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itsharleystuff · 1 year

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- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ 𝐌Í𝐀 ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Javier Peña x afab!fem reader (implied hispanic/latina)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.3k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After a major fight between the two of you, a month goes by in which you give each other the silent treatment, figuring out if you should start seeing different people. However, Javier has a problem: he can’t get his dick hard for anyone that isn’t you. So, when he sees how easily you can move on from him, he gets awfully jealous.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, possessive/jealous behavior, unprotected sex, p in v, cuffs, slight dirty talk, semi-public sex, use of ‘slut’, pet names (sweetheart, corazón, cariño, hermosa, etc.), praise kink, come eating, oral sex (f! & m! receiving), mentions of drugs, smoking, a bit of angst, very little plot (mostly filth), weirdly structured plot. I think that’s it.

— a/n: there’s some phrases and words in Spanish, some are translated and some aren’t. Let me know if translations are needed :)

No use of y/n.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Javier Peña has never been a jealous man.

It's simply never been in his nature, not even when he was a child playing around with toys that he loved to share. And nowadays? Well, he had other stuff in mind that didn't leave any room for those pedestrian feelings.

As of now, he -supposedly- didn't have anything to be worried about. Specially not women.

Everyone knew he fucked hookers so good that they'd spill all their secrets in his ear, and that he was attractive enough to leave a bar with company just after a couple of minutes from arriving there. But to anyone observant, it was obvious how bad he had it for you.

Still, that didn't stop him from being an asshole.

You remember the last time you two spoke and how it turned out to be a fucking disaster: basically, he didn't like the idea of exclusivity because it involved feelings that he wasn't ready to admit, so you had called him a slut (along with many other insults) and he'd said that you were childish and sensitive. So naturally, everything went downhill after that fight.

Currently, things were pretty tense with Javier, even at work. But things just got worse when the Colombian police sent you onto an undercover mission, nothing really extravagant but still quite dangerous. And apparently, the DEA knew nothing about it.

The task was rather simple: you'd go to one of Medellin's busiest nightclubs and find out if there was a cocaine distribution line working there. The problem was what the agent had overheard from Carrillo. Not only did he knew now that you were at the place, but he also had word that one of the cartel's most wanted sicarios was about to be there too. And knowing the Coronel as well as he did, you were right in the middle of a crossfire. He arrived at the club earlier than any of them, hoping to find you quickly and draw you out before the asset came in.

But, oh hell.

What he saw the minute he stepped in almost made him lose his shit.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

You had no business being in there this late. You'd already passed down all the information needed to your boss and now you were just waiting for the cartel's member to arrive so you could call Carrillo and let him finish the job.

But in the meantime, you decided to at least try and have some fun. After everything that went on with Peña, you felt like you deserved a distraction.

The music was loud, reggaetón reverberating in your body as you danced, eyes wide awake in case the target decided to show up. The stranger you were dancing with had his hands all over your body, holding you close to him while you moved in synch. He was handsome in a boyish way, and a bit clumsy, but good enough to take your mind off from the irritating DEA agent. At least for now.

To be honest, you didn't lack any attention at the moment. Both men and women would come up to you, hoping to get a piece of what you had to offer. It came without saying that everything about you tonight resulted appealing to the kind of people that frequented the place, being an undercover assignment you did your best to blend in. And it seemed to work out wonderfully. The flashy makeup and short dress that only accentuated your figure made you stand out amongst the rest; nevertheless, what really attracted everyone's gaze wasn't any of that, but the confidence with which you'd walk around the place like you owned it.

"¿Qué tal si nos vamos pa' un lugar más oscurito, mamacita?" (How about we go to a more private place?) The guy, whose name you didn't even know, proposed. And though the idea sounded nice, your job wasn't quite finished.

"Not yet, papi. Dame un par de canciones más." (Let's dance a bit more). He hummed in response, his hands traveling from your lower back to grab your ass firmly.

"Usted manda." (You call the shots). The answer made you smile cheekily as you lean in to him, hoping to connect his lips with yours.

However, you definitely didn't expect to be abruptly pulled back with force instead, ripping you apart from the man's hold.

"What the hell..." you start to complain and twist in the strangers grasp, who started to drag you out the dance floor and keeping your wrists behind your back.

"Hombre, ¿pero qué diablo' le pasa?" (What's wrong with you, man?). Asked your poor companion, glancing over at the guy that took you away from him.

But you knew exactly who he was even before he spoke. You'd recognize that musky cologne anywhere, mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke. Damn, even your body recognized him so well that the way his fingertips dig on your skin flooded your mind with memories from the past.

"Peña." You mutter through gritted teeth, not bothering to turn your head towards him.

"It's agent Peña to you, sweetheart." He snarls, completely blowing off anyone that would try to get in his way to lug you outside.

A new, fueled up rage crept up your spine while he harshly pulls you to te entrance, right were you see the colonel's target going in.

"Let go of me, mierda!" You struggle against him, not wanting to actually put on a fight but just make him reason. "I have a fucking job to do, so let go of me or..."

"Or what?" Javier spins you around carelessly, leaving your face so close to his that your breaths merged with each other's, chest pressed against your own as he keeps you still, his hands gripping you so hard that it would certainly leave bruises.

"I need to call Carrillo. I'm working, even if you don't believe it." You tell him, letting your racing heartbeat start to settle.

The man's eyes were dark, covered by a shadow of anger that matched his stern expression. He was always handsome, but whenever he'd get mad, Javi was hot. Although it was unusual for you to see him like this, him being always attentive and careful, though still very passionate. He would never explode, not even when the stress and tension became too much to handle. But then, you realize...

"No way..." you scoff, keeping direct eye contact. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

His reaction is immediate, turning your body again and flushing your face against the trunk of his jeep Cherokee, bending you over the car. You gasp audibly, feeling the cold metal under your cheek and his body towering upon you while he holds you down by the back of your neck. Javier's lips brush the top of your ear when he leans down to you.

"The fuck do I need to be jealous about, cariño?" He whispers lowly, his hot breath giving you goosebumps and making your knees tremble. "Eres mía, you've always been."

Ah, fuck.

Despite all the shit that you went through with him, the effect he had on you remained the same. No matter what, the agent was aware of it, conscious of how you'd always melt under his touch, he just knew all your sweet spots by core memory and what'll have you squirming underneath him. Yeah, even if your mind tried it's best to erase Peña, your body would always betray you.

"You lost your chance." You mutter in a bittersweet tone. "Now get the hell off me so I can finish my task."

He doesn't instantly let go, but eventually loosens the grip on your nape. Though right when you thought he'd actually let you free, there's a cold metallic sensation brushing on your wrist and you suddenly can't move your arms from your back. The motherfucker had just cuffed you.

"Malparido, hijo de..." You ramble, straightening your back to glance at him in exasperation.

"Don't move." He growls, opening the driver's door and taking his radio out. The agent starts to talk through it, but you're way too outraged as to pay any attention, your vision going red when you catch your name, the words 'Carrillo', 'sicario' and the place were you're at, figuring out that he's doing the part of the job that corresponded to you.

"You're sick, Peña." There's no reply to the snarky comment as he simply shoves you in the back of his truck, rather carefully, considering the situation.

You watch intently while he gets back on his seat, analyzing every detail about him. It wasn't anything special, you had seen him quite often at work after your fight, and nonetheless, now... Something seemed off.

Javier was wearing a red button shirt under his black leather jacket, from which he drew out a pack of cigs and a lighter. He appeared the same, however, you could sense the tension on his shoulders and back, the kind you'd help him deal with before, and it almost felt like he was holding back from doing something. Heck, you hated it. You completely despised arguing with him, being apart from the man almost made you physically unwell.

But that was the root of this whole problem. You were able to admit it; how much you liked him and didn't want anyone else. Him on the other hand, wasn't ready for all that. Although, despite him implying that he couldn't fully commit or correspond to your feelings... Right now, his actions were very contradicting.

Because Javier Peña never got jealous.

And yet, there he was.

Perhaps, if you spurred him on just enough and cornered him in a trap... Perhaps then, he'd be able to admit it.

"So what now, agent?" You wonder, laying your back flat on the leather sit, feeling the coldness of the material on your exposed skin and trying to find a comfortable position. "You mind explaining yourself?"

He looks at you through the rear-view mirror, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. A challenging fire shines in your eyes when you lock glances with him. But he doesn't say anything, simply starting the car and getting the windows down before lighting up a cigarette.

"What about you, sweetheart?" He asks, the fag hanging from between his lips as he starts driving away from the club. "Care for elaborating on your actions?"

You snort, gaze diverting towards the window. "I was just killing time."

The streets of Medellin were loud and busy, specially on the weekends. But at the moment, the paths were dark and quiet, as if everyone knew that there was a storm coming and they had to stay out of the hood.

"So that's your idea of 'killing time'?" He comes again, tapping the cigar out his window to leave the ashes behind. "Letting random men grope you in those wrenched bars?" You grin, still defying him with your attitude. "And yet, I'm the slut..."

"You must certainly are, Peña." You reply condescendingly, watching the road. "When I was with you, that was it. No one else even crossed my mind. But then, you? How many other women did you have besides me?"

He grunts, taking a long drag without looking back in your direction. You recognize certain spots and locals, but none of them were anywhere close to your apartment. Instead of asking were he was taking you to, the idea you previously had lingers on your mind.

Red light.

"You know, ever since we... Well, ghosted each other. I've actually had tons of fun." His eyes darkened, but no matter all the warning signs he was sending with his body, you just couldn't hold back anymore, starting to play a game that might get out of control. "Actually, you know that guy working with the CIA? Balcázar?"

Javier looked so gorgeous while driving. His big hands over the lever and muscles flexing whenever he'd make sudden moves. Even now, tense as an arrow an white-knuckling the wheel at your words, he was the hottest man you'd seen.

"Shit, he’s good..." you purr, slightly arching your back so he'll get a better view of your breasts, barely contained in that tiny dress you were wearing. "I really miss him. Hated it when he went back to New York."

His stormy glare was on you, watching closely every single move you made. Your legs were briefly parted, just enough for him to peek a sight of your laced underwear. The agent's breathing became ragged and he had to try his best to stay concentrated.

"Careful, cariño." You hear him rasp out with a hint of danger. "You really don't want to go there."

Green light.

He puts the cigarette out and throws the tail away carelessly.

"Ay, Peña." Your voice goes an octave lower, licking your lips. "Don't act like you haven't been to every brothel in the city trying to fill in my spot."

The man huffs a laugh, shaking his head in disapproval. "I know what you're doing." You look at him through your lashes, faking innocence and confusion. "But if you really want me to say it, there hasn't been anyone else."

"Yeah, right..." That mocking tone was really getting on his nerves.

"Not even when we were together." Javi sulks out.

"Then why was it so difficult for you to be serious with me?" You question grimly. "Do you not like me?"

His eyes bore back into yours somberly, as if you'd just said the stupidest thing in the world despite the graveness in your voice and expression, lazily scanning you head to toe.

"Like you?" It sounded like he was struggling not to come off sardonic, cocking an eyebrow at you. "I can't believe you just asked me that."

You lean in towards him when he takes an unexpected turn, inhaling his particular scent mixed with the leather and smoke. Suddenly, he parks the car someplace dark and empty that resembled an abandoned gas station. Kind of creepy, but you recognized the area now. It was a neighborhood located a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

"Why?" You coo, taunting, patiently testing how much he'd spill. But Javier won't meet your glance, focused on the nothingness ahead of him.

"Because I can't even get my dick hard for any other women, for fucks sake!" He howls, rubbing his face with his palm, clearly pissed.

At first, you thought he must've been joking. But the way he said it came out so frustrated that it made it hard to believe he was lying. His bold statement gave you a rush of power, knowing that you had him in mind and body, the man that made every woman he acquainted feel like a schoolgirl crushing on a senior. You understood why he was so mad right now; it wasn't only cause he was jealous, but because he hated seeing that you could easily move on to the next man while he remained stuck.

Though it was a lie. You only responded to him and you wanted to prove him that. But Javier had to acknowledge the mistake he made.

"Perhaps you're just old." You teased, "Have you tried pills for that?"

His reaction was so unexpected that you had barely any time to process the circumstances. He got out the car and opened the passenger's seat, tugging at your arm to get you out the jeep apprehensively.

"Take a guess, sweetheart." He grits next to your ear, his chest pressed to your back.

"Fucking hell..." you mewl at the feeling of Javier's hard boner firm against your ass. His hands hold your waist for a second before manhandling you to the edge of the back passenger's seat, hunching down in front of you with both hands gently gripping the exposed flesh of your thighs and looking up at you with fiery eyes.

"If you want me to say it, fine." He bites, giving up. "I made a mistake. It was stupid." Then his tone denotes the way he's struggling to contain anger. "I can't bear it. Seeing you with other men... It drives me insane. I can't even think straight- shit, I almost blew a whole ass operation tonight just because I saw you dancing with that guy." You gulp, remembering how furious he was just a few moments ago. "But let's not fool ourselves, cariño. We both know you haven't slept with anyone else either."

How he figured that out was a mystery to you. Maybe he truly was a very good agent.

There isn't a retort in your behalf. What could you possibly say anyway? He had you figured out already, he always did.

Back in the day, when you first started working with him, Javier acted like a complete shithead. Him an Murphy would give you a hard time with the DEA, always getting in trouble, messing up your schedules and bribing confidential information out of you. That's how you grew closer to him. Peña used to invite you for dinner or beers as an apology, granted that he always looked forward to take you back to his apartment, of course. Except you had heard the rumors regarding his reputation, and that was a well in which you weren't particularly eager to fall in, specially since he was a coworker.

Yet, it was all in vain. How could you ever say no to him if he'd look at you with those sparkly, deep brown eyes that resembled a lost puppy? You fell for Javi's smug smirk, the groovy hair, plus that confident and bite-back attitude of his, knowing how it would eventually end. Even so, no one could really blame you. He acted different around you, people were able to tell, brighter, more open and honest.

"See, I'm sorry about what I said..." you start, but he cuts you off.

"Don't be. I deserved that shit." The man stands up, taking a bunch of keys from the pocket of his jeans and going to take off the cuffs. "You should feel sorry for all those poor guys you toyed with while thinking about me the whole time."

You stretch your arms and massage your wrists, unwilling to meet his intense gaze, conscious that you'd fall for his charm immediately. He worked smarter, grabbing your chin to raise your face towards him.

"Did you enjoy it?" He hissed, fingertips digging on your jaw with moderate force. "Having other men grab your ass while everyone watches? Teasing the hell out of me in the office with those obscenely tight skirts and talking to Murphy as if I wasn't right beside him?" Your tongue darts out to lick your lower lip, not breaking eye contact. "Answer me, corazón."

"Yes," you respond cockily, "I enjoyed it." His face swiftly sobered, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "But I didn't think it had any effect on you, so it felt like a waste of time and effort."

Javier laughs huskily, bending forward. You close your eyes, thinking he's going in for a kiss, but instead his lips go to rest on your jawline, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck and all the way down to the valley of your breasts. As of now, you're a panting mess, already turned on by his adamant behavior. The fact that you were finally getting to feel him like this after a month or so of completely ignoring each other... It felt divine.

