AHHHH!!!! This Sweeter Side Of SWAT!Joel Is Doing Things To Me!!!

AHHHH!!!! This sweeter side of SWAT!Joel is doing things to me!!!

Lo, I cannot take this sweet asshole of a man!! 🫠🥰 Got me feeling all gooey when I just know he’s gonna be an asshole again 🤣

you all the way down

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pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: vaguely dub-con (power imbalance, reader was paying a debt), masturbation, oral sex (f and m receiving), face sitting, spanking, cum swallowing, no use of y/n. word count: 4.3k summary: You have a rare moment of privacy, a chance to luxuriate in bringing yourself closer and closer to a peak you've been teasing yourself with for hours.... Until a knock at your door snatches it all away.

A/N: I hit a follower milestone this week - thank you all so much for your follows, comments, reblogs, friendship, sneaky trips into my DMs and asks, and for loving the same silly, absurd, and horny things I do.

see you next week 💛

title from I, Carrion (Icarian) by hozier.

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You didn't often do it like this. You didn't often have the time. Or the privacy.

It was a rare luxury to have the apartment to yourself, and so, for the best part of an hour - maybe more - you'd been slowly and steadily teasing yourself. With no plans and no work, you could take your time, turn the slow drag of your hands all over your body into steady smooth movements that dipped between your legs. Fingers that pinched nipples, scratched at your belly, dragged themselves over your thighs found themselves nestled between your legs dipping down and teasing. Down, and up, and around, and back down again. Sweeping through wet folds and swiping over your clit in gloriously slow strokes. You were making your own skin prickle, your own breath catch in your throat, and it was divine.

How long you teased yourself and made yourself smile and sigh in the confines of your own room, you didn't know exactly. It didn't matter. Your dad was at work and you weren't. You were here, alone, finally pushing one slicked up finger inside yourself and making yourself gasp.

Fuck, did you deserve this. You deserved the soft and the slow way you teased yourself, brought yourself close to the edge and then eased off. You deserved the way you made yourself moan, catching yourself with a laugh when you heard yourself through the blood in your ears.

You deserved to come, right here, nestled in all your soft things, thinking glorious thoughts about hands and bodies surrounding yours, overwhelming you until you came, shuddering, in their grasp.

You deserved to come begging and urging yourself on to the emptiness of your room, your own filthy mouth finding flight and soaring, working with the fingers in your cunt and on your clit to bring yourself to an edge you'd let yourself teeter on, almost making yourself cry as you held back, held off, and kept that fierce explosion at bay.

Until a knock at your door snatched it all away.

Your body registers it before your brain does. The fuse you'd ignited sputters out, your fingers still working over your clit that has suddenly gone shy and numb and unfeeling, making you twitch uncomfortably. Then, your door rattles with a heavy handed knock again, and you sit up with a start.

Fuck this asshole.

Tumbling from tangled sheets, you frantically reach for something to cover you. As you hop through your apartment, one leg in your pants, the other out, another knock hammers at the door.

"Okay! I'm coming!" Only you weren't, because that was ruined now, thanks to this heavy handed asshole and their impeccable timing.

Wiping damp fingers on your pants, you huff out a frustrated breath and try to pin a fake smile onto your face before opening the door. It swings inward, just as the start of another impatient knock begins, and in with it comes a man you should be surprised to see.

Joel Miller breezes past you - barely having to push his way in as you stare at him in stunned silence - to stand in your living room, looking curiously around at the small space.

"Nice place," he says, with a look on his face that says differently. You know it's far from a nice place. There wasn't a single apartment in this building that was a nice place. If this were normal times, the whole block would have been condemned years ago, but here you were, stuck at the end of the world in a shitty apartment that was the only place you had to call home.

As you close the door, you take a quick glance down at what you'd thrown on. The pajama pants have seen better days - everything had seen better days - and the shirt you'd grabbed has more holes in the seams than you care to even check for. It was in your pile of things to fix that you hadn't quite got around to yet and now here it was, hanging off your body like you were wearing lace, not flannel.

"What're you here for?" you ask, trying to hide the holes in your with a not-so-subtle movement of your arms.

"Like to check in on my clients from time to time," he says, finally looking you over and noticing your arms tucked tightly over your chest. "Am I disturbin' somethin'?"

Yes. "No."

"You ain't workin'?"

No shit. "Day off."

"Alright," he says, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "What's got your panties in a bunch?"

You aren't wearing any panties. "Nothing."

He's crossing the small space to stand right in front of you, and you know from the second his nostrils flair that he knows. He probably knew from the moment he came in, probably somehow even from the other side of the door. You weren't exactly being quiet, or discreet, and if there's one thing you knew it was that Joel Miller knew you just about better than anybody else.

"Bullshit, sweetheart."

If you weren't already so turned on at your own hand, you know you'd be rapidly getting wetter. Just the smell of him in your home is sending your mind, and your pussy, into overdrive. He's never stepped foot in here before, and you know you shouldn't like it. A man like Joel, a man who has clients to come check on, isn't someone you should be happy to have snooping about in your apartment and your business.

But one look at that cocky smirk on his face, and you know you'd be very happy to have him snooping around your business. In fact, by the way your pussy pulses at the sight of him, you think you'd be happy to have him very deep in your business right here pressed up against your front door.

Instead, in a last ditch effort to retain your dignity, you push the frustration back into your voice and step around him, throwing your hands into the air.

"You just come here, pound at the door, and then bust right in here the second I open it! I was - I'm busy, Joel."

"Busy?" Joel scoffs. You can see the thought as it comes to him, sly smile twitching the corners of his mouth as he fakes disinterest. "Then go right on ahead and get back to what you were doin', don't mind me."

You stare him down, heart pounding in your throat. The distance between you is still small. You could be on him in an instant. You think you could use the element of surprise and tackle him to the ground. His coat would come off easy enough, but beneath that who knows what he's wearing. Probably layers. Fucking Boston. Still, you didn't exactly need all of them off, you only needed access to one thing, and when your eyes flick down to the bulge in his jeans you resolutely set your shoulders and turn around.

"Fine."

