sensitive bud just right. “Javi,” you whisper. “Please.” His cock hesitates at your entrance, and you tilt your hips. 

“Not today, sweetheart.” 

With a small thrust, he bypasses your wet little hole again. 

Then he stops moving. You push your ass back into him, and he does nothing but tighten his arm over you. He cradles your breast gently. You’re throbbing, aching to have him inside you. It feels like an eternity you’re lying like this with his arousal throbbing against your naked heat. You begin to feel a chill again and reach for the blanket to wrap yourself tighter. He helps you, then murmurs. “Good night”  into your hair. 

The comfort of his arms and rhythm of his breath lulls you to sleep sooner than you expect. 

—-...------

Just after daybreak, you awake to the sound of Javi breathing heavily  as his cock slides against your wet cunt again. Your chest is hot and fluttering. He’s aggressively groping one breast, then shifts to the other with a grunt and harsh thrust. Your body shifts as you wake up. He pants, “Morning sunshine,” and you push your ass back against him. 

“Was I good?” you ask. 

“Ohh,” he moans, “You were good.” 

His hand comes between your legs and you gasp at the pressure of his thick fingers on your clit. He doesn’t move them, just rests his hand there, then asks “Would you like to cum?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please,” you whine as his cock glides against you. 

He slows way down. “Because I’m only giving you one today. You sure you want it already?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

“It’s not even seven a.m.”

“Please, Javi.” 

He begins to move his thick fingers, and it doesn’t take long at all before you’re seeing stars. 

“Ohh,” you moan as the waves of pleasure begin to overtake you. Your body spasms, and your walls clench around nothing. 

“Mmmm, mi putita. . .por supuesto ahorita” (My little slut. Of course right now), Javi purrs into your hair. “That’s the–ohhh–thing with addicts,” he pants as he chases his own orgasm. “You want everything right–mmm—now–ohhhh.” As Javi begins to cum, he moves his hand from your clit to his cock. His cock pulses against you, and it’s too easy to imagine it inside you. He cups his hand and seals it over his tip and your front. He slowly thrusts as he cums. He slides against you, coating your folds and clit with his warm spend as your own climax fades. 

When Javi is empty, he withdraws his cock, but keeps his hand in place. He rubs his spend over your oversensitive parts, making you flinch and moan. 

“Ohh, I know it sweetheart.”

A thick digit breaches your entrance, pushing some cum into you, and he sighs.

“One day, pobrecita. One day.” He adds another finger. “Voy a llenar esta concha con leche” (I’m gonna fill this pastry/cunt with milk/cum).

Your first morning waking up at Javi’s place, he lets you sit at the kitchen counter and watch him make huevos rancheros and cactus. 

Over breakfast, he asks, “What do you like to do?”

You shrug.

“Because getting high replaced all your hobbies,” he concludes. 

“That's not true.”

“It's not? Then what do you do? Draw? Write? Do you read?”

You scoff. “Yes, I read,” you say with an eye roll and can’t help but add, “Did kidnapping replace all your hobbies?” 

There's an instant surge of regret in your chest, but Javi chuckles and lets it slide. “What kind of books? I could pick one up for you.”

You swallow, rest your fork, and ask, “really?” 

“Sure,” He nods. 

“Okay. Maybe a mystery,” you offer, only because you know you'll need the distraction.

“Good,” he nods. “A mystery.”

Later that day, Javi has to go into the office. He leaves a glass of water for you, a bucket just in case, and he cuffs you to the radiator. He reassures you Steve will come check on you as soon as he gets home. You try your best to get comfortable on the futon mattress. 

As soon as Javi leaves, things go somewhat downhill. You have a headache, then your stomach begins to bother you, and the handcuffs are driving you crazy. You’re anxious. You're horny. You’re cold. Why are you horny? After about an hour, you rattle the cuffs on the radiator. When nothing happens, you yell for Steve, then hear movement upstairs. 

When Steve comes into Javi’s apartment, you hear him open the door, but it doesn’t sound like it shuts all the way. His footsteps are loud as they approach through the living room. Steve unlocks Javi’s bedroom and pauses in the doorframe. “There she is.” He rests his hands on the top of the doorframe and leans forward, stretching his back as he takes in the scene. “Damn,” he mutters. “You alright?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, darlin’.” He digs into Javi’s nightstand for the key. “Hold on.” He comes over and crouches down on the floor. He smells like cigarettes, and he must smoke the same brand as Javi. 

You're mildly surprised by the way your body reacts to Steve’s proximity. You squeeze your legs together, self conscious that you’re gushing. The day before, you were so focused on Javi that you didn’t think much of Steve at the time. But after overhearing him jack off. . .There’s something about hearing a man make those primal noises. It changes his whole face, his whole presence in your eyes. 

“C’mere,” Steve offers and extends his massive hands, looming over you. You sit up on your knees, careful not to expose yourself with no panties. He slots his hands under your arms and helps you to your feet. He checks you out and raises an eyebrow. You wonder if he can see through your nightgown. “He’s still got ya in your PJs, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s alright.” 

“Looks good on ya, anyway.” 

Steve ushers you to the restroom and waits outside. You’re starting to feel a little better already, just having someone around again. His presence distracts your body from its woes.

-

When you’re out of the restroom, Steve asks if you need anything else. You ask for a glass of juice. He brings you to the kitchen to get some. The sound of children playing outside echoes from the breezeway and you notice the door isn’t shut flush. Before you can really think about it, you begin to walk toward the door, heart pounding. You’re barefoot, and realistically, you’re not going to try to flee, but you want to know you could. You’re not running, you’re walking slowly, curiously as though pulled by a weak magnet toward a chance at freedom. 

Steve crosses the room in two strides and steps right into your path. His massive arm wraps around you, halting you dead in your tracks. “Wouldn't do that.” His face is stone. Instinctively, you begin to struggle, not to escape, but to get out of his strong grip. His body overwhelms yours.  

His arm tightens, and you whine, “Ow.” 

He shakes you once, then loosens his grip. He brings his mouth to your hair and lowers his voice.  “Don't make me hurt ya, sugar.” He wraps his arm around your middle and begins to drag you toward the bedroom with the creepy bed. He wrangles you over to the bed with the straps. You don’t resist much, but he’s rough with you anyway. 

“Okay, okay,” you tell him. “I’m sorry.” 

He throws you down on the bed and pins you with his weight, then begins to strap you in, limb by limb. Your heart is racing. But you don’t feel sick at all anymore. All you feel is the rush. 

“Ya know, I should tell Agent Peña ‘bout this,” Steve mutters as he buckles your wrist. 

“No, don’t. Tell him I was good. Please. I wasn’t trying to do anything.” 

“Yeah, alright. We’ll see.” The bed is probably full sized. Wider than a twin. The leg restraints are spaced out enough that you feel like you’re spread eagle. 

Once you’re all strapped down, Steve slowly paces next to the bed looking at you like a piece of meat. 

He asks, “True you were beggin’ for cock?”

“No,” you answer as a gut reaction. 

“Ya weren't? Huh. Peña’s a liar?” 

“He–he got me all worked up on purpose.”

Steve freezes near the foot of the bed and cracks a smile. “So it is true. . .Hmm.” He tilts his head contemplatively.  “How'd he do that? Get ya all worked up.” He dangles his fingers to graze your bare ankle. Then he walks back up toward your head, dragging his fingertips over your shin. His fingers lightly circles your kneec twice, then continue up your thigh. He pauses and strokes an abstract pattern on your inner thigh. 

You don’t answer him. You don’t have to. He’s already having an effect on you. 

“Well, don't worry. I'm not gonna hold out on ya. Want somethin’ from me, sugar? Just ask.” 

“Thanks.”

“It's ok, baby.” He lowers his voice. “Really don't mind one bit.” He looks at you hungrily and wets his lips. His fingers get closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. When his fingers graze your outer lip, he peeks under the gown. “He left the door open for me. That was nice,” Steve smiles. “Said ya got a gorgeous pussy, too.”  Your legs tense, and his hand returns to your thigh. “Nothin’ to be afraid of, darlin’.” 

The leather that’s holding you down is what scares you. It’s the most unsettling feeling. 

Steve adjusts himself, and when you follow his hand, you can't pull your eyes away from the bulge in his pants. Wow. He doesn't wear his pants nearly as tight on his ass as Javi, so you hadn't even thought about Steve’s dick. Now it's all you can think about. You're studying the shape his pants are struggling to contain. Never would’ve thought. And, balls. You’re pretty sure he’s got big balls. You wet your lips and realize you're staring. 

“Attagirl,” he mutters. “See, that's where my partner and I have different philosophies,” Steve explains. “I could care less if you're drunk, high, outta your mind.”  The hand on your thigh slides all the way up to where your thigh meets your torso. “Good pussy’s good pussy.” He traces the crease, right next to your outer lips, and his light touch makes you tingle. “I think a pretty girl deserves all the dick she wants.” He sighs, then raises his eyebrows. “And then some,” he says with a short nod. 

“His heart’s in the right place,” Steve says unconvincingly. “Hurts though, don’t it?” He pouts at you as he keeps tracing the crease of your inner thigh. “Never met a whore he didn’t fuck. . .n’ can’t be bothered to give ya just an inch.

He follows your eyes back to his crotch and chuckles darkly. “Boy, you got your eye on the prize, don't ya?” He looks down at himself. 

“Mmm,” he grunts when he meets your eyes again. The humor is gone from his face.

He looks at the leather strap around your arm. “I’ll take mercy on ya,” he mutters and takes his hand out from between your legs. He pauses with his hands on the strap.  “Gonna be good for me?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

He unbuckles the strap. The metal of the buckle flicks against your inner arm. You don’t move your arm, making good on your promise to be good. Then the mattress creaks and groans as he gets up on the bed with you. He straddles one of your knees and leans forward, bracing his right hand on the mattress near your torso. His left hand returns between your legs. This time, he goes straight for your cunt. He smiles when he feels how wet you are. He lightly rubs you, teasing your dripping folds up and down. He falls into a trance. He gathers your slick and brings it to your clit. He scoots up on the bed so his head is above yours and his crotch is at your hip. He looks into your eyes as he circles your most sensitive spot. A knot is already forming in your stomach, making your pelvis lift into his hand. He wets his bottom lip, then bites it as he adds more pressure. Then speed. Your mouth falls open and a moan slips out. 

His lips form a small ‘o’. “Ooh,” he marvels. “Oh, you’re a real sweet thing, I can tell.” His fingertips slide down, and one of them teases your entrance, making an audible, rhythmic smacking sound.  Then he slowly pushes the finger inside. His eyes roll up toward the ceiling, and his head tilts up too. You watch his neck veins. There’s some faded tattoo ink barely visible on his chest, poking up from his collar when the angle is right. He presses his hard bulge against your hip and you gasp with a bolt of arousal.

“Yeah,” he whispers, and you moan. “Yeah, ya want that, don’t ya?” He gives you another slow thrust against the hip.  “You want it right here.” He pushes another finger into you. “Ohh, yeah.” His upper palm massages your clit as his fingers pump into you.

“You’ll get it, don’t worry.” You twitch at the thought. “But you’re gonna cum on these fingers first. Hear me?”

You nod and take a deep breath. Your back arches. You reach for his pants. 

“There ya go,” he nods as if that’s why he unbuckled you in the first place. “Ohh, you’re gonna go wild.” 

You grab his bulge–it’s more than a handful–and massage him through his pants. 

“Mmm. Yeah,” he whispers. Your nipples harden with his practiced touch, and you sigh, unable to take any more tension. His fingers curl inside you and he whispers, “C’mon, now.” The deep whisper is enough. 

“Ohh,” you moan. He nods in encouragement and his upper palm bears down on your clit. You close your eyes and let yourself unravel. Your spasming walls squeeze and soak his fingers. 

“Yeahh, attagirl.”  

As your climax fades, he withdraws his fingers and feverishly unbuckles his belt. You throb in anticipation. It won't take much to tease another one out of you. Your core twitches as he shoves down his briefs and his thick cock springs free, taking your breath away. He gets between your legs and holds his stiff manhood loosely as he lines himself up. He shakes it heavily up and down, teasing your clit with the head of his cock. Oh, God it feels so–you’re already about to–

–Steve hesitates.  

In the driveway, a car pulls up and stops. 

Steve stops what he’s doing. “Alright, let's see what the boss wants,” he says with an air of inconvenience as he tucks his erection into his briefs.

“Thought you were partners,” you say and hope you don't sound too disappointed. 

“On paper, sure. “ He buttons and zips up his pants. “On paper I'm a good cop, too,” he winks. 

Steve pats your cheek and says, “hang in there.” He gets off the bed, then leans in close and whispers, “give it to ya next chance I get. . .skip the preamble, how's that?” 

You bite your lip. Just as the front door begins to unlock, Steve sits down in a chair next to the bed, with his hands clasped in his lap. 

—--

Javi opens the door. 

“All good at the office?” Steve asks. 

“All good,” Javi reports, and he surveys you with his eyes as he approaches. “What’s going on here?” 

“Oh, she just wanted a change of scenery,” Steve reports, mercifully. Javi looks at him skeptically for a moment, then shrugs it off. 

“How are you feeling?” Javi asks you with a hand on his hip and a serious look. He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you and Steve, who’s on the same side. 

“Okay,” you reply. 

Javi clenches his jaw and furrows his brow. His hand frames your jaw and he looks at your eyes. Then he lets go of you.

"Good," Javi nods. Then squints and asks, "He touch you?"

You look at Steve. Steve raises his eyebrows curiously. He doesn't deny touching you, but his face also doesn't give you any clues about the right answer. He’s sitting in amused suspense. Javi raises his eyebrows at you like a challenge, waiting on you to speak. You look at Steve again, and Steve winks. Unsure what it means, you begin to slowly shake your head no.

Javi clenches his jaw and his eyes narrow. His head whips to Steve and he asks, "Why not?" 

Steve sighs and uncrosses his arms. He extends his hand to Javi. Javi brings Steve's hand to his nose, takes a whiff of his fingers, and cracks a smile.  "Don't lie to me, putita." Javi closes his eyes, draws in your scent again, then opens his eyes and mouth as he brings Steve's middle and index fingers to his lips. Javi locks eyes with you as he tastes you on Steve's fingers. Your heart races. You failed whatever test this was. 

Javi drops Steve's hand and brings his own hand to cup your jaw. "Pobrecita. . ." His hand dwarfs your face. "What’s the matter? Te confunde?” (It confuses you)

You nod, and your voice is small.  "You said it's yours." 

"What's mine?"

You look down at yourself and swallow. "My body?"

Javi nods. "Say it." 

Your eyes settle on what you can see of his gold chain under his shirt.  "This pussy is yours." 

"That's right," Javi nods condescendingly. "Good girl."  He brings his hand from your cheek to your thigh and squeezes it. He nods toward Steve and says, "con mi permiso" (with my permission).  "Still confused?" 

