I Have Been Informed By Our Beloved Moot @whocaresstillthelouvre That Youre Maybe Doing Something I Might

I have been informed by our beloved moot @whocaresstillthelouvre that you’re maybe doing something I might be interested in?????

Ah yes 😍 I too was very intrigued by that prompt and it got the brain thinking.

I can’t think of anyone better than that adorable little shit Nora from Parents to Lovers to help Frankie not be scared!

This was sooooo good!!!!! 😍😍😍😍

decisions

dave york x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~1.4k summary: Dave tries to end things. dave york masterlist | AO3

warnings: mean!dave, infidelity (dave is cheating on his wife with reader), Equalizer 2 AU, NSFW, some proofreading, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance (reader has hair dave can pull), degradation, oral, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating

a/n: i wasn't originally going to write for dave york but he's actually my favorite pedro boy 💖 i think he would be so mean and passionate and romantic and and and-

“I’m not here for that,” Dave snaps in anger. “We’re done, I can’t keep doing this anymore.” 

You sit on the edge of the hotel bed, a pretty pout on your face at Dave’s words. Your fingers trace up your thigh and you slowly lift the bottom of your nightie.

Dave’s eyes flicker from your silky thighs to your tits that are dangerously close from spilling out of the thin fabric. His jaw clenches but he resumes his pacing and drags a hand through his hair. 

“I think–I think my wife knows. She can’t–she’ll take the kids–”

His wife, Carol. He never says her name, only ever says wife. You assume it’s to remind himself of the oath he made to her. Maybe it’s shame and guilt, a way to keep himself grounded. Even if he doesn’t wear his ring when he comes to see you. 

With a small smirk on your lips, you stand from the bed and make your way to Dave. He tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling just as you stand on your tippy toes and place your hands behind his neck. 

“Don’t,” he whispers. 

He closes his eyes and you see his throat move with a harsh swallow. 

You run the tip of your nose along his jawline and breathe in his cologne. It’s the same one you bought him on your joint trip to Paris a few months ago. 

“If that’s what you want,” you whisper, hovering your lips right over his, “then we’ll stop.” 

You take a step back and turn to walk towards your dress and heels that sit on the chair by the bed. Before you can even take two steps, Dave’s hand slides through your hair. 

He presses his front to your back and pulls your hair, forcing you to look at him. Dave’s other hand reaches up to your neck to tilt your head backward. 

His lips land on yours in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue with a taste of possessiveness. Dave squeezes your neck in warning, you assume because of the smile plastered on your face as you kiss him back. 

You know he won’t ever end this. He’s in too deep, too infatuated and crazed by you to actually leave. 

You grind back on his bulge and elicit a moan from him. Just as quickly as the kiss started, it ends with Dave pushing you face first into the mattress. 

“You have no fucking respect for what’s sacred,” he hisses. 

Dave yanks your hips back and flips up your nightgown. He lands a harsh slap to your naked asscheek, switching from one to the other, uncaring of your yelps of discomfort.

You gasp for air, whimpering at the swipe of his fingers through your folds. 

“I was a good husband before I met you,” Dave says in anger. 

“Then go back to your wife,” you snap. 

Dave removes his fingers and spanks you again, landing one right between your legs. 

“Fucking brat.”

He stays fully clothed, only taking a few seconds to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. You feel him notch the tip of his cock at your entrance and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan, twisting the comforter in your hands. 

"Nothing to say?" he laughs, relishing in the way you twist and turn on the bed.

His fingers sink into your hips and he begins to fuck you in hard, punishing thrusts. The sarcastic remarks you had ready, waiting on the tip of your tongue, are now gone–fucked out of your head by Dave. 

His cock stretches your sensitive walls, bumps that sweet spot inside of you, but it’s all a little too much. He’s large, not just in length but a man so much stronger than you, that can manhandle and move you in any way he wants. 

The anticipation of seeing Dave, having him snap at you in anger–of course it made your pussy slick with need. But you’re so used to him being needy, licking your pussy until you cry or making you dry hump him while he kisses your lips swollen. 

There are random moments like these, where he’ll focus on his own pleasure. Missions go wrong, he loses funding for his projects, and he’s left with a sense of failure and rage. 

Carol is too soft for his tastes. A perfect, catholic wife who doesn’t see the need for sex outside of procreation. 

Then came you, temptation and sin all wrapped up in red silk and stilettos. 

You were the first to lead his hands around your neck and moan “tighter, please.” He wore his wedding ring that first night, imprinting the warm metal on your skin, and yet you still left purple bruises and bite marks on his chest, hoping his wife would find them. 

“Hurts, baby?” Dave coos, sliding a hand down your arched back. 

A stuttered “y–yes” falls from your lips, cheek pressed to the mattress and mouth open in a perfect o. 

With each of his thrusts, his heavy balls slap over your wet folds. You pussy swallows his length, tightens and flutters, fights through the discomfort of his size. His groans echo throughout the hotel room and his hands only grip you tighter to him. 

“Good,” Dave mutters, “you deserve it.” 

“Yes, yes,” you moan, shuddering as he spanks you again. 

“Such a fucking slut, yeah? Sleeping with married men,” Dave groans, pistoning his hips faster, “ruining good–shit–good marriages.” 

His hand reaches to swipe at your swollen clit in harsh circles and you push back, turning your head to scream into a pillow. 

“You think that because–” he groans, shuddering as you tighten around him, “you have such a perfect, little cunt, you can ruin my life?” 

You’re hanging on by a thread. His tip kisses your cervix, reaching the end of you while you bounce your ass back onto his hips. Your pussy ripples over his cock, finally reaching that point where it’s unimaginably slick and sticky. 

You want to respond. Remind him that yes, your pussy is a perfect little hole for him to fuck and destroy. Instead, you whimper and grip the comforter while a full body shudder courses through you and your belly tightens. 

“Dirty fucking whore,” Dave hisses, “you fuck other married men like this?” 

You’re so close, with heat flooding your belly and your brain becoming numb. Dave removes his fingers from your clit, and spanks you again in three successive slaps. 

“Answer me when I–fuck–ask you a question.” 

“No, no, no,” you chant, reaching for his hand and placing it right back. “J–just you, Dave. Only you.” 

“That’s right,” he murmurs, swirling your clit with your juices, “this pussy is just for me.” 

His movements become sloppy, pounding you harder than before. Dave’s cock fills every centimeter of your cunt and suddenly you're cumming, shuddering on the bed and screaming into the pillow from the force of your orgasm. 

His groan echoes through the room and he presses his hips onto yours, pumping you so full of his length that your whole body jostles with each thrust. 

“I’m gonna cum in this slut pussy,” he mutters, giving you barely any warning before the flood of warm liquid inside of you. “Remind this cunt,” he moans, too far gone to understand what he’s saying, “who owns her.” 

You’re sure at this point you’ll be sore tomorrow, from your pussy and the vice grip he has on your hips. 

Dave throbs, slams his cock into you until you’ve milked him dry. He collapses on the bed next to you, sweaty and still fully clothed with only his wet cock now resting on his belly. 

His hands reach for your head and pushes. You immediately understand what he wants and with trembling limbs, you move down to his stomach and swallow as much of his cock as you can. 

It’s covered in your combined mess, sticky and salty and only for you. His fingers thread through your hair while you suck and lick away the evidence. Your eyes flutter closed and you let him gently fuck your mouth with his now softened cock. 

“Pretty whore,” he grunts, trembling from exhaustion, “look at how well she cleans up my big cock.” 

He eventually strips out of his clothes and drapes your body over his. The both of you lay there, letting the hotel AC cool your sweaty skin while he drags his fingers down your spine. 

“What am I going to do about you?” he asks, watching as you slip into a deep sleep.

Oooooooh lordy!!!! 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

Gimme gimme gimme gimme gimme

WEDNESDAY! This is amaaaaaazing!

Now I’m gonna spend the rest of my work day just thinking about being in a Joel and Javi sandwich 🤤😍🫠

Paris, Texas

(joel miller x javier peña x f!reader)

aka: 2 Texans, 1 Lady 🎀 The joel x javi x reader threesome

WC: 9.6k | Other fics | Rating: 18+ | Read on Ao3

Note: hey y'all, i'm back with almost 10k of pure threesome smut! I would say that once again nobody asked for this, but WRONG THERE ARE AT LEAST A FEW OF US OUT HERE SEARCHING THE JOEL X JAVI X READER tags so this is for u.  

Tags: au suspend whatever disbelief you need to make everyone the ages you want, modern, no outbreak, established relationship between joel x f!reader, joel's got some internalized homophobia bc it made sense to me, javier doesn't bc he's too sexy or per @auteurdelabre he's too busy knockin' boots with prossies to be homophobic, dubcon slightly bc joel didn't ask any questions (typical), gratuitous self indulgent 3some smut, jealous!joel, angry!joel, possessive!joel (the trifecta), snarky!javi, blow jobs, fingering, piv, lil bit of m/m action, and BUCKLE UP WE'RE GOIN' TO PARIS TO VISIT THE EIFFEL TOWER- well, i guess they don't actually high five or whatever technicality is required but don't fight me on that pls bc i think it's funny, smut, pwp, just 10k of 3 hotties bangin' idk what else you want to know

thanks: to @auteurdelabre for making sure nobody has an extra dick or arm or anything, unless i added one after she read the last draft, all other mistakes are on me, also thanks to @gothcsz for supporting the threesome agenda, and to @magneticecstasy for inspiring me to get to work

You bring it up in the dim glow of the living room. Joel’s eyes flick up from the TV, a blend of surprise and skepticism dancing across his rugged features.

“I’ve been thinking…” You begin, your voice soft, almost shy.

“That’s never good,” he teases, a smirk tugging at his lips. You give him an exaggerated eye roll and a playful shove. “Go on, then.”

“Thinking about trying something new,” you say, letting the words hang thick in the air.

“Keep talkin’, baby,” he replies, his voice low and even, but his eyes are locked on you now, a sharp focus that makes your pulse quicken.

“Well, I was talking with Maria at girls' night,” you continue, testing the waters, but he cuts in, a groan escaping him.

“I do not want to know what my brother is up to in the bedroom.”

“Not like that!” you laugh, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “We were talking about… fantasies.”

“Fantasies,” he repeats, his tone gruff but intrigued, leaning forward slightly. “And what’d ya come up with now?”

A wicked grin curves your lips. “What if we had a threesome?” It slips out in a sultry whisper, and you watch his eyes widen, a flash of something primal crossing his face. There’s surprise there, but also a flicker of something possessive.

Joel’s expression shifts. Conflicted. He’s processing, and you can see the cogs turning, his jaw working. 

But when you decide to ease him into it with the heat of your body, straddling his lap and murmuring all the filthy, delicious things you crave from him, his resolve crumbles. 

His grip tightens, and he hauls you to the bedroom, fucking you senseless until you swear you forget how to speak.

Afterward, tangled in the sheets, Joel agrees easily, his voice a rumble against your skin. You promise to take care of everything, and he relaxes at that. He was not interested in navigating the potential pitfalls of approaching another woman or making you feel insecure.

….

But when the night of your escapade arrives, and you glide back into the living room with your guest trailing behind you, Joel’s stomach drops. He realizes he fucked up by letting you take care of everything. 

Javier’s presence is magnetic, his entrance commanding. He strides into the room like a predator, and Joel can feel the air change, thickening with danger and desire. 

You’re giddy at the reality of your fantasy coming true as you introduce the two men. You look back and forth between them and laugh when you realize you definitely have a type. 

Joel can’t deny you’re radiant, practically floating as you offer Javier a seat. But he’s still immobilized. You never clarified what kind of threesome you meant. He never thought to ask.

The scent of spicy, smoky leather that follows Javier is a direct challenge to Joel, but to you, it’s a potent aphrodisiac. 

You’ve got butterflies and an electric hum in your veins. Knowing what Javier showed up for makes the anticipation even stronger. You all know why, but nobody has said it out loud yet, and you’re dying to see who makes the first move. You figure the unspoken understanding gives you good reason to unapologetically check out your new date and your lover. 

You can’t help but admire the contrast between the two men: Joel, rough and rugged, and Javier, with his dark, smoldering confidence.

Joel catches how you’re drawn to Javier, and something ugly begins to unfurl in his chest. His eyes narrow, jealousy and irritation simmering, as you nudge him to pour drinks, oblivious to the storm brewing within him. 

You’re too caught up in Javier’s flirting and the tension thrumming through the room. You don’t see the shock rooting your man in place. 

But when you glance back at Joel, you see it—a shadow behind his eyes, something wild and unyielding. Your pussy skips a beat, and your breath hitches. His fierce look is a major turn-on, but a cooling realization washes over you. 

“Oh, shit,” you blurt out, putting together your mistake. You scramble to find a way to intervene. Filtering through ideas for facilitating this hiccup when Javier’s hand rests on your shoulder. His touch sends a thrill racing down your spine.

“Breathe,” Javier murmurs, his voice a low rasp that curls around your senses. “We’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other.”