Your tug at his shoulder as he keeps nibbling the sensitive skin. The agent knew your body better than anyone else ever could, he'd memorized all the spots that would have you moaning and squirming underneath him, which was the case just now.

"Javi..." you sigh, running your hand through his hair.

"You're such a fucking brat." He reflects, kneeling between your parted legs. "A month ago I was merely a ghost to you, a few minutes prior I was simply 'Peña'. But when my lips are on you I'm suddenly 'Javi'?" He boasts with a devilish grin. "How convenient..."

"Mmm..." he laughs gruffly at your loss of words, his fingers hooking your underwear beneath the dress and slowly pulling it down.

At this point you're so wet it's embarrassing. It was probably due to the lack of sex you've had recently, or perhaps you were really growing fond of this new phase of his and the idea of Javier being possessive over you.

"Don't you dare look away." He warns roughly, peeling the fabric off you with a tad of your help. "Keep your eyes on me. I'll only tell you this once."

You nod eagerly. "Javi, are we- are we going to do it here?" It wouldn't be a new thing, you've done similar stuff in the past, though never in such an open space, despite appearing deserted. "Your place is barely a few blocks away..." His lips graze the soft skin of your upper leg, the feeling of his mustache raising goosebumps on your body.

"Can't wait." He stated, voice tinted with lust whilst his palm caresses your calf. "Need you now."

Somehow that made the pit of your stomach feel warmer. The rush of excitement coming from that desire he had for you had gave a thrill of control, completely ignoring how he was the one in charge of this situation. Javier carefully slips your dress upwards, taking in every single reaction you had to his touch and cursing at the sight of your throbbing pussy. The heat of his breath against your exposed core only increased your arousal, seemingly encouraging him.

"Shit, this cunt really did miss me, huh?" You nod again, basking in the contact of his nose brushing your clit, sending shivers down your spine.

In spite of your low whimpers of need, he deliberately denied you of his touch were you most needed him, simply roaming his lips and fingers over your inner thighs and pubic bone. Desperate, you scratch his scalp softly, pulling a groan from him.

"Javi, please..." he was definitely going to make you beg for it, regardless of how much he wanted it too.

"Did you let anyone else do this to you?"

"No." You breathe out.

"Good." His thumb suddenly falls on your clit, rubbing slow circles. You squeal from the spontaneousness of the action, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. "This is mine." Then he slides down his finger to slightly part your swollen lips, coating it with your slick. "All mine."

"Sí, Javi."

"That's right, corazón." He murmurs, slipping two digits into you. "I'm going to fuck you so good that you won't ever think about anyone else." He sets a pace pretty quickly, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them to hit all the right spots. "I'm the only man for you. Understand that?"

"Yes, shit-" you choke down a moan when he mildly pinches your nub. "You are."

He makes a satisfied noise before diving in your pussy, starting to lick and kiss your clit without pulling out his fingers, maintaining a relentless pace and rejoicing himself in the sounds he'd pull from you.

"Fuck, that's good..." you manage to say, knowing how he likes the praise, your hand messing up his hair.

Javier pulls away for a second, grabbing your thighs to part them further and place your legs over his shoulders eagerly, hungrily looking up at you. You arch your back, ever so responsive to him while struggling to maintain a hold of yourself.

"So pretty." He whispers, admiring how your chest goes up and down from your rag breathing, your face contorted by pleasure as his fingers disappear in your cunt, the squelching sounds of your pussy and the moans spilling from your lips making him painfully hard. "Toda mía."

Your legs were already shaking, your body being so sensitive and needy. Specially for him. Always for him. But it wasn't enough and you both knew that. Though before you can beg him for more, his mouth takes place were his digits used to be, eating you out as if you were his favorite meal, lapping you up kind of selfishly, almost like he did it for his own pleasure.

"Javi, that's-" you can't even form coherent sentences without being interrupted by your cries of pleasure. "Too fucking good."

His tongue is hot and soft between your folds, licking up your slit as he rubs tight circles on your clit, fucking you greedily and moaning graciously against your slickness. Also, the image of him between your legs was always a sight to see, adding to the pool of arousal. You start seeing white spots and the knot in your lower stomach starts to loosen as the orgasm approaches, gripping the leather seat as if your life depended on it. It's a good thing that he's holding you, cause in a matter of seconds your whole body starts to tremble and his name leaves your lips repeatedly.

"I can't- shit!" You pull his hair involuntarily and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your core and pushing you to the edge. "I'm gonna..."

You can't even finish speaking before you're coming undone in his mouth, feeling the hot waves of satisfaction wash over you. He doesn't pull away until you're practically whining from the overstimulation, trying to regain composure as he licks you clean. When he does, his eyes peer at you, intoxicated with desire as he starts to stand on his feet, towering over you.

"I missed that sweet taste of yours." He licks his glistening lips and you wish he'd finally kiss you. "Can't get enough of it."

Your hands reach his belt, trying to unbuckle it, but he takes your wrists to stop you.

"What's wrong?" You question, genuinely confused.

"I'm taking you to my apartment. I'm doing this properly." He retorts. However, you're too turned on now to care about the place.

"Please Javi, let me do something for you." One thing that made him go stupidly insane for you was the way you were never coy when asking for his cock, looking up at him with pleading eyes. As if having him on your throat gratified you. "I need you."

He almost caved in. Almost.

"Stop that or I'll cuff you again." He grumbles, only making you smile.

"Do it. I don't need hands, I can always take you in my mou-" Javier flips your body abruptly, pressing your face against the seat, and you can hear the familiar sound of metal clipping in.

"Such a greedy slut." He fixes your dress, not without subtly smacking your ass beforehand.

"Mm, can I at least get my panties back?" You ask in defeat, turning to face him, but he was already shutting the door.

"No." He quickly starts the car as you settle on the back, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed and lips plump from biting them, eyes still sparkling from the high post-orgasm.

"Do you like me like this?" You wonder as he begins driving. "All fucked out, cuffed and ready for you to take?"

Peña doesn't answer immediately, not daring to look back at you but desperately wanting to do it.

"I do." He answers, eyes on the road. "I like you naked. And dressed too, specially with those pretty skirts. I like it when you tell me how your day was, or when you're reading quietly." His words make your heart flutter, blushing harder. "I like listening to your voice, and the way your gaze always seems interested whenever I talk about me. Shit, I even like you when you're ignoring me." You can almost hear his smile, if that made any sense. "I like you all the damn time, hermosa."

Honestly, you weren't expecting such a straightforward answer, finding yourself at loss of words. Nonetheless, you didn't need to say anything, cause sooner than expected you were being taken out of the truck, flashes of the building he resided in passed right in front of your eyes while he dragged you through the dark, silent halls.

"Javi..." despite having limited mobility, you lean towards him, whispering in his ear. "Please kiss me."

He laughs dryly at your plea and struggles to open the door. "You want that, huh? ¿Quieres que te bese?" Then he takes your arm to drag you in, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, mi amor. I missed you so fucking much." You stay close to him, your face nuzzled on the crook of his neck. His hand brushes the hair out of your face and he presses his lips to your temple.

"Hm, is that right?" He hums and you can feel it against your nose. "Didn't seem so."

You back off swiftly, keeping your eyes locked with his. "I'm sorry, Javier. I really am."

Something shifts in his gaze, a possessive, deep emotion takes over him and he decides to take you up on your previous proposition.

"Prove it." He commands, voice hoarse. "Show me how much you missed me." The idea of getting what you wanted pursed your lips in a mischievous smirk. "I'll kiss you afterwards if I'm convinced."

Instead of responding, you start peppering kisses all over his jaw and neck, going as far along his chest as the buttons of his shirt would allow you. He lazily unbuckles his belt and pants while you lower yourself to your knees in front of him, but doesn't bother to go any further. It was going to be difficult, though nothing you haven't done before, nearly forgetting the cuffs as you craved his taste.

You rub the side of your face on his stiff erection, feeling how hard and hot he was under the tight fabric of his jeans and a low groan scratches his throat. You mouth at it before taking the zip between your teeth and sliding it down, eyes peering up at him at the same time. Javier observes every move attentively, his cock twitching at the sight of your lust-drunken gaze, breath starting to become unsteady when you kiss and lick the head of his dick over the thin fabric of his boxers. You taste the precum throughout it, salty and good, before pulling down his underwear by lightly biting the elastic.

Your mouth waters at the view, jaw going slack even before taking him in your mouth. His girth slaps against his clothed belly, tip red and leaking, just as big as you remember. Shit, you really had missed him. Javier's hand tangles in your hair, running his fingers in between the locks lovingly. He gasps when you press your lips to the slit, kitten licking the top and starting to spread wet kisses all over his length, running your tongue along the shaft, his musky scent getting to your head quite fast. He loved how every time you were on your knees for him it felt like you adored him, as much as Javier did you.

And it was true. Knowing how good you made him feel satisfied your senses, every expression and single noise he'd make could turn you on and push you to edge so easily. The man was simply delightful.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” he sighs, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb when you finally suck him in. “That’s it, wrap those gorgeous lips around my cock. So pretty…”

He lets out a gruffly moan as you take him further, watching as he screws his eyes shut and throws his head back, the sound so divine that it immediately makes your pussy clench around nothing. Javier is thick. And it’s always so hard to get him all in your mouth, but this time you make a double effort. You run your tongue against the veins on the underside of his dick, enjoying the weight of it in you, the taste and the admirable sight of him coming undone while he tries his best not to start fucking your face without warning, laying his palms flat on the wall behind you.

“Shit- that’s…” he grumbles, head spinning from pleasure, unable to make up any thought or manifest anything into words. You start bobbing your head up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to provide more warmth.

You’re dripping, feeling the slick run down your thighs and the ache becoming unbearable. You squeeze your legs together in order to release some of that need, letting out a whine that vibrates through him and makes his hips jolt into your mouth.

“Fucking hell…” Javier’s hand snakes to the back of your neck, massaging the soft skin. “Does it turn you on to get me off like this, hermosa?”

You hum in response and the feeling sends him to oblivion, letting out a coarse moan that shocks another wave of hotness between your legs.

“What a nasty girl you are.” He mumbles breathily, “My girl.” He’s practically shaking at this point, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and your nose pressed against his pubic bone.

Air wasn’t a necessity at the moment, your ears ringing and the corners of your eyes watering. He warned you he was close but you didn’t back out, letting him hold you for support. He gasps out a raspy ‘fuck’ when he releases, hips stuttering and back arching slightly as his cum hits your tongue. You pull apart just enough to lap at the tip while he rides it out, feeling him throb in your mouth while you savor him until he’s completely spent, soft moans barely audible.

You wait until he opens his eyes again, brown gaze meeting yours between shaky breaths. “Will you uncuff me now, agent?”

He huffs a laugh, tugging himself back in his jeans before helping you get up and taking the metal cuffs off. For a second, none of you say a thing, simply staring back at each other with a swirl of emotions between you. But then he says your name, merely a whisper that makes you crumble.

“Don’t do that, Peña.” You scold, turning your back to him and walking towards the couch, taking a seat and listening to the leather crack under your weight.

“What do you mean?” He turns to you, hands on his hips, pants unbuttoned and hair messy.

“When you say my name like you need me and give me those puppy-dog eyes, I actually believe that you want me for anything other than sex.” He seems disappointed, mostly on himself. “So can we just fuck and get this over with?”

“Is that what you think I…?” Javier shakes his head and follows your direction, but only observes from above. “It’s not like that.”

You take off the heels, your feet starting to hurt. “Then how is it?”

His hand goes to your chin, urging you to look up at him. “I’m not good with this… I screwed up back in Texas and I did it again with you.” You gulp, your hands tightly gripping your knees. “I don’t know how to handle this sort of things, and it’s been a while since I felt like this for anyone…”

He takes the jacket off and sits on the edge of his coffee table in front of the sofa, cupping your face in his hands.

“All I know is that every time we’re together, nothing else matters. Things feel right. But when you’re not with me… Shit. Life becomes insufrible. I can’t sleep, can’t think, fuck, I can’t even have sex!” He looks genuinely irritated. “Everything’s about you when you’re away. And I can’t tolerate to see you with anyone else. It’s like someone just took a shot at me.”

You inhale sharply, taking his hand in yours without breaking eye contact. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve came back to you.”

“Precisely. I tried not to be selfish and let you go, but I can’t. It hurts too much.” He pouts, as if the mere thought made him sick. “And you deserve better.”

Inevitably, you roll your eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, Peña.” He furrows his brows at your reply, his palm falling from your cheek to his lap. “That’s crap! You think you know what’s best for me?”

“Well shit, I’m sorry for trying to look out for you.” Javier snarls back.

“I don’t need you to do that, you idiot.” You grab his jaw, taking him by surprise. “I know what I want and I was straightforward about it,” His heart starts thumping against his ribs. “So, if you want me, take me. Cause if you don’t… Someone else might.”

Your statement stirs his pot and his expression shifts. “Fuck no. You’re mine and I’m yours. That’s how this is going to work.”

“Yeah?” He lets out a throaty growl and leans down towards you.

“Yeah.” His mustache tickles your upper lip when he crashes his lips to yours and you whine into his mouth.

It was desperate and demanding, ripping all the emotions from you. Javier tasted like cigarettes, a hint of mint and of you. And you tasted like tequila, honey and of him. His cologne was a little faded, but you could still smell it.

“Say you’re mine, corazón.” He mumbles when he pulls back for air, forehead pressed to yours. “I don’t care if you’re lying, I need to hear it.”

You take him by the collar of his shirt so that he’s sitting down next to you, snaking your hand to press the palm against his bare chest.

“Soy tuya, Javi.” You tell him, laying a small kiss to his lips. “I mean it.”

He smiles cheekily as he pulls you on top of him, spreading your knees to each side of his thighs, your dress slipping upwards. Javier tugs a strand of hair behind your ear and his fingers roam your face as if he wanted to memorize every edge of it by tact alone. His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip carefully, parting your lips briefly before going to kiss you again. This time he does it slowly, taking his time with your lips prior to sliding his tongue past your teeth and relishing on your taste, almost like he wanted to lose himself in you.

To him, the world meant nothing if you weren’t by his side. And now that you were here, he intended to make the most of it.

His hands are everywhere: your waist, hips, lower back and butt, grabbing every bit of your flesh that he could, keeping you close. So close that it almost seemed like he wished to merge into you. You made out for what it appeared to be hours, until the kisses got sloppier but never less passionate, and you started grinding against him. You hold his shoulders for support, creating that delicious friction between your naked cunt and his stiff boner tucked in his pants. He jolts his hips up, making you release a whimper in his mouth.

He backed off, his lips now scrape your jawline, neck and collarbones. You arch your back when his hand slithers to pull down the zipper of your dress, granting him a better view of your tits close to his face.

“My room?” He asks, biting your earlobe mildly.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Javi carries you to the bedroom with your legs wrapped around his waist, still finding a way to keep his lips on you in the meantime. Clothes disappear in the blink of an eye and you sit at the end of the sheets to help him take off his pants, kissing his abdomen, your dress now discarded somewhere on the floor.

“Eres preciosa.” The way he says it makes you blush, skin burning under his chocolate gaze. “I’m all yours, mi amor.”

You bring his face close to yours, infatuated with his beauty. “All mine…”

“Yes, corazón.”