You shake your head. 

“That's all he did? Touch you?”

“Yeah,” you nod. 

Javi addresses Steve. "Alright, c’mon.”  He beckons him, and Steve stands up with his hands still clasped in front of himself. 

“Show her your cock.”

Steve undoes his pants again. He slides them down over the bulge of his still-hard cock, then pauses. 

“Pants off,” Javi adds matter-of-factly. Steve sits back down to unlace his shoes, then takes them off. He pulls off his pants, and he's left wearing black socks and white briefs with a red and blue stripe around the waistband. Thigh muscles are massive. 

“Good news for you, putita.” Javi nods toward Steve. “This one’ll fuck anything.” Your cheeks heat up and Steve shakes his head in amusement at Javi. 

“Says the guy who has his own room at a brothel.” 

Javi looks at your body hungrily and crosses his arms. “Give it to her,” he mutters without looking at Steve. 

When Steve stands up, Javi takes his place, manspreading with his hands tucked under his arms, straining his short-sleeve button-up.

-

Steve mounts the bed again, putting himself between your legs. He pulls his briefs down under his balls, and you let out a little gasp. His cock is even more engorged than it was before. It’s so thick, and the veins are beautiful. He looks even bigger than Javi, but it might be an effect of his lighter, finer pubic hair. He braces a hand on the mattress again, hovering over you.

You glance at Javi and he's watching intently as Steve lines up his cock between your legs. The touch of his tip at your dripping hole makes you shiver in arousal and your nipples pucker. Steve smiles to himself under his mustache. He notches his tip half inside your entrance, then looks at Javi. 

Javi makes a subtle beckoning motion with one hand, and Steve begins to push into you. You gasp as his girth begins to spread you open. He pushes further, and you whimper. 

Javi scoots closer and lays a big, warm hand on your tied-down arm. You look at him and he reassures you, “You can take it, I promise.” 

Then, Steve plunges to the hilt, dividing your insides with a loud grunt. You moan and lock eyes with him as he looks up at you darkly. Your body rushes to accommodate the heft of him inside you.

“Good girl,” Javi mutters to himself with his eyes fixed where your bodies are joined. 

Steve withdraws most of his length, then Javi raises his palm in a stop motion and Steve freezes, biting his lips together. Javi stands up, and walks toward Steve for a better point of view. 

“Go,” Javi mutters, crossing his arms again. There's a bulge growing in Javi’s restrictive jeans, and he's not doing anything about it. 

Steve pushes into you again, making you moan. He pauses for only an instant before backing out again, and right away he’s pushing back in. “Fuck,” he mutters as his thick cock disappears into your hole once more. 

“How is it?” Javi asks him. “Juicy, right?”

“Nngh–yeah,” Steve answers as he brings his hips back, then slams into you harder and his balls slap against you. “Goddamn,” Steve mutters. “Tighter than ya’d think.”

“Hm,” Javi hums with a straight face, then raises his eyes to meet yours. “He's gonna break you in for me.” He looks at Steve's cock sliding out of you then at Steve's face, twisted with arousal. “Right, partner?”

“Goddamn right,” Steve breathes. He ramps up to a steady rhythm, fucking you gradually harder until the force is pushing you up on the bed. 

“Hold on,” Javi mutters and the vein on Steve's forehead swells with effort as he stops with only his tip inside. Steve wets his lips and rubs them together. Javi tightens the restraints to hold you steady. While Javi is is busy with that,  Steve rocks ever so slightly into you, moving less than an inch forward and back. It’s so subtle it could be an accident, but it must provide relief because he moans quietly. At the sound of his noise and the look of his face, you whimper and your cunt spasms once. 

“Nngh,” Steve reacts. 

“Okay,” Javi announces, then stands so he can roughly see things from Steve’s point of view again. Steve resumes with a slow, careful pace. 

Javi wets his lips as he watches your cunt swallow Steve's cock. Steve's cock pulls at your pussy each time it withdraws, and the sight seems to darken Javi’s eyes with lust. You twitch again.  

“Fuck,” Steve breathes, then looks over his shoulder “Can I?”

“Don't let her come on your cock,” Javi answers.” 

Hearing Javi talk about Steve’s cock is almost enough to do it. 

Steve sighs and looks at the ceiling, in an almost eye-roll. His arms strain his shirt. His sweat wafts toward you and makes your knees weak. He draws in a deep breath as he slowly pushes in again. 

You imagine if the situation was different, if you were just some slut they picked up at a bar, how much fun you could have with the two of them. 

You twitch around him, and he pulls out in a hurry. “Sorry darlin’,” he mumbles. He sits back on his knees and pumps himself. “Where do you want it,” he asks, staring at your body.

“Uh,” you stammer, then realize he's not asking you. 

Javi pulls the gown down under your tits. Steve strokes himself faster until his breath gets uneven. He pauses, scoots up your body to straddle your middle, then resumes.  You admire his balls as his fist slides up and down his shaft. His hand is so large, yet it doesn’t dwarf his cock. 

Steve’s eyes narrow at your tits. He pumps himself faster and his mouth drifts open until he points his cock at your chest and moans, “Ohhh—ohhhh, fuck,” painting your tits with his cum. Your nipples sharpen as the warm spend spreads. As the last of his cum dribbles out, Steve sighs. 

“Good,” Javi mutters, then comes up toward the head of the bed again. Steve tucks his softening cock away and gets off the bed. He reaches down to the floor to get a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his jeans. Then he pulls the chair toward the foot of the bed, and manspreads in his briefs to watch Javi. 

Javi dips two fingers into Steve’s cum on your chest. He spreads it around slowly. He circles each of your nipples until they’re painfully erect. 

Javi swipes up a bit of cum from between your breasts and brings his fingers to your lips. You take his thick digits into your mouth and taste the salt of Steve’s seed. Then you gently suck. Javi gets you to clean both fingers, one at a time, then he licks them himself. 

Javi brushes your temple with his thumb. “Let’s hope this is rock bottom.”

—---

Thank you so much for reading. To help with the next ones, I would love to know what you liked most about it, and your thots are welcome, too 🖤

tagging people who asked for part 2 🖤

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ohheypedrito @weddingfairy @neobanguniberse @ladyscarlettdixon @zliteraturehoe @planet-marz1

[writing-my-time]

SMOKE BREAK (PART TWO)

PART ONE

Pairing: Steve Murphy X F!Reader Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: 18+, Swearing, singular mention of gun, infidelity, pet names (Sweetheart, baby, honey), oral (F!Recieving), fingering, Reader has a bush if you squint, but is otherwise undescribed. Summary: After your swift exit from Steve’s car, you find yourself stranded outside of your apartment with no way inside. Steve comes to your rescue, both with your handbag and an apology.

It hits you. Your handbag. You scramble in circles. Had you put it down to search your pockets? Had you dropped it on the way back from Steve's car? A frustrated grumble escapes you. Your sweaty palm rubs across your even sweatier forehead.

Keys, keys, keys.

You’ve been standing in front of your apartment complex, giving yourself the usual pat down trying to find where on earth you put your damn keys. It doesn’t help that you’re still pissed. Seething, really. Steve was a lot of things. A hillbilly? Sure. Uptight? Almost always. But in that car he was something else. Maybe it's the lack of cigarettes. Maybe it's Connie. Hell, maybe it's not Connie, and it's just the lack of sex. You don't know, and you keep telling yourself you don't care. As your hands come out empty after turning each pocket, you curse under your breath.  

“Jesus, H,” He starts, a growl getting lodged in the back of his throat. “Let me in and I'll give you one.”

“Where the fuck is my-”

You’re cut off by the uncomfortable, guilty cough of Steve Murphy. He stands at the foot of the steps, holding your handbag in his hands. His golden halo of blond hair stands out in the dim street lighting. There’s a look on his face you can’t quite make out; soft eyes and pressed lips, guilt, maybe? In truth, you aren’t sure, but you really could get used to seeing it. In the midst of your staring, Steve gestures to your bag.

“You gon’ take it?” He hoists up the bag one more time. “This shit’s heavy.”

“It’s probably my gun.” You retort, snatching it from his strong grip. He might look apologetic, but you aren’t playing nice until he actually says the words. “You could have given it to me at work.”

“And leave you homeless for the night?” His brow raises, clearly aware of your predicament. “Look, consider this my apology.”

“I’d rather just have an apology.”

–

Your back hits the front door. Steve’s large hands cage either side of your head as he presses his lips onto yours. How exactly a stubborn stand-off had turned into this, you aren’t sure. But really, you can’t say you mind. The taste hits you.

Tobacco. 

“I’ll go gentle sweetheart. I got you.” The term of affection sets your insides on fire. It had been a long time since you’d heard him refer to anyone with the same softness.

A smoky, aggressive flavor that forces you to open your eyes and nudge him off.

“What is it? Want me to stop?” He asks softly, a deep crease forming as his brows knit together.

You shake your head, bringing your hands to his face to keep him close. “No, no. You just taste like smoke.”

“Broke my streak to build my confidence up.” He admits with a nod, heavy eyes never leaving your own. “You want this?”

A slew of thoughts flood your mind. Mostly fronted by the guilt of exactly who was standing in front of you, and therefore who would usually be standing in your place.

“What about-”

“Don’t worry about it. She made her choice. Jus’ let me do this.” His lips return to yours with an unexpected softness.

You both stumble further into your apartment; knocking into the occasional shelf or side table, right up until the back of your caves hit your couch. The two of you fall onto the plush cushions. Steve’s body presses into yours. Your arms curl around him, lazily gliding down his back. Soft, yet hungry kisses occupy your lips, occasionally broken by a low hum or breathy exhale. It’s a few minutes before Steve breaks the kiss. He pulls himself upward, bringing you up with him.

“I’m pent up after two fuckin’ weeks of Connie ditching my ass, and you’ve been here how long? And not once have you taken a guy home?”

Steve’s assumption was right. It’s been a long time since you were first stationed in Colombia. In that time, you hadn’t dared bring anyone home. Unlike Peña and his ‘informants’, Colombian romance wasn’t exactly safe for someone like you. You shake your head as an answer, still too dizzy from the kisses to speak

“Let me make it up to you. Show you I’m sorry.” He pleads, nuzzling his nose against your own. “Don’t think about Connie. You don’t even have to touch me if it makes you feel better.”

Another swarm of worried thoughts flood your mind. Work, shame, Connie, guilt. None of that compares to the desire building in the depths of your stomach. It’s been a long time. Too long. You watch as he kneels on the floorboards between your legs, Steve lets out a heated exhale. Your eyes meet one more time. The blue hue you’ve grown accustomed to at the office is gone. What remains is something darker, hungrier than you’ve seen before. He plants the first delicate kiss just above your knee. You suck in a breath, as does he. His lips glide lazily up your thigh, all while spreading them apart with his large hands. Your head lulls back. Coarse hairs of his mustache tickle at your sensitive skin. A shudder rushes through you. Goosebumps rise in the wake of Steve’s touch, his wet lips leaving a trail of kisses up the length of your leg. Soon enough, he presses a needy kiss to the waistband of your panties. He looks up at you. You nod.

 

“Please, don’t stop.” You’re too far gone to be embarrassed about begging, and certainly too far gone to think about consequences.

Steve snakes two thick fingers into the lace, gliding them down your legs until your panties are dangling off one ankle. Your vision blurs ever so slightly. Heavy, wanting breaths fill the silence. Both his, and yours. He brings his face to your core, inhaling before fluttering his eyes shut. The first lick is divine. It’s explorative, dragging from the top and to the tails of your folds as Steve laps up your wetness. A low hum of satisfaction rumbles from his chest. You sink your head back into the cushions. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, pushing them up toward your stomach. He’s split you open. Held under his grasp for him to lap and suck at his leisure. All you can do is fight the overwhelming urge to squirm beneath him. His tongue ghosts over your throbbing clit before he pulls away.

“Taste good, sweetheart.” Steve exhales, dragging his thumb across his damp chin. The sight makes you whine. “Real good.”

“I ain’t gonna. Lay back down, baby.”

A shaky breath escapes you, but you accept him. Your body accepts his fingers greedily, allowing him to sink two fingers into your wet heat with ease. There’s a smug look on his face, not quite hidden behind his lustful haze. Steve curls his fingers within you; nudging your sweet spot before receding out to the first knuckle, then right back in again. You whine, arching your back as his skilled hand works in tandem with his tongue. He sucks on your clit, delicately at first. It’s only when his hand begins to move faster that his mouth begins to work harder. Weak whines shift into eager moans. You snake a hand into his hair, grabbing a fistful of the blond strands in a poor attempt to ground yourself. Your walls squeeze his fingers tight, warning of an imminent release. He brings his mouth away, but his hand remains, plunging and curling inside of you at a languid pace.

His lips find their way back to your center, this time joined by the gentle caress of his left hand. At first, the pads of his fingers gently graze the inside of your thigh. They climb up at an agonizingly slow pace, only eased by the masterful swirling of your tongue between your folds. His fingers meet your wetness. You tense. Steve notices, giving you a reassuring kiss to the patch of curls atop your core. He presses his index finger gently forward, swiftly joined by his middle.

“That's it, baby.” He whispers against you, voice akin to a purr. “Give it to me. Let go for me.”

Steve returns his lips to your clit, sucking and nibbling with deliberate force. His fingers slam against your sweet spot over and over until you finally tense. You tug harshly on his hair. Whiteness floods your vision. A hoarse moan hastily follows. God knows how long it's been since you've come like this. Certainly not with your own hands, that's for sure. Pure bliss consumes you, dizzying your vision and forcing your limbs to go limp. It's not until you feel Steve drag your panties back up your legs do you regain composure. The world around you slowly stops spinning, and you feel stable enough to lift your head up. Steve presses a chaste kiss to the inside of your thigh before leaning back. 

“Good apology.” You rasp, ignoring the steadily growing pit in your stomach. 

“Thought you deserved it.”

Your eyes meet his, both heavy with a pained look of lust and realization. He clears his throat, carding a hand through his hair. His wedding ring glints under the downlights. Even in your afterglow, guilt finds you. Despite the obvious tenting in his pants, you can’t bring yourself to return the favor. Steve notices, his glistening fingers absent-mindedly twisting around his ring. Something about the sight of your own slick against the symbol of his failing marriage makes you feel sick. He stands. You close your legs. Silence.

Holy cow... Writing for Steve is weirdly difficult! I hope you all find it was worth the wait for part 2. Thank you always to my magnificent pre-reader @justeverythingprettymuch. For those who have requested tags: @to-be-or-not-to-be-2021, @toxicanonymity

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” Your shameful whisper makes him wince. Another silence follows until he finally nods.

“Yeah. I’ll see you at work.”