You feel Joel’s gaze burn into where Javier’s fingers rest on your skin, his stare molten, and you know he won’t laugh this off.

“Hey,” you coax gently, like soothing a wild animal, “let’s back up for a—”

“The fuck is this?” Joel's voice is low and frighteningly calm for someone who just remembered how to speak. You can feel his anger rattling in its cage, and you know it won’t stay contained for long.  

It makes you falter, words disappearing on your tongue as you look between the two men. Javier remains unfazed—smug, almost. His eyes flick from you to Joel, the corner of his mouth curling.

“I was under the impression you were looking for a third,” Javier says smoothly. “But if I got that wrong, I won’t waste my time.” He starts to turn, a fluid, arrogant motion, but you reach for his arm, your touch urgent.

“Wait,” you sound flustered. “This was my mistake. Give me a minute.”

Javier’s gaze softens, and you can feel the emotions radiating from Joel. You press on, cheeks burning with embarrassment, struggling to convey what you’d hoped for, how you didn’t intend to mislead anyone. But Joel’s not looking at you—his eyes are fixed on Javier, a dangerous glint in them.

“You knew,” he mutters like it’s a heinous accusation, eyes boring into Javier, who looks back with a cocky and relaxed expression.

“I wouldn’t turn down a beautiful woman like yours,” Javier replies, voice low and velvety, the kind of tone that sets your nerves alight. When his hand ghosts down your spine, Joel’s nostrils flare, his posture rigid.

“Who agrees to a threesome with another man?” Joel snaps with disdain.

“Someone who isn’t threatened by another man,” Javier says, his voice sharp as a blade but undisturbed. 

Joel’s laugh is a harsh bark. 

You watch the exchange. Despite your embarrassment and fear of fucking things up, something else stirs. 

Is it perverse that you have the urge to test Joel’s restraint? The weight of the animosity pouring off of Joel is surreal like you can’t lift your limbs, but your heart races faster. An indecent surge of excitement and arousal speeds up your breathing. 

Joel’s enthusiasm about the night has morphed into something dark. The realization that you wanted to bring another man into your bed hits him hard. This wasn’t what he had in mind, and it stings more than he’d like to admit. 

Javier’s calm, flirtatious demeanor only fuels Joel’s distaste for the man. 

“You think I feel threatened?” Joel challenges with a short huff and incredulous shake of his head. 

Javier’s response is serrated and mocking. “I think someone who isn’t comfortable with their own sexuality would be. And, clearly, someone who isn’t confident enough to handle sharing.” 

“Clearly?” Joel snorts a dismissive laugh and finally looks back at you. He catches how your breath comes quicker and the way your eyelids are heavy with lust. 

Your visible arousal overrides his irritation and trickles down his spine. He checks himself. For you. “I’ve got nothing to be insecure about.” 

You pipe up, suggesting everyone slow down and take time to get comfortable like Javier had suggested. They agree, but you wouldn’t know it by their clipped, terse tone. Joel reveals nothing beyond his profession and place of residence—contractor, Austin, despite your eyes begging him to relax. Javier, or Javi he adds, with a wink, only shares he’s former DEA, originally from Laredo.

“Two Texans,” you quip, trying to inject some lightness, “Lucky me.” 

You might even crack a smile out of them when you add, “Well, you know what they say, everything’s bigger in Texas and all.” 

Despite their not-at-all-subtle jabs at each other, both men are happy to listen to you. After another drink, you feel yourself relaxing between them on the couch. 

You’re a little softer and looser. Laughing warmly and letting yourself rest your hand on Javier’s thigh. You can still feel Joel’s jealousy flaring hot beside you, barely masked by a dismissive attitude. 

Javier is alluring and charming. You can feel it provoking a competitive beast within Joel, but you do your best to soothe the beast within your man, leaning into Joel and shooting flirty glances at him.

You’re receptive to his possessive touch, which softens Joel’s resolve. For you. Only for you.  

Eventually, he leans in to whisper in his gravelly voice right into your ear. “If this is really what you want, baby, you can have him. I ain’t gettin’ into bed with another man, though.” Your face beams as a sharp tug of want straightens your spine. 

“You wanna watch?” you purr louder than you intended. Javi can’t pretend he didn’t hear. The corners of his lips lift in amusement. He leans in close to you, pressing his body into yours and sandwiching you between the two men. His hand drifts down your side, and his lips graze your neck, sending shivers rippling across your skin.

The charge between them is intoxicating, and you feel restless. You can’t sit still as your pussy throbs between your legs. You burn like you’re running a fever from their attention and the heat of their firm bodies.

Javi’s eyes meet Joel’s over your shoulder. “He just wants to see his woman feel good, right?” His hand inches up your thigh, teasing at the hem of your dress.

The air is thick. Crackling. Every nerve in your body is on high alert as you breathe, “Please.” The word is barely audible, but Joel hears it. He nods, a reluctant agreement, and sits back to watch as Javier’s hand confidently dives beneath your dress.

Javi's fingers find the edge of your lace-trimmed panties. "Oh, you wore these just for us, didn’t you?” His mustache tickles your ear, but his voice is a molten desire. You nod. You did buy a matching set just for tonight. Well, you actually bought three because you couldn’t decide, but that’s not the point. 

“Yes,” you murmur, anticipation vibrating through you.

“Atta girl,” Javier’s voice drips with approval, his tone smooth and confident as it washes over you. His words alone are enough to make you melt, but when his mouth finds the sensitive curve of your neck and his hand slides over your mound to cup the soaked satin covering your seam, your moan is abruptly cut off with a sharp gasp. 

Javier’s touch is direct and firm. His fingers press the fabric into your swollen clit and drag a torturously slow pattern. Your body arches into him, seeking more. 

He praises you and teases you gently for being so wet you are already and making such sweet noises for him. You aren’t sure if he’s taunting you or Joel, but your body doesn’t care as it shudders in response. Soft moans are interrupted by short gasps as Javier tests your responses. 

You feel a burning heat bloom over your chest and face. Embarrassment and shame creep over you at the impropriety of your reactions to another man in front of Joel. But they’re quickly replaced with a depraved spike of arousal when you clock Joel’s covetous glare. His steadfast scrutiny feeds a hedonistic creature within you that claws and scratches to see him react. 

Joel is transfixed. Captivated, yet conflicted. He’s not one to share, and watching you respond so eagerly to another man’s touch grates at him. The way your lashes flutter, the soft parting of your lips—every reaction you give Javier twists the knife deeper into his gut. Yet, you’re a vision, an intoxicating blend of submission and temptation. You give him a look like the whole show is for him.  His cock is already throbbing, hard and heavy in his jeans, and it’s maddening.

Javier moves with precision. He pushes the straps of your dress down, murmuring about wanting to see what’s underneath. The words are for you, but the glance he shoots at Joel is all challenge. Joel’s eyes narrow, a feral glint in them, but when he sees the familiar color of the lace and mesh hugging your soft breasts, his lips twitch into a knowing smirk. It’s his favorite color. His. 

The fog of possessive desire whispers ideas to Joel. He likes the one about grabbing Javier by the shoulders and tossing him across the room so he can show off the way you beg for his cock. He feels tempted to make a barbaric declaration about who you belong to. 

Instead, Joel can’t stop himself from barking orders at Javier. “Take it off her,” he commands, his voice tight. Javier complies without argument, hands deftly removing your bra before they’re back on your skin, lips on your neck. “She likes it when you bite,” Joel adds, “not too hard.” 

Joel’s cock strains painfully against his jeans, begging for attention, as he watches how your form pulls taught beneath Javier. Your skin buzzes, and your muscles draw tight, pressure building under both men’s attention. 

Javi gives Joel a sidelong glance, “You sure you don’t want to take notes, Joel? Learn something new?” He punctuates his verbal taunt by pulling a loud gasp from you as his fingers slip under your panties to tease at your slick seam before he dips them into your eager entrance. Your head tips back, eyes fluttering shut as the sensations somehow intensify. 

Joel scoffs, “You’re a sideshow, Javi. I know what she needs; I keep her more than satisfied.” His restraint wanes as he tries to adjust himself in his jeans. “Tell him, baby,” his voice comes out curt and guttural as his thighs spasm, and he coughs to kill the groan in his chest. 

A pornographic “Yes!” Is the most complex sentence you can form. You hope it pleases Joel because your tongue and brain are otherwise numb. The sensation of Javier rutting against you through his jeans is enough to make you cross-eyed, but his fingers and mouth are relentless. 

Javier repeats Joel’s claim, “You know what she needs,” he muses as if his fingers weren’t creating obscene wet noises as he draws them out of you and plunges them back in, “And how about what she wants?” 

“Yes,” you offer again, unaware if that one was rhetorical, as Javi descends. He mouths and sucks in turn at each of your taut nipples as his fingers crook just right against your plush, wet walls. 

“Take it, baby, let go,” Joel’s gruff command is tinged with a ragged desperation. You obey and give in, letting the pleasure consume you and sweep you away. Joel couldn’t give a shit about Javier’s ego trip as he watches you. The involuntary muscle contractions and throaty moans you make are unfiltered and unchoreographed. Messy and vulnerable. In his eyes, you exude a divine, feminine energy, and it calls to Joel’s baser instincts. 

You weave your fingers into Javier’s hair, tugging him up for a kiss that’s been burning on your lips since this all started. 

It lights up your whole body. You feel yourself rocking into him unconsciously and sinking into his kiss. Javi groans when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth. It thrills you to hear the first slip in his composure. 

Joel’s reverential dream bursts. He was enraptured at you writhing and squirming with pleasure in front of him, but when you kiss Javier back with such abandon, his vision sharpens. The noises you both make are too tender, too intimate. It incites his caveman brain, and he is compelled to reassert his claim to you. 

“Fuck this,” he spits out with an angry rasp. Your eyes snap open in surprise, confusion flickering across your features. Javier turns his head, hands not releasing you, his eyebrow arching in mild amusement.

“Does she not sing like this for you?” Javier heckles, “Does she not soak your fingers? Pussy begging to be filled with more?” 

If you were asked on a Tuesday afternoon, with second-day hair and a sweet treat in your hand, you might reject the idea. It’s not that it’s anti-feminist or anything; different strokes for different folks and all. It’s just not your kink per se. 

You might not see the appeal in having two men speak about you as if you weren’t in the room, arguing about what you enjoyed on your behalf, and essentially making you a pawn and denoting your pleasure as a benchmark in their big-dick-masculinity competition. 

You might consider having a conversation about the objectification of women, clarify that you are not property to be owned or auctioned off. 

But right now? High on the oxytocin in your blood and the testosterone in the air? Frozen between the venomous Javier and teeth-gnashing Joel? 

You’d knock that other version of you over like it was Black Friday, 2005, and she was the only thing between you and a mid-range flatscreen TV with a yellow sale price sticker to be first in line to see Joel’s next move. 

Joel’s eyes flash. “I ain’t gonna just sit here and watch this,” he says, his voice low and dangerous as he reaches for you, pulling you to your feet. 

“Come ’ere.” His hand tightens around your arm as he tugs you close, his gaze flicking to Javier with a barely concealed sneer. The possessive display makes you whine. 

Javier frowns, unserious, mocking. “That’s too bad,” he sucks his teeth, “I’d love to see what she does that keeps a brute like you civilized,” he slinks closer to run his thumb over your lip. He looks to Joel before he continues in a smoky tone. 

“Is it how she uses that sweet mouth to suck your cock?” His gaze drops to the unmistakable hard-on leaking in Joel’s denim, and you feel your man bristle at being ogled at by Javier. “No, I bet she tames you with that needy cunt, hm? Takes you just right?” 

“Holy shit,” you breathe out accidentally. Javier’s filthy mouth might as well be speaking directly to your pussy. 

You don’t see the cocky grin that spreads on Joel’s face. He lets out a sharp, dismissive exhale before addressing Javier. “Oh, you can come too,” you don’t know why that sounds like a challenge, “if that’s what she wants.”

“Please, Joel,” you whisper, your voice raw with need, “I want you both.”

“Yeah, baby, you’ll get what you want,” Joel grits out, his voice hard as steel. His eyes bore into Javier’s with unbridled disdain. “Ain’t gonna be some shitty ex-cop that gets you off again, though. That’s all for me.”

Javi’s playful smirk falters, and a dangerous glint sparkles in his eyes. “Careful, cowboy,” he says, his voice laced with venom. “I’ve got nothing to prove here.” He takes his time eyeing you and Joel up and down before continuing. “I’m starting to think it’s not sharing with another man that’s got you wound so tight,” he pauses, swallowing, before continuing with calculated precision, “I think you’re afraid you’ll like it.” 

“Get out,” Joel bellows dangerously. 

But Javier doesn’t budge. He stands his ground, his gaze never leaving yours. “Is that what you want?” he asks, ignoring Joel’s seething presence beside you.

The room is electric. Lightning shoots through your nervous system. You look at Joel. His raw, dominating aura entices you. Maybe you’re wrong for this, but he looks so fucking hot when he’s worked up like this. They both do, you realize, your gaze darting between them.