You lay down on the mattress, Javier starting to play with your hard nipples, nibbling at them, sucking and kissing with his attention focused on all your reactions. You’re so aroused that you’re quite literally dripping into his sheets, legs trembling from every light stimulation and skin scorching from desire, already spurred on by the make out and giving him head.

“Please, Javi… I- need you inside.”

He wastes no time to compel, maneuvering a hand to your lower back and aligning himself to your entrance, keeping your legs spread. You feel him inside, splitting you open with no previous warning and the tight grip of your cunt feels like homecoming to him. You hold your breath until he bottoms out, enjoying the sweet stretch he provided. Then your whole body quivers, a sheen layer of sweat covering both his golden skin and yours, a couple of curly locks sticking to his temples from it.

You watch him from below through hooded eyes, every inch of him inside you making you feel so full and complete, the outline of his fingers dig in your waist to keep you angled. You bear down on his cock, enveloping him in the warm, welcoming grasp of your body. He holds your hand above your head and leans down to kiss you again, drowning his own moans in your mouth as he draws out slowly to set a pace with his hips, the wet sounds of you pussy and skin clapping against skin sending a thrill of excitement down his spine.

You get it then, as he pours out all sentiment into you, overcome by passion. He is yours. Even though he just said it, only now does it become evident to you. This is Javier’s way of proving it.

He grabs one of your thighs and lifts your knee to the crook of his elbow, the new angle spreading you further open and allowing him to hit deeper. The impact of his tip hitting every right spot relentlessly forces you to break apart from his lips, your head thrown back into his pillows while practically screaming for more, his face nuzzled in your chest as he melts into you.

“Shit baby, I won’t last.” He warns, sinking his teeth to leave a mark between your breasts. You can feel it too, hot shots of ecstasy creeping up the pit of your stomach every time his cock jumps inside you.

You tug at his hair, a strangled moan escaping his lips. “Do it in me- Please, fill me up.”

Your request sends him right to the edge, his thrusts becoming careless as he starts grinding into you, Javi’s fingers quickly finding your swollen clit. The sole touch made you writhe and reach your high in absolute bliss, clenching your walls around him and crying out from raw pleasure. He fucks you through it, overwhelmed by the sensation. You feel dizzy, barely conscious when he finds his own release, your name spilling from his lips like it was the only word he knew, coming in warm spurts inside you. His spend is dripping from your pussy and thighs when he pulls out and sits up to admire the absolute mess he just made of you.

“Well…” he says, guiding his finger to push his seed back into you, making you whine from the overstimulation. “Hope that made it clear.”

You smile, every muscle in your body weeping from exhaustion. “Yeah… I’ll have to make you jealous more often.”

He groans in annoyance and you pull him back on top of you, spreading tender kisses all over his face, laughing in the meantime.

“Not funny.” He grumbles, despite the grin forming on his lips. Javier rolls to your side, coming to lay down next to you and immediately holding you against his sturdy chest, wrapping his arms around your waist to spoon you. “Stay with me.”

His plead is barely a murmur that filters through your ears and you’re too tired to figure out what those words actually mean. You simply let your eyelids drop and retort with a hardly audible ‘always’.

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #javier pena one shot #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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lokischocolatefountain · 11 months

Note

Hiii if you’re still taking requests, could we have more angsty, jealous Javier? You write his character so good, i love all of it!!! Your married series was absolutely fantastic <3

Javier Peña is not a jealous man. The women he’s with have multiple partners beside him- they’re informants, sex workers, and a lot of times both. He’s no juvenile and doesn’t expect them to not do their job because he can’t share. Besides, there’s a clear transaction with these women- sex in exchange for dollar bills, intelligence in exchange for a visa.

Javier Peña is not a jealous man. At least he doesn’t think he is until he’s with her (the professor he ends up marrying). The relationship starts out casual. She’s a beautiful woman who frequents the restaurant he frequents. They do the decent mating dance of flirtation and buying each other coffee before he takes her back to her place and fucks her thoughts out of her head.

He makes it clear to her that he isn’t looking for something serious. He hasn’t told her the exact nature of her job, but she knows. She has seen the gun on him. She has seen him on a raid, tactical vest on and hand enclosed around his gun. She kicks him out, but only after giving him a kiss and telling him she’d like to do this again. They were on the same page. Until they weren’t.

He’s bad at drawing boundaries. He kissed prostitutes on the forehead, asked them about their young kids and ailing parents, let them drone on about their hopes and dreams. Sure it was important to cultivate a relationship with his informants so that when things got dangerous, they would continue to… inform. But he enjoyed it. He liked knowing the women he slept with, liked asking questions and answering their questions. It was the only human thing left in his life full of violence.

He cannot draw boundaries with her at all. He eats from her refrigerator, drinks her liquor and lies down on her lap and lets her read English literature to him. He picks her up from work sometimes and drops her back the morning after. He fixes her faulty plumbing without even being asked. He finds her carrying heavy bags of groceries and offers to drive her to her place. He takes her grocery shopping and restocks her fridge. He tells himself it’s because he eats so much of her food. Just repaying her.

He’s picking her up from work one night. It boils his blood to learn that he isn’t the only one waiting in the parking area for her. There’s another guy, a professor like her, and he walks with her to his car. He should’ve driven away as soon as he noticed her with another man. But he doesn’t. He stares hard enough to burn a hole in the dress she wore when he first slept with her. It was flattering on her figure, highlighting her best assets— her entire goddamn body. Clearly she wore this dress when she was hoping to get laid. He drives away before she could notice him. He finds someone else that night. Plenty of fish in the sea, right? Except he screams her name when he’s balls deep in Helena.

She’s at their restaurant the next morning, having breakfast and drinking coffee like she didn’t go fuck someone else just last night. He sits at his old table instead of joining her like he always did. She looks a little hurt by it, but quickly fixes her expression to smile at him. Good. Be hurt. He is aware he’s being irrational. And a pig. She was free to sleep with all of Bogotá if she wished. God knows he did. She wasn’t doing anything wrong just like he wasn’t doing anything wrong. But he’s angry at her anyway.

Work takes him to Medellin for days and when he returns, he finds himself at her doorsteps. He feels right at home in her arms, in her pussy, and he doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to get up and leave even though everything in him is begging him to leave before it was too late. He struggles between the rational part of him that knows it’s best to leave and the irrational one that wants to pull her to his chest and fall asleep breathing her in. She makes the decision for him.

She’d asked in the nicest possible way to fuck right off. Well, not really. But she might as well have kicked him out. She asks for clarification “what are we doing, Javi?” There is it, he thinks. He was always clear about his intentions with women, but he’s had a few of them believe that they could “fix” him. Whatever the hell that meant. And he had to break their heart, tell them it was just sex like they’d originally agreed. But she surprises him.

She calls him out on his shit, tells him he’s giving her mixed signals with taking her grocery shopping and meeting her up at work. She tells him he can’t have it both ways. “I have a date with a colleague this Sunday. It’ll be weird if I’m with him, thinking about how sweet it was of you to take my car for an oil change. That’s not umm…it’s not fuckbuddy stuff.” It’s boyfriend stuff.

Her drawing the boundaries for him should’ve helped. But god it doesn’t. All he wants to do that week is walk into her university campus and punch that fucker who was taking his girl out on a date. It was stupid, dangerous and reprehensible. But fucking hell, he couldn’t do shit while thinking about her with another man. Would she let the guy fuck her in his car like she let him? Would she cry his name? Would she accidentally let a low Javi slip out of her pretty lips out of habit?

He stops visiting the restaurant. He doesn’t need breakfast anyway. He fucks other women, fucks his own fist, but none of them come close to the euphoria of being inside her, of kissing her and drinking her moans in just as he made her cum on his cock. Nobody comes close. It’s for the best. He cannot afford emotional entanglements. It was for her good that she pulled away when she did. This was no life for anyone and attaching herself to him would mean having to endure his shit.

He can’t stop thinking about her. He freezes in the middle of the fucking street with his gun pulled on some guy because he thinks he saw her in the distance. It’s not her, he knows that. She was in Bogotá and he was in Medellin. It’s not her. But he sees her in everything. He finds himself reading fiction, for fuck’s sake. He finds her panties stuffed into the cushions of his couch and smells it to get himself off. It was creepy as shit, but it’s the hardest he’s come since he stopped seeing her.

He drives by their restaurant and catches a glimpse of her having breakfast with that guy. At their restaurant, at their table. He’s filled with rage towards her new man, at her. How could she just take this guy to their restaurant and have breakfast at their table? Like he didn’t even fucking exist. How long had this been going on? Was it well before he saw them in the parking lot that evening? Did she bring him here whenever Javi was away in Medellin?

He brings another girl to his leather couch that night and tries not to think about how she could be at home right now, fucking her colleague in the same bed she fucked him. Did she ask him about his interests? Run her fingers through his hair? Touch his arms and tell him how strong he was? He wants to laugh at himself. Of course she didn’t do that last one. The fucker she was with had noodle arms. They wouldn’t satisfy her. He wouldn’t satisfy her. Javi knew her body in and out, knew all the right buttons to push, had her wrapped around his little finger and his cock.

Two months and he’s strong in his resolve. He still think about her, still keeps her panties tucked under his pillow like a low grade pervert, still thinks of beating the shit out of her new guy. Hell, she was probably in love with him by now. Probably a nice guy who didn’t sleep around and actually came home on time.

It’s the oddest thing that breaks him. Surveillance pictures from Escobar’s family vacation. The piece of shit has a whole wife. Keeps his mother and cousin close. Even that fucking monster had family. Doesn’t he deserve to at least take the girl he can’t get out of his head to a nice dinner? Loneliness creeps into his days and nights. No matter how many informants he beds, there’s a growing void in his chest.

Rather than drive home that night, he drives to hers. He wakes her up at an odd hour and all he can think of is whether she was in bed with the new guy when he rang the doorbell. She looked both surprised and annoyed to find him at her door. He couldn’t blame her for either of those things— he did drop off the face of the Earth and it was way past a decent hour to drop by someone’s place. He wants to hold her face in his hand and press a kiss to her lips. But he didn’t have permission for that anymore. So he just says “Dinner?”

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harryleatherfit · 9 months

Text

Downtown🥃4.8k

Javier Peña x Brat Bartender Fem! Reader

based off of this request ||

also a 50 follower milestone🍋

Working at a bar in downtown Medellín, a biker gang comes in for their usual drink, and your boss has called someone in to help you with drinks. Nico, the head of the gang doesn’t like another man around you… but little does he know that you’re little friend Javier Peña is taking care of you elsewhere.

warnings: mentions of gangs, mentions of men abducting women, SHITTY TRANSLATED SPANISH, alcohol consumption, smoking, brat, brat tamer (if you squinttt) heightened senses, fucking in public, p in v (uncovered but pulls out), oral f receiving

word count: 4.8K

authors note: i don’t know any spanish, so i really hope my translate app had my back on this one 🍀🍀 also im rewatching narcos and myyyy god i need to write more javier LIKE CMONNN

taglist: @beefrobeefcal

One Shot Playlist

Lust for Life- Lana Del Ray

Solid Liquid Gas- Eartheater

Stereo Love- Edward Maya & Vika Jigulina

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Running late to your shift at the club, per usual. You didn’t know how you always managed to at least run 5 minutes late, but tonight you were making sure you looked at least somewhat presentable.

Your boss had let you know that someone else was also coming in to help you at the bar, tonight was when a motorcycle group would come in and spend the entirety of the night, drinking their lives away.

You didn’t mind any of the men, but you needed the extra help with serving them, along with any other college kids or any other people that were gonna drink the night away. The club you worked at was specifically known for its nightlife.

Working in Medellin has been the best experience of your life. The city was beautiful, and by working at the club downtown, you soaked in every bit you could get. You became a people person and your anxiety of being alone had subsided, when your boss had hired you, he saw potential, and he knew he was doing right by hiring you.

You didn’t know what other business your boss was getting into, but you figured this club was a coverup. You never asked any questions, but you figured that’s what he liked most about you. But sincerely it wasn’t your place to care. You never knew if he was rolling around with the police or the cartels, all you knew was that he was a respected man, and it didn’t really matter as long as he paid you well.

Late at night, when you had to close, your boss would tell you to leave early, as he had some ‘business to deal with’ but you never got to see with who. Maybe one day you’d get to see, but for now you had to fucking sprint into the back of the bar to clock in.

You open the door back in an alleyway, wafting a draft of club air- humid and loud. You duck into the dark staff room quickly setting your stuff down and getting your work clothes on, not caring possibly what you could look like now, as long as your hair and makeup stayed intact. Rushing past the cooks, saying hi instead asking how everyone's day was, to finally getting to the door to burst behind the bar. Immediately, he bumps into you.

“Fuck sorry.” He gasps, whiskey bottles in hand. He gets a good look at you and stops to make sure you’re okay.

You realize this isn’t just someone your boss called in, he fucking called in Javier Peña, the DEA agent. You knew who he was, you thought you were pretty out of the loop from what was happening in Columbia, but everyone knew who this man was. Face of every newspaper with his partner.

“You’re okay,” You stutter, “Sorry I’m late.”

“Javier.” He sets a bottle down to shake your hand.

“I know who you are.” You tell him your name, analyzing what the bar looks like, checking out to see how busy the club was. You didn’t think about it until now, but you had seen Javier in the bar late at night a while ago with your boss, tucked away in the corner. This is who he does business with.

“Nice to meet you, Manny just wanted me to tell you that you can leave early tonight and I’ll close.” He rasps over the loud music.

“So you’re who he does business with, didn’t think it’d be with you.” You look at him innocently, but once you mention anything about business his whole demeanor changes. You look down to his waist band and see a gun.

“And why's that?” He asks, tilting his head. He’s only known you a solid minute and he’s already feisty.

“I don’t know, he’s quite reserved.” You blink, “And Manny’s, well Manny.”

He tuts with his mouth, “I think he’s doing business with the right man, no?” His lips purse into a frown.

“Well I’m at least pleased it’s with you and not the latter, if that makes you happy.” You answer. “But I would suggest you’re not only here to help me tonight, you’re here to find someone.”

“You’re smart, we’re off to a good start then princess.” He chuckles, “These drinks won’t make themselves.” All you can do is stare at him, at least you’re in good company, he can protect you if anything potentially went wrong tonight.

You go to the line, already seeing that he had set up for you, you look out to the room and college kids are already losing their face, the looks of ecstasy filling their bodies. He must’ve made countless drinks before you had gotten there, at least he knows what he’s doing.

“Manny, tell you about that bike gang coming in tonight?” And then it dawned on you, as he shifted toward you with a different expression than before, Jaiver’s here for them, or for someone.

“Yes he did, they’ve come in before.” You look at him, “Thats what you’re looking for?”

“Possibly.” His low base refracts out, “Just have to confirm something.”

You pause, inhaling your surroundings, patching out a deep patchouli and cashmere. It was so intoxicating you could believe you were still standing, you look to your side and Javier’s grabbing his jacket to put on.

You now realize how tall he is, his smell, his leather jacket. He pulls out a lighter and pack of smokes, his low rise jeans with his boots. Who really was this man?

“What?” He smirks.

“Nothing.” You shake your head, waking you up from your daydream, going to the line to take some orders. This man was more than you expected, you only had to work with him for a couple more hours and then you could go home. It wasn’t that you didn’t dislike him immediately, but his presence was so domineering, being around him you felt no power and it scared you.