[drabbles-mc]

For the Fandom Game: Narcos

The gasp I fucking gasped at this! I love it. Letsgoooo

The first character I first fell in love with: My unhinged colonel, Horacio Carrillo. I love him and all of his war crimes. 😌

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: Okay so someone who grew on me in a major way was definitely Amado. I never disliked him, but for the longest time he was just Some Guy to me but now when he's on screen I am fully 👀 paying attention 👀

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: I feel like there's no one in OG Narcos that I dislike that people would really consider an unpopular opinion. I'm gonna tweak this a little and do a character from Narcos: Mexico because??? I can 😂 My apologies to the Calderoni girlies but I would throw that man off a roof with my bare hands if given the opportunity. And I wouldn't feel bad about it. 😌

The character I love that everyone else hates: Okay I know that he is not everyone's cup of tea, but there is something that I am just so fucking obsessed with when it comes to Navegante. I don't want him. But I want to study him. I want to put him in a big ol' terrarium on my windowsill and take notes on his behavior.

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: I still love all the characters that I loved that the start. Momma didn't raise a quitter. 😌

The character I would totally smooch: He's a Wife Guy so I know that he would never, but god the way I just want to plant one on Jorge. I love him. Let me put him in my pocket I'm begging. (There are hardly any gifs of him in the search which is fucking CRIMINAL I'm weeping. Look at him and his little beard. God. He could fix me I know it.)

The character I’d want to be like: Please let me be a boss bitch like Judy Moncada. I want a painted portrait of myself and a tiger hanging in my living room. I want to have weird, antagonistic sexual tension with Javi. Por favor.

The character I’d slap: The list is too long! I love all these men but god they can all be so stupid sometimes! Passing one brain cell around just simply isn't enough. 😂 Although I will say, despite how much I love him, I think that my hillbilly husband Steve Murphy should've caught hands at some point. Maybe someone could've slapped some Spanish vocab into his brain idk 😂

A pairing that I love: Limon and farming. 😌 Lmaooo no but real talk I will be a Steve/Connie girlie till I die. I love them so much. God. Yes.

A pairing that I despise: Not a romantic pairing, but the entire dynamic between Pablo and his mom drove me absolutely up the walls. The cognitive dissonance of those two really had me putting my head through drywall lmao 😂 It's not even like they have a ton of scenes with just the two of them or anything but they are just such a horrid little feedback loop for each other.

Thank you for this!!! xoxo

Send me a fandom!

[landosmclaren]

roses are red

steve murphy is silly

no i have not been duck hunting

you fucking hillbilly

[drabbles-mc]

Kicking my feet with excitement because you've written a fic about my one and only hillbilly husband. What a day to be me! 😌🥰

“You know, the thing.” He waved his hand in response as his face wrinkled up in an annoyed way. -> This really is so men isn't it? Like, Javi, you couldn't say less about the situation even if you tried 😂

“Oh right, the thing.” Steve’s eyebrows raised in sarcasm as he looked back down to his desk, giving up on whatever conversation Javi was or wasn’t having with him. -> lmaoooooo i feel you Steve, i feel you. I would also give up.

I'm loving that Steve goes right from having to coach Javi into having to talk to reader. I love that he is firmly stuck in the middle of this entire debacle with no way out. It's good for him. I love it 😂

Steve treaded carefully. -> Yea you fucking better, Murphy 😂 You're in it now. Planted firmly in the center of the minefield. The only way out is through lmao

“Oh last names, that's how I know you're pissed.” He moved into the living room, removing the phone from his ear so he could untangle the cord it was connected to before sitting down on his recliner chair.  -> I hate how well I can see this. ANd by that i mean i love it. Why am i so in love with this man??? Why am i like this???

“Isn’t it funny that I call you to feel better? Yet every time I’m just more annoyed.” -> Respectfully, reader, I think you should know better. That's what he's best at 😂😂

“You think you’d learn.” -> WHAT DID I JUST SAY?????? lmaooooooo prophetic

“Are you pissed because he did it or because he lied?” -> The way that Steve can be a big dumb dummy but he also comes out with bangers like this. Like. Okay. Renaissance man.

“So he called you?” / “Once.” / “I give it two weeks before he’s back in your bed.” -> LMAOOOO read for filth. Get her ass, Steve 😂

Not the thin walls!!!!! God I'm trying not to cackle in my fucking office 😂😂😂

God. The ending of this. THe way that these two just sic Javi on each other. I'm yodeling. Javi is just trying to get some some advice and fix his relationship and these two are playing hot potato with him 😂 Besties forreal I love them so much.

What Friends Are For

Steve Murphy & Platonic!Reader (whose in a relationship with Javier Peña)

Day 17 from these April Prompts: “I’ve been wanting to ask her this for a long time but I just can’t work up the nerve to do it.” 

Summary: You call your friend to vent about Javi. 

Words: 1k

A/N: Just want to shoutout @drabbles-mc (not just for this fic but legit ALLLLL of these one’s i’ve been writing) but this was a little exchange I was inspired by her with! 

Warnings: Light angst! 

Narcos Taglist: @drabbles-mc @narcolini​ @justreblogginfics​

Keep reading

[lackofhonor]

Narcos Episode 01.09 – “No, I have not been duck hunting, you... fucking hillbilly.” – Javier Peña

So this is supposed to be fun?” Javi asked sarcastically. 

Murphy lowered the binoculars and looked over his shoulder at his partner. Javier Peña was hunched over on the bench seat in the boat with a cigarette clenched between his grit teeth. The orange coal of the lit cigarette casting a tiny glow in the grey gloom of the morning. They had been on the water for maybe two hours and while Steve found the air refreshing, it was clear that his friend was finding this morning’s hunt less than invigorating.

Two weeks ago Steve had convinced Javier to come up from Texas for a visit. He had spoken with Javi via phone many times after what had happened with Escobar. Truly, Javi deserved to be there for when the fucker fell, but it just hadn’t worked out that way. Instead, Javier had been sitting in Texas waiting on a disciplinary review for his actions. Still was waiting on that review, in fact. Steve had tried to stay in touch, even as he and Connie tried to gather together their lives in Colombia and move them back to the States. It had been a monumental challenge for him personally and professionally but the strain was worth it to be standing over Escobar in the end. And it had ended for him with taking that last photo of the bastard dead on the roof. It had ended for him when he and Connie stepped on that plane flying out of Colombia. Hadn’t it?

Yeah.

But had it for Javi? Well that was the question, wasn’t it?

-

Steve couldn’t help but feel his friend still had loose ends from Colombia in his head that needed tying. Y’know, beyond the fact Peña’s career was on the line with this review board shit. No, Javi still wanted some blood. Via their phone calls, Steve had gathered that all Javi had done since hitting stateside was drink liquor and fuck women. And while that was pretty much Javi’s M.O. throughout the entire time Steve had known him, normally Javi didn’t seem so depressed while going about his chosen extra-curriculars. Sometimes he fucked or drank away the stress or was sullen and frustrated. Sure, that was fine. But this was something darker and sadder than a typical bender.

So during their most recent weekly phone call, Steve did what anybody would do for a friend: told him the truth (“You need a hobby that isn’t fucking women or drinking yourself to death, Javi.”) and invited him on a trip (“Come on out and see Connie and I. Relax for a bit. Take your mind off this review board shit for a while so you can get your head on straight.) Javier Peña, being a reasonable man who recognizes that perhaps he may not exactly be dealing with things well, gave in with some reluctance (“…yeah. Yeah I guess I could come out and see you guys for a weekend. Not like I have much to do here until the hearing anyway… “) So of course Steve Murphy felt the need to try broadening his friend and former partner’s horizons by introducing a potential new hobby (“Great! We can celebrate for real with you here. There’s this band Connie’s been dying to see so we can hit that up. Plus the season just opened Sunday and I’ve not been since before I was posted in Miami. We’ll be able to go duck hunting while you’re down here.”).

-

This chain of events lead to the current moment with both men sitting in a olive drab john boat that had seen better days and Steve’s cousin’s dog sitting in the floor next to their feet. They were floating on the choppy waves of a muddy river looking out over nearly one hundred duck decoys bobbing in the freezing water. It was a cold day. The sky couldn’t seem to decide whether it wanted to spit light rain or tiny frozen drops at them and the wind cut at their faces. The boat was tied to posts sunk into the riverbed that were part of a blind covered in camouflaged netting and live willow branches. Sort of a little faux tunnel the boat could hide in. Murphy had stealthily steered their vessel inside that morning after a truly harrowing ride across the water just before dawn. Murphy was calm. Soaking in the sounds, smells and sights around him. He maneuvered the boat with ease and stroked the Benelli shotgun with a fondness that spoke of years of similar experiences when he had loaded it earlier. Javier on the other hand was not as charmed. His shoulders were bunched up to his ears trying to maintain valuable heat in his neck and head and he hunched over the borrowed Remington 870 in his lap as he stared blankly at the horizon.

“Stop your whining. Isn’t this nice? You get out in nature. Enjoy some fresh air.” Steve shared in his low friendly baritone. He took a moment to drink some hot coffee from the dented green metal thermos by his feet and observed the sky contentedly.

Javi grunted and continued to puff at his cigarette as he curled further inward. He felt miserable. He was still a bit hungover from the night before to tell the truth. The wind had changed direction again and the bitch was cold as hell right in his face. He didn’t come here to be tortured by Murphy’s idea of what a healthy past time should be.

“I’m freezing my ass off in a rinky dink boat decorated in switchgrass at the ass crack of dawn so you can get this bullshit out of your system. I did not need to come along for this hillbilly holiday,” Javier complained loudly. Murphy merely hushed him with a look and continued to sip his coffee and pet the black Labrador laying in the floor of the boat.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. You got to eat a nice hot breakfast at least. Homemade biscuits and eggs fresh from the chicken’s butt. And Ace here likes you,” Steve said. Javi grumbled under his breath but did give the dog a fond scratch behind the ears.

From the slate colored sky above came a chorus of quacking, signaling the incoming flock of about thirty mallards from the south. Outlined against the ominous grey clouds above the river Javier could make out the green heads and lighter colored feathers of the birds. Steve fumbled for his duck call and gave some rapid fire noise that he had tried to explain to Javier the day before was a “hail call”. It was meant to draw the ducks in closer.

“Take your time. Let them get in close enough. Remember what I told you: swing through. Butt, belly, beak then bang!” Steve tells Javi sotte voce. They both ready their weapons as the birds approach.

“Alright, take ‘em!” Murphy hisses when the birds are in range. Javi leans into the gun and squeezes the trigger through the arc as he follows their quarry. The sky explodes with sound and two birds drop from the sky into the watter below. “Good job man!” Murphy cheers and high-fives Javi.

Maybe this hillbilly crap isn’t so bad, Javi thinks to himself as Murphy gives the dog a gruff command that has it launching itself form the boat into the water. It is kind of nice to hear the lapping of the water on the boat’s hull, the gentle flutter and soothing noises of the birds. The river in late fall is beautiful in its own way. It is stark and wild with all the green faded away now for the season, but still beautiful. Javi observes how his friend is so relaxed in this environment and cannot help but crack a smile.

“Good boy Ace! Come on, come on!” Murphy calls as the black dog paddles back to the boat. The dog is determinedly swimming back to them with head above water with the downed bird. Murphy is moving around inside the blind now. He seems to be poking around searching for something when he starts to curse.

“What’s the matter?” Javi asks as he removes the hood on his sweatshirt from over the camo baseball cap Steve had loaned him. It’s still cold, but maybe the adrenaline of the moment earlier has warmed him some.

“Fuck, I forgot the ramp this morning. It’s this thing I stick on the back of the boat so Ace can get back in the boat on his own. I coulda sworn I stuck it in here this morning.” Steve is rummaging behind the extra life jackets and decoys.

Javi shrugged and looked out to see the dog treading water over the side. Javi could barely keep his eyes open when Steve woke him up at 4 a.m., shoved his feet into a pair of chest waders and tossed him a dark green hoodie with the words ‘Ducks Unlimited’ on the chest and an old camo coat. Although he did wake up pretty quickly once they got the boat on the rive and he had the icy spray from the speeding boat and wind in his face.

“What’s the big deal?”

“He can’t get in the boat dumbass. He can’t swim like that forever. He’ll get tired,” Murphy stated, “I’ll just take the boat off the pylons and we’ll beach on the shore real quick. He’ll follow and he can climb up the rocks onto the boat.” Murphy began the process of untying the boat from the mooring posts and unlashing parts of the boat hide that made up the floating duck blind. Javi looked over the side again at the plucky little retriever. Big, bright, rusty brown eyes in a handsome black face stared back while the animal continued to paddle away, duck still firmly clamped between its jaws. He could see the nostrils of the animal widen as it huffed air in, still treading water. It wasn’t that big of a dog. 80lbs maybe? He could just scoop it out of the water. Easy.

Javi stood up. “You don’t have to do that.”

Murphy wasn’t paying attention at first. Too focused on untying his complicated knot from when he tied up earlier. He felt the boat sway as his friend moved. But out of the corner of his eye did he see Javi lean over the side of the boat for the dog. His eyes widened. “Javi, no-.”

“Come on big boy, I gotcha.” Javi called to the dog as he leaned for over into the water to scoop up the animal. He had it about balanced right. The dog was barely out of reach. If he could lean just a little further now.

“Come on Ace. Oh shi-!” Murphy watched as his partner tipped headfirst over the side.

Two seconds later the spluttering dark headed man surfaced right next to the boat cursing a storm. Ace, the mallard still clutched in his mouth, whined continuously and paddled around Javi in the truly frigid water. Steve reached out a hand to his friend in the water, bracing himself off the motor in the back of the boat. “Swim over here. I can get you back on without capsizing off the stern,” he instructed.

Javi carefully kicked and stroked his powerful arms to the back of the boat and grabbed Steve’s hand.

“Alright, on three I am gonna haul you up but you gotta push yourself onto the boat at the same time.”

Javi nodded.

“Alright, ready…three!” Steve groaned and heaved the sopping man out of the water so that his top half was wedged onto the boat. Javier used his elbows and shoulders to drag himself fully inside and flopped into the hull with a grunt.

Steve laughed and shook his head as he watched his friend cough and shiver. He was ok. He’d be a little cold but Steve would set him right in a minute. At least now he didn't look so moody, like he had been sucking on a lemon, like he had looked all morning. No, now Javi looked like a drowned rat. Although Steve wasn’t going to tell him that. Yet.

Javi straightened himself up, sitting on his knees and glaring at his friend. But before he could open his mouth the persistent whining of the dog interrupted. Steve peered over the edge of the stern of the boat. Ace doggedly paddled with the bird still in his maw.