“Fuck,” you whisper, a breathless exhale, your heart pounding in your chest. Joel’s grip on your arm loosens just a fraction. The dark current of violence in his eyes recedes as he searches your face. Your eyes are blown with lust, and you wobble like the tension between the two men is going to knock you on your ass. 

“All right,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with barely contained emotion. He takes a steadying breath, his eyes flicking to Javier, then back to you. “Both of you—”

“Bedroom?” Javier cuts him off, his voice low and challenging, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.

….

You’re thrust into the middle of a storm of desire once you reach your bedroom. The chemistry between you and your powerful, masculine partners is undeniable, but the current between the two of them seems just as palpable.

Neither is willing to relinquish control, and their rivalry intensifies. You can see their determination to prove they can satisfy you more than the other flickering in their eyes. 

Javi’s intense gaze never leaves yours, even as Joel brushes his rough hands over your skin, possessive in his every move as he strips you naked. Your skin burns with desire as he touches you, and you can’t help but whimper at the intensity of his grip. Each noise you make incites a jealous reaction from the other, but somehow, they work as if choreographed. 

They encase you in their broad bodies and mark you with their desire with every kiss and touch as you hastily pull at their clothes and fumble with the buttons on their jeans until the three of you are naked and panting at the foot of the bed. It’s like you’re caught in a tornado made of two incredibly sexy men. 

Javier’s commanding nature contrasts with Joel’s jagged, primal passion, and you find yourself caught between them, overwhelmed by the force of their attention. You can’t lie, though; it’s not just their attitude that has you feeling drunk and weightless. 

When the blur of your frantic rush to undress each of them settles and you can focus, your jaw drops like a cartoon character. If your pussy could scream, the whole neighborhood would be able to hear it. Your head spins as you swivel back and forth, taking in their gorgeous bodies on either side of you. You ignore whatever ego trip they’re on. You couldn’t care less which one of them will win the trophy for manliest man tonight or whatever they’re fighting about. 

Instead, your brain feels like it’s trying to remember calculus or physics or whatever science will help you figure out how to accomplish your desperate need to have both of them in your mouth. Though, with the screaming desire to touch them immediately, you’re pretty sure you couldn’t even add 2+2 right now. 

You’re still ignoring their bantering. Cockdrunk at the sight of both of them, possibly drooling, probably dripping down your thighs from your wet cunt. Their voices are a smoky, bassy buzz above you as you sink to your knees on your own solo mission. 

You don’t give a shit if you can’t fit two dicks in your mouth at the same time. 

“Come here,” you demand them both to stand in front of you. You can feel Joel’s resistance to stand any closer to Javier; however, your horny brain has lost the usual patience you would hold for his internal torment. “Closer,” you whine as you rub your thighs together in a useless attempt to relieve the ache pulsing through your core and cousin your clit to twitch. 

Javier curls his hand around the back of your head, and your eyes flutter shut at the sensation. 

“You gonna keep her waiting?” Javier challenges Joel, eyes roving over the other man's body before he watches your eyes blink back open. 

Javi stands proud in front of you–as he should with a body like that. He displays no shame or hesitation as he pulls his hand back from your head to casually jerk his cock at the sight of you. Glistening with sweat like glitter as you perch on your knees. You didn’t know until this moment that watching a man fuck his own fist in front of your face could make you salivate like this, but you feel it pooling under your tongue and flooding your mouth. 

You figure you look like a pouty mess when you turn to stare up at Joel. He’s so tense. Fists clenched, jaw tight, chest heaving. You’re entranced by the shining precome leaking from his cock as it hangs heavily in front of you. 

“Closer,” you repeat. Your voice is low, almost hoarse, as if he’s already fucked your throat, but it’s only from tasting the fantasy of it. 

Finally, Joel steps closer, and you can get your mouth around him. You offer your hand to Javier, moaning deeply around Joel’s cock when Javier takes your hand in his and uses it to keep working himself the way he likes. 

You work feverishly to take Joel deeper and deeper, unbothered when you gag and tear up because of your impatience. Joel forgets about Javier entirely when you wrap your lips around him and suck in your cheeks. You’re rewarded with grunts and groans from Joel that stir up the arousal pooling at your entrance, but the addition of Javier’s voice has your mind slipping away into a warm pool of pure bliss. 

“Easy,” Joel’s hand steadies you as fat tears stream from the corners of your eyes. You whine in protest around his velvety length, and a throaty noise comes from Javier as he slows his hand and yours. 

“Fuck, she is a dream,” Javier muses. 

You’re caught between the two, their scents and taste blending into something that makes your head spin even more. 

“Damn right,” Joel growls out, and every nerve ending in your body is on fire, overwhelmed with a maddening combination of pleasure, anticipation, and the dizzying heat of being desired so intensely by both men.  

Joel’s cock works your jaw wide open as you take him in deeper. His hips begin to move, thrusting shallowly into the heat of your mouth. His hands find the back of your head, gripping it tightly to keep you in place. He’s controlled, but you can feel the twitch in his fingers and the low, guttural sounds he makes above you as he fights to keep from losing control. His possessiveness seeps through every thrust, every flex of his thighs, and shoots straight through you. 

Meanwhile, Javier keeps your other hand busy. His grip on your hand is firm but steady, and he occasionally slides your fingers down to cup his balls, his low growls vibrating in the back of his throat as he watches your lips stretch around Joel. His eyes are glued to your face, dark and ravenous, and when he catches you looking up at him, his smirk only deepens. He knows how this sight affects you—both of them towering over you, both of them needing you.

“Goddamn,” Javier mutters, voice thick with admiration and lust. “Look at you. So fucking pretty with your mouth full.” He leans down, his free hand brushing over your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears streaming from your eyes as Joel thrusts in deep. 

“Bet she’d love to taste us both,” he taunts, his voice tainted with a knowing chuckle that sends a hot pulse straight to your core.

Joel lets out a gruff noise. It’s strained, tinged with irritation. He’s still wrestling with the primitive urge to be the one that makes you shatter. “You always gotta run your mouth?” Joel grumbles, but there’s a heat in his eyes, a flicker of something malevolent. “Why don’t you put it to use instead of talkin’?”

Javier’s grin widens, the taunt lighting up a challenge in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Scared she might like what I have to offer?” He doesn’t wait for Joel’s reply, instead leaning down to slide you off of Joel’s cock, marveling as a line of spit connects your lips to Joel’s tip before you turn. Javi gives you a soft, teasing kiss first before diving in. Then, he greedily laps at your tongue, humming at the taste of you and Joel. The sensation is dizzying. You’d proudly volunteer to be passed between the two of them for an eternity. 

Javier pulls back with a chuckle, Joel’s eyes never leave yours, dark and intense. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Tell him,” Joel demands, his breath hot on your skin. “Tell him how much you love having me in your mouth, how you crave it.”

Your brain is mush, your body vibrating with need, but you manage to whisper out, “I love it, Joel. Love how you feel in my mouth.” Your words make Joel grin with satisfaction, his eyes gleaming with triumph, but Javier’s eyes only sharpen.

“Yeah?” Javier’s voice is silky as he leans in closer. “Think you can handle a taste of both of us?” His thumb drags across your swollen lips, parting them slightly.

A sticky, thick desire drips through you at his words. You don’t miss Joel’s expression hardening, his possessiveness flaring. But instead of another angry retort, he surprises you, his voice dropping to a harsh, almost amused tone. “You want to show him how sweet this mouth is? Think you’re up for it?” His hand tightens around the back of your neck, and you gasp as he tilts your head back, exposing your throat. 

He leans in and nips at your neck, the sting sending a shiver down your spine. “Go on, then. Show him what you can do.”

Your heart pounds as you reposition yourself, turning your attention back to Javier. Fuck yeah, you’re gonna show him what you can do. Pride glows in your chest at Joel’s proclamation of your skill. 

The excitement in Javier’s eyes is unmistakable, and you give him a coy smile, leaning in to flick your tongue over the tip of his cock. He inhales sharply, his composure faltering just slightly, and you relish the small victory with a groan. You take him into your mouth slowly, savoring the feel of him as Joel watches closely, his heavy breaths grazing your skin. You have a dull ache in your jaw from Joel, but you’re determined and spurred on by Joel watching. 

You feel compelled to give it your all. You want to hear cool and collected Javi fall apart, and you want to make Joel proud. 

Javier’s hand finds the back of your head, his grip more gentle than Joel’s, guiding you as you begin to suck him off with the same fervor. His moans are low and rumbling, filled with pleasure and just a hint of smugness. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that,” he groans, his fingers tighten, digging in to the back of your neck and the base of your skull. “Such a good girl.”

Not wanting Joel to feel neglected, you wrap a hand around his length, pumping in rhythm with your movements on Javier. The room fills with the sounds of their pleasure—deep grunts and heavy breathing mingling with the wet, obscene noises of your mouth and hands working them both. The debauchery has you feeling exposed, like a live wire. You’re lost in the feeling of them, lost in the power you hold over these two dominant, competitive men while you’re on your knees. 

But it’s not long before their patience wears thin. Joel’s hand suddenly tugs you off Javier’s cock, pulling you up roughly until you’re standing again, his lips claim yours in a bruising, possessive kiss. You melt into it, moaning into his mouth, but Javier isn’t about to let Joel take the lead so easily.

“Shh, come here,” Javier says, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls you away from Joel. Did he just shush Joel? Was he shushing you? He captures your lips in his own heated kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, and you can taste a mix of him and Joel, a combination you will never forget. 

His hands roam over your body, caressing and squeezing in ways that make you feel disconnected from your corporeal form. When he pulls away, he’s panting, his forehead pressed to yours. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Joel growls low in his throat, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly, spinning you back around to face him. His lips brush over your ear, his breath hot as he murmurs, “You’re mine, baby. Don’t forget it.” Then he kisses you again, his hands lifting you until you’re wrapped around his waist.

The three of you tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and desperate skin-to-skin contact. Both men are eager to claim you, to mark you, to make you feel every bit of their desire. Your senses are overwhelmed—hands gripping your skin, mouths leaving hot trails along your body, their hard cocks jabbing you and grinding against you, the scent of sweat, sex, and testosterone thick in the air. 

There's no clear rhythm, no clear plan, just a frenzy, each of them vying to make their presence last on your skin. A silent battle unfolds between them. You can’t tell who’s winning between the two of them, but it doesn’t matter because you already know they’re both yours. 

Unfortunately, the uneasy cooperation doesn't last long. 

Joel’s eyes flash with irritation as he feels Javier’s hand invading his territory, and he shoves against him. “Quit gettin’ in my way,” he snaps, his voice a low rumble of frustration. 

Javier laughs darkly, unbothered. “Or what?” 

The words stoke the fire simmering in Joel's veins. They’re both so stubborn, so intent on proving their point, that the air around you vibrates with their clashing wills.

Your view, as you lay on your back, sticking to the sheets on the bed, is exquisite. You watch the jealousy start to boil over. The heat between the two of them is intoxicating. Smoldering Javier and his proclivity for control versus rough and unrefined Joel. Their bodies are slick with sweat, glistening in the low light, and they move with an intensity that makes your pulse race. 

You watch, breathless, as the tension builds, choking all three of you. It’s like the room is on fire, alarms blaring in their eyes, but they’re gonna figure this out and fuck you even if the smoke kills all three of you. 

Their voices raise as they vie for power. Both men determined to out man the other as if you weren’t already here for both of them. Your eyes are glued to the situation as Javier eggs Joel on. The masculine display of dominance and virility is a consuming scene. You’d watch them tousle, sweating, breathy, and snapping at each other in their deep, smoky voices over and over. If your hell is a time-loop, you hope this is the moment it begins. 

Your jaw drops when you see Javier’s hand shoot out, “You think you’re in control,” Javier rasps as his fingers wrap around Joel’s cock with an abrasive, punishing grip, “You think you’ve got a big dick so you can swing it around and what? Scare me off? Nah, that’d be pathetic.” 

A low primal noise rumbles in Joel’s chest, and there’s a flash of conflict in his deep brown eyes–something more profound than anger. His hips push forward despite the insult, his body betraying him before he stiffens. Rigid like a statue. You’re screaming internally. This is better than the fantasy threesome you described to Maria at girls’ night. This is better than you could’ve imagined with a decade of free time. 

You could bite right through your lip with the intensity of the visual unfolding. Arousal stirs, increasing in velocity like a whirlpool. It weighs hot and sticky like molasses churning in your stomach at the sight of their ferocity. The energy between them is entirely too much to handle. It’s a fight, a shootout between your two cowboys, but there’s something undeniably erotic about the sparks and magnetism beneath their ire. 

Joel is still sinking into his internal conflict, not just from the rough grip of Javier’s hand but from the sudden jolt of pleasure that twists wickedly in his gut. Warring with his own sense of identity, Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he’s not just fighting Javier–he’s wrestling with something else. Something hidden in the dark now has a blinding spotlight shining directly in the eyes. 