A button falls from loose threads as your hands fly down the front of your shirt. In no time at all you're flinging it over your shoulder, hitting Joel square in the face where he stands in your bedroom doorway, watching.

He catches it in one hand, fingering one of the holes. "This what you call, busy?"

The pajama pants you'd tied about your waist drop to your feet and in no time at all you're naked again, climbing onto your bed, the pillows and sheets you were nested in welcoming you back in - still warm. "Like you didn't know, asshole."

"I ain't got a sixth fuckin' sense, sweetheart."

You glare at him from across the room and he shrugs, leaning casually on the doorframe as he watches you lie back. If you didn't know better, you'd think he didn't know where to look. One moment he's looking at the scowl on your face, and the next he's looking down at your breasts, the curve of your ass, taking a peek between your legs as you shuffle down your bed. It's all going so fast, you think for once you may just have the upperhand. Joel Miller, you think, is flustered.

He watches you as you stroke down your body, quicker than the slow, teasing pace you'd set with yourself earlier. Your thighs fall open as your hands reach your hips, and your fingers reach down to spread yourself as he watches on.

"This what you were doin'?"

"Yes, now can you shut up."

You shut your eyes and get back to where you left off. You're still wet and slick, your fingers slipping easily back into the grip of your pussy. If you just try to block him out, standing in the doorway staring between your spread legs, you can get right back where you left off. You can find that edge again, even through the oversensitivity. You know you can, and this time, you're going to throw yourself screaming over it.

Curling your fingers, you reach down and twist your torso until you can reach that delicious spot you found earlier. Then, your other hand begins working back over your clit, spit slicked and swiping eagerly over the sensitive nub. Picking up the pace, you try to ignore the twitches in your legs and the way your thighs already want to clamp shut on your own hands.

You ignore it, that is, until Joel chimes in from the doorway.

"You're gonna rub the fuckin' thing clean off if you keep goin' at it like that."

Hitting the bed in frustration, you growl and sit up again, staring wild eyed at him. "If you're such a fucking expert, then why don't you get over here and help me. I am naked, Joel, and my cunt is right here."

Your mouth snaps shut the moment you gesture down to your spread legs. You snap them shut too. By the way he's silently peeling off his coat, you're certain you've fucked up, though you can't say you're too mad about it. With any luck, he'll fuck you to within an inch of your life in a way so satisfying your ruined orgasm will be all but forgotten.

With his coat discarded, he pulls off a sweater and unbuttons his shirt - flannel and significantly less holey than the one you've just thrown at him. Then, he grabs a pillow you'd discarded earlier and sits at the edge of your bed.

"C'mere," he beckons as he lays back, folding the pillow and shoving it behind his head.

You don't move. You're frozen in place as he shifts and gets himself comfortable. You don't know what this is, what he's planning, but you're certain it's something he's never done before. And it's going to happen right here, in your bedroom, the very place you'd spent night after night dreaming of the many wonderful ways he would fuck you.

"You want my help, or not?" he says in frustration, looking over to you where you're rooted in place. You nod stupidly, and follow the beckon of his fingers until you're kneeling by his side.

His rough hands find your thigh and push you until you're sat up on your knees. Then, he's dragging one of your legs over his clothed chest until you're straddling him, trying to keep the wet mess between your legs from soaking through his shirt.

"Up here," he says. "Want that pussy, and I ain't kneeling for it."

And suddenly it all clicks into place and you are mortified. For everything he'd done to you, for how much you knew he loved to look, you'd never once done something like this to him. You felt awkward even riding him, until his flithy words of encouragement and the drag of his cock inside you knocked every thought out of your brain.

Now, he was wanting you to sit on his face, somehow not suffocating him in the process. So, you laugh, shaking as you hold your weight above his chest.

"Look like I'm jokin' to you?" he says in a tone so stern and serious your eyes force their way down to where his face sits perilously close to the apex of your legs.

Which, of course, is a fucking mistake. He's licking his lips and looking up at you - all over every inch of you - eating you alive with his stare.

He pushes and pulls you then, dragging you up his chest until your knees are settled either side of his face. You can feel the gust of his breath against your thighs just before he hauls you forward a little more until his half face is completely covered by your cunt, only his eyes and the bridge of his nose visible now.

"Fuckin' christ. You're a mess down here. You been goin' at it for a while, huh?" he says, and you can feel every word blow against you even as you hover as far as you can above his face.

"Uh-huh," you say, a kiss sucked to your thigh striking stealing all thought from your mind.

"Get real close?" he says, with another kiss, hands kneading at your thighs and ass as they wrap around you and try to tug you closer.

You nod, hoping he can see you as your eyes slip closed with the feeling of him right here, between your legs, in your room.

"Hm. That's a damn shame, sweetheart. Bet you're achin' for it somethin' fierce right now, ain't you?" he asks from between your legs. You look down and you know in that moment the fucked look on your face says more than you ever could when he hums, spreading your thighs apart with his strong fingers.

"Better sit your ass down then," he mumbles into your thigh, pulling you down. "That's it, bring it here. Ain't strainin' my fuckin' neck for it, give it to me."

So you do. You settle down slowly onto his face, listening as he guides you down until you feel the first broad swipe of his tongue up through your folds.

"What'd I say," he says, swallowing the taste of you. "A fuckin' mess."

He kisses around your clit, nudging it with the curved tip of his nose when he finally licks up into you again. And then, he's pulling your flush to his face and feasting.

The noise that leaves you is stupid. Somewhere between a gasp and a moan and a question all at once. His nose is pressed against you, his laughter fanning out across your mound as you try not to squirm and wiggle against him, fearful of crushing his head beneath your weight, or at the very least suffocating him.

His face burrows deeper, his hands holding you firm, squeezing and scraping calloused fingertips against your delicate skin. The scruff on his cheeks feels rough against the places you were so soft with earlier, and you don't care in the slightest.

It works, you think.

Where the soft feel of your own hands felt too much - too familiar - to the parts of you that were now too sensitive to them, the rough, all consuming movements of Joel's mouth on your swollen pussy feels like a welcome relief as he laps at your hole, slick and dripping from your thwarted solo session.