“Alright buddy, hang on. You think we can pull him over together or you need a bit?” Steve asked Javi as the man tried to wring out part of the ancient camouflage coat that he had loaned him that morning. Javi rolled his eyes and positioned himself in the stern, carefully bracing himself on the side as Murphy was also doing. Together they carefully reached down into the water and hauled out the black lab and rolled him into the boat, dropping a good amount of water back into the boat.

The dog leapt to its feet and presented his prize to his master. A job well done surely. Murphy ruffled Ace’s ears after plucking the bird from the dog’s mouth and handed it to Javier.

“Your first duck hunt and your first duck. What do you think Javi?” The blonde man grinned at him so widely Javi couldn’t help but return the smile as he took the duck from his friend.

“Y’know, all things considered-“

Javi was interrupted by a truly massive full body shake from Ace, spraying he and Murphy with even more freezing water. Soaked to the bone, water dripping off the bill of his cap and desperately in need of a smoke he looked down at the black dog, its tail thumping furiously on the floor of the boat. He thought about the way that early morning fog had looked on the water and the duck he would eat later with Murphy’s hick relatives. He though about the money he spent for a license and duck stamp that would go back to preserving more habitat. He thought about the quiet and the trees and the way the biting wind felt. Javi wiped the water from his face and kneeled down to give the dog a good scratch behind his ears with one hand while he still held the duck.

It was fun.

Kinda.

The dog shook itself again. More water went flying. Javi scowled.

“Have we fed your inner redneck enough for today? Cause I have enough for a lifetime I think,” he huffed, searching the pocket of the duck coat to see if his precious cigarettes were dry enough to be lit.

Steve laughed and clapped him on the shoulder as Javi cupped the flame toa damp, mangled white paper cylinder. “Tell you what, next year I’ll come to Texas and play cowboy with you and your Dad on the ranch instead, ok?”

Javier’s eyes lit up. “Don’t get too cocky there, hillbilly. We’ll have to see how you measure up at ropin’ and drinking whiskey.”

Steve rolled his eyes and started the boat motor for home.

[nicolethered]

Last round of Javi in jeans gif posts; cc @the-ginger-hedge-witch (part 3)

[mrschiltoncat]

His comedic timing in little ways I loved this

[albertasunrise]

Betrayal

Summary: You should have known better than to trust Javier Peña, he wasn’t known for committing but he’d committed to you. You should have known it was too good to be true.

Parings: Javier Peña x Reader

Warmings: Angst, Mentions of sex, Unprotected Sex, Infidelity, Unplanned Pregnancy

Notes: This is inspired by @pascalscenarios awesome FanFic - Traitor

Masterlist

§

You should have known better than to trust Javier Peña, he wasn’t known for committing but he’d committed to you. You should have known it was too good to be true. You’d known what his reputation had been in Colombia, that he’d fucked his informants, that he didn’t do relationships. You’d met at one of the many gatherings that your shared home town held, his father introducing you to his son, the man that took down Escobar and the Cali cartel. You’d talked for hours, gone for a drink after and despite your brain telling you it was a bad idea, you ended up in his bed where he fucked you dumb. You had continued to date, continued to fuck and after three blissful months, you finally went public and much to Chucho’s delight.

You’d moved in together a few months later. It had been a surreal experience finding and buying a house, shopping for furniture to fill it and deciding on paint colours to decorate it in. It was strange because it felt so right, the domesticated nature of building a home together had made you genuinely believe that the future was bright for the two of you. Once you’d become settled Javier had decided to throw a house warming party, inviting Steve, his wife and their children and a few people from his new office and you’d been excited to meet everyone. To get to know the people he worked with. The parties had then become a regular occurrence. Whenever the weather was good enough, he would fire up the grill and invite around his work friends and you didn’t mind, you loved seeing how happy and relaxed it made him. As time went on you started invited your friends too and soon you were the couple who threw the hottest parties in the neighbourhood.

You were the perfect couple.

One year turned to two and it seemed like nothing would tear the two of you apart. You started to picture your future together, you taking his name and bearing his children but it wasn't something the two of you had discussed yet. You had just hoped he wanted the same.

‘When are you going to tie this beautiful woman down?’ Asked Chucho.

‘Oh Chucho we-‘

‘Haven’t I done that already?’ Questioned Javier as he gave his father a bemused look.

‘I mean marrying her pendejo.’ His father said rolling his eyes as he smirked at you.

‘We don’t need to get married to show everyone we love each other.’ He replied, shrugging nonchalantly ‘Right babe?’

‘Right.’ You replied, unable to stop the smile from dropping from your face.

You didn’t broach the marriage subject again, despite the fact it hurt to know that you two would never get married. You couldn’t deny that you’d never thought about marriage, you’d thought about it a lot amongst other things and as you and Javier had become more serious, you’d started to believe that he would possibly be the man that you took that step with. Now you knew that would never be the case and a small part of you started to whither.

‘So I’ve been assigned a new partner.’ Javier said as he sipped on his beer, pushing his empty plate to the side.

‘Oh yeah?’ You questioned as you collected up the empty plates and placed them in the sink ‘What’s his name.’

‘Oh no, it's a woman.’ He replied and you swallowed past the nerves that had started to choke you ‘She’s great. Kinda reminds me of Murphy.’ He finished with a chuckle.

‘How so?’

‘Blonde-haired, blue-eyed and a bit of a hillbilly but she’s a good agent.’

‘That’s great Hunny.’ You replied, not taking your eyes off of the dishes that soaked in the sink.

You trusted Javier, you’d been with him long enough to believe that he loved you and would never cheat but your mind was unable to shake off the fact that he'd been spending every day with this woman. As the months went on your anxiety only grew. He talked about her nonstop, gushed about her on a daily basis and it slowly ate away at you. You had met her a month or so after she’d started and you’d been unable to move past how beautiful she was. How could you ever compete with her? You decided that you needed to remind him who he belonged to in the only way you knew how.

‘Baby what are you doing?’ Questioned Javier one evening as you straddled his lap ‘I mean I’m not complaining but what’s gotten into you?’

‘Just shut up and fuck me.’ You growled, tugging his shirt over his head and placing hot, wet, kisses down his neck and along his shoulder.

He didn’t need you to tell him twice. Grabbing you by the backs of your thighs he carried you to the couch and lowered you down, his hips rolling against your core as he kissed you deeply. Clothes were removed quickly as your tongues danced and he sheathed himself inside of you in one swift movement that took the air out of your lungs.

‘Fuck baby.’ You sobbed, biting your lip as he rocked his hips into you at a maddening pace.

He didn't relent his brutal pace. He continued slamming into you and made you cum hard as you screamed his name and your nails dug into the strong muscles in his back. The pleasure and pain soon dragged him over the edge. Half a dozen more thrusts and came deep inside you, head dropping to your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

‘Shit baby.’ He panted as he kissed you languidly, smiling as you moaned into his mouth ‘I love you.

‘I love you too.’ You replied.

For a while, you found he talked about her less the more the two of you fucked and things seemed to be good again. You lived in bliss, relearning each other's bodies and worshipping them but there was still that little voice in the back of your head that was telling you this was all temporary. That he was going to leave you in the end.

‘So I have to go away for a week.’ Said Javier out of nowhere over dinner.

‘Since when?’ You asked, a little surprised at how last minute it all was.

‘Since we’ve been asked to consult on a case in Dallas.’ He replied ‘I don’t think it’ll be longer than a week but I’ll check I'm baby.’

You could only nod and hope that he would keep to his word but deep down you knew this was it. The beginning of the end. He did check in but the calls were clipped, short, to the point and the nagging voice inside your head told you that he was with her. His beautiful partner. True to his word he was back a week later but he was different, withdrawn and your stomach sank.

‘I think we should talk.’ He said one night as he handed you a beer, scrubbing a hand over his tired face as he sat down beside you.

The silence that hung over the two of you was suffocating and your hands shook as you waited for him to speak.

‘Baby, you’re scaring me what is it?’

‘I think we both know that this isn’t working anymore.’ He said and you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

‘What?’

‘We haven’t been happy a while.’ He stated, his eyes sad as he spoke to you ‘We can’t fuck our problems away.’

‘What problems?’ You questioned, a little shocked by what he was saying.

‘I uh-.’

‘Don’t bullshit me Javi.’ You growled, your shock becoming something else completely ‘Are you seeing someone else?’

‘What? No!’

‘Then why have you suddenly decided that we need to break up?’ You shouted ‘Or do the past two years mean fuck all to you?’

He was taken aback by your sudden outburst, his eyes pricking with tears as he watches you fall apart in front of him.

‘I love you Javi.’ You spat ‘I have devoted myself to you but clearly, that means fuck all to you. I know the truth.’ You pause and Javier gave you a bemused look ‘You’re fucking her aren’t you? You partner!’

‘Baby no.’

‘No, you don’t get to call me that anymore.’

‘Okay but I swear to you that I’m not sleeping with my partner.’

A tense silence fell over the two of you and you allowed yourself to cry, not caring that you were falling apart in front of the man that had broken your heart. The man that you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with.

‘You should leave.’ You said finally as you stood from the couch and walked out, unable to be in his presence a moment longer.

A week and a half. That was all it took for him to start seeing her. You had cried yourself to sleep every night for 4 weeks after learning it from Chucho. He’d kept checking in on you after the breakup, coming around with food parcels and holding you as you fell apart. He’d kicked Javier out when he'd learned that he’d moved on so quickly but he had moved in with her almost straight after. Chucho took the last of Javier’s things to him, not wanting you to go through the pain of seeing how happy he was with her.

‘You have to be fucking kidding me.’ You sobbed to no one, staring at the two sticks that sat beside your sink ‘Perfect.’

You’d suspected something was wrong after you’d ended up a week late. You’d initially put it down to stress but as one week turned into two you'd decided to buy some tests and sure enough, you were pregnant. You took the tests to the lounge, placed them on the coffee table and continued to stare at them for some time. Silently willing them to change.

‘So this is your first?’ Asked the doctor as she squirted the jelly on your stomach and you nodded in response ‘Right well hopefully we’ll be able to hear the heartbeat, if not we should at least be able to see it.’

The room went silent as the doctor placed the probe onto your stomach and started to move it around. You stared at the ceiling, wondering how you were going to do this. Where you really going to raise a baby all on your own? Were you going to tell him? You’d decided to wait until you knew whether or not the baby was healthy, knowing how common miscarriages were within the first three months.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The new sound that filled the air grabbed your attention and you turned your head to see your baby on the screen.

‘Strong heartbeat.’ Started the doctor as she studied the screen ‘Everything looks great. Would you like me to print you some pictures?’

You nodded eagerly as you smiled at her, your heart skipping at the sight of the tiny being that was growing inside of you. At that moment you knew you wanted this. You could do this alone. The doctor handed you the printouts and a cloth for you to clean the jelly off of your stomach and once you pulled yourself together you left. You don’t know what possessed you but as you sat in the driver's seat of your car you decided to call Javier. He deserved to know. He agreed to meet you for a coffee and he was there when you arrived, stood outside the cafe shifting nervously on his feet.

‘Hi.’ You said as you walked up to him and he glanced up, a nervous expression plastered on his face.

‘Hi.’ He replied, scratching the back of his neck ‘Shall we?’

‘Yeah.’ You replied, nodding your thanks when he held the door open for you.

‘You grab a table.’ He said as he started to make his way to the counter ‘Usual?’

‘Can you make it a decaf?’

‘Since when did you drink decaf?’

You shrugged in response before heading towards a free table next to the window and pulling out the envelope you had placed the photos into. He returned a few minutes later with your coffee, avoiding eye contact with you as the two of you sat in silence for a short while.

‘How have you been?’ He asked finally and you snorted in response ‘What?’

‘You really want to know how I’ve been?’ You asked and he nodded in response ‘Hmm, well let me see. You broke my heart, swore to me that you weren't leaving me for your partner and yet end up with her less than two weeks later. Jee Javi how do you think I’ve been?’

‘I deserve that.’ He replied and you snort.

‘Yeah, you do.’ You spat, thumbing the envelope in your hands ‘That’s not the reason I called you.’

‘It isn’t?’

‘Weirdly enough I try and avoid meeting with exes that destroyed me.’ You growled and he flinched.

‘Then why did you ask to meet me?’ He questioned and you took a deep breath, readying yourself for what you were about to say.

‘I’m pregnant Javier.’ You replied ’12 weeks give or take a day or two.’ You finished, your eyes studying his reaction.

He said nothing so you pulled out the scan images as pushed them towards him, watching as he picked them up and stared at them, his fingers tracing over the glossy surface as tears started to fall down his cheeks.

‘Now would be a really good time to say something Javi.’

‘Lucy and I broke up.’ He said, eyes not leaving the images in his hand.

‘What?’ You replied, a little stunned by his response.

‘We uh… I realised that I’d made a huge mistake.’ He continued as you sat awaiting further clarification ‘I’ve missed you. Like crazy and I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to call but I’m a fucking coward. I never cheated on you but I betrayed you. I thought that because we were having issues that our relationship had run its course but the truth is that I’ve been suffocating without you.’

‘Javi I don’t need to hear this.’ You growled, angry at his confession ‘I just need to know whether or not you want to be involved in our child's life. I don’t expect anything from you. Just an answer to my question.’

‘I want it all with you baby.’ He said, finally looking up at you with the most sincere look in his eyes ‘I want this baby with you. I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’ He continued, letting out a stuttered breath ‘If you’ll have me.’

‘Javi that is all I’ve ever wanted with you.’ You replied and he let out a choked sob ‘But you broke me. That’s not something we can just come back from. I don't want to raise this baby alone. I want to raise it surrounded by love. I want nothing more than to raise it together but you broke my trust.' You paused, sipping at your coffee while Javi watched you hopefully 'Let’s just take this day by day and see what happens.’

‘Yeah okay.’ He replied as he took his hand in yours.

'But if you break my heart again I will kill you.' You chuckled.

'Pretty sure my dad is first in line if I do that again.' He replied and you both boomed at that.

You sat and talked for hours, taking you back to the time you’d first met and for the first time in what felt like months, you were able to breathe. You weren’t going to have to do this alone. You were finally going to have everything you’d ever wanted.

[knivesareout]

steve murphy nsfw alphabet

because steve murphy fucks and @emmikmil​ and i will not stand for that slander any longer!! anyway, this is a collab with em and i and we love steve and just boyd as a whole. 

2.5k words of filth about our favorite hillbilly DEA agent! enjoy xx

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It doesn’t matter if it was soft and slow or hard and rough, Steve is always on top of the aftercare. After taking a few minutes to catch your breath he’s there with a warm rag to clean you up. He’ll make sure you have water and will tuck you into bed before crawling in after with cuddles, kisses and plenty of praise. His first priority is taking care of you and making sure you’re okay.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Steve favors his hands and what he can do with them. How well he can manipulate your body with just a single flex of his wrist. The long digits of his fingers always reach places you can never seem to reach and how the veins on the top of his hand are more prominent when he’s pulling your hips against his or tightening around your throat when he fucks you from behind. 