Javier’s touch is searing, giving Joel the intrusive thought that he’ll be able to see marks on his own cock tomorrow. The contact is like a riptide, sucking Joel into himself. Shooting pleasure up his spine, confusing and infuriating him. It’s raw, it’s real, and it feels good–too good. Why the hell does it feel good? Joel’s chest tightens, and shame gnaws at him, a debilitating concoction with the undeniable carnal thrill overriding his logic. 

Joel’s thoughts race. This shouldn’t turn him on. It can’t turn him on. But, fuck, it sure does. He can’t stop the groan that pours from his lips as that thought solidifies in his mind. His hips twitch, jerking into Javier’s palm, despite the other voice in his head screaming that this isn’t who he is. 

Javier, the observant bastard, doesn’t drop his gaze from Joel’s. He sees how time stops for Joel. He sees how the man in his grasp is astral projecting into a thousand arguments with himself. But Javier is impatient and not immune to the noise that came from Joel when he grabbed his throbbing cock. 

He squeezes harder, and Joel’s resistance is razor-thin. He succumbs to the desire like it’s quicksand and he’s waist-deep already. He can shake off the disgust and grapple with the parts he can’t understand another time–right now, he can’t push away from the sharp tug in his gut that screams for more. 

You see it. When Joel’s eyes flash, something ripples throughout the air in your bedroom. Something tender is screaming like a newborn behind the walls he projects. 

The tension in the room discharges, striking all of you like lightning. You desperately want to shout at the two of them, locked in the homoerotic trance in front of you, about how fucking hot they are. At this point, you swear a warm breeze, just a gust of air, would be enough to make you come at the sight of them. But you’re transfixed, and when something shifts within Joel–you decide not to interrupt. Hell, you don’t even want to blink. 

The earth starts to rotate again, and a wicked smirk tugs at Joel’s lips. “Show me then,” he taunts, voice gravelly and low, “show me who’s in control.” 

The sight of them, all masculine dominance and begrudging lust, makes your heart pound. Watching them fight for power for you is more tantalizing than you ever imagined.

Joel’s challenge hangs in the air like a match struck in a room filled with gasoline, and the pressure in their gaze is so heavy you worry the bedframe beneath you will snap. 

Javi's eyes narrow, his smirk widening into something wretched. His grip tightens around Joel's cock, twisting slightly as if testing his limits. "Careful what you wish for," Javier purrs, his voice saturated with a dark promise. "You might just find you enjoy it too much."

“Oh, shit,” you whisper as your eyes dart between Joel’s fierce, defiant gaze and Javier’s calculated confidence. 

There’s a battle raging, but it’s not just for dominance—it’s for something deeper.

Joel’s chest heaves. You can see him fighting the urge to pull away, to shut down, or to lash out, to assert himself in the most brutal way possible. 

But the hungry look in Javier’s eyes challenges him, dares him, Javier isn’t afraid of Joel, and he definitely isn’t going to back off. Joel’s body betrays him once more. He leans into Javier’s touch, his hips giving a barely perceptible thrust forward, a silent admission. He’s not backing down.

Javier's expression softens into something dangerous, his thumb brushing over the head of Joel's cock with a slow, deliberate stroke that pulls a throaty noise from Joel. "You see that?" Javi says, his voice a husky whisper, as he watches your expression while his hand continues twisting and tugging at Joel’s cock. "He likes a little fight, doesn't he?"

You give Javi a lazy nod with glassy, heavy-lidded eyes, as you watch the scene unfolding. 

Joel grabs Javier by the back of the neck, yanking him close. “You think you’ve got me figured out?” he snarls, his breath hot against Javier’s face. Their faces are so close. You are absolutely shrieking internally; if you could plug your consciousness into a speaker, it would be deafening. You’re desperately darting between their eyes, waiting for one of them to drop their gaze to the other’s lips. 

When Javier cups Joel’s scruffy jaw in his hand, you figure you could die happy in this moment, but time hasn’t stopped. The air is so thick you could build a foundation out of it. It’s unbearable. Slow motion. You see the briefest glimmer of a genuine, earnest smile on Javier’s face before his mouth hovers over Joel's ear with a final challenge. “Tell me to stop.” 

Javi makes the move, only soft for a millisecond when his lips brush against Joel’s, and then he’s fervently kissing your man in an urgent and hungry kiss. You can’t control the gasping, “Oh my god,” that comes out of your mouth. You’re glued to the vision of them as their bodies press together, and Joel’s hand slides down to grab Javier’s cock boldly. You wish you had a camera, though it’s likely seared deeply into your long-term memory immediately. 

The kiss is electric, charged with an anger and passion that ignites something primal in the room. Your heart pounds as you watch them, their mutual challenge giving way to unfiltered desire. They break apart, their breaths ragged and eyes hazy with lust, and the intensity of their interaction leaves you breathless. The ache between your legs is unbearable, painful.

“Jesus,” you gasp, unable to hold back any longer, “you two look so fucking good like that,” you pant, “but please,” your voice is hoarse and distant, “I need one of you to fuck me.” 

Your words break the spell, and both men’s eyes snap to you, their expressions fierce. Javier’s grip loosens on Joel, and Joel, in turn, shoves him away, just enough to reclaim some space, some control. But it’s clear now—there’s a shift in the air. 

Joel’s eyes are on you, dark and smoldering, and he moves in like a predator cornering its prey. “Tell us how bad you need it.”

Before you can answer, Javier is beside you, his lips brushing against your ear. “Tell us what you want,” he whispers, his hand sliding down your belly to dip between your legs, his fingers finding you soaked, swollen, and needy. 

You let out a shaky breath, your head falling back against the pillow as the two of them close in on you, their bodies hot and demanding. “I want both of you,” you manage to breathe out, your voice cracks with need. “I need both of you.” 

Joel’s lips curl into a knowing grin as he positions himself on the other side of you, his mouth stealing the air from your lungs in a possessive kiss. Javier’s mouth finds your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, his hand working you with expert precision, pulling sounds from your throat that you didn’t know you could make.

They devour you, their movements synchronized and intense. Javier’s lips travel lower, teasing your breasts, his tongue flicking over your nipple with a slow, torturous rhythm. You arch into them, caught between their bodies, desperate and lost in the whirlwind of sensation.

When Joel finally pulls away, his breath is ragged, and his eyes are heavy with lust. “You ready, baby?” he murmurs, his hand trailing down to replace Javier’s, no longer bothered when their fingers brush. He swallows, feeling just how wet you are for them. “We’re gonna make you beg for it.”

Javier’s voice hums against your skin. “And you’re going to love every second of it,” he adds, as Joel’s fingers curl into you with just the right pressure, making you whimper.

You nod, breathless, your body trembling with anticipation. “Please,” you whisper, “I need you both. Now.” They don’t make you say it again. 

Joel is on top of you first, of course, following through on his promise to make you beg. He looms above you, a dark shadow of power and hunger, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed skin. One strong arm holds his weight above you while the other grips the base of his cock, positioning it just close enough to tease, to torment. 

You can feel the heat radiating off him, so close yet so agonizingly far from where you desperately want him. He slides the head of his cock over your slick entrance, back up to circle your throbbing clit, again and again. His movements are slow, deliberate, every touch designed to drive you insane. Despite his roughness, Joel moves with wicked precision, knowing exactly how to make you tremble and whimper.

Joel always knows how to drive you to the brink, and when to back off to leave you wanting more. Javier keeps you distracted, though—intentionally, you realize—with his hands all over you, groping and squeezing like he’s trying to imprint the feel of your body in his mind. His mouth is everywhere, hot and demanding, alternating between deep, open-mouthed kisses and sharp, stinging nips that make you gasp. Together, they overwhelm you completely. It’s a tandem assault that leaves you breathless, your body arching and twisting beneath them, craving more.

You try to move, to push your hips up toward Joel, needing him inside you already. But he’s not ready to give in just yet. His broad palm presses flat against your lower belly, pinning you in place. His voice, deep and authoritative, carries a sinister promise. “Not yet.”

A frustrated whine escapes your lips. Joel knows how to unravel you, piece by piece, until you’re nothing but a pleading mess beneath him, desperate for him to finally take you. Just when you’re about to give in and really beg, Joel sinks his cock into you in one slow, deliberate stroke, filling you to the hilt. 

Your back arches off the bed, a broken moan slipping from your lips as Javi sinks his teeth into the delicate skin below your jaw. The sting sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, and you clench tight around Joel in response.

For Joel, that moment when he’s buried deep inside you is nothing short of a revelation. He feels your heat, and the way your walls flutter around him, and it’s like everything else fades away. He’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

Joel holds you on the edge, like your own personal pleasure demon, the keeper of your torment and ecstasy. Your hips try to grind against him, but he holds you still, his grip on your hips firm. 

Joel drags his cock almost painfully slowly in and out of you, his movements unhurried, savoring the sight of you writhing beneath him. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your eyes half-lidded as he increases his speed just slightly, a lazy rhythm that still drives you wild.

When Javier’s hand slips between your bodies, rubbing circles over your clit, it’s almost too much. Your orgasm slams into you, a tidal wave that leaves you shuddering and gasping for breath, your body writhing beneath them both. 

But even in your haze, you crave more. After catching your breath, you tell Joel what you want and he nods, pulling out with a groan and shifting off of you. 

You reposition, straddling Javier, and grinning as you plan to tease him now. 

With just the head of his cock inside of you, you circle your hips and arch as if you’re going to take him deep before circling again and repeating your tease. But when he rewards you with a frustrated noise, you don’t waste anymore time. You slip Javier’s cock deeper into your still recovering cunt. 

You’re once again determined to put on a show for Javier, but moreso for Joel. You ride Javi with everything you have left, bouncing energetically and gasping when you slow down to grind against him for your own pleasure. 

The room fills with the rhythmic sound of skin against skin and your breathy moans, Javier’s groans mingling with your own as he grips your hips tightly, guiding you up and down his length.

Joel watches intently as you ride Javier. His own hand is on his cock, stroking slowly, his eyes dark with lust. “Look at you,” he murmurs, before leaning in close so his breath tickles your ear. “So greedy, takin’ him like that. Bet you could take us both at the same time, huh? Stuffed full of both our cocks?”

Javier chuckles beneath you, smiling, even as his breath comes out in harsh pants. “I think she’d like that,” he adds, his voice rough. “She’s already so tight around me. Imagine how she’d feel with both of us stretching her out.”

The idea sends a shiver through you, and you can’t help but moan at the thought. Your movements on Javier’s cock become more frantic, more desperate. Joel’s words, Javier’s teasing—it’s all too much, and not enough.

Joel grins, clearly pleased with your reaction. His hand reaches out to cup one of your breasts, squeezing it firmly before his thumb and forefinger close around your nipple, twisting just enough to make you gasp. “Oh, you like that idea, don’t you? You wanna take us both next time?”

Your mind is a fog of pleasure, and you can barely form a coherent thought, much less a response. 

Next time. 

But you nod, a whimper escaping your lips as you bounce harder on Javier’s cock, desperate to chase that high again.

Javier’s grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming erratic as he watches you unravel above him. “Fuck, she’s close again,” he mutters, his eyes flicking to Joel. “You gonna let her come?”

Joel’s mischevous grin widens. “Oh, I think she’s earned it this time.” He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Come for us, baby. Show us how much you want it.”

His words are all you need. Your body tenses, and your orgasm hits you like a freight train. You cry out, your walls clenching tight around Javier as waves of pleasure ripple through you. It’s all too much, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

But your insatiable men aren’t done. They exchange a heated glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them. 

“I think it’s time we really see what she can handle,” Joel murmurs, pulling you off of Javier and repositioning you on all fours on the bed. His hands guide your hips back toward him, his thick cock pressing against your slick entrance.

“Look at you,” Javi quips at Joel, “sharing so nicely.”

You’re too far gone to see how Joel responds. 

Javier moves in front of you, his cock hard and glistening with your slick as he grips your chin, guiding your lips to his length. “Open up for me,” he purrs, his voice low and full of desire.

You do as he says, your lips parting, and tongue sticking out to take him in. The taste of yourself on his cock makes you moan, and you feel Joel’s hands tighten on your hips as he pushes into you from behind, filling you once more. The sensation of being taken from both ends sends your mind spiraling. You’re stretched and stuffed, caught between them, every nerve alive with the sensation.

Joel’s thrusts are slow and deep, savoring the way you clench around him. His voice is a low growl, filled with dark amusement. “Takin’ both of us so well. So good for us, aren’t you?”

Javi echoes him, his voice more breathless as you work your mouth along his length. “Yeah, that’s it. Fuck, you’re perfect like this. Can’t get enough of you.”

They flirt with each other as they use you, teasing, taunting. “Bet she could handle both our cocks inside her next time,” Joel says, his voice heavy with lust. “Fill her up so good she won’t be able to walk.”

Javi grins, his hand tangling in your hair, guiding you to take him deeper. “Oh, I think she’d love that,” he agrees. “She’s a greedy little thing, isn’t she? Always eager for more.”

Their words, their praise, the way they talk about you as if you’re their shared prize—it sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. Your body rocks back and forth between them, caught in their rhythm, your moans muffled and garbled around Javier’s cock.