His hands move from anchoring you to his face, locked around your thighs, to pressing against your ass, gripping the globes of them in each of his broad hands.

And then, as if it wasn't all so much already, he begins to stroke up and down your seam, pulling you apart, dipping into your dripping cunt and teasing over your exposed asshole as he laps and suckles away at your clit.

Still, as good as it all is, you can't let go. You can't get back to that place you'd climbed so close to. You feel exposed, sat upright with the frigid October air of your bedroom encasing you. Self-conscious too - all chins and bad angles and slouchy shoulders. And, most of all, you were terrified you were going to hurt him. One wrong twitch or snap shut of your legs and his air supply would be gone, or his neck snapped, and you'd have a dead man in your bed and -

A sharp slap connects with your ass cheek, Joel's strong hands pulling you upwards from his face, cheeks glistening and lips swollen red.

"Lean forward," he says, with a nip to your thigh.

As you go to move, walking forward on your knees, a hand grips your waist, and another slap hits your thigh, rippling your skin where it frames his face.

"Said lean, not fuckin' move off. You're gonna sit right here 'til you come, but you ain't comin' any time soon if you don't fuckin' lean and relax."

A strong hand pushes at your lower back then, making you hinge forward until your elbows collide with the bed. Your ass is in the air, legs spread just wide enough that your bare cunt is tantalizingly close to Joel's mouth, and now you get it. You shift on your knees, soothing the small ache that had built up, and look down at the brown-grey hair between your legs that's sucking hickies into your thighs.

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs as he marks you, delivering swift, gentle smacks to your ass as you groan, planting your cheek firmly against your bed.

You drag a blanket toward you, covering yourself a little and tucking your face into the softness of it. Joel's smacks turn to scrapes of his blunt nails over the backs of your thighs and then, when your brain finally switches off and you fall into that mindless, soft place that has you feeling heavy and floaty all at once, you press your hips forward and drag your bare pussy across Joel's waiting tongue.

Joel's groan of approval blends into your own wanton moans. What was a soft drag of his tongue on your clit quickly turns to the sensitive nub being sucked into his eager mouth, your hips winding and grinding now you can finally relax.

"Fingers. Please. Need your fingers."

It doesn't even sound like you. It's breathier and more pathetic than you think you've ever sounded, but you can't bring yourself to care when suddenly Joel is releasing your clit to slurp on two of his own fingers, before plunging them deep into your empty pussy.

"Yes, yes, yes, like that. Fuck. Joel."

Each orbit of his tongue on your clit sends a new throb directly through your core, clenching down on the digits curling into you, and you're right back to teetering on that edge. You figure you could let yourself fall over it now. It'd be more like collpasing over it in an exhausted heap, but you know it'd be a satisfaction you wouldn't otherwise have got today.

Or you could wait. You could hold yourself back and use his face to tease yourself, to bring yourself back from the brink once, twice, before you take the final running jump right over it.

Your hands have made up your mind for you when you card trembling fingers through his hair and pull him back, forcing his head down into the pillow he'd propped under it not long ago, and stopping your orgasm in its tracks.

One.

Then, when he's licking broad stripes up and down your glistening folds, something takes hold of you and you begin to fuck yourself against his fingers, swiping your pussy against the flat of his tongue as you rock gently back and forth. His tongue, then his nose, grind against your clit with each rock of your hips, and soon your shaking legs can't move yourself any more.

Two.

Whatever running jump you'd hoped for isn't in your hands now. It's not in your control from the moment Joel tucks a third finger into your pussy, so slick and dripping you're certain you'd have no issue taking more if he decided to give them to you. Instead, you're being carried by him, limp and panting in his arms as he throws you mercilessly over the edge, and you let him.

You come with a cry, fists balling in sheets. Your hips rock and cant against his face, twitching uncontrollably as you pulse and gush around his fingers. His tongue is relentless on your clit, circling over and over until you're begging a jumbled garble of words, too weak to lift yourself off of him.

Then, in a last ditch effort, you throw yourself forward, still coming as you finally release yourself off of his face.

It takes your brain a second to reconnect with your body. Even after the aftershocks have subsided, you're still panting and groaning. Or he is. Maybe both of you are.

Both of you are.

Still quivering, you turn to him. His eyes catch yours before you can take in the state of him. They're darker than you've ever seen them, his blown pupils turning his irises almost black. Then, you see the glistening wet on his chin, his plush lips turned plumper, red and swollen from kissing and sucking at you. And, even lower still, you see the movement of his arm, his bicep rocking in a steady movement, his forearm flexing with each jerk of his fist, his cock weeping in his hand.

"Get down here," he growls.

You scramble to turn, limbs clumsy, and flop down against his side, knees tucked awkwardly under you. His free hand grips your ass, kneading and spreading you so he can look at the mess he made of you, while he guides his cock to your mouth with the other.

"C'mon now, ain't gonna take much. That's it. Fuck."

He groans when you swallow him down, almost gagging when you take him too deep too quickly. Your fist curls around the base of him, taking up the space you can't quite reach, and you bob your head, swirling your tongue, unable to keep your moans quiet as you taste him.

No sooner have you started, and he's twitching beneath you, the muscles in his groin flexing to hold back, to hold on.

"Want you to swallow it all," he pants. "Don't want - fuck - you to miss a single drop."

His fingers push back into your tender hole then - the inviting warmth of it obviously too much to resist when it's swaying there right in front of him, and you welcome him back in with a sigh.

"Such a fuckin' mess."

You moan in agreement, sucking his cock deeper into your mouth. You can't see him. You don't need to. You know he's close by the way his balls draw tight and his moans get so desperate, his fingers stilling their slow exploration inside you.

And then, he's spurting into the back of your throat - you bet he has his eyes closed - and you swallow over and over, the salty burst of him barely registering on your tasetbuds as you eagerly swallow everything he has to give.

"Get it all. That's it. Swallow it. Fuck, sweetheart."

You suck and lick until his fingers pull out of you and grip your thigh, too sensitive for you to carry on your gentle licks against his head.

With one last gentle suck, you release him with a pop and flop beside him, smiling dozily to yourself as your hands play against your belly.