He pours a few drinks “What's someone like you doing here, don’t think you quite belong here princess..” He pulls out a cigarette, popping it in his mouth so he can work and smoke dually.

“And who says I don’t belong here? You?” You edge on. Your eyes keep wondering to his gun.

He stares at you, not knowing how to respond. Tension already filling you both.

“I don’t know sweetheart, “ He pours, “Surrounded by a world of trouble. Men that do unspeakable things to women, any moment the wrong man could come in and see you…”

“And that’s why I have you tonight.” You smile, you point at his gun, and looks at your fingers, “Please Javier, I’d do just fine without you.”

You had never thought about it that way, not in the cartel way, but you were always aware of your surroundings working in a prominent man's workplace. You were aware of everything 24/7, that was your job for Manny.

He nods his head, your short response shutting him up. The conversation ended and you both continued making drinks, serving customers, closing out tabs.

“How long have you been in Columbia? You’re Amerian no?” You ask.

“Couple years, trying to catch the son of bitch Escobar, not gonna tattle on me are you?” He puffs out.

You simmer, each word he lets out heats you up, a raving fire petrifying a forest in your lower stomach. If you had skin contact with him, you’d faint.

You laugh, “No, unless you gave me a reason to. Finish those drinks Javier.”

He huffs, the lights of the club are making his face glow, you dance around each other, grabbing more bottles of alcohol. Lining cups and cutting limes. You get closer to him, “Do you like Columbia?”

“Yes,” His voice drops closer to your ear, “Las mujeres son otra cosa.” [Women are something else]

“Just the women, nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

“¿Por qué nada más? Not your job? ¿Ni siquiera tu pareja? Murphy right?” [Why nothing else] [Not even your partner?]

“That little shithead? Si, Murphy.”

“He’s good no, I’ve heard some of the women around here talk about how good he fucks.”

“Sweetheart, that's where you’re wrong, mistaking him for me.”

“Really? I doubt that.” You bite, anything to rile him up. Of course you’ve heard how could Javier Pena can fuck, you’ve heard it around town, from your girl friends he’s a man whore. But how good really was he? Watching the battle in his dominant head made your stomach churn.

He closes in on you behind the table, “And who have you fucked?” Such a dirty question coming from his mouth, damping your panties, staying away from any professional decency at all. If you could in front of all these people you would jump his dick immediately, but you had a job to do.

“C’mon princess, you can tell me. Who have you fucked?”

Momentarily after you hesitate your response, his body is so close to yours you could feel the buckle of his jeans rest on your stomach. You’re backed behind the pivot of the wall where little to no people could see you. “If you’re too shy, I promise I don’t bite, this can go on all night sweetheart.”

You take this moment to grind against him, taking the risk to feel his bulge, tension never feeling this good. You didn’t want to be any ordinary fuck to Javier, you wanted to fuck him up so he could never go back. All he does is stare down at you, not believing what is happening.

“I’m not shy Javier, I’m hungry.” You whisper, tip toeing to his ear. You slither the cigarette from his hands, taking a drag. The burn breaks you alive, you move toward his mouth, locking lips and blowing the smoke into his mouth. He catches on and sucks it all in, his chocolate doe eyes never letting go of yours. The smoke flows through his nostrils, not ever has smoking ever been this erotic in your life. You needed more.

In the corner of the tiny room, you see a group of men walk through the doors, instantly knowing it’s the biker men. They were all wearing leather jackets, every single one of them covered in tattoos, every single one of them snaking through the crowd to come sit at the bar. Before you leave the secretive crevice he grabs your arm

“This isn’t over sweetheart, starting something don’t think you can finish.”

“I’ll finish, Javier.”

“Mi amor, you’re here again!” Nico, the head of the group greets you. He never failed to say hi to you when they came in, engaging with you was a task for him, every time he would drag a conversation with you. Trying to lure you to go out with him after you got off. He was your best tipper so you couldn’t complain, and he wasn’t horrible looking but you truly had no interest, it was all fun and play.

“Yes Nico, I’m always here.” You shake your head, “Absinthe and ginger ale?”

“You always know.” He laughs, taking off his jacket. All of his friends join them and Javier goes to take their orders.

“Hey sugar, why don’t you introduce me to your friend over there?” He taps his fingers on the table. This catches Javi’s attention looking over, a wave of goosebumps swallows your body, based off of his look this is exactly who he was looking for.

“And what’s your name..” Nico wisps out.

“Chandler.” He lies, you look at him, his eyes enlarge, shh.

“Well Chandler, serve me and my guys, don’t make my girl too busy I wanna talk to her.”

Nothing too new, just sweet talk Nico, fill him up to the brim with alcohol, swipe his card and take the cash he gives you.

Javier locks contact with you, but you set your stuff down, batting your eyelashes at Nico, this’ll teach our pretty boy.

“How’ve you been Nico? What have you and the boys been up to since I’ve last seen you.”

“Ahora cariño no puedo decirte que.” [Now, honey, you know I can’t tell you that] He smirks. Nico never told you what he did, but all you knew was that his group drove motorcycles around town together. Putting two and two together, it would make sense why Javier had a suspicion about them, either way they may know Pablo.

You take control, “But a guy like you needs to distress, have fun, dance everything off.”

“That’s why I’m here baby, how about your little friend here takes care of everything tonight and we leave together?”

Javier had been listening the whole time, Nico’s friend telling him their orders. You can feel his energy get stronger towards you, he lightly touches you, grabbing drinks in the fridge beneath your waist. You twitched and almost yelped, but you had to stay calm. Instead, but just for Javier, you arch your back. Hunching over the counter top to get closer to Nico, whispering something in his ear and he laughs. You wanted to see what kind of reaction that would get out of him.

You wiggle your ass, knowing it’ll piss off Javier, your low waist Rock Revival jeans accentuating every curve of your ass.

You told Nico, that Chandler's new and you had to train him tonight, little boy doesn't know what he’s doing. That got a kick out of him.

“Something I’m missing?” Javi asks.

“No, Chandler.” You giggle, “But you ruined my night with my sweet sweet Nico.” You pout at him, his face pouting like a lion, hungry. You’ve passed your line with him.

“One second sweetheart, we’re out of limes.” Javier goes to the back of the kitchen, doors closing behind him, fucking take that Javier.

Nico continues to ask about your day, his friends introduce themselves and you continue to sweeten up Nico. No harm no foul, he would eventually reach over to touch your hair that was french braided, complimenting your braiding skills. You make a couple more drinks and the business of the bar dies down, everyone on the dance floor having their fill of alcohol for the night.

You were starting to wonder why getting limes was taking so long, and you look down in the fridge and realize there's a whole bucket of them, where had he gone?

Before your eyes flash, he sneaks up behind you, but not standing, he’s on his knees so no one can see him. Thankfully Nico was busy talking to his friends so he didn’t notice that your attention was elsewhere.

“What the fuck are you doing Javier? You’ve been gone for minutes.” You whisper.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, and you are gonna fucking finish.” He growls.

You gasp as he grabs your legs closer to him, as he’s leaning against the fridge, the space between you and the table encloses and you are really leaning against the table now.

He lingers his hands around the hem of your jeans, you stare at him in awe that he’s touching you right there.

“Can I touch you?”

“Right here? Javi, what if someone sees what if someone from the kitchen comes in?”

“I don’t fucking care, tell me now.”

It felt like there was no option, but he was giving you an option. His fingers were touching your zipper slipping down to your crotch, your body going rigid.

“Fuck,” You close your eyes, “Javi… fuck… do what ever you… want.. just be careful.”

Slowly he unzips your jeans, you catch your breath quickly scanning the bar to see if anyone could see you right now. At any moment if anyone lingered for too long or had the perfect eyesight of seeing Javier down below, they could see. You grab the edge of the bar, now holding on and not able to see what he’ll do next.

You don’t care what he’ll do to you, you wanted him to do this to you, you felt the fire fuel inside your stomach. The rush of him undoing you in public made your brain melt.

“Where’d your little friend go?” Nico turns to you for attention again.

“I think in the back to get more limes, he’ll… be out soon.”

You could hear Javier slightly chuckle, as he slowly pulls down your jeans. Your breath staggers, you can’t control how your body reacts to his touch.

“Oh baby, I do wish you could come home with me tonight, I could show you around and we could have a nice drink. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Nico.. I… hmm… that would be nice,” You laugh, “But I am really tired, how about next week?” Knowing you, this would never actually happen, just to get him off for the night, you had bigger matters on your hands.

Now Javi has your jeans slipped down slightly past your ass, your panties out clear as day in front of him, you weren’t wearing anything special, but also nothing too bad.

You hear him chuckle, you can feel his fingers dance across your mound, reaching around to grab your ass, feeling his breath on your stomach.

“Sugar, we’re all leaving on a business trip to America next week, how about the next?”

“You know where to find me then.” You smirk.

After exploring your ass, Javi slips your panties to the side, stuffing his fingers beneath you. They slipped easily through your pussy lips, your wetness pulling him in. When he had you pushed against the wall, you were already a puddle for him, and now you were dripping on his fingers.

For not being able to see anything he’s doing, your senses were hyper. Making sure no one could see you, especially Nico. The thought of being caught turned you on, but possibly what could’ve happened if you were caught?

“Is that boy giving you any trouble? He seemed like a real fucker when he was making our drinks, I feel like I’ve seen him around before…”

Instantly you feel Javier tense below you, he’s had your legs held in his arms for a couple minutes now, but his fingers are rubbing back and forth through you went cunt, you’ve never done this before, but he knows exactly what he's doing. He pushes his thumb up just a little bit, to lay on top of your clit. Your throat can’t conceal your yelp, but thankfully the music was loud enough, no one would hear you.

“Chandler? Oh he’s no harm, he’s a little slow, but he’s kind.”

Kind? Javier was the opposite of kind.

“I’ll fucking show you slow.” You hear him whisper.

Not being able to see him is driving you crazy, you're tapping your fingers on the table and Nico goes to kiss your hands, you laugh it off but then you feel something wet touch you, not just his fingers on you now, it’s his tongue.

He kisses your pussy, from your mound down to your clit. He moved his thumb so he could suck your needy nub. What the hell is going through this man's mind?

“And he’s not trying to touch you now is he?”

Your heart jumped, Javier paused.

“What do you mean?” You stutter. Were you both caught?

“C’mon baby, is he trying to take what’s mine?” Nico frowns.

Whew.

“If he was, I’d tell you.” You giggle, not only at how stupid Nico was, but at Javier's tongue beginning to pick up speed on your clit after the little scare. You move your hips on his face, trying to relieve anything. You wanted to touch him, hold onto his hair to ride his face, but simply you had to stand there and act normal. His mustache was brushing against your skin, the burn making you more wet.

Breathing got ten times harder, thinking properly wasn’t a choice right now. You took a chance to look down and see him attached to your pussy, not able to say anything, undoing you in front of hundreds of people, his nose deep into your stomach.

As you watched in awe, he brought back his hand, lifting under your sidened panties, and he pushed his fingers up into you. Your jaw goes slack, not able to handle both at the same time. You really hope Nico would just stay distracted for an eternity.

Javier picks up the pace again, his fingers feeling like an automatic sex toy, never stopping. You couldn’t take the pace, his tongue dancing with your clit too, your eyes were about to roll to the back of your head.

You were close, but you were so scared you would give everything away, if you let yourself come, you would never be able to stop. Was this Javier testing you, to see how good you could be?

“Ok well sugar, we have to go now, I’m looking forward to seeing you in a couple weeks.” He winks. He ruffles through his wallet, slapping down 500$ in cash, at least 400 of it was for you to pocket.

“Here baby, some money to buy you something pretty, yeah?”

“Thank.. Thank you Nico, you're.. You’re so generous.”

“Don’t need to stutter for me baby, it’s all for you, only ever for you.” He kisses your wrist and gets up to leave. His friends follow him, and you lean your head on the bar, easing the howling in your stomach. Javier wouldn’t stop until you collapsed.

“He’s gone, Javier. They’re gone.” You shriek, trying to draw no attraction to the bar.

He slowly gets up, the light illuminating his wet mouth. You were so close to cumming all over his face, you were close to crumbling down on top of him, but you had to show him that you were strong and you couldn't break.

“You liked that huh? You liked that I was tongue fucking your pussy in front of that little cock sucker. Pussy’s a fuckin whore you know that. Could feel you soaking me up,” He wipes his mouth “Sweeter than candy, and he’ll never get a taste.”

“You don’t think I’ll let him suck my fucking pussy in front of hundreds of people?”

He takes you back to the hidden wall, slamming you against it.

“You think I'd let you? Think I’ll let a man that fucking dirty touch you? You’re wrong sweetheart, take his fucking money but I won’t let you go anywhere near him again.” He growls in your ear. He leaves you and you watch him, your jeans are still unzipped open, leaning against the wall.

He rumages for a lime in the fridge, walking back to you behind the secret wall, bringing the fruit to your mouth, “Bite.” He demands.

You shake your head, smirking. It was just a game with Javier.

Then he shoves the lime into your mouth, so citrusy but keeping you quiet. He roughly turns you around so you’re facing the wall, your jeans are still off your ass, and he starts to undo his. The metal of his belt touches your back, the hairs on your back lifting.

“Gonna be a fucking brat, or listen to me and when I tell you do to something?”

You moan, yes I’ll fucking listen you had to say. You’d always listen to Javier. Instead you shake your head for him.

“Pretty girl can’t fuckin talk, that’s what you get for being a fuckin slut. Like being a fucking little slut for me huh baby?”

You moan loud, not afraid anymore with the decibels of the music blazing through the club. Nobody in the world would give a fuck if they saw you two anymore. It was just you and Javier now. All you wanted was to whore yourself out for Javier, only his fucking whore. Let him use you how he’d like.

“Never seen such a perfect cunt like yours, mean it.” He gasps, he pulls his jeans down just enough to get his cock out of his boxers. From what you could see in your peripheral and being turned around from him, his dick looked long. Your heart sank and you didn’t know if you could take all of it.

“Don’t get shy on me now baby, it’ll be okay. You can be as loud as you want, no one will ever know.” He groans. He takes his hand off of holding you against the wall to pump himself a couple times “I wish you could see you fucking pussy right now, so pretty and glistening for me.”

You feel his cock nestle against your entrance and your body freezes up, his dick is so big, you panties have to stay on the side of your leg.

The whole night you’ve wanted this, since the moment you’ve met Javier, you needed him. He slips his dick in and you both relax at the new feeling, groaning at how full you are. He moves, you bite the lime stronger and the juices smear all over your face.

“When I first saw you sweetheart, I knew I needed to feel you, I knew deep down I needed fuck this fucking cunt.” He fucks up into hard. You shriek at the new pace. “That’s it, dirty fuckin whore for takin my cock out in the open, splitting you wide for the public.” He kisses your neck, down to your chest. You wanted to kiss him back, wanted your lips around him.

All you can do in groan and control where your arms are. He holds one leg in his hand, now slightly having you bent over the wall. He goes at you again, adjusting his stance so he can fit inside you better, but not only is he fucking you, he moved his hands around your stomach to hold you up, holding you like you’re his.