As for his favorite body part on you, well. Steve’s a boob guy. And a thigh guy. And really, just anything soft. He’s constantly staring at any piece of exposed skin when you’re out in public, licking his lips in anticipation for more. He loves nuzzling into your belly after eating you out, rubbing the scruff of his facial hair on the soft skin. Your pussy is also a favorite of his- the warmth, the sensitivity of just a whisper of a touch making you instantly wet and leaving evidence across his mouth.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Steve definitely has preferences where he cums. Always safety first: with a condom in a newer relationship. If well established he loves to cum inside of you and watch it leak out after, before licking it all back up. He won’t not deny his other favorite is seeing your face dripping with him. Ruining your pretty face with his release, marking you as his. He loves scooping the cum off your face and feeding it to you, watching you suckle his fingers, cleaning them. Any opportunity for either of you to eat his cum he’ll take.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves the thrill of public sex. The thought of someone seeing him fingering you under the table, your panties pushed to the side. It’s lucky most places are louder otherwise the table over would hear the wet noises coming from between your thighs. He loves pushing you up against a wall in a semi-secluded place in the hopes someone might see you desperately riding his thigh because he left you high and dry during dinner. You never know what to expect when he calls you at work with the amount of times he’s left you breathless with his words, trying to get you worked up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Steve definitely has experience, the most being in college. As he’s gotten older he definitely doesn’t sleep around as much. He’s very much a relationship man, enjoying the learning process of what you like, what makes you tick, etc. He has skill and once he learns the ins and outs of your body? He can play you like a well tuned instrument.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position where Steve can look at you when you cum is his favorite. He loves seeing you falling apart for him and seeing what he does to you is his biggest turn on. The desperate look on your eyes as you silently beg him for more is something he always wants to see. Accessibility is also a factor- being able to kiss and nip along your body, bury his face into your neck and mark you. He does love it when you ride him and take what you need though, his hands on your ass to help you move along his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really does depend on the moment. After a long day spent teasing each other, there’s no room for giggles. He’s focused and serious on pounding you into oblivion. Then there are the lazy weekend mornings where it’s spent rolling around in bed teasing, giggly and sweet. He can do both very easily and doesn’t really prefer one over the other.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Steve’s decently groomed but he doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. He keeps things trimmed and neat, the thick and wiry hair just a darker shade of blonde. Not to mention he loves the feeling of a little tug on the hair there when you slide your hand down his pants before you grab his cock; not to mention seeing your nose buried in the hairs when you deep throat him is always a sight he loves to see.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It doesn’t matter what kind of sex you two are having or how long the session lasts, his hands and lips rarely leave your body. Touch is Steve’s love language. He is very attentive and romantic, whispering his love and praises. If he has time to prep before he would absolutely light candles to set the mood.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

While he prefers release with you, he doesn’t mind taking things into his own hands when you’re busy. Steve’ll get lost in his own head at times with what new thing he wants to try with you and he’ll find himself hard. He likes to take his time when he’s jacking off, slow and tight strokes to emulate the feeling of your pussy before he starts to get desperate for his release. A sharp tug on his balls and he’s done for, white streaks on his chest and he pictures you cleaning it up, having to groan as his cock twitches with interest. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Steve has a fair few and highlighting some are:

Edging - Steve gets great enjoyment in seeing you writhe and pant as you get closer to coming and even more enjoyment in hearing your whines and breathless curses as he stops you just moments away from bliss. Edging you while he’s eating out is probably his favorite, hearing your moans with your thighs wrapped around his head and the solid grip in his hair. If you have the time he could spend hours between your legs, until you’re a blubbering mess wanting nothing more than to cum.

Breeding - This is the one kink he’s never told to another partner. He keeps this one under wraps, not even telling you until you both have the talk of starting a family and trying. When revealed, it’s not really a surprise to you. He just loves the thought of breeding you and seeing your belly grow with his baby. There would be nothing sexier to him than you pregnant, round with the clear evidence that he’s the cause.

Bondage - Having you at his mercy is a high for Steve. He’s done research into the best restraints to keep you comfortable, making sure they’re never too tight and always showing you a way to get out. Tying you to the bed and getting his mouth on you is a personal favorite, marking you and making you cum with your hands tied.

Voyeurism - Steve cannot get enough of watching you. Watching what gets you off, what parts of your body are more sensitive. It was how he first learned what got you off, watching you masturbate for him. Just watching you in general though makes his thoughts go off into a space where he’s thinking filthy things almost immediately. The most innocent things you do set him off, like rubbing your neck when you’re tired or the soft sigh you let out after a long day.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Any place Steve can have you is a good place. Public or not, if he wants you then and there it’s happening. Up against the cabinets in the kitchen, bent over your desk at work during your lunch break, the seedy bathroom at the bar him and Javier frequent after a long day- it doesn’t matter to him. He does prefer a bed so he can lay you out and take his time, making you quiver and cry for him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take much to turn Steve on but, hearing the noises you make when he kisses your neck or fondles your breasts. Every whimper, gasp and soft whisper of his name gets him harder than anything. Steve also loves a challenge- loves when you challenge his authority, teasing him and pushing his buttons to get a reaction. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that puts you or him at risk or in danger. Steve is all about making sure you’re comfortable and anything that even presses a boundary you don’t seem into, he’s instantly changing gears. With how much violence he sees in his day-to-day life, that’s a hard limit for him- seeing you hurt. He doesn’t want it turned back on him either, it’s an easy trigger.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Steve will never turn down a blow job from you but, he thrives between your thighs. He loves to eat you out and he has the skill to make you shiver with every stroke of his tongue and fingers. He won’t stop until his head is pinned in place by your thighs with your hands in his hair tugging him off you when it becomes too much.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

After a long day at work dealing with Javi and the ambassador and literally every other frustrating person he has to work with, Steve loves a good fast and rough fuck. It helps release the stored tension he keeps in his body. Weekends are when Steve can take his time with you. A long and slow Sunday morning fuck is his favorite, drawing it out until you’re shaking with your 3rd orgasm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are a necessity during the week. Hurried touches in the shower before work and fucking you into the mattress before bed. It's definitely not his preferred way to fuck you but with a busy schedule he will take you however he can.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Steve doesn’t mind a little bit of risk, especially for someone with an exhibitionist kink. He loves the thrill, gets off on it and it drives him crazy at the thought of someone seeing what he does to you. He loves to experiment- testing your body and what it can take and how it gets you going. Steve is always the one to bring up something new into the bedroom and you’re on board fully, trusting him implicitly with your pleasure.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina is something Steve prides himself on. Especially since his focus is always on you- how you’re feeling, making sure you’re getting your pleasure, he’s not worried about his own until he’s made you cum at least twice, if not more. There have been times when he’s let you take the reins and you’ve had him cumming so often he was orgasming dry but it’s not an often occurrence. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

What toys doesn’t Steve own is a better question. Well, you and him. You’d come with a few of your own toys: a trusty wand, a plug, a dildo- all things he loved using on you and watching you use. After some time you add small things: padded handcuffs, a silk mask, soft cotton restraints. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It may be hard to believe but under the southern gentleman facade, Steve is the absolute biggest tease. The light tease in public and normal conversation is nothing compared to how he is in the bedroom. It can be teasing touches with his lips and hands or whispered taunts in your ear. He knows the teasing and taunts rile you up like nothing else, and the man always aims to please.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Steve isn’t particularly loud, just soft grunts and shaky breaths but he loves talking. He’s a talker through and through and loves telling you just how good your body is treating him. How well you take his cock, how beautiful you look all fucked out after your 3rd orgasm, how fucking hard it makes him seeing his cum drip out of you. The talking had taken you by surprise the first time he spoke but now you can’t get enough, can’t deny how much more it turns you on.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

While Steve is most definitely the dominant partner in the bedroom, he does enjoy being pegged. He was extremely hesitant when you brought the idea up initially and it took awhile for him to consider it and be comfortable. Yet, once he actually tried it with you he felt like a changed man. The absolute bliss of being truly taken care of for a change was unreal to him. Plus he couldn't remember ever coming that hard in his life, he damn near blacked out.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

With being 6’2, Steve is pretty big in general. Long limbs, lean muscle, and a big cock. You’d been surprised when you first saw him naked, eyes wide. He was a shower and does he show. Sometimes Steve’ll lounge around in his dress pants from work and it’s so easy to tell when he’s turned on when he wears them, the outline clear as day against his thigh. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Steve's sex drive is pretty high, with the stress and adrenaline mixing low in his gut and sizzling when he comes home to you.  It’s almost funny how quickly he comes on to you, whispering something low and filthy in your ear when you’re doing chores around the house. Expect some kind of sex a minimum of 4 times a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not too quickly because Steve is all about making sure you’re okay. Cleaned up, hydrated, and well taken care of before he can think about his own needs. After you’re tucked into his chest and breathing slowly does Steve even think about finally sleeping, a kiss to your forehead and closing his eyes.

[thirsty-flygirl]

Touch Me

Formerly The Textile Series

A Javier Peña x f! Reader Romance

Rating: Explicit - language, sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll. You know the drill, no one under 18 allowed.

Word Count: 988

A/N: Look, it's no secret that I would let Javi absolutely ruin me so here is The Textile Series, back again with a few changes, so I can simp some more over my favorite DEA agent.

Tags: Let me know if you want in!

Part II - Cotton

Javier sat at his desk, the incessant sound of rain outside making him anxious. Bogota had been battered with storms for nearly a week now, making any kind of recon or surveillance nearly impossible. The feeling of doing nothing was making the entire office frustrated and tempers were short.

“Fuck,” Javi heard you mutter as you entered in a squelching rush. Looking up, he saw you completely drenched, your clothing plastered against your skin and leaving very little to his already-vivid imagination. You stalked to your desk and slammed your bag down, Steve cocking an eyebrow at your obvious problem.

“Decide to take an early-morning swim?” he offered with a smirk.

“Go to hell, Murphy." You threw a middle finger in his direction and rifled through your bottom drawer. Steve laughed loudly, catching Javi’s eye with a grin.

“I love pissing her off,” he admitted, shuffling through his papers with a sigh and a chuckle before getting back down to work. Javi regarded you for a moment, still pawing through your desk drawers with a scowl on your face.

"DAMN IT," you shouted, slamming your hand on the desktop and making Steve jump in his chair. You let your head hang in defeat for a moment, wet hair dripping onto the worn wood of your desk. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at the two men bracketing you. "Do either of you have a spare shirt? My car took a shit this morning and I walked here. Obviously this," you gestured to yourself with a wry smile, "is not the look i was going for today."

Still laughing, Steve stood and grabbed his keys. "I got one in my car. Lemme go grab it." He made a quick exit through the office, leaving Javi to once again do his damndest to keep his eyes off you. Two weeks had passed since the night the two of you had stayed late to strategize without Steve, and Javi’s imagination had only run wilder since. The sight of your lingerie had burned into his brain and now he knew he'd never get the image of you, dripping wet and clothes skin tight, out of his mind either.

He made a show of poring over the contents of a folder, reading every line three times just so he wouldn't have to raise his eyes to you. You plopped down at your desk next to him, eyeing the way he studied aerial shots of what appeared to be an abandoned factory.

"Here," Steve announced his return, throwing a white bundle at your head. You snatched it deftly and unrolled the offering to reveal a faded, white, Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt.

"Wow, you really are a fucking hillbilly, Murph." You caught Javi's eye and grinned, and he found himself smirking back at you, his heart tugging a little when he realized how easily you'd worked your way under his skin.

"You want the fucking shirt or not?" Steve grumped, settling back in his chair. "A thanks would have been nice."

"Awwww, Stevie, thank you," you cooed, reaching over to pinch his cheek before swaying toward the ladies room to change with a throaty chuckle.

Javi stared at your retreat, unable to tear his eyes from the away of your hips, imagining what they would look like underneath his palms, the supple flesh giving way as he–

"–Don't think about it," Steve's voice interrupted his reverie. Javi turned to his partner, schooling his face into the picture of innocence. "Yeah, I’m not buying your bullshit, Javi," Steve continued, shaking his head seriously. "I saw that look. Keep your dick in your pants, man. We have a good thing going, and I don’t need you two facing off every goddamn day when you fuck her and run. Hands off–"

"–Hands off what?" You interrupted, breezing back into the room. If Javi had been focused on you going, the sight of you coming (Christ, his cock hardened at that image) knocked him dead. Steve's Skynyrd shirt, fabric worn nearly see-through in some places, stretched across your breasts so that he could see the outline of your hard nipples on display. You had tucked the tee into the black pencil skirt you still wore, and Javi swore he'd never seen a cotton t-shirt look as fucking sexy as it did on you. The outfit coupled with your hair, damp and tousled from the rain, and slightly-smudged mascara gave you a dangerous, sexy look that made his heart pound.

Steve looked up at your return and did a double take, flicking his eyes to Javi before a loud "Awww, fuck" escaped his lips. He grabbed his coffee cup and stood, moving past where you stood in the center of the office, a puzzled look on your face.

Javi managed to pull his eyes from your chest to meet your gaze, trying to ignore the burning in his veins and the primal urge to bend you over your desk and claim you, Murphy be damned.

“Ohhhh-kay," you raised an eyebrow at Steve's retreating form and made your way back to your desk. "What did I miss?” you chirped, taking a seat at your desk and tugging the manila folder from Javi’s grip. Your eyes scanned the contents quickly before flicking back up to his coffee-colored stare. Javi remained silent, memorizing your features, another pang of something hitting him deep in the chest as you offered him a soft smile.

“You didn’t miss a goddamn thing,” Steve chimed in, returning to his seat with a huff and desperate to diffuse the tension between his partners. “Can we get some fucking work done now?”

Javi turned back to his files, forcing everything from his mind except the capture of Escobar. That was the goal here, and he needed to remember that. Getting lost in fantasies about you only served as a distraction and a reminder of things that he would never have.

[echo-hiraeth]

Chapter 1: Noise

Part of the “Illicit Limerence” series.

Pairing: Javier Peña (towards the end of season one) x F!Reader

Summary: The reader and Javier find themselves in his bed more and more often, but when the reader decides to confront her emotions and put a halt to their meetings, everything seems to just go more and more south.

Warnings: swearing, violence, mention of vomiting and sickness, angst, smut 18+

Masterlist

Next chapter

“Leaving so soon?”, he questioned, sheets barely covering his naked figure.

You looked over your shoulder as you zipped up your pencil skirt. “I’d rather not have Murphy see me walk out of here”, you muttered, stuffing your blouse into the waistband.

He chuckled lowly, sitting up to press a series of kisses to the back of your neck. “Murphy is a blind hillbilly, princesa, just stay a little while longer”, he cooed, gently sucking on the sensitive skin of your throat.