Joel lays with you for a moment too, his cock going limp against his belly before he tucks it away and sits up.

"Y'always like this after you fuck yourself?" he asks, and you nod, watching the way he stretches his neck and shoulders. You think you are, anyway. Mostly, you fall straight asleep. It's only on these rare occasions you get to fuck yourself with your fingers and take your time that you ended up smiling and satisfied at a job well done.

"Get up here," he says again a moment later, tugging gently at your limp arm. He could manhandle you - he's done it before, he's plenty strong enough - but he doesn't. Instead he waits patiently until you're on your knees in front of him, almost matching his height where he stands and you kneel.

"What'd'ya say?" he asks, pinching your chin. "Tha..."

"Thank you, Joel," you say, with a roll of your eyes. "But, technically, it's your fault I even needed your help in the first place."

With a quick slap to your ass, he pushes your chin away with his thumb, before dragging your face right back to his. "Alright smartass. C'mere."

Then, he kisses you. Full on the mouth, kisses you.

And, when you slip your tongue against his bottom lip, tasting yourself on the fullness of it, he doesn't object. He meets you in the middle instead, tasting himself on your tongue as you taste yourself on his.

"Always go so fuckin' dopey for kisses," he says with a laugh against your mouth, and you moan an agreement as your head falls back. You're exhausted, right down to the bones, and now the mornings events are catching up with you.

"I do. You don't mind tasting your cum."

Honest too, apparently, and Joel shakes his head.

"S'mine, and I fuckin' put it there. Nice knowin' you taste of me, sweetheart. If it ain't one hole, it oughta be another."

He shrugs his jacket on, and pulls his shoes onto his feet, before he sees himself out. He pats you gently on the ass as he leaves, closing your bedroom door behind himself. You listen out for the front door, and when it slams, you let the fuzzy feeling take hold - your eyes catching sight of his flannel shirt on your dresser right before you're dragged under.

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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 🖤

I’VE MISSED THEM SO MUCH!!!!

😍😍😍

AHHHHH!!! THEY SAID IT!!! Kicking my feet and smiling like an idiot 😍

ungodly and unprofessional

5.6k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

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summary: who said anything about falling in love? you're just co-workers. warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), smoking, descriptions of food and drink, reader is described to have hair (not descriptive of what color/length/etc.) and wears a waitress uniform, explicit smut, consensual somnophilia, swearing, pet names, allusions to bad parenting/parental abuse, descriptions of a parent abusing drugs and alcohol (please heed these warnings and do not read if you are concerned these may be triggers), lastly not beta'd (lmk if you're interested!) A/N: five or six months later, who really knows. believe it or not, I was never not working on this or thinking about it for all of those months... which is crazy. I completely wing these chapters which is probably why it takes so long but you guys don't mind, right? enjoy these cuties falling deeper <3

“To love someone is firstly to confess: I'm prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy-Ray Belcourt. 

You have this silly poetry book someone gave you as a birthday present or holiday gift exchange a few years ago. You’ve never picked it up until now. You’re shocked to say all of these cheesy love quotes and poems make you think of one very specific person: a guy with dark curls, a scruffy beard, amber eyes, and the perfect smile. Francisco. 

Falling for a man like Frankie feels like growing up— a sign of maturing compared to the ghosts of terrible boyfriend's past. 

Come to find out, it’s easier to go for the wrong guys, easier on your heart in a way — you don’t feel like you are actually losing anything. 

That’s why you would bet on losing dogs. Invest your emotions and need for romance in those who don’t reciprocate. The ones who despise commitment or lack emotional availability leave you in a state of disappointment. 

Better that than full-blown heartache. Better than ripping yourself open at the seams for another, only to be the one to sew yourself back up again. But not better than winning. 

The letter Frankie’s father sent him weeks ago had been burned into your brain. Every single word, each break of a new paragraph, lines of apologies, and convincing stories of ‘the good times’ they used to have. 

Frankie appeared to be just as wary about the letter as you were, neither of you so easily trusting. Frankie didn’t trust his father, but you did trust Frankie—end of story. 

You’ve never known Frankie to be so tightly closed about something that bothers him. He was the type of man who wears his heart on his sleeve, an open book. 

Aside from allowing you to read the letter, you two have barely spoken about it. And not due to your lack of trying. 

There wasn’t a need for you to bring clarity to the situation, it wasn’t up to you to encourage Frankie to allow his father back into his life. But there was still a lot of emotional trauma that he carried that he didn’t have to bear alone. You just wanted him to know that you support him in whatever avenue he decides is best. 

To forgive or to forget. 

Frankie releases a sigh from his parted lips, squeezing his eyes closed tighter as your alarm chimes from your phone on the bedside table. He hates the fucking morning shift. 

The air is sticky and thick, and the fan on his bedroom ceiling is doing little to help. Late August is still taking its toll on Texas and its residents, but he’s reminded that this time last year, he sunk down on his knees in the back kitchen and tasted you on his tongue for the first time. Can’t believe it’s been a year since then. Plus all the events that have transpired since. 

There’s no label between you two other than the fact you are exclusive— putting your focus on each other and not seeing other people. It was good, better than nothing with you. 

His eyelashes finally flutter open, seeing you shift in the dark to turn off the alarm, only to dig your face deep into your pillow. He thinks you’re fucking adorable. 

Frankie is by no means a morning person, but waking up beside you has changed his perspective. Your hair is a scattered mess, the ponytail having fallen loose in the tosses and turns of last night. The sunlight peaking through the blinds highlights the slope of your nose and Cupid’s bow. Arms tucked into your front, leg hiked up like a ballerina.

His mind starts to swirl at the conversation you shared recently, that you wanted to try something… new. To be surprised. To be taken by him in your sleep. 

He was shocked to hear you say it, all shy and meek - it’s not a side of you he sees often. But it’s the vulnerability talking, advocating the trust you share together. 

“I want to wake up with you inside me.”

Frankie had to blink a few times, his large hand cradling your jaw as you spoke in whispers between the sheets. “You— I didn’t know you’d be into that sort of thing.”