Joel’s thrusts grow rougher, more demanding, his control slipping. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with each powerful thrust. “Fuck,” he grunts.

Javier’s hips buck forward, pushing deeper into your throat. “Keep going,” he groans. “You can take it.”

Your body trembles, overwhelmed by the sensations, but you push through, driven by their praise and the sheer intensity of it all. You can feel another orgasm building, and Joel seems to sense it too. “Come on, baby,” he urges. “Come for us again. Show us how much you love being filled by both of us.”

His words tip you over the edge, and you come undone. Your walls clench around Joel as you shudder with the force of your climax, the intensity of being so out of control between them sending shockwaves through your body. Your muffled cries vibrate around Javier’s cock, making him groan loudly above you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Javier growls, his hand tightening in your hair. His hips jerk forward, pushing deeper into your mouth, and you feel the burst of his release spilling over your tongue. “You got it, sweetheart, just like that.”

You do as he says, swallowing around him, and the sensation sends another shiver through Javier. His cock twitches in your mouth, his breaths ragged as he slowly pulls out. His eyes are dark and intense as he watches you, lips glistening with his release. Without hesitation, he cups your face, leaning down to kiss you deeply, his tongue tasting his own come on your lips. The kiss is hot and possessive, and you moan into it, the taste of him mingling with the heat still burning through your veins.

Behind you, Joel doesn’t relent. His thrusts grow more erratic, each one rougher and more desperate than the last. He grips your hips with bruising force, pounding into you with a single-minded focus. “That’s good, baby,” he rasps against the back of your neck, his voice barely more than a growl. “So good like this. Stuffed full and takin’ everything we give you.”

Javier breaks the kiss, smirking as he watches the way you jolt beneath Joel’s punishing rhythm. “She’s something special, isn’t she?” he teases, brushing a thumb over your swollen lips. “Lucky she wanted to share, really.”

Joel’s gaze lifts to meet Javier’s, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. “Damn right.” He thrusts harder, his pace relentless now, chasing his own release. “Gonna fill you up now. You ready?”

Your only response is a breathless moan, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. Joel’s rhythm grows frantic, his hips slamming into yours as he buries himself as deep as he can go, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. With a guttural groan, he comes inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills deep within you.

The feeling of his hot release filling you up sends a final shiver through your body, and you sag between them, completely spent. Joel slows, easing you through the last waves of pleasure before he finally pulls out, his breath still heavy.

Both men move quickly to support you, guiding you gently onto the bed, your body limp and blissed-out between them. Javier strokes your cheek, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “You did so well, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Better than we ever imagined.”

Joel, still catching his breath, chuckles low in his chest. “Think she deserves a reward next time,” he says, his hand coming up to brush the damp hair away from your face. “Maybe we’ll see just how much she can handle.”

A soft, tired smile tugs at your lips, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. You’re too exhausted to respond, but the thought of next time sends a warm flutter through your chest.

The weight of both their bodies beside you is comforting, grounding, and as you start to drift off into a contented haze, you feel their arms wrap around you. It’s a feeling of warmth and safety that you hadn’t realized you needed, and you hope, somewhere in the back of your mind, that this isn’t the last time you find yourself tangled between them.

With your eyes fluttering closed, you let out a soft sigh, content and utterly satisfied. The last thing you hear before sleep takes you is the low rumble of their voices, murmuring something you can’t quite make out but filled with a promise of more to come.

Please let me know if you enjoyed or if you hated it or if you have thots bc i wanna hear 'em

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

tags for those who want 'em all and those who said joel x javi x reader yes pls: @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @lovely-vamp-princess @magneticecstasy @adoreyouusugar

@94namkooksworld

@swankyorange @mermaidgirl30 @itwasntimethatdidit40

@thundermartini - ty I forgot to check if the tags worked!! 💗

What a lovely little surprise to see when I get on tumblr and actually pay attention to it for the first time in days 😍

I love them so much!!!!

time away

A seeking what is desirable drabble for anyone who has missed Naomi and Joel ♡

1.2k words, all fluff. Takes place 3ish years after the main story. Enjoy :)

“So,” Joel begins, looking up at Ellie. A clock ticks somewhere in the living room to mark the seconds going by, dragging out the time. “Dina… Dina, Dina, Dina.” Oh, look, he’s managing to stay so cool and keep it together so well, isn’t he? The man of the hour, he holds Luna’s little feet, tucked into socks with red hearts all over them, matching the ones Naomi slid across the hardwood in when she gathered her keys and wallet, running off to get groceries. He jostles them around with the pads of his thumbs on her soles. 

Ellie narrows her eyes, but her smile is impossible to stifle enough for him not to see it.

“Is she your girlfriend?” he asks, and Luna coos at him, giggling as she looks up at her father from where she lays in his lap. Little hands curl around his fingers, little feet kick at his forearms. 

“It’s…” Ellie waves. “It’s just a… A thing.” 

“Right,” Joel says then, “A thing is why you brought her home for a week over the holidays? By that logic, I guess a thing is also why you introduced her to Tommy, Maria, Kevin, my mother—”

“Don’t you have someone else’s business to stick your nose into?” 

He frowns, “Not really,” and groans as he lifts the baby to his chest before he leans back against the couch. His hand covers the entire span of her back, his thumb and pinky finger curving around her, a girl with little blonde curls all over her head and green eyes. None of his genes are anywhere in her blood, it seems. They all went to her big sister instead. “This one doesn’t say all too much, Sarah texts me every day already—” 

“I’ve always been amazed at how popular you are, Joel.”

“Right,” he grumbles, “That’s why I—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before the door opens and Aurora storms in, little sneakers flying out in two different directions as she stumbles to take them off, one hitting the wall and the other tumbling into the dining room while she bolts towards him.

“Daddy!” 

Joel quirks an eyebrow at Ellie — he’s never felt so popular in his life. Aurora clings to his legs before climbing up onto the couch, then onto his lap, leaning against the side of his chest not occupied by her little sister. The two of them giggle, and their father’s hands are full once again, while Naomi rolls her eyes from the hallway with bags in her hands. 

“Who let you in here?” she asks, looking at Ellie and tossing her keys on the dresser. 

“I’m here to babysit,” she says with a grin, “Sarah’s coming in an hour.” 

“Babysit?”

Ellie turns toward Joel. “You actually kept it a secret, huh?” she says, and he shrugs, one cocky eyebrow lifting slightly, smug as ever. For months, he has kept it a secret, pulled his gray-faded utility pants on and left at nine every Sunday morning, with Tommy’s truck rumbling in the driveway and Naomi waving from the doorway.

“Thought we could go somewhere tonight,” he says, watching Naomi approach them, her face nothing but a flattered question mark. Their brows scrunch in the same way now, confused by the other and yet eternally amused by them as well. She lifts Luna from him and perches on the broad thigh not occupied by her other daughter, and holds their youngest against her chest while she looks at her husband. 

“Oh?” 

“Remember all those Sundays I had to spend workin’ on that project for Tommy’s client?” he asks. 

Skeptical, she narrows her eyes. “Yes?” 

“Well, I was the client, and I wanna show you how it turned out. Tonight, if you’ll let me.” 

Naomi pulls back, and Joel’s arm shoots out to yank her close to him again, holding her steady with a hand around her hip. 

“Joel—” full of disbelief, on the verge of laughter, she scoffs. 

And it’s a dangerous tone he uses when he says, “It was for you, sweetheart,” sweeping her hair over her shoulders. “Wanted to do something nice for your birthday next week.”  

Long lashes flutter while she looks between his eyes. “But Luna—”

Ellie cuts in, recounting, eyes rolling from left to right while her voice takes on a gravely edge and a familiar accent, Joel’s repeated instructions recited one by one, “Stash is in the freezer, labeled by date, these are Aurora’s pancakes, ya gotta have ‘em ready by seven forty five or she flips. Luna naps at bla, bla, bla, Ellie are you hearin’ what I’m sayin’, et cetera, et cetera. Sarah, now this is real important, okay?” 

And Naomi closes her eyes while she leans into him, presses a kiss to the side of his neck and breathes him in, pushes her forehead against his collar and looks into Aurora’s eyes across from her. Their little girl looks more like Joel than anyone else in the entire world. 

— 

Through the clearing, a black little log cabin becomes visible. Joel only lifts his hand from Naomi’s thigh when he turns the key in the ignition of his truck, and the tips of her fingers slip out from under the collar of his t-shirt to push them through his curls. 

“Joel, you cannot be—”

“Can’t be what?” he asks, turned towards her with his elbow on the console, his head tilted to the side. His eyes trace the cute little scrunch of her brows, the slope of her nose, the pout of her lips when she tries to hide her smile despite how it pushes up into her cheeks. His other hand comes to the side of her face, palm sliding along her jaw to fit his fingers around the back of her neck and his thumb on her pulse. “Huh?” he teases. 

She just shakes her head, and she’s the softest, sweetest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Come on, let me show you.” 

She jumps out with her hand in his and the door shuts behind them as he leads the way, over the gravel path towards the front door. The two floors of the cabin stand tall in front of them, and he tugs at her when she stops in her tracks, her mouth hanging open and her eyes glossing over. 

“You did this for me?” she asks, and she sniffles when she breaks into a smile, softening him, turning him into mush. 

“You and the girls,” he says, sliding his hands under her arms and lifting her up. He wraps her legs around his middle and she smothers him with kisses, smearing her tears over his cheeks and tightening the clutch of her arms around his neck. 

There’s a cabin a few feet away, and yet all she looks at is that man, the one who holds onto her by a hand on the curve of her ass and the other around the back of her neck. He is the only man in the entire world, she thinks, when he turns the key in the door and pushes it open, nods towards the little hallway and walks in with his arms around her waist, looking down at her to watch her reactions to every room, with pride swelling in his chest, about to burst. 

The back porch opens to the sight of the lake behind the cabin. Down the little stairs, there’s a dock with two big chairs and waves cresting underneath, in the golden glow of the sun setting, darkening the rustling trees around when Joel hands Naomi a plate and takes his seat next to her on the wooden swing, big enough for the two of them and their two little ones. 

It’s perfect. 

—

If this is the first time you’ve come across my writing and you enjoyed this drabble, I suggest you read seeking what is desirable in full to read Joel & Naomi’s full story, hehe <3 

Yep. Yep. Yep. I wouldn’t be able to resist him

🤯🫠

What red flags?!

jealous possessive javi?

💖

tags: f!reader, smut, javi cheats on you, unprotected p in v sex (this is fiction but be safe irl), fingering, angst, jealous and possessive javi, unbeta'd, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx. ~ 5.1k w/c / gif cred

a/n: toxic!javi stans, this is for us 🙂‍↕️ kat keep your writings short challenge (FAILED) hope you like this my sweet anon 🖤

You’ve been broken up for ten weeks now. Two months and ten agonizing days. Every minute since has felt like a slow burn, as if each breath without him is a reminder of the emptiness he left behind. You thought you’d have been over him by now— Javier Peña wasn’t supposed to have this kind of hold on you, not after everything he did.

Not after you walked into his office that night, a surprise dinner in hand, only to find him fucking his secretary. The image still sears behind your eyes— the slick, desperate way they moved together while you stood frozen in the doorway, a witness to your own heartbreak.

The signs had always been there, even from the first date. The way his eyes lingered a little too long on the waitress or how he’d get that restless look in his eyes when you weren’t around. But damn, he had a way of making you feel like you were the only one.

Like every glance, every touch, was meant for you and you alone. He had a gift for making you feel special, all while hiding his cock’s insatiable appetite behind a charming smile.

Now, you feel raw, like maybe it was your fault. Maybe you weren’t enough to keep him satisfied. Maybe you didn’t do enough in bed, didn’t keep his interest, didn’t hold onto him like you should have. The betrayal made you feel small, made you question every moment, every kiss, every whispered promise. It should’ve made walking away easier, catching him like that. It should’ve been enough to erase him from your mind. But it wasn’t.

And it’s taken this long— two months and ten days— of wallowing, of replaying the betrayal, to finally push you out of your haze. Tonight, something shifts. Your friend set you up with someone from her work, and after much prodding, you said yes.

Tonight, you’ve decided to put yourself back out there. Maybe if you let someone else touch you, if you let someone else in, you’ll finally be able to push Javier out of your mind for good.

It’s been radio silence ever since. After you caught him in his office, the scene unfolded like something out of a bad movie. His face went from shock to panic in a split second, scrambling to pull up his pants, stumbling over excuses. “She meant nothing,” he stammered, running after you with that flustered, desperate look. “It was a mistake!” But you didn’t stop, didn’t even give him a second glance. You barely held back the tears as you hurled the containers of food at him, the dinner you’d lovingly prepared splattering down the hallway, leaving a messy trail as you stormed toward the stairwell. No way in hell were you waiting for the elevator. Six flights of stairs felt like nothing compared to the pit in your stomach, and the thought of giving him even one more second to sweet talk you back into his web made you sick.