Despite wanting to give in to his sweet promises and lustful words, you knew better. This was just the type of man he was, purely driven by sex and his own libido. So you took a deep breath and shied away from his sinful touches. “I’ll see you at the office Peña”, you sighed, gathering your purse from the floor and heading for the front door.

You could hear him mumbling something and getting up, his heavy footsteps trailing after you until you ultimately pulled the door shut behind you, catching a glimpse of him. For two months now you’d been sleeping together, two blissfully delicious months wrapped up in Javier’s arms. But it was wrong, so fucking wrong in so many different ways. The two of you were partners for fuck’s sake and if the embassy would find out, Messina would have your heads. And then there was Steve, sweet agent Murphy, one of your closest friends ever since the academy, who begged and pleaded for you not to engage with his partner, for fear that he would win you over, which is – of course – exactly what happened. But it was just sex – right? Yes, just pure physical relief, a man and a woman just fucking the pains of their job away, nothing else. At least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of, Javier Peña was a registered asshole and heartbreaker, but you’d come to know him for his softer interior, his caring side.

The walk of shame from his apartment to your car was one you knew quite well at this point, hair dishevelled, panties either soaked or gone and feelings just an utter complicated mess. You just prayed that nobody would ever see you, the impending shame of being known as one of his many hook-ups just anxiety-inducing by itself. So your drive home was filled with silent music and regret, as per usual.

A short three hour nap and a quick shower were all you could afford on these kind of nights, knowing fully well you had to show up to work the next morning, early and bright. It was getting more and more difficult for you to keep seeing him and you knew you couldn’t keep seeing him. While you were showering you thought of how you could tell him, but nothing seemed good enough and it led to what you could only identify as a nauseating feeling in your lower gut.

This was going to be a long day.

 “Mornin’”, Steve smiled at you, setting a cup of coffee and a sandwich down in front of you.

You felt your stomach turn and swiftly slid the coffee away from you. “What have you got for me today Murph?”

“Aha, a day out in the field”, he announced, sipping from the mug you’d rejected. “A stake out for the three of us and later on a meetup with Carillo and his men.”

Steve chuckled as you chowed down on the sandwich, as if you’d been starved for days. You didn’t even bother to swallow your bite as you spoke: “Mm-where’s Peña?”

Your friend shook his head slowly, wiping some sauce from the corner of your mouth. “Probably still busy with last night’s girl.” You choked, Steve quickly moving to pat you on the back. “Slow down partner, there’s plenty more in the kitchen.”

As you swallowed the last bit of your breakfast Javier walked into the small office space, mumbling something to Steve before plopping down in his chair, lazily lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. You quickly got up off your chair, not wanting to face him right now and muttered something about getting another sandwich.

The short walk to the office kitchen had managed to ease your nerves the slightest bit, just enough for you to walk back with your head held up high and pretend as if nothing was the matter. By the time you came back Steve had filled Javi in and the two of them stood there waiting for you with their jackets on.

A few minutes later you were sat in the backseat of the SUV, directly behind Steve as you read over some reports, Javier’s eyes catching yours in the rear view mirror every so often. You cursed the Colombian roads, feeling more and more sick with every bump the car hit. When the car finally came to a halt you let out a sigh of relief, your forehead glistening with sweat. Steve threw you a worried look, quirking his eyebrow as if to ask you if you were alright. You quickly nodded and smiled, assuring him you were okay, before stepping out of the vehicle to stretch your legs.

“Y/n”, an all-too-familiar voice sounded, a hand finding its way onto your shoulder, “is everything alright?”

You shrugged his hand off of you, crossing your arms over your chest you sighed: “I’m fine Javier. Let’s get back in the car, Pablo’s rats should be here soon.”

“Did something happen last night? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“We need to stop seeing each other, I can’t do this anymore”, you let out in one breath, voice surprisingly calm.

He shuffled on his feet, hands resting on his hips as he gaped at you. “I’m not sure I understand, did I say something wrong?”

You scoffed before spinning on your heels, quickly walking back over to the car. There was no way you were giving him the option to get you alone again today, the awkwardness of it all just too much. So you joined Steve in the front seat, eyes burning with the effort of trying to contain your emotions.

It was safe to say that this particular stake out and day in general was the worst you’d had the displeasure of experiencing while being in Colombia. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time and when you told Steve you weren’t feeling well and went home early, it had taken everything within him not to follow you right there and then.

As soon as the door of your tiny apartment fell into the lock you broke down into tears, feeling completely overwhelmed. This had hit you harder than you liked to admit, coming to realise that your feelings towards the cold man were more severe than you’d expected. Work was going to be nothing short of awkward and emotionally draining but you’d rather spend your time avoiding Javier there, then just thinking and overthinking in bed or on the couch. You’d decided to give yourself the leeway to get over yourself, calling in sick for the next four days, until the weekend. It wasn’t entirely untrue, you experienced some odd nausea and intense headaches, making you stay away from any and all liquor, an otherwise very efficient yet unhealthy coping mechanism.

Everything had been calm aside from Steve and Connie calling in every so often to check up. You’d lied to them about having a really bad cold, spiking fever, that kind of thing and had advised them to stay faaaar away. It wasn’t until Saturday night, when you heard a knock at your door that you were disrupted from your repose. Assuming it to be one of the two or maybe that one neighbour that always needed something you opened up the door without checking.

When your eyes met Javier’s you sighed, going to close the door. He quickly jammed his foot between it, pushing it back open with his arm. “Can we just fucking talk?”, he asked, clearly annoyed with your attitude towards the entire situation.

“Fine, ten minutes, nothing more, I want to go to bed”, you said with an unsteady voice.

He let himself in, wrapping his arms around you when the door closed shut. “Preciosa, I miss you..”

You pressed your nose into the collar of his shirt, indulging in the hypnotising scent of his cologne and cigarettes. “I-I do too, but this- we can’t Javi..”

“And why not, nobody has to know hermosa, it could just be you and me”, he purred, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your jaw. You let out a soft sob, making him stop abruptly. “What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

“Please just leave Javi, don’t make it more difficult then it already is”, you pleaded quietly, averting his worried eyes.

Javier’s face was contorted with frustration, he was upset with himself for hurting you like this. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave.” He pressed a gentle, loving kiss to your lips, nose softly rubbing against yours.

You eagerly kissed him back, the tears streaming down your face. Your hands soon found their way to their jacket, in an attempt to slide it off of his broad shoulders. He quickly grabbed onto your wrists stopping you. “Let me take care of you, por favor.”

A shy and hesitant nod was all he needed before you were led into your bedroom. He gently stripped you of your clothes, kissing every new exposed body part before moving on to the next. The sheer tenderness in his touches and words set your afire with unspoken love and need. Your fingers made quick work of his belt and buttons, haphazardly shoving his dark jeans down his thighs. Javier grunted as he picked you up, tossing you onto the bed, face down, tonight wasn’t about romance, it was about release, catharsis.

He grabbed onto your hips, perking your ass up, giving him easy access. Mesmerized as per usual, he watched the way your back curved when he lined himself up, a small gasp finding its way out of your throat when he teasingly rubbed the head against your clit. He stuttered out something along the lines of an apology before harshly thrusting into you, showing absolutely no mercy as he bottomed himself out. Your response consisted of a high pitched cry and obnoxious breathing, the pain and pleasure merging, making your mind go completely blank.

His fingers squeezed the supple flesh of your round hips, making him groan even louder, your body’s reactions to him turning him on all the more. The sheer force of his strokes told you everything you needed to know, he was livid. Javier was outraged about a plethora of things, the cartel, his actions, his lack of words but most of all you. Fuck – it wasn’t supposed to end like this, you were just another body to him, that’s what you were supposed to be, but he found himself concerned for you, he found himself wanting to check up on you, and something about that set him off. You’d promised him relief and all you ended up being was more trouble, more noise in his head. So, he’d wanted to take it out on you and that was exactly what he was doing.

The sound of his hips smacking against yours was therapeutic, your moans and mewls the ego boost he’d needed. With another hard thrusts he suddenly pulled out, jerking himself off as he came all over your lower back. He closed his eyes, catching his breath, before looking at you, panting on the bed, face hidden within the safety of your pillow. Good.

He quickly hoisted his jeans back up and fastened the button before throwing his shirt over his head. The man didn’t even bother to look at you as he threw a towel at you, ordering you to clean yourself up. You were right, you couldn’t do this anymore, tonight had been the last time, a goodbye. All he could think about as you sat there, breasts heaving up and down in time with your sobs, was how much he hated himself. He figured he was doing you a favour by distancing himself, but really it was a selfish thing, the cold and closed-off agent had vowed long ago that lovers and friends were just more loose ends for the cartel to catch onto, and he would never forgive himself if somebody would be hurt – even killed – in his name.

“You’re a monster”, you spat out, using the filthy towel to cover your body.

“I’m aware”, he replied lacing his shoes.

You disappeared into your bathroom, creating the necessary distance between the two of you, as you cried your eyes out. The need to hold and comfort you was there, but deep inside he knew that it – he would never be enough. So he left, the sounds of your sobs and sniffles ringing in his ears.

You spent the rest of your weekend watching stupid telenovelas and binge-eating, your hunger and cravings seemingly insatiable. Well it wasn’t like Javier would be showing up anytime soon, so there was no reason why you couldn’t let go and indulge in some sugar and fat. Tomorrow you’d be going back to work and seeing his stupidly handsome face until the end of your shift. At this point you’d rather spend the day doing paperwork and get patronised and hit on by the stuck-up men at the office all day.

Despite only having to start at noon, work had never been more stressful. Your heart rate picking up more and more with every step towards the shared office space. You stopped breathing when you saw him sitting there, sucking on the end of his cigarette, comfortably reading over some document. Steve smiled at you, winking in the direction of your desk where he’d left you a lunch bag of some sorts. You opened the glass door and walked over to your desk, returning his smile before looking inside of the brown bag.

“Connie figured you’d want some good food”, he smirked, pointing at the baked goods.

You quietly chuckled, quickly reading over the note she’d left you. “I should get sick more often, Connie’s muffins are just fucking heaven.” You sank your teeth into the treat, humming at the taste, making Steve laugh boyishly.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed it, because today’s gonna be a long one partner.”

Steve hadn’t exaggerated, the first two hours of your workday were spent discussing and arguing with the officials about a plan of approach concerning the recent tragedy. One of Pablo’s men had bombed a commercial flight and the news had shaken the nation, leaving everyone astonished. The meeting had however been cut short by Carillo, informing you all that there was mention of new leads and potential arrests. Messina had excused the three of you and soon you were back in the car, only this time Steve was going along with Carillo, leaving you and Javi alone.

The vehicle was filled with unsaid words and a loaded tension as the two of you drove in silence. You looked out of your window trying to avoid Javier, but most of all, trying to deny the bile rising in your throat. The Columbian roads and heavy lunch hadn’t been the best combination and soon you gripped onto the handle of the door, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Pull over.”

He scoffed at you, shaking his head in disbelief. “We’re adults y/l/n surely you can-“

“I will fucking puke on you if you don’t”, you gritted out.

Your “threat” had come through to him, making him swerve the car to the side of the road, barely stopped before you stumbled out of the car, falling onto your knees as you emptied out your stomach. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to decide what to do until he finally got out of the car and stood beside you. His gaze was fixed in front of his as he held your ponytail back for you. By the time the puking had stopped long enough for you to take a decent breath you were a shaking and shivering mess. Javier gently helped you up, leaning you against the car as he grabbed something out of the trunk. He handed you a bottle of water and a shirt, which you used to wipe your sweaty forehead and eventually the corners of your mouth.

“You sick?”, he asked, looking you up and down.

You ran a shaky hand across your face, legs starting to give out from underneath you. Javier swiftly caught you, helping you onto the passenger’s seat. “I- just give me a minute”, you exhaled.

“I’m calling back-up, you need to get back to the office.”

“Javier please, I’m fine, I just ate something bad”, you interjected, leaning your heavy-head against the car seat’s headrest.

He sighed deeply before closing your door and getting in on the other side. The rest of the drive was equally silent as the first part had been, only now Javier’s gut was burning with worry and guilt. He tried to keep it cool as he snuck a peak at you every other minute, just wanting to make sure you were still alive and breathing. As you arrived at the meetup spot he slowly parked the car before looking at you. “I don’t want you in there when you’re like.. this.”

“Unfortunately”, you sassed while getting out of the car and grabbing a tactical vest from the trunk, “that’s not your call, agent Peña.”

You soon joined Steve and Carillo where they stood, fastening the various buckles and straps on your vest before slipping your gun into the pocket in the front. “Ah agent y/l/n, un placer verlo”, (a pleasure to see you) he smirked as he shook your hand.

“¿Cuál es el plan, Horacio? (What‘s the plan).

Steve jutted on his hip, his knowledge of Spanish, or lack thereof making him feel alienated from the conversation. “English fuckers.”

As the colonel filled you all in you felt Javier tug on your vest, making you lose your footing. “What the-“

“If you’re going to be an idiot and go in there then at least make sure your fucking vest is properly tied”, he sneered as he fastened another buckle.

One minute you were bickering with your ex-lover and the next you were creeping up an alleyway with him, approaching the backdoor of the building. Before you could get there the door swung open, a set of two narco-men storming out, wielding guns of their own. Alas, the chase had started, leaving you and your partner to run after them. The two of you split up as they entered another building, with you heading inside as well, carefully scouting the area for any one of them.

As you saw one of them hurrying towards the back entrance you ran after him, clearing the steps and almost losing your footing in your hurry. Javi was nowhere to be seen as you chased after the man, who disappeared into yet another building. You followed once more, creeping up the stairs with your weapon held high, ready to shoot on sight. It was quiet, the man seemingly vanished. When you heard a scream outside you whipped your head to the side, lowering your gun for just a second when the man came into view again, firing two rounds into your chest. Luckily your vest absorbed most of the damage, but the impact had you stumbling backwards, toppling out of the second story window, landing onto the hot concrete with a yelp of pain and a loud thud. Whether it was the pain or daylight blinding you, you hadn’t a clue, it really didn’t matter, because soon you were out cold in the middle of the street, causing a whole new commotion.

[hausofmamadas]

PROMPT SCREAMING AS PROMISED:

═

✸ You didn’t know how the two of you had gone from arguing in the car, to arguing while walking up the steps to your place, to suddenly being tangled up and pinned against the closed door of your apartment.

SKKSKSKSKS the way I saw this in my head as like a movie where it like freezes on the kissing and then Reader as a narrator just says over it “you might be wondering how we got here”

✸ It was a real choice, after all, for him to be giving you so much shit about making rash decisions when he’d made quite the habit of waving his gun around in spaces that he shouldn’t.