“We don’t have to if it’s not your thing. But there’s something about you moving me where you want me to be, being completely under your control, even a little helpless,” you pause, uncertain if your words would scare him off. 

The exact opposite. Frankie was intrigued. 

“The thrill of trying not to wake you up.” He continues, watching your glowing smile return, indicating that Frankie understands why this would feel good to you. 

“My natural reaction, trusting you, knowing that you’ll be careful, knowing that you’re using me— it’s hot, Frankie. You have my consent, I wanna try.” 

Frankie’s stomach churns with excitement, butterflies spreading through his abdomen and up to his chest, his heart thunking eagerly. 

He was slow and methodical, not wanting you to stir from your sleepy state. Nipping at his lower lip, teeth piercing the skin, he works up the courage to touch you. A rough and calloused hand travels up your side, pushing up your sleep tee and watching goosebumps line the tips of his fingers.

Frankie presses slow kisses to the top of your shoulder, feeling his cock swell against the plump of your ass in all of the excitement. He whispers your name, soft and raspy with the morning hour. Other than a small twitch of your nose, you’re out cold. 

“Shh, s’okay angel, m’gonna make you feel good.” The desire stirs in his stomach, urging him to please you in your sleep just like you asked. 

With two crooked fingers, he curls them around the band of your panties and slowly drags them down your soft thighs. You let out a slow sigh between your parted lips, Frankie pausing to watch as you settle once more. 

 Slipping two skilled fingers between your legs, he slowly massages up and down your folds. He’s surprised to already feel the slick between your legs, a low groan of approval leaving the depths of his throat. 

There’s a shift, your hips squirming for more of his touch. You’re so perfectly pliant for him, causing the embers low in his belly to grow with anticipation, the blood rushing to his cock as it hardens against the curve of your ass. 

“Good girl,” he remarks as you let out a little whimper upon the pads of Frankie’s fingers finding your swollen clit. “Even asleep, you’re nice and wet for me, princess.” 

Goddammit, he thinks, how does she have this much of an effect while perfectly asleep? He can’t stand the feeling of not touching her, the carnal need to take her was strong like a magnet, forcing their bodies together. 

One yank and he was out of his briefs, chewing on his lower lip in concentration. He needed to move you, to perfectly fit in the nook of your body, you’d have to be good and yield to him. 

Frankie hikes up your leg and fills in the spaces between your bodies, stroking over himself as he slowly lines his leaking tip along your entrance. Just as he notches his tip inside, a quiet and sleepy gasp leaves your perfect pillowy lips. 

“Right there, baby, you just stay right there for me,” Frankie growls against your ear, his hips flush with yours as he slowly lets inch by inch of him be swallowed by your warm cunt. 

After that, there wasn’t a lot of nicety to him. The level of control he carried was lost. He just wanted to take and take, feel and fuck. He wants to use you like his own personal toy; do whatever he pleases with no resistance. You were his to devour. 

He’s still inside you, but he’s gotten this far, and you’re still out. Even in sleep, you’re pulsing around his cock, so fucking tight around him that it steals the air from his lungs. There’s a hint of discomfort in your face, a quiet gasp held within your expression. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, the hand he holds firmly on your hip now moving under your sleep tee. 

You were so fucking accessible to him, so beautiful, so peaceful being fucked raw. 

He rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, getting the reaction he’s been waiting for all morning. A sweet, slow moan tumbles loose from your throat, your hips reeling back to grind against Frankie’s lap. 

He’s somewhat pleased he knows you this well, knows what gets you worked up and gushing. The fact that even in your sleep, you have this reaction towards him makes the fire burning inside his abdomen grow. Maybe a deep part of him gets off on knowing you so well. 

Frankie lets out a sigh at his own thoughts, lightly nipping the skin of your exposed shoulder as he slowly rolls his hips back and glides in again, feeling the drag of your tight pussy keeping him lubed up and warm.

If he weren’t so desperate to fuck you, he’d love to just sit inside you like this all goddamn day. It would probably give him the same comfort as the first cup of coffee. 

He gives your breast one more firm squeeze before returning the attention back to your clit, all desperate and tingling with each eager circle he gives you. 

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers against your ear, his hips continuing at a steady pace until he simply needs more. He hikes up your leg once again to allow himself more movement, smirking as your ass smacks against the front of his hips with each thrust that now jostles your body. 

You’ll surely wake any moment, shocked and sleepy and startled at his cock so deep inside your perfectly spent cunt. 

You whimper each time he fills you, your face digging into the pillow as you moan against the cover. Frankie’s efforts grow needy and demanding, fisting your hair out of his way as he sucks marks into your neck; teeth and tongue massaging the skin before leaving a bruise in its wake.

A sweet little sob exits your parted lips, Frankie groaning at the pretty little noises you make. 

“Take me so well, princess. You want me to keep fuckin’ you, huh?” He snarls against your neck, smirking as you hiss at the sensations you’re feeling all throughout your body.  

Suddenly, your eyes flutter open. They absorb the settings around you and it all clicks. A long, desperate moan crawls from the depths of your throat, your movements sluggish but your hand eventually clasps onto Frankie’s forearm, his fingers still swirling around your clit. 

“Ohmy— Frankie, fuck,” you gasp as you feel the full force of his cock drilling deep inside your pussy. Your voice is still thick with sleep, eyes cloudy with lust, and skin-prickling sensations that you had never felt before; a million emotions, but the standout being desperation to come undone like this with a man you trust. 

“This what you wanted, angel? Wake up with my cock stuffed between your legs?” Frankie smirks as he presses his lips against your cheek, jaw dropping against your own as you ride out the high together. 

You cry out something wrecked, a garble of syllables as your spine arches against his front. You weren’t given the pleasure of feeling the orgasm build and build; you woke up at its high heat. 

In an instant, your skin was clammy, hair sticking to your skin as desperate pants filled the room, along with broken moans of Frankie’s name. 

It’s exactly what you wanted, maybe better. Yes, way better. 

You’re so tight, literally clinging to every single inch he gives you as your slick drenches his cock. Your nails dig into his tan skin, feeling the muscles and tendons work to play with your clit. 