“What a fucking brat… talking to dirty men.” He seethes, “But I think you liked it… I saw your ass bent out, you knew what you were doing. Fucking whore for teasin me… knew what you wanted all along.”

Aside from the music you can hear your pussy breaking from his cock, your eyes fill with tears from how bad you want to come around his dick. His weight on you felt like the world was crashing on you, and you wanted more. You wanted to be alone to do more, but this was all was given to you.

No matter what, the thought of being caught while he was about to come, or you were made you more wet, the inability to stop what you were doing but a whole scene of people at the club seeing you get fucked like a fucking whore. You loved it, the thrill, the passion in your bodies, the feeling of no embarasement because Javier was proud to fuck you like this. All you wanted was to tease Javier, make him upset. Prolonging another punishment.

His scent and the cold of his leather jacket kept you alive, but if it wasn't for that you’d immediately fall to the floor, crumbling from the inside of his dick. When he would fuck you, cock kissing your pussy, you could feel the metal of his gun hitting your lower leg, you weren’t scared but protected.

Repeatedly thinking about being caught, you feel yourself tighten around him, not knowing where else to move or think. You moan as loud as you can, about to break every particle of the wall you’re resting on.

“Fuck… that’s it baby… come all over me… pussy’s so tight. I can feel… fuck…let go perfect girl let the whole crowd see.”

You stop thinking, you just let go. No matter where anyone in the world was, you wish they could feel this feeling, how every amount of stress flew away. Every ration of thought eased and your pussy craved more. You wanted to be fucked all night long by Javier, it’s what you were made for.

“Greedy fuckin cunt, swallowing me whole.” He whimpers. “Don’t think I can last longer baby…”

No matter what you lose all cognitive function and fall into his arms, he fucks your orgasm through and you’re unable to process how fast he was going, eventually pulling out so he wouldn’t come in you. He flips you around on the wall so you can finally see and he quickly finds a rag so he can come, before you close your eyes you sag against the wall, slipping to the floor. You can feel that your underwear is beyond stretched out, ripped partially but you don’t care. Evidence from tonight that you would remember for forever.

You watch him grunt, pumping himself until he spurts. You would do anything for that white liquid to be inside you, but it’s for the best.

Once he’s done, he throws the rag to the side, and slides against the wall next to you, he holds you tight again, compressing the aftershocks in your body to his. He takes the lime out of your mouth and you almost forgot it was there, you see your bite marks, realizing that if it was his hand you would’ve drawn blood. You slump against him still hidden in the club.

“I was.. Wrong… Javier Pena… can fuck.” You whisper.

He laughs, “I didn’t think fucking in public with a pretty girl like you would ruin me.” He kisses your temple.

You grab onto his leather jacket, “Better tell Murphy you unlocked a new kink.”

“Nu-uh, gonna keep you from Murphy, my fuckin trophy girl.”

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tropes-and-tales · 5 months

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Celeste

Day 12: Stripping (Colonel Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: A minor mention of drug use; Smut-ish but nothing explicit; stripping; talk of a naked body; imagined sex; 18+ only to be safe.

Word Count: 1377

AN: This was requested by the lovely @justreblogginfics

Colonel Carrillo sits deep in the shadows of the club, hidden away. Most men cluster up close to the stage for the best view, but he doesn’t want to be noticed. He’s tucked away out of sight, out of his usual uniform, blending in with the other men there to ogle beautiful women.

The club is a frequent hangout for many of Escobar’s men, low-level narcos who nonetheless have important intel that they often blab to their dancer girlfriends. Those dancer girlfriends then blab backstage, snicker and laugh as they touch up their hair and makeup, as they do bumps of coke to keep their energy up for a long night of dancing.

And you’re there too, a willing ear to listen for that intel that you pass onto your fellow agents. You have arranged drops that Murphy picks up, and Carrillo combs through them carefully each time. He waits until he’s alone in his office at night, and then he traces over your neat printing, the simple code that you and Javier devised before you went undercover.

Carrillo pictures you in your UC apartment, shabby and small. He pictures you bent over the slips of paper as you pick at a late dinner, pictures you rubbing the calf of one leg with your other foot, that absent-minded habit you have that he noticed immediately when you sat outside of his office. He pictures you sighing, tired, missing home, missing even your DEA-issued apartment in the expat block of buildings. He pictures you missing your real name, your real job.

Carrillo hasn’t laid eyes on you in months. He can edge up to the truth but can’t quite admit it to himself, and you may miss your life, but he misses you.

-----

Your UC work has layers. You’re you, normally, but undercover, you’re Elena Aguilar, a Mexican-American ex-pat with shadowy provenance. Your cover is that you possibly maybe probably had legal troubles in the States and fled to Medellin to avoid arrest. It’s an easy way to explain away your American-born Spanish, and it gives you an extra layer of cover: you don’t answer personal questions because Elena Aguilar is wanted by authorities in the States.

But Elena Aguilar becomes Celeste on the stage, and when Carrillo finally sees you again after so many months, he almost doesn’t recognize you. Even clothed for a gentlemen’s club, you’re more exposed than he’s ever seen you before. You’re in a short, pleated skirt that barely covers your ass, and it flounces as you take the stage, platform heels that add entire inches to your height. You’re dressed up like a Catholic school girl—a tight, low-cut white blouse, a loosely-knotted tie, and a pair of loose braids—and Carrillo hates the hot beat of desire that pulses through him when he sees you.

The music is loud; Carrillo’s heartbeat seems to sync up to the bassline, and he catches himself holding his breath as he watches. Dios, but why did he never consider how good of a dancer you are? You had made a joke once to Murphy before you went UC, said something about all those ballet lessons in childhood finally paying off, but maybe there’s some truth to it.

Watching you, there’s a sensuous, natural movement to your body that Carrillo never would have guessed at. Some of the other dancers before you were blatant with their sexuality, sharp snaps of the hips, pushing their bared breasts into the faces of the patrons crowded against the stage, but you seduce the crowd, and by extension, you seduce him.

You work to the beat, but you don’t rush it. You unbutton your tight blouse to reveal a flimsy see-through bra that pushes your breasts up. You lean against the pole, slide down along it, arch your back like a cat, which makes your breasts push up even further. You stand again, turn away, push the tiny skirt over your hips and ass. When you bend over to push it down the rest of the way—you’re in a tiny thong—Carrillo inhales a harsh breath, and his throat feels too tight.

Maybe the song you dance to is long. Maybe time slows down. Carrillo knows you must be blinded by the colored lights dancing over you as you strip, and he knows he’s invisible in the shadows, but sometimes it feels like your eyes meet his. Sometimes everyone else in the club—the hooting, leering men waving Colombian pesos and American dollars (he even swears he sees a Panamanian balboa at one point)—falls away, and it’s like you’re dancing just for him.

Carrillo went to Catholic school. The man has few sexual predilections that veer into kink territory, but something about the Catholic school girl uniform makes him feel a certain way, reminds him of coming of age around other boys in slacks and button down shirts, around girls in knee socks and pleated skirts. And you, as Elena Aguilar, as Celeste, has chosen his one, lone kink as your on-stage costume.

He only wanted to lay eyes on you, but here he is, reduced to a panting idiot, hard just from watching you, his erection straining until he shifts in his seat uncomfortably. He’s a moment away from rushing the stage and wrapping his coat around you, carrying you home and fucking you senseless. You, though: not Celeste or Elena.

It doesn’t get easier for him as you finish your set. You’re naturally athletic, graceful, and when you wrap around the pole, Carrillo can imagine it translating. He can picture your legs wrapped around him. He can picture your back arching underneath him, your arms above your head, your eyes heavy-lidded as he makes you come. And when you shed your bra, Carrillo actually groans: your breasts are perfect, your nipples pert and pebbled, and he can imagine putting his mouth on them, kissing you there, your hand against the back of head as he sucks against those perfect nipples, the sounds he could pull from you—

The songs ends. It breaks the spell; the crowd claps and hollers, crude propositions in Spanish, a flurry of paper money that you bend down to gather up along with your clothing. You do a cute little curtsy, flash the crowd a winning smile, and then you’re gone.

He wants to stay only long enough to calm. He can’t careen out onto the streets of Medellin with an erection, so he sits in the shadows and watches the next dancer. She doesn’t elicit the same response, thankfully—only you seem to have that power—so his blood cools by degrees and he deflates and his heartrate slows.

But when he starts to plan his exit, a waitress brings him a fresh drink. He hadn’t ordered it, and when he tries to wave it away, she insists.

“On the house,” she says, and she sets down a clean cocktail napkin and sets the glass down on top of it.

His first thought is that he’s been made. A narco in the club has recognized him and is sending him this drink. As a message? Poisoned, perhaps? He runs his thumb over the rim of the glass and jostles it so the ice clinks. He looks around but doesn’t see anyone obviously watching him.

Then he sees it: slowly bleeding as the condensation of the glass wets the napkin, but he snatches the glass away before it becomes illegible. A message on the cocktail napkin, and he recognizes the neat handwriting immediately.

You must have seen him come in. Carrillo knows little about strip clubs, but it would make sense that there be cameras posted everywhere, and it would make sense that the dancers would watch them. How else might they target the men who might give them the most money? How else might they identify problem men? Maybe you watched him enter the club, watched him be seated, and maybe those moments where he felt like he was locking eyes with you were real after all.

But the message, half-blurred by his drink. Carrillo reads it on the sly, pretends to sip his drink and toy with the napkin like he’s bored.

H - I want to come home.

#horacio carrillo #colonel horacio carrillo x reader #colonel horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo imagine #colonel carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo imagine #colonel carrillo #narcos #tropes and tales #kinktober 2023

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workingclasshistory · 1 year

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On this day, 12 February 1920, the first strike organised by women in Colombia took place at the textile factory in Bello, Antioquia. Around 400 women walked out demanding equal pay with men, and end to sexual harassment by managers, the abolition of fines for sick leave, reduced surveillance and searches of workers and that salaries be paid directly to women workers, rather than to their fathers or husbands. Key organisers included Teresa Tamayo, Adelina González, Carmen Agudelo, Teresa Piedrahita, Matilde Montoya and Betsabé Espinal (pictured). Most male workers at the factory crossed the picket lines while police tried to break the strike. But the women held firm; they had widespread public support and received donations from workers, especially in Medellin. Eventually, on 4 March, the women won most of their demands, including a 40% pay increase, reduced working hours, better health and safety, the abolition of fines and a number of abusive managers were dismissed. https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.1819457841572691/2208202052698266/?type=3

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medellinsingle · 1 year

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Why Medellin women are worth spending the rest of your life with?

In terms of beauty and elegance, Medellin women will always be noticed. And when we talk about the qualities that every woman should have to be one’s wife, these ladies will surely be admired. Learn more about Medellin women by browsing our website medellinsingles.com.

#medellin women #find love #medellin dating

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goodnitedrdead · 1 year

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god only knows

Horacio Carrillo x reader

Summary: who would've thought his ex-wife would ask God to send Horacio an angel? To fill the space she couldn't fill, and to do what Horacio wouldn't even do for himself.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Divorce. Horacio being head over heels for reader. Fluff. Love. All that fun stuff.

Author's Note: quick little something I wrote before bed because I rly miss my favorite soldier and because I needed a break from school. Might make sense, might not. I did state that one of my new years resolutions was to write at least one piece of writing for each month so I am doing this before the month ends. Mistakes and errors are all my own, I didn't have time to check it. Let me know what you think :3

Composed. Collected. Calm. That’s what made Horacio an excellent soldier and an even better Colonel. Ever since his training days at the academy, he was an exemplary student. A promising star who was meant to be a leader.

And a leader he became.

He’d set the tempo, and everyone else would follow the rhythm of his steps. His family talked wonders of the honorable man he became, to anyone who would listen. It was no surprise that the women were fawning over him, and much to his family’s constant pestering of finding the perfect wife, he found Juliana.

Together, they found a mutual and tranquil love. Maybe the kind that develops over time, but certainly not one to last forever.

If Horacio were to match Juliana to an animal, he’d say she was a doe. Skittish, gentle, docile. She was a good wife to him and always fulfilled her duties. She’d have three meals a day ready for the family. She’d stay home and focus on the children. She’d be devoted to her husband forever.

Just as tradition states.

Horacio was to fulfill his duties as a husband too. He’d go to work, dedicate most of his time to it not only because he wanted the best for his country, but he wanted a safe place for his children to grow. He’d come back home and sometimes have dinner with his family. He’d be devoted to his wife forever.

Just as tradition states.

Tradition didn’t talk about divorce. Tradition didn’t talk about intruders and third parties shaking the very core of an honorable man’s beliefs.

Tradition never changes.

Tradition was broken when Julianna eventually got tired of Horacio’s lifestyle. It was broken when fear crept into their home, and found a host to latch on to. Fear was deeply rooted in Julianna’s heart from one minute to the next; fearing that every day that passed would be their last with Escobar on the run.

She went against her duties and beliefs and did what she saw fit. Bags packed, a new home far from Medellin, and divorce papers were her top three priorities for a few weeks. Eventually, she did the first two, but she couldn’t bring herself to give the papers to Horacio herself. She prayed, day and night, for guidance on what she should do but at the end of the day, her and her children’s safety were her number one priority. Horacio would be able to fend for himself.

That never stopped her from reciting a quick prayer for him every night before bed. As she found herself far away from Medellin and Horacio, she’d pray for the safety of her ex-husband. After all, she still had a fondness for him and he was the father of her children. She shared many years and a home with him, it was someone she couldn’t just forget about overnight.

She prayed to God to send Archangel Michael and his soldiers to watch over and protect Horacio from harm. Whether it may be from self-harm or others, she prayed for his safety. Send him your fiercest angel, the most courageous and brave one to keep him from harm’s way.

Horacio never knew this, for if he had he would’ve thanked Juliana for her wishes and prayers. Because if it wouldn’t have been for her, he wouldn’t have found you.

You came into his life like a goddamn lightning bolt. He’d feel you in the air, the startling feeling jolting him as soon as you’d walk into the room. Unapologetically yourself and nothing else. You’d make a friend of anyone that crossed your path, but he’d also seen the rage within you. If there was someone he’d fear, it would be you.

You were quick on your feet, and somehow quicker with your gun. He wasn’t sure why the DEA didn’t make you a sniper, but you were awfully good at your job. And yet, you were unapologetically gentle. You wouldn’t think twice about taking a bullet for him, and it made him laugh at times. A woman of your stature stepping in front of him, to protect him from harm’s way. A woman who was breaking tradition day by day and night by night. You weren’t quite like anything he’s ever seen before, and he loved that about you.

He loved how, despite igniting fear into even his soldiers’ minds and hearts, you wouldn’t budge. He could yell and scream and bark orders at you and you’d remain with the most serene energy he’s ever seen. Your eyes fixed on him, the storm brewing within you. Horacio wasn’t scared of many things, but he was scared of you.

How is it that you, someone so tender yet menacing, could have that balance within? He was scared of the way you would keep your innocence despite the amount of deaths and blood you’ve seen this city shed at the hands of Pablo Escobar. The way a smile would come so easy to you. The way a laugh was so easy to coax out of you. He was absolutely enamored by your very being.

Something he had never truly quite felt.