PFFTTTTJDJDJDJR NO IM CACKLING bc soemthing about the phrasing “it was a real choice” is making my cryyyyyy laughing, like for Steve to be throwing shade, yeah, that is a fucking choice and tbh homies makes a lot of Roastable Choices

✸ He leaned in, closing what little shred of distance he’d put between you, his nose brushing against yours. “You fuckin’ are.”

Forgive me father, for I have sinned, it has been 29 years since my last confession but dear god, I’m having one FOR STEVE FUCJINGJDJEHEHDJSIWKWNE MURPHY LITERALLY MY ARCHNEMESIS/FRENEMY AND THE SEAMS OF REALITY ARE SPLITTING APART AS WE SPEAK. “You fuckin’ are.” Good goddamn

✸ He let go of your wrists, hands dropping so that they were balled into the collar of your shirt instead. Somehow you almost felt more trapped that way even though you had back the use of your hands.

I feel lien it’s more trapping bc his hands are within much more successful throttling distance which is both hot and scary and hot becuase it’s scary? What’s wrong with me? Don’t answer that, we already know

✸ ... and while the logical part of your brain was telling you that you should try to quit while you were still half a stride ahead of whatever mess this was about to turn into, another part of you was saying that the way was already an absolute shitshow, so what was one more thing?

STTOTOTOTOTPPPPPSJDJDJDJDJN NO BC I AM FUCKING ROLLING AROUND MY FLOOR GIGGLING INTO MY SCREEN bc let’s just say, I have much like the one true hillbilly hubby Steve Murphy made some of my own Roastable Choices, alright, and this is always the fucking thought process withiut fail. Oh it’s already on fire? The extinguishers way too far away, I don’t even know where to begin spraying it, so fuck it, let’s just dump summore lighter fluid on this shit instead, and watch it all BURN BABY BURN

✸ The slight hitch in his breathing when you started on the button and zipper of his pants wasn’t lost on you.

the way it’s supposed to be lost on me??????? Bc Steve Murphy is my one true nemesis in all things Narcos but liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiikkkkkeeeeeeeee?????????? It’s actually not????????????????,,,,, at all?????))?))? SO THANKS FOR THAT I GUES????????????,,,,, whateevr I hate you

✸ It was close, almost cramped quarters on the couch for the two of you, but it’d work. It was fitting. Maybe if he was in the mood to clean up the mess of the day rather than make it worse you would’ve let him fuck you on your bed.

NOOOOOSTJJRJDJDJR I CANNTKTJFNFNRN BC LITERALLY THE LOGIC IS SO SOUND IN THIS AND LIKE GOTDDAMMIT THAT STUBBORN MF DOESNT DESERVE A BED WITH THAT FUCKIN ATTITUDE SKSJS I CANT SKDJDJD IM ACTUALLY CHOKINGKDJDJE

✸ ... but you only made it about three-fourths of the way before every single type of frustration coursing through you got the better of you and you ripped the remaining few, hearing a couple of them clatter on the floor.

Much like a hair pulling moment, i feel one Can never go wrong with a ripping open shirt moment

✸ Steve mumbled something against your lips, a sentence you couldn’t quite make out but you knew that he wasn’t thanking you for what you’d just done.

Sidjejejejejejjjejejsjsjsjje okay, you can never go wrong with a ripping shirt open moment ESPECIALLY if the result is a cantankerous Agent Steve Murphtdjddjdjdj like the actual cherry on top of my sundae right there

✸ His hips snapped against yours in a way that had you clawing at his back, asking for more with everything but your words.

GOD BUT THEN YOU UUST GIVE ME WHIPLASH SERIOUSLYYYYYYIDJDUEHEHEHSHBEHEHWHEB like I generally find Steve to be a ridiculous man. I don’t hate him, but sometimes he makes me roll my eyes so hard, they could just about fall out of my head so YOU KNOW THIS SHIT IS HOT IF, ME, OF ALL PPL, IS LIKE “y’know i don’t enjoy pie but I will 10000000000% take a slice of that Steve Murphy pie, thanku very much”

✸ ... there would be a mark left behind when this was all over. Just another piece of the mess. What was one more bruise?

I don’t know if this was on purpose sksj but the logic of this like being the exact same logic of like “well, sexing my partner whom I have a notoriously contentious professional relationship with seems kinda messy, but since I haven’t even begun to clean up the pieces of my life that are strewn around, fuck it!!!” Like skejejhbw as if there was no other choice but to fuck

✸ And as much as you wanted to make things more difficult just for the sake of doing so, you found yourself nodding instead, curiosity beyond piqued at the way things were unfolding.

KSKSKSKSKSKE that feel when horny trumps oppositional defiance order aka my tendency to be a professional pain in your ass and yes I know the feeling well sksksb

✸ “Steve?” you said, voice still a bit raspy.

“Yea?”

“Get the fuck off me.”

PFTTTKDJDJDJDJSJSJSJHSHSHSHAJSSJSJSJSJNSKKSDKDKSKSKJDKDKE IMSOSORRY YOU WROTE THIS FOR ME, THERES JUST NO WAY YOU DIDNT WRITE THIS FOR ME LIKE I KNOW THE WORLD DOESNT REVOLVE AROUND ME BUT LIKE IT ABSOLUTELY DOES IN THIS CASE BC THIS IS EVERYTHING, THIS IS LIFE ITSELF AS WE KNOW IT

✸ “What,” he gestured vaguely in the air, “the fuck now?”

PFTTTKDJDJDB THE WAY I CAN SEE, HEAR, SMELL, TOUCH, TASTE THIS EXAVTLY

✸ You’d decide for sure in the morning if it was worth the trouble it caused.

I cannot believe I’m saying this. Me. Me of all people. Me who roasts tf out of Steve Murphy for pretty much everything he does in matters of work, life, love, everything. I give this man not a single victory, except that ...... god, and this might actual kill me to say but possibly ... perchance ..... highly likely in fact ..... it appears .... as though Agent Steve Murphy categorically fucks and it was probably worth whatever mess it created KSKSKSJSJS like homie was on his game. And it never ceases to shock me when I find myself feeling compelled to give him any shred of credit but somehow you find a way to get me to like this silly mf when you write him

Right For Once

Steve Murphy x F!Reader

For the @narcosfandomdiscord July Smut Alphabet prompt: angry sex

Warnings: 18+, language, smut, choking

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Me?? Doing a smut challenge despite typically avoiding writing smut like it's the plague?? It's more likely than you think!! Honestly, I'm super excited to see what I end up coming up with for this challenge. Here's to getting out of our comfort zones in July. 😌 Kicking things off with Steve Murphy because I can lmao

Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @southotheborder @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @narcolini @cositapreciosa @hausofmamadas (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You didn’t know how the two of you had gone from arguing in the car, to arguing while walking up the steps to your place, to suddenly being tangled up and pinned against the closed door of your apartment. The entire drive back to your place, Steve hadn’t had a single good thing to say to you. And you were pissed off enough to reciprocate his energy. The two of you were physically and mentally beat up after how the day had gone, but you weren’t too tired to refrain from picking a fight. It was a real choice, after all, for him to be giving you so much shit about making rash decisions when he’d made quite the habit of waving his gun around in spaces that he shouldn’t.

But now all the snide remarks were being muted as his lips moved against yours, teeth pulling at yours just slightly. His hands were wrapped around your wrists, keeping your arms pinned above your head while he used his torso to keep you pressed tight between him and the door. One of his legs was wedged between yours, and you hated the way that your body automatically responded by grinding against him.

He finally pulled his lips off of yours, dragging your bottom lip just enough to make it sting as he did. You were fighting to catch your breath, your mind in complete disarray from everything, from the day, from the fact that you could feel the warmth of Steve’s breath against your face as he stayed so close to you.

“And I’m the reckless one,” you snapped with a roll of your eyes. Your sarcasm would’ve hit a little harder if you didn’t sound so breathless.

His grip on your wrists tightened. He leaned in, closing what little shred of distance he’d put between you, his nose brushing against yours. “You fuckin’ are.”

You shook your head at him, giving him a little resistance, trying to fight back against his hold on you just enough. It got you nowhere, of course. If anything, it just had him pinning you harder, his hips pressed against yours.

“This is you using good judgment, then?” you asked, knowing that he could hear the smugness in your tone even though his face was too close to yours for him to see it in your expression.

He let go of your wrists, hands dropping so that they were balled into the collar of your shirt instead. Somehow you almost felt more trapped that way even though you had back the use of your hands.

“Do you know what could’ve happened out there? What shit you could’ve fuckin’ landed yourself in? Landed all of us in?”

You leaned back, letting the back of your head tap against the door behind you. “Why don’t you fucking enlighten me, Agent Murphy?”

“Do you think that you weren’t wrong?”

You scoffed, trying to remain as collected as you could given the circumstances. “You’ve made it pretty goddamn clear that I was wrong, Steve.” You paused. “Got a weird way of showing it, but—”

The tic in his jaw was impossible to miss. You could only imagine what he was thinking, the remarks in his head that he wanted to say. You were waiting for it, for the next verbal blow. How he hadn’t exhausted himself between base and your apartment was beyond you.

Instead of coming back with another comment, he pinned you with another bruising kiss. You knew it was coming this time, and while the logical part of your brain was telling you that you should try to quit while you were still half a stride ahead of whatever mess this was about to turn into, another part of you was saying that the way was already an absolute shitshow, so what was one more thing? Steve was already pissed at you about literally everything else, so why not just throw this on the pile? At least this would be something the two of you could be mad about tomorrow, when you were done being mad about everything that had happened today.

One of his hands moved from your collar up to the side of your neck. His thumb pressed just beneath your chin, keeping your head tilted at just the right angle to keep your lips on his. You busied yourself with undoing the buckle of his belt. The slight hitch in his breathing when you started on the button and zipper of his pants wasn’t lost on you.

Bringing your hands up to his chest, you rested your palms flat against him before pushing him back. It wasn’t out of resistance this time, not trying to push him away from you. Both of you were fully resigned to whatever mistake this ended up being now. Your push this time was a direction. Rough guidance, the only kind either of you really knew how to give. And he followed the cue, allowing you to get him back to the couch in the center of your living room.

When Steve felt the backs of his legs press against the sofa, he made a point to stop, to not let you keep pushing. His hands gripped onto your hips, pivoting the two of you so that you now had your back to the couch. He pushed you back just enough for you to fall back onto the cushions and he was on you in an instant.

Before you could take too much time to think about it, your shoes and jeans were on the floor and Steve was hovering over you. It was close, almost cramped quarters on the couch for the two of you, but it’d work. It was fitting. Maybe if he was in the mood to clean up the mess of the day rather than make it worse you would’ve let him fuck you on your bed.

You were pushing his jeans down off his waist just as he was curling his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He pulled them down your legs at the same time he pulled himself away from you. He only put enough distance between you so that he could take off and cast aside his own clothes. Then he was right back on you, pulling up the bottom hem of your shirt to peel it off over your head. You’d started off undoing the buttons on his shirt, but you only made it about three-fourths of the way before every single type of frustration coursing through you got the better of you and you ripped the remaining few, hearing a couple of them clatter on the floor.

Steve mumbled something against your lips, a sentence you couldn’t quite make out but you knew that he wasn’t thanking you for what you’d just done. Whatever rebuttal you would’ve come up with was lost the second you felt his hand running up the inside of your thigh. The string of curses that you let out under your breath when his fingers slipped between your legs was something he would’ve taken more pride in on a different day under different circumstances.

Your legs were just beginning to tremble when he pulled his hand away. Your head dropped back against the cushion as you muttered an exasperated, “Fuck me.”

Steve let your annoyed statement act as an instruction as he gripped onto your hips and pushed into you. Your legs immediately hooked around his waist, locking him to you. His hips snapped against yours in a way that had you clawing at his back, asking for more with everything but your words. His lips slid down the column of your neck, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin there until they sunk in right where your neck met your shoulder. You arched into him at the contact, nails setting in a little deeper.

You knew from the second he pulled his mouth off of you that there would be a mark left behind when this was all over. Just another piece of the mess. What was one more bruise?

He put enough distance between the two of you so that he could look down at you and really see you. Despite the motions that you were going through, the peculiar intimacy of it all, you could still see and feel the tension between you. Even knowing it wasn’t going to fix the issue, you still didn’t want to stop. A thought crossed your mind in scattered fragments that you would rather take all of Steve’s anger like this, let it be a problem between the two of you that you tried to work out this way, instead of him constantly making his anger everyone else’s problem that he came across. This had to be better than that, right? It certainly felt better for the moment.

His hand slid up your stomach and over your chest, creeping higher until his hand was resting around your throat. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and neither did you. The look on his face asked the question for him, because he was an asshole, sure, and he had been beyond pissed off with you all day, but still. He still hesitated with the silent question.

You were pissed off too. With him and just about everything else. But right now it was just you and him. And as much as you wanted to make things more difficult just for the sake of doing so, you found yourself nodding instead, curiosity beyond piqued at the way things were unfolding.

His hand tightened and your eyes instantly fluttered shut, body arching into him before you even knew what you were doing. Your eyes were closed and you couldn’t see him, but you heard the breathy, “Fuck,” he let out at the sight of you like that. For a brief moment he almost forgot the hell you’d put him through.

He heard the shaky gasp of a breath that you pulled in despite his grip. He could feel the way your body began to tremble the closer you got to release. Your nails bit into his arm, his shoulder, but you weren’t fighting against him. You were just out of ways to pull him closer so you had to settle for that.

Something about the sight of you like that, coming undone beneath him, looking so blissed out despite having no right after all the hell you’d caused, sent him over the edge right after you. His hand slipped away from your throat as he collapsed against you, his face buried in the crook of your neck for a moment as he felt the thudding of your heart, listened to the sound of you sucking in a full breath. Your hands rested on his back, flat, gentle compared to the way you’d been raking your nails against him before.

Once the two of you had started to catch your breath, you let your hands drift so that they were resting against his sides. “Steve?” you said, voice still a bit raspy.

He pulled back, looking down at you with an expression you couldn’t quite piece apart. “Yea?”

“Get the fuck off me.” You started to push him away from you, not roughly, but you needed the breathing space. “Please,” you added on, the ultimate afterthought.

He scoffed and shook his head, but he did what you said. You were pretty sure it was the first time you’d ever seen Steve without something to say. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he gathered his clothes off the floor. He tossed you yours as he came across them, and you shimmied into them the best you could from your current position on the couch.

Once he was dressed, his shirt open at the bottom because of the missing buttons, Steve ran his hands back through his hair. His face was flushed, tinged pink in a way that you might’ve found endearing if you weren’t so annoyed still.

He let out a deep sigh before looking over at you. “So…”

You sat up, swinging your legs off the couch so you were sitting on it properly. Bracing your arms against your thighs, you repeated the word back to him. “So?”

“What,” he gestured vaguely in the air, “the fuck now?”