You blocked him on everything the minute you got home. Packed a bag with the essentials and bolted to your cousin’s place, where you spent weeks crying yourself to sleep on her couch. Not a single call. Not a text. Not that he could, since you blocked him on every possible avenue. But even then, he didn’t try. Not a knock on the door, not a surprise visit. You realized in those sleepless nights that he’d never really bothered to get close to anyone in your life. Another red flag you had stupidly painted green, thinking he was the man of your dreams.

So when you finally pull yourself together, forcing yourself out of that dark pit of misery and agreeing to this blind date at the bar, you’re in higher spirits. You’re ready to move on— or at least try. But of course, life has a twisted sense of humor. Because the last person you expect to see sitting at the bar, laughing with another woman like nothing happened, is Javier fucking Peña.

You’d recognize that broad, infuriatingly beautiful frame anywhere. He stands out like a sore thumb, even in the dim lighting. Broad shoulders, lean muscles, and the biggest mistake of your life. The shittiest man you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. And yet, the sight of him still makes your chest tighten, reminding you just how much you let him get away with.

You almost suggest to your date that you should hit up a different bar, something far across town, anywhere but here. But no, you catch yourself. You’re done letting your ex dictate your life, done letting him take up space in your head. You’ve shed too many tears over that man, and tonight isn’t going to be another chapter in the same pathetic story.

At first, he doesn’t even notice you. Of course, his attention is fully on the woman he’s with— some gorgeous thing with legs for days and a face that belongs on a magazine cover. It stings, that familiar twinge of jealousy creeping in. You can’t help it, especially when you know he’s always going to have a pretty girl on his arm.

It’s not until your date excuses himself to use the restroom that Javier’s dark, smoldering eyes finally land on you. And what does he do when your gazes meet? He fucking smirks. That slow, deliberate smirk that used to make your knees weak. He throws in a wink for good measure, casually bringing his short glass up to his lips, taking his time with a sip as if he hasn’t just shattered your evening. His eyes linger on you, tracing every inch of your body, undressing you from across the room without so much as a word.

You shift in your seat, heart pounding in your chest as you quickly turn away, forcing your focus on some random sports game playing on the big screen nearby. But even with your eyes elsewhere, you can feel it— the weight of his stare crawling down your neck, tracing the line of your plunging neckline. Of course he’s looking. Tonight is the night you pulled out the dress— the one kept tucked away for special occasions, the revenge dress.

Every girl has one. The one that hugs in all the right places, the one you save for when you need to remind the world, and yourself, exactly what you’re made of.

And while your date had all but drooled when you stepped out in it, there’s no denying the heat in Javier’s gaze from across the bar. You don’t have to look at him to know what he’s thinking— he’s already imagining that dress crumpled on his bedroom floor.

Your date returns from the restroom, noticeably tipsier and much more handsy than when he left. His touch is bold, his fingers possessive, and you revel in it.

You lean into the attention, letting him pull you closer, putting on a little show for the audience you know is watching. Javier might think he’s the only one who knows how to have fun, but you’re going to make sure he sees just how wrong he is.

Your date’s hands wander over your body— grabbing at your ass, pulling you into him by your hips. He leans in, hot breath against your ear, whispering all the filthy things he’s planning to do to you in the back of his car.

He doesn’t even want to wait until you’re back at your place. He’s desperate, and though you hesitate for a second— things are moving a lot faster than you planned— you can feel Javier’s eyes burning into the back of your skull. His relentless glare pushes you forward, stirring something reckless inside of you.

So, you let it happen. You let this guy press his body into yours, his hands traveling, voice dripping with lust, promising you things he probably won’t even remember tomorrow. But in the heat of the moment, you don’t care. It’s not about him, really. It’s about you. About knowing that Javier’s watching every second of this, hating every second of this, and that’s enough to fuel you.

The next thing you know, you’re outside in the alley behind the bar, lips locked like horny teenagers. His mouth is on your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot that makes your knees weak, and despite yourself, you let out a soft moan.

His fingers slip beneath your panties, fumbling as they rub at your clit, off-rhythm and sloppy. But right now, that doesn’t even matter. What matters is that someone else is touching you. Someone else is making you feel something other than loneliness and anger.

Suddenly, he’s ripped off you, and the cool air rushes in where his body had been pressed against yours. Your eyes snap open, and there he is—Javier, seething with rage, his hand gripping your date by the collar. The force with which he slams him into the brick wall makes your heart lurch.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you shout, the shock sobering you up fast as you yank down the hem of your dress, covering yourself as best as you can. Anger surges through you, hot and wild. Your hands tremble as you take in the scene— Javier’s knuckles white against your date’s shirt, his face a mask of pure fury.

Javier’s voice is low, dangerous, a growl vibrating from his chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are, touching what’s mine?”

The laugh that bursts out of you is involuntary, bitter, filled with disbelief. His?! Your mind spins. After everything he’s done, after the way he broke you, he still has the audacity to act like you belong to him? Like you’re some possession he can claim when it suits him?

“She didn’t tell me she was seeing anyone,” your date stammers, already backing down, and you want to scream. Men used to go to war. Now, they cower when a bigger man steps in.

You feel an irrational surge of anger, not just at Javier but at this pathetic display of submission.

“Because I’m not,” you spit, stomping over to where Javier has your date pinned against the wall. You shove at Javier’s arm, trying to break his grip, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. You forgot how strong he is, how solid. His presence alone feels suffocating, like a storm rolling in and swallowing all the air around you.

Javier’s eyes flick toward you for a split second before turning back to the man trembling in his grasp. “You come near her again, and I’ll shoot your fucking knees out. You hear me? She doesn’t need a limp dick motherfucker like you putting your filthy fucking hands on her.” His words are a snarl, dripping with venom, and you can see the terror in your date’s eyes, his resolve crumbling as fast as it appeared.

It’s brief, but, you think your date might actually muster the courage to stand his ground. However, Javier’s patience snaps, and before you can react, he drives his knee into the guy’s groin with brutal precision. The man lets out a strangled whimper, doubling over in pain, and Javier finally releases him.

You gasp, hand flying to your mouth, watching in disbelief.

“Understood?” Javier’s voice cuts through the alley like a blade.

Your date nods frantically, both hands clutching his crotch as he stumbles away, all but sprinting out of the alley like a scared animal. The sound of his hurried footsteps fades, leaving you and Javier alone in the dim light.

Your fury boils over, fists clenching at your sides. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, Peña,” you snap, marching up to him and shoving at his chest with every ounce of strength you can summon. But he doesn’t budge. He stands there, unshakable, like the damn tower of arrogance he’s always been.

“Ruining my date, acting like you have some claim over me. I’m not yours anymore!”

Javier’s dark eyes are locked on you, tracing your every movement, burning a path from your heaving chest to your flushed cheeks. He doesn’t say a word, but his gaze alone sends a shiver down your spine.

It’s not just anger in those eyes. It’s something else, something that has always made your pulse quicken. The intensity of it makes your breath hitch, even though you’re trying your hardest to stay mad, to stay strong.

You push him again, but it feels like pushing against stone. “You think you can just show up, intimidate some guy, and suddenly I’m yours again? That’s not how this works you asshole.”

He says nothing, his chest rising and falling as he watches you, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he leans in, his voice low and rough. “So I’m just supposed to hang back and watch you practically fuck that guy in front of everyone?”

His words send a jolt of heat through you, the way his voice drops to that familiar, dangerous rumble that used to make your knees weak. But you force yourself to stand firm, to remind yourself that you’re mad— furious, even.

You won’t let him have this kind of power over you again. You can’t.

“Go to hell, Javier,” you snap, shoving him one last time before stepping back, your heart hammering in your chest.

But even as you say it, you feel the pull, that magnetic force that’s always existed between the two of you. And as much as you want to hate him, you can’t deny that part of you still burns for him, still aches for the way he used to make you feel.

“Chiquita,” he drawls, sending shivers down your spine. “You can’t talk to me all angry like that, looking this fucking good, and expect me not to want to push you up against that wall and fuck you like you need.”

Your jaw drops, your brain scrambling for a response, but nothing comes out. His words hit you like a slap, bold and filthy, and despite yourself, heat shoots straight to your cunt. You curse under your breath, hating how your body betrays you.

“Y-You—” you stammer, but you can’t even string a sentence together. And that’s all it takes for him to smirk, that infuriating, knowing smirk that tells you he still has that effect on you.

“You’ve got that girl in there,” you snap, voice trembling even as you try to hold your ground. “Your secretary, and probably half the goddamn city, waiting to spread their legs for you. Not me. Not anymore.”

But even as you say it, your voice falters. The truth you’re trying to convince yourself of feels thin, weak in the face of his presence. He takes a step closer, and instinctively, you take a step back.

“Still hung up on that?” He shakes his head, almost amused. “C’mon, baby, I told you. She was a mistake. She came onto me.”

Another step forward. Another step back.

You can’t believe he’s really doing this— feeding you the same tired excuses. But then again, you can. This is exactly what men like Javier Peña do.

They lie, they cheat, and they make you feel like you’re the one being unreasonable.

“Bullshit someone else, Peña,” your voice shakes again, betraying you. “I’m done with you.”

But he keeps advancing, every step pushing you back until your spine hits the cold, rough brick of the alley wall. You curse under your breath, ready to slip past him, to get out of here before he does something you can’t walk away from. But he moves faster, caging you in with his hands planted on either side of your head.

“I’m not bullshitting,” he murmurs as he leans in close. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, and despite every ounce of willpower, your body reacts.

His dark brown eyes burn into you, their intensity pulling you under. “She meant nothing. Pussy wasn’t even half as good as yours. Couldn’t even compare.” His nose brushes the side of your face, and you know he’s inhaling the scent of your perfume— the one he always loved.

“Javier…” you try to protest, but your resolve crumbles with each passing second. His hand finds your waist, slowly trailing up the length of your body, fingertips grazing your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. Your breath hitches, and you hate yourself for it.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, his voice softer now. His palm comes up to cup your breast, kneading it gently, and your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the familiar touch that your body still craves, even if your mind is screaming at you to stop.

“You’re a liar,” you breathe, barely managing to get the words out as his fingers tease your hardened nipple through the fabric of your dress.

Before you can react, his other hand moves with lightning speed, wrapping firmly around your throat. He squeezes just enough to tilt your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze. The heat in his eyes is undeniable.

“Don’t say that,” he growls. His grip tightens just slightly, enough to make your pulse quicken under his palm. “Do you know how much it fucking hurt to see another man touching you the way I did? Huh?” He leans in, his lips hovering near your ear as his breath tickles your skin. “You can be so inconsiderate sometimes, cariño.”

Your heart races in your chest, caught between anger and arousal. You should push him away, should scream at him, but the way he’s looking at you— like you’re the only thing that matters in the world— makes it impossible to move.

You open your mouth to speak, but his grip around your throat tightens just enough to rob you of breath, silencing whatever retort you had.

“Letting him put his hands on you like that…” he scoffs, his dark eyes scanning your face as if daring you to deny it. “Touching up on my pretty pussy like he had the fucking right. Like he could handle what’s mine. Even if you had fucked him, we both know he wouldn’t have left you all sore and throbbing the way I do. Wouldn’t have made you wet enough to take his small cock. You’d have to fake it. And for what? To try and make me jealous?”

His words are cutting, sinful, and despite your anger, you feel the way your arousal smears against the fabric of your underwear.

The twisted satisfaction in his voice, the way his grip tightens then loosens just enough for you to breathe— he knows exactly how to break you down, how to remind you that no one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“It seems like it worked,” you manage to gasp out, your voice a rasp as you gulp in air. “You came out here all pissed at the thought that someone else could make me feel better than you ever did.”

That’s what does it. His control snaps.

In an instant, his lips crash against yours in a bruising kiss. It’s rough, possessive, and desperate. His tongue invades your mouth, demanding and unapologetic, as if he’s punishing you for even thinking someone else could replace him.

His hand, the one that had been so firmly on your throat, moves to grope your breast, squeezing you roughly. You moan against his mouth, your body reacting on instinct, traitorous in its desire for him.

“Esos ruidos tan bonitos. Solo para mí.” He murmurs when he pulls back just enough to speak, a string of spit still connecting your mouths. His voice is low, vibrating with dark satisfaction. “Si alguien está mintiendo aquí, eres tú, chiquita.”

His words swirl in your head as you gasp for breath, but before you can form a coherent thought, his hand is already sliding down your body. His fingers trail down your waist, lingering at the hem of your dress before slipping underneath. You let out a sharp gasp, biting down on your lip as his fingers find your soaked panties.

It all happens so fast after that. The hunger between you ignites like a flame catching gasoline. The intensity of the kiss deepens, all teeth and tongues. His possessive touch makes you writhe beneath him, your body yielding even as your mind fights to hold on to some shred of dignity.

“Look at you,” he breathes against your lips, his voice dripping with desire. “Moaning for me. You always do, don’t you?”

“Javier…” You try to protest, but your words are swallowed by another moan as his fingers slip inside your panties, brushing against your throbbing clit.