The time came when he lost everything he ever thought he was. Horacio started to lose his composure. He’d start to notice the way his heart would threaten to jump out at the sight of you. The way his pulse would quicken by just being by your side. The way his mind would seem to forget about every word to ever exist when you were speaking to him.

He started to notice how clumsy he would unwillingly become. How he’d stumble over his words when you were in the room. How his hands would betray him and drop the items they were carrying, because it would somehow elicit a giggle out of you. How he’d blush whenever you focused on him, as if he was the only person in the world that mattered.

Tradition was never supposed to change, right?

Yet you continued to prove that you didn’t care what tradition said. You approached Horacio first. You asked him out first. You kissed him first. You weren’t worried about what anyone else would think. You didn’t even care about what Horacio would think.

It’s not like he never wanted to start anything, he was just too busy being consumed by your presence. You had a light within you that was blinding, but all Horacio wanted to do was look at you even if that meant he’d lose his senses for the rest of his life.

It was only when you became a couple that he realized you were the protector. No matter how much he tried, you were always one step ahead of him. Ready to attack at the slightest moment anyone got too close to him. Ready to give your life up for him.

Ready to fill his life with the most pure and sincere love he’d ever felt.

It was as if God himself picked you to be placed on his path.

#colonel carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo x you #colonel carrillo imagine #colonel carrillo #colonel carrillo fic #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x you #horacio carrillo fic #horacio carrillo imagine #horacio carrillo #narcos fic #maurice compte #goodnitedrdead writes

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el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle · 2 months

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What do you think would have happened to change the course of history as we know it in the show if the guy who accompanies his friend for the betty-aura maria double date was genuinely interested in getting to know her (at least being a friend to her)...maybe they had a common interest in say finance or books or music. Betty wrote in her diary that men seek for desirable women and she didn't feel like that. What if this guy made a decent attempt to connect to her and wanted to see her again. Your opinions are so interesting and I want to hear your thoughts. Thank you and have a good day.

Omgggg I looooove this question!! But also it's so complicated to answer because this supposes to alter a LOOOOT! On one hand we can go for the realistic route of "if Betty hadn't had her hope of love fully crushed and she had actually seen that another man could have had an interest in her, she wouldn't have beeb so utterly blind and devoted towards Armando" especially because the night of the doubke date is the night that Betty gives on on love. On the other hand, we can also take the also canon but less realistic view of "Armando and Betty were destined to be and once Betty fell for Armando there was no going back nor person that ever made her doubt it," given that they share a canonical psychic or soul bond. In other words, would Betty give it a chance with someone else, or would her love blind her to anh other possibility but Armando?

Although I DEFINITELY think that a love rival would have spiced things up and quickened Armando's realization of his own feelings, which I loooove and it's why I DESPERATELY wanna write about that lmao. After all, he did have the biggest jump in his own feelings for Betty when he learned about Nicolás, except that this would be an even bigger kick in the face because he doesn't yet have the embargo excuse! And also, he could actually get to see a real peak of Betty being courted. I've actually been trying to write a short story based on the idea of a rival!

Anyways, let's see!

Imagining that the guy, Rafael (canon name) actually liked Betty would imply that we need to re imagine his whole personality lmao that canon ratman is canonically too uncool for my girlie, but let's say that he is a now a cool guy. He's charming, fun, and actually not superficial. He's open to friendship

He doesn't immediately reject Betty at all, and is in an active conversation with Betty through the whole night. He doesn't leave early, and let's say they even dance a little. They're in a friendly convo but there's no romantic spark.

In any case, Aura Maria is still happy for Betty! She's enjoying her time with the other guy but she's happy to see that Betty and Rafael are getting along, even if she's a bit sad that there's obviously no attraction between them

Anyways, Betty gets a little later home, and when her mom asks about how it went, Betty is so happy to tell her she had an actual good time! She writes in her diary that she had a good time but can't help but feel a little disappointed, because she noticed the guy wasn't into her like that

At this point it's where the major change happens, because this is the night that Betty is fully convinced that she will never experience love, that men only like beautiful women, that the powerhouse of her life must be work, and that Armando is the only man who will ever want and need her, even if it's only because of her work

In this scenario, Betty isn't as pessimistic as she was in the novela. She is just a little sad, but she didn't give up on love fully, because she wasn't fully rejected and mistreated like in the novela. She actually has a bit of hope because the guy and her exchanged numbers.

This supposes a BIG change because it's due to the devoted mentality that Betty agrees to do everything Armando asks for

Given that the dude is from Medellin, this would imply that they cant see each other often, and their relationship, fully platonic at first, would be mainly through phone

So this means Armando doesn't really have to know about him for a while

Obviously Aura Maria would mention Rafael and their night out all together to the rest of the Cuartel, but Betty would shut all of that down arguing that they just ended up as friends

But this is definitely a source for the Cuartel to gossip and tease her! They would definitely ask her if she's now over Nicolás, and she'd say no

Betty and this dude's friendship would continue for a while, but at the same time, Betty spends most of her time with Armando, which also furthers her crush on him, because after all, I really don't think Betty would ever fully love another man

(This is mainly because it's heavily implied in the show thay Armando and Betty share a special psychic connection and that it's probably faithed to be, like when Armando yelled her name and she heard it all the way to Cartagena lmao I don't think either of them would have been happy with any other partner)

There would need to be a point in which Rafael comes back, and that would probably be when things really get going!

Him being away is the main reason why I don't think it would fully develop into a relationship. Betty just wouldn't be able to lower enough of her barriers like that

It'd be interesting to see when him comjng back happens, but for the fun of it, let's say this happens before the embargo. Just to change this up a little from the canon "Nicolás is Betty's bf" canon paranoia

Imagine this dude coming over to Ecomoda one day showing up with a bouquet for Betty. Aura Maria would be sooooo happy for her and would so quickly call her to her office to tell her he's there!!

Would Betty accept these flowers?? Probably she'd be a bit hesitant but get them at the end. She's kinda flattered with them but remember she still has so many barriers up because of the trauma she went through

What for Rafael and any other man may be a simple gentlemanly and romantic present for their lady love, for Betty it can be a painful reminder of what happened. It's not thay she doesn't want to give herself the opportunity to love, it's just that fear will always remain after such trauma

With Armando, after all, she was already fully devoted and trusting of him because he had demonstrated through actions, words, and even conversations with Mario that he appreciated and trusted her fully, and even when their relationship started Betty continued to be full of doubts but she loved him so much that she couldn't close herself to the experience. He made her feel safe enough to lower her barriers and push herself through her doubts. With Rafael it's hard to get to this level of trust and safety when they basically just communicated through phone for a while

Anyways, imagine Betty coming back to her office holding this big bouquet of roses. Imagine Armando's stunned face for a moment, before asking what is that and why she has it, before Betty laughingly and dismissingly saying a friend got it for her

Imagine his killer stare. Just imagine that lmao

His deadfaced, teeth gritted, muscle tensed, sarcastic and dry comment of "what a romantic 'friend', right?" Lmaoooo

He'd totally spiral. He'd be in a terrible mood the whole day!

Imagine he goes out of his office because he's so angry and the first thing he hears Bertha and Sofia talking about is Rafael lmao

He's definitely go as far as to ask Aura Maria about this dude once he finds out they're friends

He'd be so angry and mortified with no apparent reason as to why when learning those two had been on a date, dancing and chatting and having fun

Ohhhh, imagine that same day Armando actually gets to meet him!! Perhaps Rafael goes to Ecomoda yo invite Betty to lunch

Lmao imagine Armando witnessing that and making up something like a lunch meeting just so she doesn't go

To me this scenario is soooo hilarous, the idea of a rival kills me because it's so full of potential for funny jealous Armando and Mario teasing him about it lmao i want a full fanfiction of this😂😂

Anyways, I don't really think this would become a full relationship. There may be some interest between the parts but I don't think it'd be strong enough to become a relationship and they can always use the distance excuse

Maybe Rafael realizes that Betty's appearence is a deal breaker after all, after months of only talking through phone and basically forgetting how she looks. It wouldn't be such a stretch, after all, it's basically Armando's situation in the sense that they like Betty's personality very very much but they can't break past her appearence

Armandk was forced to see past that due to the embargo, but Rafael can just walk away. He has no real attachment, and ghe "situationship" can easily be broken up becauseof the "distance" between where they live

But the simple fact of knowing that Betty can actually be desirable for other men, see it first hand, and that she's interested in dating, will definitely make Armando be extra alert

It's also the realization that Betty is sweet, kind, and devoted to other people. It's basically the same realization Armando has when he first heard about Betty havin a bf, except that he is now seeing it with his own eyes!

Would this quicken things? Feeling wise, absolutely. Action wise? Hard to say. Armando still has so many prejudices and his own barriers up

Although it would definitely later be fuel for Calderón's tease and further of Armando's paranoia.

Something like "Well, maybe her crush on Nicolás is stronger than we thought, after all she also rejected that other dude. And an uggo of such magnitude giving up an opportunity like that? It has to be love!" Every time Betty rejects Armando or tries to break up

On the other hand, if this man turns out to be more Michel like, given that he is introduced so early in the story, he could change everything. It all depend on how his personality and goals are, but given that he's a canonical asshole and this scenario supposes re inventing him completely, it opens so many possibilities

Since he's a blanck slate, how do we want him to be according to what story we want? Is he carefree and laid back? Protective and serious? Fun and trusting?

Because if we go full Michel mode, he could have wanted to make Betty his gf and take her away from that toxic work environment to take her to work where he does, resulting in Ecomoda collapsing under Armando's bad decisions

Would they be happy? No, Betty and Armandk are faithed to be and they definitely wouldn't be happy without each other

This whole idea of Rafael offers soooo many scenarios, depending on when he shows up, what his intentions are or end up being, in what point of Betty's arch he appears, etc!

So much fanfic material omg

The question made me crack my brain open trying to put a single answer to a vlear scenario but since there are so many choices I put a bit of everything. I think it endedup being more scrambled than of usual lmao

Thank you for the question!

#ysblf #yo soy betty la fea #betty la fea #armando mendoza #beatriz pinzon solano #beatriz pinzón solano #betty ysblf #armando ysblf #el moscorrofio aus

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mrvlbimbo · 1 year

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A Series of Nights pt 1

Night One (the first night)

“Ohmygod, we slept together,” she gasped out, scrambling up from her position and grabbing his shoulders excitedly.

“I think I’d remember that,” he chuckled, not sure what she was getting at. His foul mood was nowhere to be seen that morning, which was a nice change of pace.

“No dumbass, we slept. Like for the first time in a month I got a decent night's rest,” she explained, shaking his shoulders. Her eyes were lit up with excitement and he couldn’t help but laugh again.

AKA

partners awkwardly share a bed because its the only way for them to make the nightmares go away, chaos ensues

After the official formation of the Medellin cartel, the DEA realized Steve Murphy wasn’t going to be enough. After only a few weeks of him being in the country, they had sent him a female counterpart. She had worked with him briefly after his previous partner was killed but they certainly were not close.

She wasn’t very close to anyone. It wasn’t easy for women in their industry and it didn’t hurt that she was a relatively attractive young lady. Many people believed she only had her position because of her father’s wealth and power and she wasn’t going to argue with them on that.

In cop shows, women in law enforcement are bossy and no nonsense. That wasn’t necessarily her forte. Sure she was determined, a hard grimace often gracing her features. However, she was also a relentless flirt, rivaling even her male colleagues.

And rivaling was the right word. Javier Pena was her perfect equal. He was a large, charming, and rugglishly mascline man with a playboy reputation. The second they walked into the same room, deep down they both knew it was a moment that would change their life.

They were somewhat friendly, certainly not as friendly as she was with Steve. Her close friendship with their other partner bothered Javier. He didn’t quite understand why he wasn’t her favorite and it made him feel a bit slighted. It wasn’t a secret that he was a ladies man, but she seemed immune to his charm and that frustrated him greatly.

Their apartments, located in a secret and shared location, were barely lived in. Late nights kept them at the office and on the streets most of the time, only returning to their living spaces to sleep.

But sleep wasn’t the right word for it. Their work kept them tightly wound in a way that kept them conscious through most of the late hours of the night. Steve had a larger apartment on a higher floor which he shared with his wife. The other two had twin apartments only a door away from each other.

Their close living spaces made it so they were able to hear each other through the thin walls. Many a late night Javier was kept up by the sound of her pacing in fervent circles around her kitchen. After particularly long days when he meant to go straight to bed he wanted to march over there bust down her door and tell her to shut the fuck up.

And so he did. After throwing on a pair of jeans, he rushed over there and furiously banged on the door. His chest was heaving with frustrated breath but when she opened the door he didn’t know what to say.

She pulled her tiny robe tighter against her body to shield from the cool night air and looked up at him with a confused expression. “Uh, can I help you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

The sight of her disheveled and intimate like that knocked the breath out of his chest. He looked her over a bit more than would be proper, wanting to reach out and caress the sleepy frown away from her face.

As he studied her, she stood there silently, blinking up at him patiently. “Be quiet,” he grumbled finally, turning on his heels and hastily striding back to his own apartment.

Sleep didn’t even try to take him that night, not after his embarrassing display of unchecked frustration. He sat awake on his couch, head in his hands and a sense of dread flooding his whole body.

He was more than embarrassed at how her gentle demeanor ripped the anger right out of him. The tired lines around her eyes were more obvious in the harsh light of her apartment and it made him realize they were all dealing with the same issues.

The end of her late night pacing didn’t seem to help his sleep schedule either. In fact, he felt that the deafening silence made it harder for him to fall asleep. After trying every method he could think of to get some rest, he was out of options and desperate to close his eyes and drift off for some peace.

With neither of them getting a good night's rest and having hot tempers, it was bound to cause some issues. Poor Steve was caught between their constant bickering and general bad moods.

When he was first paired with them, he thought the worst thing imaginable was their constant flirting. With each other, with him, with any other agents they could get their hands on. It was infuriating to him, they had no boundaries.

But somehow the arguing was so much worse, what he wouldn’t give to be in the middle of their unrelenting sexual tension again.

It took a few weeks for him to finally have enough of it. He slammed a cup of coffee down on his female partner’s desk and demanded an explanation. “Is something going on with you and Peña that I don’t know about?”

“Just him being an asshole, nothing new,” she offered, tipping her head back and chugging the drink down as fast as she could without burning herself.

He didn’t miss the way her eyebrows raised for only a second, an expression of surprise morphing into humor and then quickly going back to disinterest.

“Very helpful,” Steve grumbled and stalked away, frustrated by his partner’s attitude. Although he wasn’t done with his tampering just yet, instead opting to question his other partner.

When he stands in front of Javier’s desk, he is quickly addressed. “What can I do ya’ for, Murphy?” he asks, a sharp edge to his tone.

As was par for the course, Steve felt like he was looking into a mirror image of their other partner. How was it, he was paired with the two most infuriatingly stubborn and frustrating people known to man.

“Do you and the lady have some bet over who can piss me off more?” Steve questions, at his wits end with everyone’s rudeness today.

“Can’t say we do,” his partner replied through gritted teeth, tightly gripping a pencil on his desk so hard he thought it might snap.

“Then can you try to be fucking civil?!” he snapped, turning away to find his way back to his own desk and get started on his work for the day.