A whimper leaves you as the warmth in your stomach boils over, turning your head over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of his face. His eyes are dark, cast over with lust as he stole you in your sleep. In an instant, he meets you with a messy kiss, your bodies and the bed still jolting with each rough thrust he gives you. 

“Please,” you moan against his lips, nodding your head as you look into his eyes. “Come inside me, I wanna feel it, please, give it to me, Frankie,” your words turn into a whine as he begins to fuck you harder, deeper, his tip tickling your cervix as you damn near blackout from the pleasure. 

The pleasure inside of you finally reaches the surface. The feeling was like a wave breaching over your rocky shores, washing over you both in pleasure as your cunt spasms around his thick cock. 

Frankie spoils your clit as his hips snap against your ass, one, two, three more times before the feeling of you overcomes him. He braces you tightly in his arms, panting against your shoulder, eyes clenching closed as he lets out broken grunts of release. He paints your insides with his spend, both of you relaxing in one another’s hold as you slowly descend from heaven. 

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie breathes, shaking his head with a tilted smirk. “You don’t know what you do to me.” He remarks as you look over your shoulder in a haze. 

You whimper as you pull him in closer, fingers weaving into the curls at the back of his head and encouraging him to meet your parted lips. 

The words are at the tip of your tongue, and you can feel them spread heat throughout your body. You can hear both of your hearts beating, thundering against the human flesh, and signaling the feeling of being alive. 

Frankie waits for the words. The feeling of anticipation has been lingering for quite some time. Your touch of nervousness was welcome, expected even. A moment in time when your heart feels exposed but also overwhelmingly full. Only hoping that the other person feels the same way, yet uncertain of how they will respond. A game of chicken of who will say it first and who will have to respond. The leap of faith one will be forced to make and the right words the other will have to find.

Both roles are downright frightening. 

You’re risking everything, the biggest gamble one can make without physical currency. 

But he sees the panic behind your eyes, the nervewracking feeling of saying the sacred words to someone, maybe even for the first time. And he knows that they will be worth it to hear. 

“I know,” he whispers against your lips, shaking his head in a way that tells you he knows what you’re thinking. “I know.” 

You don’t attend church, so you have one question: why the fuck is God sending people to get brunch after Sunday’s service? Why is that their beck and call? 

Every Sunday morning, like clockwork, a flock of people flood the diner with their church clothes and a hankering for waffles and Frankie’s house lumberjack skillet (you wanna know what’s in it, don’t you?)

Frankie’s Secret Ingredients:

Potatoes: 1/4 lb (about 4-5 small potatoes)

Olive Oil: 1/2 tablespoon

Breakfast Sausage Links: 3 oz (about 4 links)

Onion: 1/8 of a whole onion, chopped

Red Pepper: 1/4 of a whole red pepper, chopped

Jalapenos: 1/2 jalapeno, sliced (omit if person looks too old to handle)

Butter: 1 tablespoon

Hickory Maple Seasoning: 1/2 teaspoon

Eggs: 2 large eggs

Milk: 1 tablespoon

Cheddar Cheese: 2 tablespoons, shredded

Anyway, Tommy’s Diner is slammed by mid-morning, and you’re working up a sweat. You’re wiping at your neck and forehead every few minutes, and the sun filtering through the windows does little justice to cool your skin. Tina called out sick, which is code for hungover from Saturday. It’s overwhelming. Your brain feels like the scrambled eggs you just plated for that family of four.

“Enjoy,” you whisper a little breathlessly, tucking your notepad into the front of your apron, rubbing at your temple with the heel of your hand as you walk past the rest of your tables. 

By the time you lift your head, you see a large potbelly man who is waving an arm up above his head, fingers already snapping incessantly. He looked like a chubby rat, with a large dark-haired mustache and a shirt that didn’t fully cover the beer gut he was sporting.

“Uhm, hello? Miss, can we get some service over here?” 

Jesus fucking Christ. Your jaw tightens a few notches, pushing your hair out of your face and wrapping around to their table. You remember them; you took their table’s order a bit ago now - shit, did you forget their plates? No, you didn’t. 

Stopping at the head of their table, you smile politely at the large family. 

“Hi, can I get you something while you wait?”

The man scoffs and snaps, “Uh, yeah, our food.”

Taking a deep breath wasn’t enough; you were a ticking time bomb. “Sir, do you see how many people are in the diner? We’re at capacity with a line out the door. I understand you’ve been waiting, but our kitchen is backed up and-” 

“Bull-honkey-bullcrap, little miss,” the man raises his voice, spitting violently with each syllable, “This is ridiculous! We’ve been sittin’ here for nearly an hour. How hard is it to make some eggs and Mickey Mouse pancakes, huh? You just that stupid? What the hell is goin’ on back there? Are you people completely incompetent, or are you just ignorin’ us?”

Worse things have been said to your face, but you’re at your breaking point. You can feel your face flush with warmth radiating throughout your body. Now, the entire diner is staring at you from all the commotion. Your lungs feel tight, a headache casting heavy behind your face. Tears line your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall. 

“Again, I’m really sorry, but like I said, the kitchen is backed up.” But apologizing isn’t enough. This guy just wanted someone to take his punches. 

“Don’t even try to apologize. I don’t wanna hear your pathetic excuses. How hard is it to cook some damn eggs? This place is a joke. You must be the worst server I’ve ever dealt with. ‘Nd I swear, if I wanted this kind of useless service, I’d go to a fast food joint. Is this how you treat payin’ customers, or ya’ll just this lazy? Do your job, or I’ll make sure everyone knows how worthless you and this diner is.”

You clutch the empty coffee pot tightly, biting your tongue. Turning swiftly, you head straight for the back swinging door. You don't intend to contribute to the chaos or the bustling mess in the kitchen, but here, in the safety of the back section, you allow a few stray tears to escape.

Shoulder blades hitting the cold brick, you wish to blend into the wall. It feels like the air’s been knocked out of you, your chest heavy and tight. Every sound around you blurs as the man’s harsh words replay in your mind, louder and louder each time. Your hands shake just enough to want to hide them behind your back, feeling afraid to have eyes on you in such a vulnerable state. Exposed. You’ve absorbed the anger meant for something or someone else, so now, it sticks to you, something you can’t wash away. 