“Shh, baby. Let me remind you what you’ve been missing,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers begin to stroke you. His movements are deliberate, knowing exactly how to play your body, how to coax those helpless little noises from your throat. “God, you’re so fucking wet. All for me. Always for me.”

You gasp his name, your hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers slide inside you, curling just right. The tension in your body melts, replaced with a rush of heat that pools between your thighs. Your mind blanks, lost in the feel of him— his hand working you over, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your neck.

“You mean everything to me,” he whispers into your ear, his voice ragged as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the slick sound filling the alley. “This tight little pussy? She was made for me. Feels like heaven around my fingers. Imagine how good she’ll feel wrapped around my cock, huh?”

Your body trembles, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pressure inside you builds with each thrust of his fingers. You know you shouldn’t be here, pinned against a wall, letting this man who shattered your heart pull you apart like this.

But God, his touch is addictive. His possessive words ignite every part of you.

“Say it,” he growls, his fingers curling deeper, hitting that perfect spot that makes you see stars. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Javier…” Your voice is barely a whisper, your resolve crumbling with each passing second as he drags you closer and closer to the edge.

“Say it baby,” he demands, his breath hot against your skin as his thumb presses against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. “Tell me I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.”

“No,” you gasp, using every ounce of willpower to bring your hand down, gripping his wrist, halting the delicious rhythm of his fingers inside you.

His fingers still, his breath heavy against your skin as you lock eyes with him, summoning every shred of confidence through the haze of lust clouding your mind. “You tell me that. Tell me I’m the only one who drives you this crazy.”

The tension crackles between you, thick and electric. Your chest heaves, heart racing as his dark eyes search yours.

He groans, leaning in, his lips brushing yours with a desperate hunger. “You are,” he breathes, but it’s not enough.

You can’t help but smirk, your pussy clenching around his fingers just to tease him, making him hiss through clenched teeth. “Say it like you mean it, Javier,” you demand, fueled by the fire burning between your thighs. “You broke my fucking heart, and if you think you’re going to fuck me tonight, you’re going to admit it. Tell me I did everything right. That you are the one who’s hurting. Tell me how much you miss this pussy. How you crave her on your tongue, how you miss fucking her in your bed.”

His eyes drown in lust at your command. His fingers twitch inside you, but he doesn’t move yet. Instead, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze head-on, staring straight into your soul, his breath ragged and uneven.

It’s a battle of wills, and for a second, you think you’ve won.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he purrs, and finally, his fingers begin to move again, slow and deliberate, a tantalizing rhythm that sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. “Sorry for hurting you so bad you felt the need to find another dick to hop on.” His thumb presses against your clit, making your hips buck involuntarily as you gasp at the sensation. “I fucked up. You deserve better.”

His words are laced with apology, but his actions? Pure, selfish desire. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back against the brick wall, eyes fluttering closed as a ragged moan escapes your lips.

“But I’m too selfish to let you go,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and husky. “I need you, baby. Miss how sweet you taste, how tight you feel.”

Javier’s mouth is on your neck then, his tongue darting out to lick at the damp skin, tasting the salt of your sweat as his fingers continue their relentless assault. Each stroke brings you closer to the edge, and it’s intoxicating— how easily he can unravel you, how effortlessly he pulls you apart.

Your body feels weightless, high on him, and with each praise, each filthy promise that falls from his lips, you’re hurtling toward your release. His thumb circles your clit faster now, his fingers curling deeper, and you can’t hold it back any longer.

“Javier!” you cry out, your walls clenching around his fingers as the orgasm crashes through you, making your body tremble. Your moans fill the alleyway, breathless and raw, and as you come undone, his mouth crashes into yours in a sloppy, desperate kiss.

He swallows your moans as he undoes his belt with one hand, his fingers never leaving you until the last possible second. Before you even have time to catch your breath, he’s lifting you off the ground, and instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist.

You barely have time to gasp before he’s thrusting inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one swift, brutal motion.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaim, your arms flying around his neck as he starts to pound into you, his thrusts deep and punishing. The sound of your bodies colliding, skin slapping against skin, echoes in the narrow alley. Every thrust pushes you further up the wall, and you clutch onto him for dear life as he fucks you hard, like a man possessed.

“Feels so good, baby,” he growls into your ear, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you relentlessly. “Only I can fuck you like this. Only I can make you scream.”

And you do scream, pleasure and frustration mixing together as you meet his punishing thrusts, your body moving on instinct, chasing the high that only Javier can give you.

“You feel that, pretty girl?” His voice is a low rasp in your ear, thick with need, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your core. “This—this is how I fuck what’s mine. No one else can make you feel like this. Admit it.”

His grip tightens on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he drives into you, deeper, rougher. It’s brutal how good he feels, how perfectly his cock stretches and fills you, like your body was made for him.

You hate him, hate that he can still make you feel this fucking good, but your body betrays you, responding to his every touch, clenching around him as if to hold him there forever.

“I—” you stutter, breathless, eyes crossing as the sensations drown out your thoughts. His cock is relentless, pushing you toward the edge again, and you can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips. “I—God, I hate you…”

But it sounds hollow, even to your own ears. The truth is you can’t resist him, never could. He knows exactly how to break you apart, and you despise how much you crave him, how much you need this despite the pain he’s brought you.

Javier chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your neck. “No, you don’t. You love this. You love the way I make you feel.” His lips brush the shell of your ear, biting down on your lobe. “And I love the way you fall apart for me. Just me.”

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans that threaten to spill out as he thrusts harder, faster. You can feel the pressure building inside you again, tightening with every stroke, every whispered promise of what he’ll do to you.

It’s almost too much, the way he claims you, body and soul. And the worst part? You’re letting him. You want him to.

“Say it,” he demands, his pace quickening, hips slamming into you so hard you’re sure you’ll feel it for days. His lips find yours again, his kiss angry and claiming. “Say you’re mine.”

You shake your head, gasping, fighting against the overwhelming pleasure threatening to consume you. “Javier—”

“Say it,” he growls, his voice rough and insistent as he reaches between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. He circles it with precision, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your body, pushing you closer to the brink.

“Fuck!” You cry out, the intensity of his touch stealing the breath from your lungs. Your body is on fire, trembling, and you know you’re about to shatter beneath him. “I—I’m yours…”

The words tumble from your lips in a desperate whisper, and the moment they do, it’s like something snaps inside him. His thrusts become brutal, animalistic, and your world narrows down to the feel of him— his cock, his hands, his lips, all of it overwhelming you, driving you toward that final, devastating release.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now come for me.”

And with that, you do. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing through your body with a force that leaves you breathless. Your walls clench tight around him, your moans loud and unrestrained as you come undone in his arms, shaking and trembling.

Javier groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he follows you over the edge, spilling himself inside you with a low, primal grunt. His body shudders against yours, his grip on you tightening as he rides out his release.

The world is still. All you can hear is the sound of your ragged breaths and the pounding of your heart as you both come down from the high. You’re pressed against him, his forehead resting against yours, the intensity of the moment hanging in the air between you.

But as the haze of pleasure fades, reality starts creeping back in.

You push him away, your palms flat against his chest, but he doesn’t move, if anything, he tightens his hold on you.

His brown eyes still linger on yours, filled with the same possessiveness that’s always been there.

“I told you,” he murmurs, voice low, as if this moment has proven everything he wanted to. “You’re mine.”

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @bitchesuntitled . @angiewatson .

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

This was so good!!! Got me hooked from part one and part two just blew me away!

The inner turmoil she’s dealing with?! And then now knowing her mom’s gonna be gone on a business trip?! 👀

I can’t wait to see what happens next!!!! 😍

note: I am both shocked, and grateful at the response this story has gotten. I didn't tag anyone, and I expected maybe a few people to be into it but you proved me so wrong. So thankful that you all like it, please don't be shy. Slide into the dms, spam me with asks, lets go nuts together. xo (thanks so much for going througand betaing this chapter @frannyzooey xo) Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, shower sex, really inappropriate dirty talk, slight Dom-Joel vibes, daddy kink, heavy guilt) 4k word count masterlist

--

The guilt doesn’t creep in, it consumes like a five alarm fire. It’s weight holding you pressed to your bed as the shadows in your room stretch out with the fading of the golden hour light. The darkness helps, but not nearly enough to make any kind of a difference. 

He’d left after, closing your bedroom door behind him with your slick still smeared all over his dick and the realization of what you’ve done keeps hitting you. It keeps dropping stones in your gut, further weighing you down, naked, in the incriminating wet patch on your sheets. You hear your mother open the front door an indeterminable amount of time after. Your face burns, your heart races, she has to know. Surely she’d felt it, like a phantom limb while she was working, a ghost knife in the shape of her daughter, stabbing her in the back. 

You wait, barely breathing, sheets clutched in the talons of your fingersfor her to storm in, to rip you out of the house by your skin  but it doesn’t happen. You hear him laugh, hear them chat as though nothing has happened. Your heart rate steadily lowers, and it becomes apparent that her wrath isn’t pending. 

The ax hanging over your head is being held by you, and no one else.

You stay there, uncomfortable, ashamed, cold, until it’s late enough that the house falls silent. Then, and only then do you get up and change the sheets. You pad out to the bathroom and shower, silently telling yourself that it was a temporary lapse in judgment. It was a psychotic episode. It was a hallucination, there’s no way you’d actually done that. It must have been imagined, but then you clean between your legs and feel the soreness and curse yourself all over again. 

You do your best to wash him off of you, wash the whole encounter, the whole mistake, and vow to yourself to never give it another thought. You console yourself with the thought that he must feel awful too, surely. He was probably lying there next to your mother, terrified with guilt. The devil on your shoulder, that cruel thing inside laughed at your naivety, practically yelling at you to smarten up. He doesn’t feel guilty, he’s probably snoring, his balls empty, his body pleasantly tired without a care in the world. 

Sleep eventually finds you, giving you the blissful respite of the dreamless dark.

—

A week goes by and you can almost convince yourself it had been a dream. Your mother is her normal, distant, distracted self. Joel works and blessedly you have managed to avoid any unsupervised interactions. Your brain however, has splintered and each shard has its role. The first keeps you sane, it does it best to make sure you focus on anything but the event you will not name. Another convinces you that things have almost fixed themselves since… well, that. It fools you into believing that it was somehow a cure. Things feel better in the house. The tension is gone, Joel seems disinterested, your mother is preoccupied. A tentative truce has somehow been enforced. 

There is another shard, an unwelcome and unruly and now untethered part of you that screams for a repeat performance. It begs and pleads for you to corner Joel and take what he gave again and again. The other aspects keep it restrained for most of the day. Work, responsibilities, the general needs and demands of the day take up most of your bandwidth but at night, at night it reigns supreme and without opposition. 

In the comforting dark of your now tainted space, that illicit part of you floods your mind's eye with the vision of Joel there, in your bed. It recalls the feeling of his mouth on your nipples with crystalline clarity, makes you feel the way he molded your body to take him, the way you came around his cock with that word in your mouth.

You were grateful for the toy, but he’d been so frustratingly right about it not doing much. After him, the toy was a tease. It was barely a taste of what he’d been able to do, but it didn’t stop you from using it. It was the safest option, until you could find someone appropriate. 

Or get the fuck out of that house and forget about the whole thing. 

-

More days pass, and that tension filters through your defenses.,It glides in and fills every angle of the house, every corner with a need borne of your interlude. 

Joel’s  eyes linger again, he tracks your movements whether your mother is around or not. He smiles, he tests, pushes your limits with a passing hand on your lower back. His fingers linger when he hands you a plate or a mug, he sits close enough for his thighs to press to yours on the couch, the soft light of the tv and the lamp casting shadows across you both. 

Your mother doesn’t pay attention, or doesn’t see it. You are not a threat to her relationship, why would you be? In any normal, healthy family this would never be something to be worried about, not in a million years. In proper family, a stepfather would not fuck his stepdaughter. 

A stepdaughter would not fantasize about it either.

The guilt builds the more time passes, but it wars with another, less wholesome feeling. Desire. Unadulterated lust. There is a part of you, a growing, strengthening part that craves him, that bombards you with different ways to have him inside you again, to beg him to fuck you harder, to give it to you longer, to beg for him to come inside you and mark you as his own and this scares you half to death. 

Soon though, it eclipses that guilt and takes you to the breaking point. 

It comes to a head one day, when you come home to both of them smiling and happy. 

“Hey babygirl.” 

He smiles when you set your bag down and you ignore the way your body comes to life with that endearment. 

“Go on up and get dressed, I’m takin’ my girls out for dinner.” 

Your mother beams, sliding her arms around his waist with a dreamy smile. “I got a promotion, Joel is going to treat us.” She’s in a very good mood.

“Oh, I’m alright, bit tired but you two go ahead. Have a drink for me.” You smile your sincerest smile, urging them to leave you alone. The toy floats in your brain, calling to you with the promise of the momentary relief it brings, however paltry compared to him. 