It was a long day of making calls and doing paperwork with a surprising lack of fieldwork. Without any grueling chases, they were still riled up and full of energy when they returned home.

She fought the urge to pace her apartment, knowing it would only result in a lecture from her grumpy neighbor. She wondered if maybe he was awake as well, sitting quietly in his living room or better yet pacing the floor as sleep evaded him.

Against her better judgment, she tiptoed over to the wall and pressed her ear to the drywall. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sound on the other side of the wall. Sure enough she could hear his footsteps padding around the apartment, her lips twitched into a satisfied grin.

She couldn't resist the urge to go pay him a visit and maybe an ‘I told you so’. She pulled her robe tighter around herself and practically skipping over to the door.

She yanked the door open to the sight of her current least favorite coworker. “What? Was I breathing too loud?” she snapped, caught off guard by his presence. She was ready to slam the door once she got her words out but he grabbed it before she could.

“Sorry,” he offered tentatively, not sure exactly what he was apologizing for because there was so much.

“For?” she wasn’t going to let him get away with a half assed apology, not after he had been annoying her every day for more than two weeks. He didn’t answer, instead giving her a confused and slightly annoyed expression. “What are you apologizing for?” she continued.

“I haven’t been sleeping well and I’ve been taking it out on you,” he admitted, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he spoke.

“Yeah, that much I gathered,” she replied sternly, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“Can I come in?” he asked. Before the words even came out of his mouth he regretted it. He knew coming into his female coworker’s apartment this late could end in a couple ways and none of them would make their job any easier.

“What if I say no?” She was joking, maybe. There was still a cruel sarcasm in her tone.

He grunts something unintelligible and steps past her into the apartment. He found his way onto her couch and sat with his head in his hands. She hesitantly stepped behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s keeping you up?” she murmured, a soft touch accompanying her words. His emotion instantly warmed her to him. She could see he was having a hard time and there was something in her that still wanted to comfort him.

“Better question would be what isn’t keeping me up,” he replied bluntly. It was the first time she had seen their job affecting him and it was weird. Obviously no one could do what they did without it affecting them psychologically but he always seemed uninterested and focused solely on the job.

She paced around the couch and sat next to him tentatively, still not sure of how she was supposed to be reacting to this sudden show of vulnerability. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“No you don’t,” he replied, his form stiffening when she put her hand on his arm.

“You don’t know anything about me, Pena. Don't act like you do.” She didn’t move her hand, still rubbing up and down his tense muscles. It was a stark contrast to the bite in her words.

“You’re just a little firecracker aren't you?” he questioned fondly.

“Maybe a bit.” She felt a slight discomfort at how easily he let her take her anger out on him. He seemed almost amused at her words rather than hurt by them.

A hazy feeling filled her body when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his chest a bit and rested her head on him. There wasn't much left to say, so the two of them just sat there begrudgingly enjoying eachothers company and closeness. By some stroke of luck or cruel misfortune, they both fell asleep after a while. The most comfortable and uninterrupted sleep either of them had had in months.

When they woke Javier was slumped over on the couch with his partner laying on his lap. It was another stroke of luck that he didn’t wake up with an erection that would be poking her in the face at the moment.

When she rolled over to face him her eyes met his and it felt like getting hit by a train. The short robe she wore had come undone in the night and it was barely covering her modesty, creating a deep V over her chest. He was sure if he looked down her underwear would be uncovered, which is why he didn't look down.

“Morning sleepyhead,” he grumbled, his morning voice significantly deeper in a way that made her stomach drop and her face heat up.

“Ohmygod, we slept together,” she gasped out, scrambling up from her position and grabbing his shoulders excitedly.

“I think I’d remember that,” he chuckled, not sure what she was getting at. His foul mood was nowhere to be seen that morning, which was a nice change of pace.

“Fuck! You’re a miracle worker,” he yelped, his hands falling to her waist to tug her into an embrace. He’d be lying if he said her barely clothed body pressing against his bare chest wasn’t doing things to him. But he was a gentleman and he was a little more focused on the fact he actually slept through the night.

“What time is it? We’re gonna be late for work!” She scrambled off his lap and ran to get dressed. He sat on her couch, a bit of tension finally leaving his body after the past few weeks.

When she returned he was standing in the doorway waiting to say goodbye. “See you at work,” he offered. Before he could shut the door he grinned and continued, “We should sleep together more often.”

“You bastard-” she was cut off by him shutting the door. If anyone saw him right now they’d be impressed by just how stupidly he was grinning, luckily no one was roaming the halls as he walked back to his apartment.

Pt 2

#javier pena x reader #javier pena #narcos #javier pena smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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guess-my-next-obsession · 2 years

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Boss — Chapter 1

next chapter

pairing: javier peña x DEA!OC

summary: you’re Javi’s new boss and he’s making sure it’s not an easy job.

chapter rating: M (mature content)

warnings: language, narcos stuff, javi being a persistent flirt, mild mild mild mature content, eventual smut to come

words: 3k

a/n: please let me know if you’d like to be on the tag list for this series!

“Thank you all for being here this morning,” Javíer stood in the corner of the conference room at the Embassy in Bogota, his arms crossed over his chest as he scowled at the room. He hated meaningless shit, and this little gathering felt as meaningless as he could imagine. “We’re delighted to welcome three new agents to our operations.”

“Javi,” Javier’s partner, Agent Steve Murphy, entered the room from the back, quickly finding Javier and standing at his side. “What’s going on now?”

“They’re trying to let us know we’re replaceable by sending us the replacements.” Javier eyed the three newest faces to the office, two of them looking rather forgettable, but one stuck out immediately.

It wasn’t a common occurrence for Javier to find his fellow agents so attractive, hence why he had to go out and find his women elsewhere. But she immediately caught his eye, her dark features as warm as whiskey and the red lipstick on her Angelina Jolie-esque lips drawing every eye in the room towards them.

“Lastly,” the Ambassador turned to the woman that had Javier under a spell. Every eye in the room was focused on her, including Javier’s. Though she looked stern, there was no denying her attractiveness, and the room of lonely men around her seemed to prove that. “I want to introduce the new station deputy, Agent Hernandez. Agent, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Ambassador.” She took over, her stomach only slightly churning with nerves as she looked across the room. Thankfully, she wasn’t coming in as some rookie, no, she’d already served her time as a freshman agent working in Mexico. She was now a boss—well, the boss. “I’m glad to be here and I look forward to touching my boots down on the streets of Medellin—“

“Medillin? She’s going to be our fucking nanny?” Steve groaned in a whisper to Javier, but Javi was completely lost in listening to her. He wasn’t sure if the sudden interest in the meeting was because he was desperate to sleep with her or because of the sheer authority and confidence she radiated in room full of stiffs, but he found himself genuinely listening to her.

“What was your name?” Javier looked over his shoulder as she called out the blonde beside him. Steve stood up straight and straightened his hair out.

“Agent Murphy.” He replied in a deep southern drawl. She nodded slightly and eyed him again before glancing over at the man next to him, his stare on her so intense she perceived it as threatening. “I won’t be your nanny, Agent Murphy. I’m going to be your boss.”

•••

“She’s a b—“

“Boss!” Javier interrupted Steve as they walked down the hall of the Embassy, Agent Hernandez suddenly turning a corner. She looked up from the report she was reading and gave them both a stern and questioning look. Javier swallowed his intimidation and gestured around at the hall. “Welcome to Bogota.”

“Thank you, Agent…?” She held out her hand and Javier reached to shake it with a charming smile, making her squint and grin at him in suspicion.

“Javier, and yours?” He lifted her knuckles to his lips but she quickly pulled her hand away, staring at him with shock. No one had ever been so bold as to flirt with her on her first day, and though she disliked his forwardness, she couldn’t deny that he did posses a certain charm.

“Your last name, I mean.” She clarified with a dry tone, watching as Javier stood up straighter, seemingly coming to terms with her rejection. “And my name is Valeria, but you can refer to me as Hernandez or boss.”

“Peña.” He responded flatly with a nod, chuckles erupting from Agent Murphy. “Boss.”

“You’re both in Medellin, correct?” She asked, unintentionally giving Javier a once-over. She could practically see the light brighten in his eyes as she eyes met his again. “Well, I’ve been appointed to take lead on your operations against Escobar. So…I look forward to working with you both.”

“Likewise, boss.” Javier nodded and watched as she walked past them, his eyes following her hips as she walked down the hall in a tight pencil skirt.

“You’re gonna get yourself fired.” Steve warned with a shake of his head, continuing in the opposite direction, Peña following closely behind.

“She likes me.” Javier faced forward and wore a proud smirk as he walked, Steve shaking his head again, this time furrowing his brows and questioning his friend. “What? I could tell!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Jav.”

••• A month later—Medellin •••

“Hey, boss,” Javier tapped on Valeria’s office door with his knuckles while she packed her briefcase up for the day. Though she didn’t respond, he continued. “A few of us are going out for a drink.”

“I’m good, Peña.” She sighed and closed her briefcase, grabbing it as she began to try to leave, but Javier didn’t move. His broad shoulders remained planted in the doorway as he looked down at her, her brows lacing as she looked up at him. “Can I help you?”

“You can let loose for a night. Agents are dying everyday for this shit…what’s the point of being a survivor if you’re not living?” He asked, somehow stirring something in her resonated and made her reconsider her previous harshness. “Besides, how are we supposed to trust you in the field when we don’t even know you?”

“One drink.” She looked up into his eyes and watched as his lips curled slightly, his body moving out of the way so that she could leave. “Where are we meeting then?”

“I can just pick you up.” Valeria whipped her head around to glare at him with a warning look, watching as he put his hands up. “Agent Murphy, his wife, and myself, I mean.”

“This isn’t some double date.” She pointed her eyes at him and pressed a finger to his chest, surprised at the firmness. Javier looked more than amused at her reaction, making her turn red in the cheeks.

“Works for me, I don’t date.” He corrected, making her scoff. Anytime she thought she might have been attracted enough to do something foolish with him, he spoke. She turned around and continued walking out of the office, Peña calling out from behind her. “I’ll be at yours at 8!”

•••

The evening seemed to pass achingly slowly as Valeria got dressed up for the night. She weren’t sure what she was getting herself into— whether it was a genuine happy hour get together or simply a ploy for Peña to work his charm on her. There was a itching feeling in her chest when she thought about the latter unfolding tonight. The guy was starting to get to her, and try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself from developing a little crush.

Valeria pulled a red wrap-dress out of her closet along with a pair of black pumps that placed comfort over aesthetic, just how she liked it. Her hair was wrapped in a tight bun at the office, and when she took it down, it surprisingly held a nice shape. Having to not do her hair allowed her the extra time to put in on her makeup, doing a simple look with smoked out-brown eyeliner and a bold red lip that complimented her tan skin and made her glow.

Her heels clicked across the tile floor as she walked into the kitchen to make herself a quick drink while eight o’clock neared, but right as she reached for a glass, a knock tapped on her door. She squinted at the door as she walked to it, grabbing her gun as it sat on the kitchen table. She looked through the peephole and sighed when she saw Javier smoking on the other side.

“Peña. You’re early.” She opened the door and watched as his lips fell open and he pulled his cigarette away, his eyes growing wide as he took in her appearance. She felt her cheeks burn the longer he kept staring, making her feel a tad embarrassed. “I’m…going to be just a minute.”

She closed the door on him as he began to speak, nearly hyperventilating as she ran around her apartment, grabbing her purse and gun, the sudden realization of how good he looked trumping the earlier shyness that made her panic. He looked so good tonight in his buttoned-down shirt that fell open around his clavicle, exposing his golden skin and slight chest hair—did he always look so good?

“Sorry about that,” she breathed out as she opened the door again, turning around and locking her front door before turning back to him. Javier was at a loss for words as he walked her down the steps of her apartment and to the street, figuring she would look nice, but not that nice. He managed to clear his throat as she neared the awaiting vehicle parked on the street, noticing the lack of fellow passengers in it.

“Uh, Murphy and his wife couldn’t make it, actually…” Javier watched as she froze and turned to him with a glare, holding his hands up in defense and nodded at her. “I know, it looks bad, but I promise they cancelled on me.”

“Will there be anyone else from the office there tonight?” She asked as he opened the passenger door for her, holding it as she climbed into the Jeep before closing it shut, the window down already down. He leaned over with one arm on the roof, his face closer than it ever had been before.

“He’s my only friend at the office…so, no.” He shrugged and tapped the roof. “Do you still want to go?”

Valeria shook her head and sighed, chuckling a bit at him but mostly at herself for falling for his charm. “Well, I’m already in the car…”

“Relax, it’s just a drink between two colleagues.” He climbed into the driver’s side and started the engine, pulling off onto the road.

The warm Medillin air ran through her hair as she fixed her eyes to look at anything but the man beside her. He was a handsome guy—those big brown eyes, pouty bottom lip, even his mustache seemed sexier on him than it did on all the other men possessing one. It was a job in and of itself to not look over at him, but she was a determined woman.

Even beyond the bureaucratic red-tape that surrounded her hypothetical romance with her inferior, there was the sheer truth that it just wouldn’t work between them. He was red like fire and she was pale blue like ice. Their personalities were polar opposites, well, at least at work. To even dip her toes into the water like she was doing tonight was dangerous, yet she wondered why she couldn’t stop herself—why she couldn’t find the strength anywhere inside to tell him to turn around and drop her off.

“Tú hablas español?” His voice sounded from over the wind and radio playing a cumbia song she didn’t recognize. Valeria finally turned to look at him, her stomach flipping as she did. His jawline was sharp as he puffed on a cigarette, his eyes fixed on the road before glancing over at her.

“Uh, sí. Soy de Arizona y mi madre es de México.” She picked at her cuticles as she dropped her eyes to her lap. [Uh, yes. I’m from Arizona and my mother is from Mexico.]

“Y tú padre?” He glanced over at her, taking in her delicate profile before turning back to the road. While he initially thought this night would only end up with him taking her to bed, he was quickly beginning to feel that familiar feeling of genuinely connecting with a woman, a feeling he never was quite sure what to do with. [And your father?]

“Un gringo.” She smiled at him, watching as he released a breathy chuckle. “Y tú? De dónde eres?” [A white boy…And you? Where are you from?]

“Texas.” His reply was short, making her wonder if she’d somehow overstepped. She turned her face away from him and looked straight ahead, the streets bustling with beautiful women and what looked like sicarios. Javier sighed and drove past the bars, making her brows furrow. “It’s too packed.”

“Isn’t that the point?” She asked, watching as he continued driving. “Peña, where are we going now?”

“There’s another bar close to my apartment. No sicarios, no hookers.” He looked over at her, their eyes locking for a moment. A smile grew on his face against his will, making him chuckle. “Do you always have to look so mean?”

“When I’m being kidnapped, yes.” She shook her head, irritated at the lack of control.

“I can take you back home.” He offered with an attitude, surprised when she started to nod her head.

“Good. Take me home.” She resigned to a proud expression, her chin lifted slightly as she looked out of the window. Javier glanced at her and felt a strange pang in his heart. This wasn’t how he thought the night would go.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel kidnapped or anything, I just wanted to try to get to know you—“

“Peña, perhaps you shouldn’t get to know me. Did you ever think of that?” She snapped, turning her head to look at him. “I’m your boss, there’s no need for you and I to be friends.”