Your name echoes once, twice. 

“Hey,” A calm amongst the rushing waves - it’s Frankie. You blink him into focus, bleary tears slowly fading away. His red bandana is tied tight around his forehead to catch the sweat from his forehead and hair. His face is laced with concern. He wipes his hands off on his apron, gently capturing your face as he shields you from the rest of the kitchen. 

And just like that, life returns to your body. You can feel the tips of your fingers, previously tingling, wiping under your eyes as you hiccup through your breaths. Frankie knows this high-traffic area will only make your anxiety worse. 

“It’s okay, take a deep breath and tell me what happen.”

The eyes of the kitchen staff are slowly starting to turn to you, asking if you’re alright and why you’re upset. Shaking your head dismissively, you blink away your tears and look down at the grubby floor that probably hasn’t been mopped since the invention of flip phones. 

“I’m fine. This customer just got pissed and yelled at me. He was upset that his food was running behind, and I tried to explain that the kitchen was backed up.” You part your lips to continue, but the jaw drops of the kitchen staff signal shock by your words. 

They all start honking in unison like a flock of geese. 

“He what?”

“Which fuckin’ table?”

“I’d knock’em out if I wasn’t on probation.” 

But that doesn’t sit well with Frankie, not at all. His back straightens, having previously been craning to see your face, now strict with annoyance. 

“Is that him?” Frankie asks as he walks to the window between the kitchen and the back counter, narrowing his eyes on the rat man and his family. 

“Frankie, please don't,” you huff, already refilling your pots of coffee and hoping to just forget the whole thing ever happened. 

But it’s not okay. Because this guy made you cry, and what the hell was it for? Some scrambled eggs and bacon on delay?

The rest of the line cooks have abandoned their food to gawk at the asshole who thinks he can get away with yelling at one of their own like that. 

Frankie tightens his bandana and peels off his gloves, slapping them down in the trash. 

His boots thunder across the linoleum, catching the attention of many of the patrons on his way to the booth by the window where the rat man has continued to reside angrily. Even worse, he chuckles at the sight of Frankie. 

“What, the crybaby went to complain? Bring her back. I’ll tell her I’m sorry.” He sneers, shaking his head. 

“No, you’re done with her. You’re dealin’ with me now.” Frankie snags an empty chair from a nearby table, turns it around, and straddles the seat as he gets aggressive with the burly man. 

“I just feel terrible that we’re not meeting the quality of service you expected. What seems to be the problem?” Frankie asks with a hint of venom lining his words. 

“Well- we’ve been waitin’ here for half an hour and-”

“Right, and what did the pretty waitress say?”

The man scoffs lightly, feeling embarrassed with all the eyes on him not once but twice now. “Well, she said the kitchen was backed up.”

“That’s right, that’s right, well, I’m the fuckin’ kitchen. You wanna yell at someone? Well, I thought I’d give you the chance to yell at me since I’m the reason we’re a little behind. Go ahead, I can take it. Give it to me like you gave it to her.”

The rat man stares blankly, looking from left to right in surprise, but his family all gawks at Frankie. 

Frankie waits, eyes unblinking, face hardened as the man sputters up something weak in response. 

“This is ungodly and unprofessional,” he gargles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

“You’re absolutely right!” Frankie says, smacking the table with his closed fist before pointing at the rat man, the tip of his finger inches from his face. “I am unprofessional, but that’s because I don’t have the great customer service skills of our waitresses. That’s her job,” Frankie juts a thumb backward towards the kitchen in your direction. “So now, instead of cookin’ you and your ugly wife and kids some food, I gotta come out here and knock some sense into ya since you seemed to have lost your manners. So you gonna let her do her job so I can get back to mine?”

You can only watch from the window in shock, hand over mouth, unblinking eyes - but it’s like a car crash you can’t look away from. The man is shocked into an embarrassed silence. 

“We’ll just… we’ll wait. There’s-uh-there’s a lotta people here.” 

Frankie sighs and smiles with fake relief. He stands from the chair, looking around the quiet restaurant. 

“Everybody else enjoyin’ their food?”

They all seem too scared of Frankie to complain again to the psycho chef. Chants of ‘Everything’s great!’ or “Thank you!” echo through the dining room. 

You smile warmly, forcing yourself to turn away from the scene and clean up your teary makeup in the bathroom. But all you can think about is Frankie. Francisco. Stupid Catfish. Stepping in like that to protect you, to make that jerk take accountability. It makes your heart flutter knowing how much he cares. And you feel the same way.

It’s about time you tell him. 

Knuckles wrap against the bathroom door, and an echo of, “You okay?” follows. 

He comes in without a response, somewhat relieved to find you adjusting your hair and wiping at the smeary makeup. Your eyes soften at the sight of him, watching in the reflection. He looks disheveled and annoyed, shaking his head as he starts ranting about rat man. 

“I don’t get how people like that- the God-loving church people- come in here and act like they weren’t just told at a sermon to love thy neighbor or whatever bullshit.”

He continues, but all you do is stare.

A part of you thinks he defends others due to his childhood. No one picks on the people Frankie cares about. That letter riled him up, maybe more than either of you had realized. He’s thinking about those times of the past, the innocent hurt by the deviant. 

“You didn’t deserve that, I’m sorry, he’s a fucking dick. You don’t have to take his food out, I’ll do it. Honey,” he breathes, hand resting on your shoulder as he gently turns you around to face him. “Are you mad at me? I know you told me not to go out there, but no one makes you cry if I can help it, y’know? I don’t want him to think he can get away with that.”

Once Frankie starts ranting, it’s really hard to get him to stop. 

“Frankie,” you breathe out, resting your hand over the one he holds on your shoulder. 

“I mean, does he really think that it’s smart to be rude to the staff? I’ll spit in his food, and it will feel really good because he’ll have no idea.”