“Nonsense. Go on, we’re all goin’.” He raises an eyebrow, and you sigh, already resigned. “Go on, don’t make me ask you again, we gotta celebrate.” There is a playful, yet iron-strong tone that you know in your heart you cannot disobey. 

“We can go on our own if she wants to stay.” Your mom combs his hair back with her fingers, fixing it and he lets her, smiling down at her as you make your way up the stairs. 

“We’re all goin’-” It’s the last thing you hear him say before you close your door and go about getting dressed. 

-

It’s a pretty fancy steakhouse, a place you’d only ever been to once on a date. He’d put on a nice shirt, and your mom wore one of her nicer dresses. You couldn’t exactly wear leggings, so you’d dug out a dress of your own and trudged along despite your wish to be anywhere but. 

He slid into the booth beside you. You said nothing.

Your mother talks about her job, about how happy she is they’re taking notice of all her hard work and you’re genuinely proud of her. Growing up you don’t remember her holding down a job for more than a few months, Joel had changed that too. He’d pushed her to buckle down and take her employment seriously and it had paid off. It was just another one of those contradictory things about him, something you should have loved him for, a genuine, paternal thing but it didn’t mesh with your new dynamic.

Paternal. What a joke. 

The food is good, and you enjoy it in relative silence while your mother prattles on about her work, her manager, her team while Joel smiles and looks her in the eye. It’s almost pleasant, almost normal, the three of you, mother, father and daughter in a dark little booth celebrating a win. 

It’s almost nice, until you feel his hand on your knee under the table. 

You jump, the shock of it making you drop your fork. 

“You alright babygirl?” He smiles, genuine concern on his face as heat floods your body and you nod, frantically. With a tight smile you go to pick it up but he stops you, and ducks under the table to fish for it. Your mom laughs it off and you smile, blood pounding when you feel his hand again while he’s reaching for the fork. It moves  your skirt up, exposing  more of your thigh. 

“I’ll ask the waiter for a new one.” He sits up and winks, adjusting himself so he’s a little closer. His hand lands back on your thigh and his thumb strokes at the skin, little circles that make you lightheaded. 

“I think I need to use the little girls room.” Your mother puts her napkin on the table and for a moment you think this is your chance. f she asks if you need to go, you’ll jump at the chance – but his hand tightens, just enough to let you know to stay put. 

She doesn’t ask, and when she rounds the corner he turns to you, eyes bright with the same lust you’ve been stomping down inside. 

“Happy you’re here babygirl, been missin’ you.” His hand slides up until it’s pressed against your core. Your breath comes in pants, and you’re rendered silent. 

“Been dreamin’ about havin’ you again. Been fightin’ the urge to sneak in and spread you out on that little bed, eat that pretty little cunt til you’re cryin for me to fuck you.” 

He presses close, tilting your face up to press his lips against yours soft enough to tickle. “You been thinkin’ about me?” He presses another little kiss, and you pull away, terrified to see strangers staring at you disgusted. 

No one is looking though, and he knows. 

“Joel, stop, not here.” You’re frantic, heart racing, pussy leaking. 

“Who am I?” he raises his eyebrows, expecting. 

You close your eyes, letting out a sigh. “She’ll be back any minute.” 

“Say it babygirl, say what I know you’re wantin’ to say. Who am I?” His hand lands on your thigh again. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue and you hate that he’s right, you do want to say it. You want to scream it. 

“...Daddy.” It’s barely a whisper, but it feels so good.

“Little louder honey.” He slides up, pressing his fingers against your clit. 

“Daddy, please–” You give in, and it comes out almost a moan. There’s that sense again, of falling into a trap you hadn’t seen him set but it’s secondary to the self-satisfied smile on his face, to the way your body primes itself for whatever he deems fit. Your thighs clamp around his hand, the restaurant falls away and all that matters is his warm breath ghosting across your face, his strength, the press of his fingers.

“That’s better.” He smiles, and moves away and it’s with an unspeakable relief that you see your mother round the corner again, eyes on her feet while you adjust and move further away. The guilt gnaws at you, but the other thing rages, paints her as an interruption for a moment before you reign it in. She smiles when she slides into her side of the booth. 

“How ‘bout we get dessert? I could do with a little somethin’ sweet.” He smiles, and she agrees. 

-

They chat idly on the drive back to the house. She mentions how the excitement has given her a headache, and he urges her to go rest. It’s terrifying, the change in him: his attitude with her, his obvious care and the juxtaposition to his behavior in the restaurant. 

Needing a break from the tension he built inside you earlier, you grab a change of clothes and run for the shower, grateful for the temporary oasis. 

You try to take your time, to focus on anything and everything except the overwhelming need to be fucked into your matress. A few, blissfully steam-filled minutes later you hear the bathroom door open. 

“Mom?” You call out, but after a few silent moments you think you might have imagined it.  Until the curtain opens and Joel steps in as naked as the day he was born. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You let out  a terrified whisper and your first instinct is to cover yourself. 

“Calm down, your mama’s sleepin’. She was feelin’ drained' from work and everythin’ so she took an ambien.” He steps towards you, forcing you to take a step back.“This water’s fit to burn my skin off.” He hisses but doesn’t adjust the temperature. 

He steps under the spray while you tuck yourself against the corner, shaking from the chilly tile pressing against your back. Your arm is pressed to your front covering your breasts, and the other is cupping your pussy, hiding your bits from his gaze. In contrast, he’s unbothered by his nakedness. His cock is soft, his arms are strong, his middle a little soft, but his beauty is undeniable. This is a man’s body, and you take it in with increasing want.

Your eyes betray you, your body betrays you, everything inside you seems to scream betrayal when he’s alone with you like this. He tilts his face up into the hot spray. He’s so fucking handsome, so virile, so hung. You kick yourself as you stare at his cock, already knowing that you’re going to give in to him, despite your mother being asleep just down the hall. 

“Come on babygirl, get under the water with me.” He reaches forward, taking your hand and pulling you towards him. You let him, heart fluttering like a bird in a cage at the feel of him pressing you close to him. The water cascades over you both, steam billowing out and his hands travel the expanse of your back. They slide over your shoulders, reaching down to cup your backside. He pulls you closer, pressing his mouth to yours and you can’t help but moan. 

He smiles, moving his kisses to your neck, your shoulders and that thing inside you wins yet again.Your hands press against his chest, they move over the muscles of his arms that you cannot help but stare at, they caress his back and up to curl through the hair at the base of his neck. 

You pull his face to yours for a deeper kiss, the kiss you’ve been craving since he left you wet and trembling in your bed. He groans when your tongue licks into his mouth and then it changes. From an almost sweet exploration, to a desperate need to consume one another. His cock hardens against your belly and your cunt aches at the feel of it. 

“Give it to me, I want it.” Someone who cannot be you begs him, clutching at his hair when he licks at your neck, his hands palming at your breasts as your back hits the tile again.

“What do you want, baby?” He lifts your thigh, wrapping it around his hip as he slots his cock at the seam of your cunt. He doesn’t press, just glides it between your legs, never notching the blunt tip of it at your entrance like you hope he will. The head of it nudges at your clit and he rocks it against you, teasing you into madness. 

You know what he wants, you want it too. As hard as he is, as desperate as you know he is to slip inside, he has all the patience in the world.

He knows this. He also knows that you are much more desperate than him. 

“I want your cock daddy, please, I need it.” You all but moan, some, pathetic, half-human thing burning with a fever, begging to be fucked like a whore. Begging him. The one person you shouldn’t beg this from. 

“Such a good girl, such a quick learner.” He finally grasps himself in hand, making sure you watch him as he angles himself and slides home in one smooth, brutal stroke. The moan you let out is a loud, filthy thing. 

“Shh, can’t have you makin’ all that noise honey,” He slips his forearm under your calf to open  you up wide, his other hand coming up to wrap around your throat. He snaps his hips hard enough to make everything bounce and you cannot imagine ever being this fucking turned on, this hot for another person. 

“Or maybe you do, maybe you want your mama to come in here, see how well her babygirl takes her daddys cock.” 

You close your eyes at that, it’s too filthy, it’s too depraved but your cunt still drools out its passion for him.

“You get so wet when I tell you how well you take it, even here I can feel her soakin’ me.” He stares at the juncture of your thighs- watches himself spearing you with his cock. Your eyes are half-glazed, admiring the way his neck strains, the definition in his arms, the way his mouth hangs open. His skin red from exertion and the heat of the water.

He’s right, something inside feeds off his praise no matter how fucking wrong it is, you need it.

“Yes daddy, I like it.” You confess, already damned anyway. 

“I know baby, I know.” He lets go of your throat and holds onto your ass before sticking his tongue down your throat. You whimper into his mouth, holding onto his neck for dear life while inching closer and closer to the orgasm building in your hips, in the base of your spine.

“Wanna feel her now, come all over me honey-“ he begs in your ear, his hips stuttering slightly and a madness overtakes you as you shove your fingers into his mouth and slip them down over your clit. He moans, pressing his palm into the hinge of your knee, somehow opening you up even more and then it’s there, in your fingers, in your limbs and in your very soul. 

“Yes, that’s it baby, yes-“ he turns his thrusts into a grinding roll, and it’s with a horrified glee that you feel him paint your insides in his come. Your eyes glued to the place you’re joined, a curious thought springs up unbidden: nothing in the world could pull you away from him at that moment, with his cock inside and his hands on your body. That realization should scare you but it doesn’t. Would your mom bursting through the door make you come to your senses? Do you really want to know the answer to that question?

“Daddy… I can feel it really deep.” You say the words in what feels like a drunken stupor and he lets out a punched out groan, pulling out to watch as he drips out of the place you now know he fucking owns.

“That’s where it belongs, honey. Nice and deep.” He lowers your leg, but pulls you close and tucks you under his chin. 

“Daddy loves you, you know that right? I’m so proud of you baby.”

You’re exhausted, but the guilt doesn’t come as quickly as the first time. It’s hard for it to make it through the comfort of the hot water, the cocoon of his arms, the steady reassuring thump of his heart under your cheek. The soft press of his lips to your forehead. 

He stays. He washes your hair, cleans his come from between your legs and the fatherly lines of him blur even more. 

It’s wrong. You know it. It’s obviously so fucking wrong. But it feels so right, it feels good, it feels safe for him to shield your eyes from the suds, for him to massage the knots out of your back, for him to kiss you soft, for his fingers to pluck at your soapy nipples. 

When you’re done and in bed, you fall asleep, and dream of a steamy bathroom and soft, chapped lips at your temple.

–

The next morning finds you well-rested. That might actually bother you more than it should, comparatively speaking. That he would be the person to fuck you well enough to give you a good nights sleep seems like some cosmically cruel joke. Memories of your mother sleeping in on Saturdays after a night out with him make you groan into your pillow. 

Any acceptance, any complicity was far and foreign in the unforgiving light of day. All of the comfort you’d felt in the tail-end of that unholy shower now angered you. It was manipulation, it was coercion, how could you do that? Let him in, in all of the different ways he’d managed to push inside you in the time since you’d been home, past your protective walls and quite literally between your fucking legs. It had to be something he’d done to make you crazy. A temporary insanity, surely, 

You let out a huff, noting but almost unseeing the dust motes dancing in shafts of light coming in through the window. The guilt was heavy and hot in your belly, and not only because of the betrayal but because you knew, deep in your soul, that you would not–could not deny him. That was a fact. 

The pillow at your side found itself pressed to your face to cover the groan of frustration at the cringy realization that you were just another woman with daddy issues.

Hours you laid there, torturing yourself with so many flavors of guilt. 

Guilt at indulging, guilt at craving, guilt at knowing that you’d most likely doing it again, guilt at tentatively imagining other places you wanted him to fuck you. Guilt at the look of devotion on your mother’s face when he smiled at her. Guilt at the dark, cruel little thing that rejoiced at him wanting you so bad. 

They were both sitting at the kitchen table when you finally came downstairs. Your stomach dropped at the sight of him sitting there, in his usual place with the paper in his hands. His face gave nothing away when he looked up at you, a talent he shouldn’t have. 

“Good morning, sleep okay?” Your mom smiled, moving to the sink.

“Yeah, slept great.” You smile back and you almost feel Joel’s chest puff out. You ignore him. 

“That’s good, why don’t you come do groceries with me? I’m going to do a big trip so you guys aren’t starving while I’m gone next week.” 

She misses your frown as she empties the dishwasher. Something big wraps itself around you, something foreboding, something inescapable. His paper flicks almost imperceptibly in the corner of your eye and still, you ignore it. 

“What do you mean?” You question her, but it’s almost prophetic, because you already know.

“I thought I’d told you, I have a work trip. A conference, because of the promotion. I’m leaving on Monday morning, and I’ll be gone until Thursday. I wanted to leave the fridge full so the two of you don’t have to worry. Want to come?” 

She’s still focused on putting away the dishes when you finally meet his eye. Your stomach rolls at the wink he flashes you. You can feel his thoughts like a sunburn, skin tight with the burn of it, at the promise of all of the things you already know he’ll make you do. 

The things you know, deep down, you’ll beg him for. 

Fuck.