You shrugged, running your hands down your face. “You can stay and we can keep arguing, or you can leave and we can argue again tomorrow.”

His brows knit. “You don’t think we should talk about—”

“Is it gonna change anything?” you asked, cutting him off. “I mean, really. Is anything actually different now?”

“I mean, yea, I was just fuckin’—” he stopped himself short this time, shaking his head. “You know what? You’re right.” He threw his hands up in defeat.

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “Wow. First time I’ve heard you say that all day.”

“It’s the first time you haven’t been wrong all day,” he rebutted.

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for making sure I got home safe, Agent Murphy. Now get the fuck out of my apartment.”

You weren’t yelling, but the look on Steve’s face had you thinking that he almost wished that you were. At least then he’d have a reason to respond in kind. Instead, he shook his head as he made his way to the door. He muttered under his breath, “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

If your head had been a little less foggy, you would’ve gotten the last word in. Instead, all you got was the sound of your apartment door slamming. Letting out a deep sigh, you leaned back against the back of your couch, staring up at your apartment ceiling. On top of everything else, now you had this to deal with too. You’d decide for sure in the morning if it was worth the trouble it caused.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Bogotá Kiss

Prologue: There Was a Boy

Summary/Author’s Note: Javier Peña had finally gotten his life together. He was a newlywed, back in the states with his bride, and starting his new life free of Escobar and the world of the cartels. That is until he found his wife in bed with another man. On a path of self destruction, he goes back to Bogota, reclaims his job with the DEA, his partner Steve Murphy, and throws himself into his work, cheap whiskey, and the company of his...informants. 

You are a singer in the hottest burlesque club in Columbia. Pulling yourself out of poverty and into a world where men throw money at your feet, buy you diamonds, and pay untold amounts for your services. You don’t mind that the club’s biggest source of income is smuggling diamonds from the necks, wrists, and ears of its prostitutes and into the pockets of their buyers, until a handsome DEA agent gets too close and figures out the scheme. 

**IMPORTANT: For those familiar with Moulin Rouge--The reader will NOT die at the end. Fuck that. Let Javi be happy god dammit. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (Moulin Rouge/French Kiss AU) Word Count: 1.6k (its just a prologue, the next chapter will be better) Warnings (for entire fic): NC-17/18+ - Language, sex, prostitution, mentions/implied R*pe (nothing will ever be described in detail or used as a plot device), typical canon violence for NARCOS, shooting, attempted murder, drug use, blackmail, hurt/comfort, lies and betrayal, happy ending

[MASTERLIST]

"It's not what it looks like."

People didn't actually say that line, did they? And worse yet, no one actually would possibly believe it. Right? The words fell from her lips and suddenly Javier Peña felt like he was watching a movie about someone else's life. A cliché of a film in which the idiot of a husband walked in on his wife bouncing on the dick of another man. He was that idiot, and as she scrambled off the lap of the stranger and called his name, he slammed the door behind him, not bothering to wait for an explanation. Queue the laugh track or cut to the scene of him walking in the rain to somber music. 

Only this wasn't a movie. There would be no comedic relief, just a lot of heartache, wasted time and money. He had always had a bad habit of falling for the wrong girl. He would see himself mirrored in the eyes of the broken, the depressed, the ones who, much like him, just seemed unable to catch a break in life. But instead of getting a kindred spirit to share his world with, he usually just got a lot of baggage and a quick lay.  

He packed a bag, not giving a shit about any of his worldly possessions, and found himself at the Dallas airport, sitting at the bar and waiting for his gate number to be called. 

He raised two fingers, letting the bartender know he wanted a fucking double, as he held his cellphone to his ear and listened to it ring. The boxy phone didn't fit comfortably against his shoulder and he dropped it just as the other end picked up and Steve's voice came through.

"Murphy."

"Fuck. Shit." Javier fumbled the phone and held it back against his face.

"Javi?"

"Yeah, it's me." Javier sighed as he picked up his whiskey and tossed it back with a mild wince. "I'm on my way back."

"I heard." Steve paused. "Carolyn called. I told her I didn't know where you were."

"Thanks, 'appreciate it."

"I talked to Noonan. She said your job's still open. You can have it and the keys to your apartment." 

They both paused for an extended period of time. Javier ordered another shot of whiskey and Steve breathed quietly on the other end of the phone. Neither one of them had to say out loud what they both already knew. Javier had fallen for the wrong girl, again. His heart was broken and he wanted to drown out the ache he was feeling in cheap booze, a carton of Marlboro, and expensive pussy. 

"I'll pick you up from the airport. Safe trip, Jav."

"Thanks, Murph."

Javier pressed the button on the phone and rubbed his forehead with a heavy sigh. It was all smooth sailing from here. He was on his way back to normalcy, back to doing what he did best, hunting Narcos and not having any emotional ties to anything that mattered. 

--

The car ride from the airport had been quiet for the most part but Javier could tell that Steve was just dying to ask. So, when they parked in front of the apartment and neither one of them moved, he dug his smokes out of his jacket pocket and rolled down the window. He flicked his silver lighter to life and inhaled deeply as Steve shut off the engine. 

"Go ahead. Ask."

Steve sighed and looked at his friend. "What happened, man?"

"I let it go too far, like an idiot. And she couldn't even wait until the honeymoon was over before she tripped and landed on some other man's dick." He inhaled deeply and ran his thumb along his mustache. 

"Shit. I'm sorry--"

"Don't," Javier cut him off and shook his head. "Okay? Don't."

"You file for divorce?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Lawyer is drawing everything up now so we can sign it." 

"I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm sorry, Javi. You seemed happy." Steve looked at him and Javier flicked his cigarette out of the window. 

"Yeah, I know." He took another long drag of his cigarette before tossing the butt out onto the sidewalk. “Tell Connie I said ‘hi’, okay?” 

With a mumbled thanks for the ride and a couple of quick 'see you tomorrows', he opened the car door and grabbed his suitcase out of the back seat and walked up the stairs and into the apartment building. He went through the motions of coming back to this place that he knew quite well, as he went downstairs and stuck his keys in the door without needing to turn on a light. 

He tossed his keys on the side table and kicked the door shut gently as he dropped his shoulder bag and looked around. The only furniture that the place had was the old embassy supplied leather couch, scuffed up coffee table, and bar stools against the kitchen counter. Fuck. That settled what he would be doing tomorrow, getting all his furniture out of storage and having the embassy replace what he didn’t have. 

Before tossing his leather jacket on the back of the couch, he got out another cigarette and let it bob between his lips as he mumbled to himself. He inhaled deeply and tossed his lighter next to his keys before making his way to the kitchen. When he opened the fridge, he didn’t know if he wanted to run upstairs and kiss her, or if he wanted to clutch his chest and cry. 

The entire appliance was completely bare and wiped out, the light making the white shelves look entirely too bright, but sitting in the middle of the top shelf was a covered casserole of some kind and a bottle of whiskey. A note was taped to the tin foil that read: 

“Bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Please eat something while you drink this. -- love, Connie.”

At least Steve knew how to pick a woman, because that’s exactly what Connie was, one hell of a woman. Javier grabbed the bottle of liquor and mentally promised Connie that he would eat later. He wasn’t hungry. He really hadn’t been hungry for the last few days, and as he looked at the whiskey and cracked the seal on the lid, he didn’t mourn that the kitchen didn’t have any glasses. He was well beyond the need for a glass. 

He took the bottle to the couch, kicked off his boots and plopped down heavily. The whiskey was a familiar burn down his throat and he felt it all the way to his belly. Warm, inviting, and just what he needed. Another drink was followed by a long drag of his cigarette before he kick backed and muttered, “Home, sweet, home,” to a cold, empty house.

--

The banging on the door permeated his skull in a way that he didn’t think was possible. But then again it had been a long time since he had been this hungover. He rolled over on the leather couch and shoved his face into the cushions and prayed that whoever wanted him would just go away. There was no one on this green earth that he wanted to speak to.

He must have fallen back asleep briefly because the next thing he knew, his partner had let himself into his apartment with his spare key and was nudging his leg that was hanging off the side of the couch. 

“Javi,” Steve said as he plucked the empty liquor bottle from under his friend’s arm. “Javi!” 

“Is too early,” Javier mumbled into the leather of the sofa.

“It’s 4 in the afternoon.” Steve said, setting the bottle on the coffee table. “I told Noonan you were taking the weekend to unpack--” Steve looked around the apartment and then back to the horizontal man. “Looks like you’re done.”

“Fuck you.”

Steve shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “Come on. You need a shower. I’d offer to buy you a drink but you smell like you’ve got that taken care of. So, how about a lap dance? There’s this new place on the other side of town--got your name written all over it.”

“Go away.”

Steve, rubbed his hand down his face and glared at the shell of the man that he had gotten to know over the last couple of years. The day Javier Peña turned down a lap dance, it would have been a cold day in hell and yet the evidence was right there in front of him. Someone needed to tell the devil to go check his thermostat.

“Mmkay.” Steve said sharply and took the empty bottle over to the sink and filled it about half way with tap water. When he dumped it on top of Javier’s head, the way the dark-haired man sputtered and sat straight up brought him more joy than it probably should have. “Good morning!”

“F-fucking hillbilly,” Javier cursed as he pulled the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face.

“Get your ass in the shower and I won’t tell Con that you didn’t eat her food she left you.” When his friend paused long enough to lower his shirt and glare at him, Steve continued. “I’m not fuckin’ around, Javi.”

The two men stood at odds of one another, but the blond refused to relent. Javier shoved his now soaking wet hair back from where it was plastered to his face and nodded. He stood with a groan and gave Steve his middle finger as he trudged to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

“Missed you, too, bud!” Steve cupped his hands around his mouth in a mock yell after the other man’s retreating form. It was going to be a long road to getting his partner back to his usual self, but the natural place to start was with some no-strings-attached pussy.

--

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[fictitious-little-stitious]

Pedro Pascal Character Headcanons: Go To Karaoke Songs

There’s lots of great headcanon lists or mentions in fic about karaoke, so I’ve tried to ensure that I didn’t pick songs I’d seen mentioned before!

Also I’m not taking myself seriously with any of these at all, there’s only a couple hills I will die on. Take this for the crack/craic it is. Some modern!, some in their universe.

Warnings: Mention of death, lewd humor. Mostly silly though.

DAVE YORK

No. Even if he’d been stationed in Japan, absolutely not. He sings with his girls though, on the way to school or during a holiday. Just a normal dad doing totally normal dad things. Nothing to see here.

DIN DJARIN

No. If the bounty he’s hunting is onstage making a fool of themself, he’ll save himself and the crowd further headaches by making short work of the “singer” and freezing them in carbonite. The only song Din knows is the one his parents sang to comfort him or lull him to sleep. He’ll surprise himself when he begins to sing it instinctively while comforting Grogu.

EZRA

This goofy bastard probably had an old old ooold ass recording of the “O! Brother Where Art Thou” soundtrack before he wore out the player. Not to worry, he memorized all the songs long before it broke. He hums the beauty that is “Down to the River to Pray” by Alison Krauss as he steps over the body of a was-about-to-be gem thief after rifling through their pockets.

FRANKIE MORALES

He’d hold off for as long as he could, being the last of the gang to go up, but would exasperatedly comply. By that point, most folks would be too drunk to judge. He goes with a classic or something from his teens but common enough that singing it horribly is to be expected. Think “Sweet Caroline” by Neil Diamond or “Wanted Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi.

JACK “WHISKEY” DANIELS*

The quintessential Jack Daniels song is “It’s Hard to be Humble” by Mac Davis, monologue and crowd work and all. But being that he is such a traveler, he has a more widely known backup... “Rocketman”. Side note: just so happens that he and Eggsy bonded over Elton John’s Greatest Hits on the way to Glastonbury. Whiskey sang Kiki Dee’s part when “Don’t Go Breakin My Heart” came on.

JAVIER PEÑA*

If he’s relaxed and in a great mood, say a particularly huge break in a case, you might be lucky to witness him pick “Wasted Days and Wasted Nights” by Freddy Fender. And he’s definitely speaking that intro, “This is dedicated to my partner - soul partner - Mr. Doug Sahm, better known as Sir Douglas Quintet... from San Antonio. Wherever you are, brother...” But he’ll change it to fit Steve Murphy, resident fuckin’ hillbilly, because reasons.

MARCUS MORENO

After catching some seasons of RuPaul’s Drag Race and going along with Missy’s Tik Toks, he’s more likely to go the lip sync route. “Break My Stride” by Matthew Wilder is a great fit because it’s silly and he gets some cool points for knowing the words to a Tik Tok song he’s known for 35 years.

MARCUS PIKE

Any hit by Celine Dion if he’s feeling romantic, “Undone - The Sweater Song” by Weezer if he’s feeling nostalgic, or “Key Largo” by Bertie Higgins if he’s feeling romantically nostalgic. Look, if he’s actually in a bar instead of watching a classic movie, he’s gotta have an outlet for the feels. And if it takes three songs, then it takes three songs.

MAXWELL LORD

Does this man have the time, interest, and foolish confidence? No. That and the cost-benefit ratio of impressing investors with karaoke is too heavy on the risk for his liking. Alistair heard “Pop Muzik” by M at the arcade or roller rink or wherever his mother let him go unattended (it’s the 80s we’re talking here) so he plays it on the stereo Maxwell got him for his birthday. It’s repetitive, but since Alistair loves it, then it can’t be that bad. If Maxwell mumbles shooby dooby doo wop - bop bop shoo wop to himself while adjusting his tie in the morning, that’s his business.

MAX PHILLIPS

He will delight in any obnoxious, overdone tune he can find in the library, but this little shit will be rolling up his shirt sleeves on his way to pick his signature hit “Baby Hit Me One More Time” by Britney Spears. And he’ll kill it. And the moron who booed him.

OBERYN motherfuckin’ MARTELL

He’s a man of passion with a cunning darker streak just under the surface. So he’s going to choose something sensual or dramatic like “Dos Gardenias” by Angel Canales or “Whatever Lola Wants” by Sarah Vaughn.

PERO TOVAR

If he’s had enough to drink, he’ll sing a raunchy ballad from the old country in the vein of drinking, tits, or tits and drinking. Nobody would have heard of the song before, and it just won’t be quite as good in the language of the area as it is in Spanish, but everyone will be bellowing the song in no time. And out of time.

SHANE “DIO” MORRISEY

His tastes are too niche for the karaoke bar you’re at, he’s better off in a mosh pit or underground club. Someone who can’t differentiate goth from punk from emo suggests that Dio sing “Creep” by Radiohead. He storms out, leather coat flapping behind him.

ZACH WELLISON

He had a couple fun nights on leave while he was in the service, but he might go out again now that he’s getting back on his feet. “Fortunate Son” by Creedence Clearwater Revival might feel cathartic.

* the couple hills I will die on

gray line divider by @ firefly-graphics