“Frankie,”

“You’re a good fucking waitress! Doesn’t he see the entire breakfast bar and all the booths filled with guests? The line out the door wasn’t an indication of how busy it is? Get a fuckin’ brain, I mean-”

In an instant, you tilt your chin up, catching his gaze just long enough to see the shift in his eyes before your lips meet. Your hands slide around his neck, fingers weaving into the soft curls at the nape, gently tugging him down toward you. The kiss begins with an urgency, part playful, part to silence his words, but mostly, it's to thank him in a way that words never could.

Frankie’s initial surprise fades quickly as he melts into you, his breath hitching for a moment. His hands travel to your waist, sliding around until they lock just above your hips, anchoring you to him. He presses closer, his touch firm yet tender, and slows the kiss, savoring the warmth of your lips. You feel the way his body relaxes, how he leans in, letting the world around you both fall away as he holds you, close and unmoving, like he’s never letting go.

It takes every ounce of courage in your body to pull away, your lips lingering against his for a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if tethered by an invisible force. Slowly, you break the kiss, your breath shaky, heart racing. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, his eyes still half-closed, unaware of the words hanging on the edge of your lips.

You gently pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers still laced in his hair, trembling slightly. His eyes search yours, soft and expectant, filled with something unspoken but unmistakable.

With a deep inhale, you let the words slip out, vulnerable and raw, barely louder than a whisper, but heavy with meaning.

“I love you.”

The world stands still as the words hang in the air, your heart pounding as you wait for the weight of what you’ve just said to settle between you.

And then he smiles like an idiot. And you’re joining him. 

“Did you say what I think you said? Did you say that you love me?" His voice is soft, teasing, as he presses his forehead against yours, capturing your lips with a few playful, quick kisses between his words. “Come on, say it again.”

You feel your heart flutter, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Frankie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “I heard you say it. Now you can’t take it back,” he adds with a grin, pulling you tighter, his arms leaving no space between you.

You giggle, your hands pushing lightly against his shoulders, though he doesn’t budge. “Stop, that was really hard,” you huff, breathless, as though the words had stolen all the air from your lungs.

Frankie just shakes his head, his smile fading into something softer, more real, as the weight of the moment catches up with him. “I’ve thought about better places or times to tell you this, I wanted to wait until you were ready,” he whispers, his voice hushed with disbelief, eyes locking onto yours, “but I love you more than you’ll ever know. More than you’ll ever understand or dream. I love you.”

His thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone, a gentle, affectionate touch that sends shivers down your spine. The intensity in his gaze mirrors your own, both of you lost in this shared vulnerability, your hearts speaking in unison.

“I love you, too,” you breathe, the words falling effortlessly this time, as if they’ve always been waiting for this moment.

So, yeah. You sort of love your co-worker Francisco Morales. 

The sun is blinding—orange and yellow streams of light as it is forced to set along the horizon. It’s slow but noticeable, sinking into the land beyond what you can see.

The sun goes down in Texas once again. 

Frankie raises his cigarette, its glowing tip mirroring the fiery hues of the sunset.

His neighborhood is tranquil, lined with single-story homes and tree-bordered streets where autumn's touch is just around the corner. Children ride bikes, joggers and dog walkers pass by, and new parents push their baby strollers—a picturesque scene that feels meticulously arranged yet somehow distant. Frankie, too, feels out of place here.

"You got pretty worked up today—more than usual," you say softly.

Frankie lets out a dry chuckle, cigarette between his lips as he leans back on his elbows, squinting at the fading sun. "Yeah, maybe. You think I’m off right now?" He tilts his head, genuinely curious, as if searching for what’s changed.

You shrug, glancing at him with a fond smile. "I think that letter from your dad has you more rattled than you realize. I found it in your sock drawer this morning."

Frankie’s gaze drops to his lap, a flicker of shame crossing his face.

"I thought you said you were gonna toss it?" you muse gently, watching as his mind churns, cigarette hovering at his lips before he sighs deeply.

"You’re too observant," he smirks. "I don’t know why I haven’t crumpled, burned, or shredded it into pieces by now. I have every right to."

You rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing the tension there. "But you didn’t. Why?"

Frankie bites his lower lip nervously, glancing your way. "At the end of the apology letter, he asked to take me out for my birthday. Put down the time, place—everything. Said he’d wait for me."

Your expression softens, letting him know you’re here, really listening. "And you’re thinking about it?"

"Yeah… I guess so. But I don’t even know what I’d say. I’ve only seen him once or twice since I moved out. It’s been years. And when I do see him, I’m thirteen all over again, just yelling at him, so angry. I see his face, and it’s like a switch flips. And that’s not me. You know that’s not me," Frankie stammers, panic flickering in his eyes.

"I know," you whisper, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He pulls you closer, resting his head against yours as the weight of it all settles.

After a deep breath, Frankie gathers himself. "He used to bring out the worst in me. I don’t know if I still hate him as much. Time’s passed, maybe he’s changed. But I’m not holding my breath."

He’s an adult now, more guarded, wiser to the people who’ve hurt him. He’s fought through battles and traumas you don’t even know about. Yet, in his eyes, there’s a flicker of hope. Maybe his dad has turned a corner, maybe he’s cleaned up, seen his mistakes. But you know better than to trust in maybes.

And you’d protect him from being let down again.

"Do you want me to go with you?" you offer quietly.

Frankie’s eyes snap to yours, wide and searching.

"Okay," he says after a long pause. "Let’s do it."

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 

FINALLY got the chance to sit down and read this 😍

Holy shit! AMAZING!!!! Absolutely amazing and that ending?! I was screaming “FUCK YEAH YOU GO GIRL!” The entire time!!!!

Motive | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 3 of Unscripted Desire | ~10k wc | Series Masterlist | gif cred | Explicit. Minors DNI.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Early? It’s almost noon—”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We both know you wouldn’t have.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t tell me you fucked him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, you did fuck him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t help but be a little impressed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well?” you demand, impatient.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, but everyone calls me Javi.”

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

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

It’s surprisingly... beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even his imperfections are attractive.

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

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

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

Your tongue twitches at the thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Have they always been this golden?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Talk to me, please.”

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

“You won’t.”

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

“What do I even say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can practically taste his jealousy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—I turned twenty last week.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going?” Steve asks.

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

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

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

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!! 💗