“I never wanted to be your friend.” He raised an eyebrow and watched as she rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, just…let’s have one drink. If you still can’t stand my company, so be it.”

“I still want to go back to my apartment.” She insisted, the thought of going out with the mood she was in unbearable. He nodded and flickered his eyes to hers, making her chuckle. “Not like that. We can just have a drink on my patio.”

“Do you have whiskey?” He asked, earning another soft chuckle and a nod. “Alright, then.”

She could almost feel his eyes on her backside as she stepped up the stairs in front of him, and though she was still irritated, it didn’t bother her the way she thought it would. She carefully turned the lock of her front door and opened it up, allowing him to walk in first before she entered.

Valeria set her keys in a clay bowl by her door and let her purse sit beside it on the small table. Javier turned just in time to watch you lift the hem of her flowy red dress, removing her gun from her garter holster. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her soft looking thigh, the black of the garter sending his mind into a flurry of wicked thoughts.

“I’d say make yourself comfortable, but wouldn’t want the DEA’s most prolific whore to get the wrong idea.” She joked as she kicked off her heels and walked past him into the kitchen. Javier followed behind, his hip leaning to rest against the counter beside her as she poured two glasses of whiskey, hers being mixed with Coca Cola.

“I’m not a whore,” he corrected as he accepted his glass, making her give him a suspicious look. “I just like women.”

“Mmhm, so I’ve been warned.” She lifted herself to sit on top of the counter, the hem of her dress riding up. She pulled it down as she noticed Javier’s eyes on her thighs, clearing her throat. “They almost didn’t send me here because of you.”

“Why?” His eyes lifted and squinted at her.

“They didn’t want the new boss to be caught fooling around with any agents.” She raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of her drink, the alcohol warming her body from the inside as she swallowed it. “But then they met me and realized I’m not as stupid as I might look.”

“You don’t look stupid.” He spoke in a low voice, making her look away from his dark eyes. “Beautiful doesn’t mean stupid.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” She asked, eyes lifting to meet his. It was no longer her talking, the alcohol quickly giving her a bit more courage to speak so recklessly. Javier nodded and stepped an inch closer to her, making her chuckle. “I know I’m beautiful, Javier. What’s something I don’t know?”

“You’re intimidating.” She nodded, already aware of that fact. “And you make me nervous.”

That, she didn’t know.

“Nobody makes me nervous.” He added in a whisper, his fingertips tapping on his glass as though they were itching to touch something else.

Though she knew it was irresponsible, self-destructive, and against every rule she ever set for herself, she reached for his glass, taking it from his hand and setting it on the counter beside her. Her eyes held his in tense silence as she grabbed his hand and placed it against her breast, his lips parting as he groped the plump flesh over the dress.

“I guess they made a mistake sending me here, after all.” She breathed out as her arousal built, but it was over even faster than it started. Javier pulled his hand away and stepped back, reaching for his drink and downing it in one gulp. She felt stripped down and vulnerable with his rejection, her arms crossing over her chest as she looked down at her lap. “I’m sorry, Javier. I—“

“Shut up.” He ordered and stepped between her legs, pulling her by her neck until her red lips crashed against his. She gripped his wrists as he held her face, his mustache tickling her as he kissed her with a force and hunger that she’d never felt before. When he pulled away, he sighed, eyes lifting to meet hers. “We should be careful.”

“I have a condom,” she spoke breathlessly.

“Not like that,” he chuckled at her eagerness and shook his head, stepping back. He gave her one last look, his head shaking at the sinful nature of her body’s curves, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “I mean, we should take this slow…and be careful.”

“Is that the first time you’ve said that to a woman?” She laughed and sighed, her heart still pounding and the ache between her thighs still apparent. Somehow, he’d found a way to make her frustrated, even in telling her what she wanted to hear.

“I’ll see you at the office.” He nodded and walked out of her home, leaving her alone with her desire. She hopped off the sink and turned on the faucet, splashing her face with the coldest water Medillin had to offer, hoping it would help to cool off her arousal.

“I’ll see you at the office.” She mocked and proceeded to go through her nightly routine, ensuring everything was secure and that she was freshly showered for the morning.

As she laid her head on her pillow, she looked over at the empty spot beside her, her mind racing with fantasies of Javier laying down next to her after making her legs shake. Though he wasn’t there to make any of her fantasies come true, she closed her eyes and prayed that her dreams would suffice.

#javier peña smut #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x y/n #narcos fanfiction #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fluff #javier peña fluff #javier peña angst

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arielhopepeace · 1 year

Text

This is a Javier Peña and Harry Styles (again lol) short story for all my fellow Pedro Pascal lovers 💕 This one isn’t gonna be as sweet as the Joel one. Y/N’s life kinda sucks lmfao. I will be posting the trigger warnings since some of the content is sensitive! This was a story suggestion by my best friend who doesn’t have a tumblr otherwise I’d tag her lol. BUT I will be coming out with another Joel story after this one so, feel free to follow me if you’d like to read that when it comes out!

As always, enjoy ❤️

Part two is here

Part three is here

Final part is here

Part One

18+ only

Tw: prostitution, abusive father, mention of drugs, mention of death, extreme violence, guns, murder, abuse in general, mention of sexual assault, implied smut (there’s gonna be a lot of this, she’s a prostitute 😬)

I’d also like to quickly say that I’ll never ever write sexual assault into my stories. It’s just a topic that is too sensitive for me, and for many others out there. There are mentions of it because men are sick and twisted in this world, but I will never describe it happening, or have it happen to y/n. Just a heads up on that ❤️ Anyway, onto the story to escape reality…

4,200 words

There's nothing that I love more than the scenery of Columbia; the beaches, mountains, forests. For the last few months that I've lived here with my father, I've always felt melancholy about the fact that I wasn't born in this beautiful country.

The move was a necessary change in order for my dad to be more successful with his business ventures. I despise the man, but he's filthy rich due to running with the narcos of Medellin. Of course he's never given me anything from his wealth, and instead has pawned me off to be a prostitute for extra income.

I tried my best to fight him on it, but to no avail. You can't argue with a powerful, dangerous man like him. All it does is get me badly beaten. He doesn't like to hit me often since it's bad for business, as he likes to say. Men don't generally like to sleep with women who are all battered and bruised. They think I'll carry some sort of emotional baggage and try to cling to them for security.

Truthfully, I'm very numb to all of it; the beatings, the sex, the disgusting clients, everything. There's no point in me feeling bad for myself. After all, I'm still the daughter of an important drug dealer who works for the drug dealer of Colombia, Pablo Escobar. Nobody would dare to hurt me, since it could possibly end up with them "disappearing". I don't think my father would ever kill someone for my sake, though. But I know he has for his.

It's been a difficult transition since I know hardly any Spanish, and that is the only language anyone speaks here. There's been countless encounters where I've been left feeling imbecilic and witless. My father never bothered to teach me the language, but hired his own personal tutor in order to better conduct business. This way, nobody will be able to talk about anything right in front of his face without him being able to understand. He never wants to be made a fool of.

The house my father lives in is incredibly opulent and pristine. It's just outside of Medellin, sitting on an emerald hill overlooking a vast crystal blue lake that shines brilliantly in the sun. Anytime I'm there for a visit, it makes me wish I lived in that damned mansion. Instead, I have to live in a shitty apartment in the more run-down side of town.

My place is close to one of the whorehouses where I like to sometimes find clients. Usually, I'll dress nicely with a provocative touch and head to a bar, fishing for men whose eyes linger on my breasts. The proposition I set is only said with my body, and once the man understands that I can't speak Spanish, not much else needs to be said, anyway. I'll say my price before we leave, choosing a number I'm comfortable with charging and pronouncing.

I have yet to find someone who refuses to pay, or is unnecessarily rough. It's a relief, because that was one of my biggest concerns going into this. My dad doesn't think that my job has any danger, but he also couldn't give two shits about me, it seems.

There's a slight sense of giddy elation that courses through me, knowing that I'm able to take the day to myself. All I want to do is go to the clinic to do my weekly health check, and then to my father's lakeside house to bask in the sun while he's away for a while today.

He always has to be made aware of my company, just in case he were conducting business and I startled one of his ruthless peers. They all know what I look like, and a few have even solicited sex from me before, but I'd rather be cautious about it than get shot for showing up unannounced.

Once the clinic gives me yet another clean bill of health, I go on my way to my dad's mansion. The warm air whips my hair around the car from the open windows, allowing me to breathe in the crisp feeling of summer. It trails goosebumps of satisfaction along my skin, a smile splitting my face as I giggle lightly to myself.

There aren't many moments when I'm truly happy, but being alone on the drive to my dad's is definitely one of them.

To my dismay, my father is home, his smooth, lavish car parked at the top of his gated cobblestone driveway. He was supposed to be out all day, but I'm sure he'll explain why he's here so early.

I step out of my run-down sedan, closing the creaking, rusted door shut with a slight slam. My breathing is a bit more shaky as I approach the front door, not really wanting to face my dad today. He knew I was coming, though, so he shouldn't be mad, right?

The living room is relatively quiet as I enter, being greeted by one of the maids in the foyer.

"Dad?" I call out, hoping he doesn't answer me.

His raised voice echoes through the halls, my high heels taking me clicking down the marbled pathway, the walls are so tall it feels like they could swallow me whole at any moment. There's some profane Spanish coming from my dad's office, and I inwardly kick myself as I push the ajar door to it open slowly, not knowing if he's going to scream at me for this.

He has his front turned towards the countless amount of books that he never touches, an obvious strain in his irate tone. The large, gray mobile phone is pressed to his ear, the antennae shining silver above his head by several inches.

My eyes widen as he turns to me, my body immediately cowering in fear as he takes in my presence. He ends the call, gripping the phone so tightly in his fist, I'm worried he'll crack it.

"Hey, y/n," he says quickly. "What have I said about being in here when I'm on calls?"

"I'm sorry," I stammer. "I just wanted you to know that I was here. I'm sorry," I apologize again. All I ever do is apologize to this man when really I want to punch him.

He holds up a large, murderous hand, shaking it side to side. "It's fine," he snaps. "You do what you have to, I don't care. Just leave me be. Got it?"

Without his eyes meeting mine for even a second, I nod, scurrying down the halls as fast as I can without breaking an ankle in my heels. I'm once again greeted by the warmth of the air and sun, surprisingly able to breathe better out here than I was inside.

"You're here," a British voice says beside me.

My head turns to see the charming, dashing Harry, my father's right hand man. "Oh, hi, Harry." I spot the gun sticking out of his belt, making me swallow hard.

He stuffs his ring-clad fingers into his powder blue suit pockets, a small smile settled onto his pink lips. "What are you doing here today?"

I point to the lake over the hill. "Gonna sun tan for a while. Need to not look so—gringa."

Harry chuckles lightly. "I think your skin is perfect as it is."

His words make my cheeks feel hot, and I turn my face away briefly. "Thank you."

"How's business? Anybody need correcting, darling?" he asks with a hint on concern.

I've only known Harry for about a month, and he's been nothing but lovely since I met him. He's always had a bit of protectiveness towards me and I'm not sure why. We've done nothing but have conversations with each other, and he worships my father, a man who seemingly can't stand me. Maybe he feels like he needs to protect me just because he's obsessed with my dad. That reminder always turns me off to him, even if his dreamy looks and refreshing accent do the exact opposite.

"No," I shake my head. "Not everybody knows who I am, but those that do are very—respectful."

"If there's ever a time when somebody isn't," he lifts his suit jacket to flash the grip of his pistol, "you'll tell me, yeah?"

"Yes," I nod. "Thank you."

Harry tosses me a dimply grin, his teeth neat and white. "No need to thank me, y/n. You should always be respected."

I go to tell him that I'm respected by everyone except for my father, but I refrain. Do I think Harry would ever hurt me? Probably not. But that one percent of uncertainty is enough for me to keep my mouth shut.

When I'm settled near the lake, I strip off my dress, kicking my heels to the side shortly after. Being laid out in only my matching black bra and thong with the sun licking my skin is more euphoric than any sex I've had in Colombia.

The men haven't really interested me in the slightest. Of course there's been the few attractive ones who have approached me, but even if it feels good, it's not often that I'm pushed past that delicious precipice. I've yet to have a client who cared about my pleasure, but they're not paying for mine. They're paying for theirs and theirs alone.

My eyes are closed as I relax my shoulders into the grass, allowing my body to be consumed by the intense rays. Being here with nothing but the sound of nature puts me so much at ease that I sometimes fall asleep. The birds that sing their songs proudly above are all giving me unique, individual lullabies, and I love every single one.

The distant sound of shouting makes me sit up, looking up towards the house for any indication on what could be happening. I abandon my dress and heels, my pulse immediately rising from the anticipation of what is unfolding at the top of the hill.

My body freezes as I see several men on their knees in front of my father with Harry standing beside him. He has his pistol tucked underneath both of his hands that are crossed over his front. My dad has his large pistol pointed at one of the men's heads.

Even if I spoke Spanish, there's no way I'd be able to tell what they're saying. They're too far away. I do my best to stay out of sight as I move in closer, creeping behind a shrub that lines the pool, giving it a green privacy gate.

I jump involuntarily at the sound of a single bullet being emptied from the chamber, one of the men falling back into a puddle of his own blood and brain matter.

My sweaty palm flings to my mouth, tears unable to escape from the shock I feel in my body. Of course I know that my father kills people, but I've never actually seen him do it.

He presses the barrel to the next man's forehead who is speaking with a trembling voice to my cold-faced dad. It's eerie how he has no empathy or emotion, only wrath and strategy. I've been convinced that he's a psychopath since I was a kid, but now I truly believe it.

There were nights before my mom died that they'd argue, and he'd slap her around like he does to me. It always made me furious, but what the hell is a kid supposed to do in that situation? The only thing I could do was imagine I was somewhere else that was far away, like a tropical island.

But here I reside in a tropical land, not at all living the way I'd imagine when I was a child. This is hell simply being disguised by pretty packaging and a sparkly bow.

The next man falls back after a shot, the third one not even being interrogated before my father shoots him dead, tucking his gun into the back waistband of his pants. A few men begin to get to work moving the bodies as my dad walks away, Harry looking down at them.

He shifts as if he's thinking, his own gun being wedged between his hip and his pants. I fall to my bare knees onto the soft blades of grass, curling up behind the bush as I hold myself tightly, still not having shed a single tear. Why can't I cry for the dead? Am I as psychotic as my father?

As I stand to walk away back towards my things at the bottom of the hill, a voice stops me in my tracks, my body freezing in place as if Medusa herself has turned me to stone.

"Y/n?" Harry comes into my view. "What are you doing up here?"

Panic. The only thing I can do right now is panic.

"Please don't hurt me," my voice wavers. "I'm sorry."

His green eyes soften, his hands stretching out towards me. His palms graze my arms, my eyes squeezing shut from fear. "Hey, I'd never hurt you. Look at me," he says gently.

Reluctantly, my eyes flip up to his, meeting his delicate gaze. "I heard yelling so I came up here. I didn't mean to see anything."

"Shh," he coos calmly. "Let me walk you back down to the lake."

With reluctant, frozen feet, I begin to tread down the hill with Harry's hand gingerly gripping the crease of my arm. I'm not sure why I feel so terrified of him right now. He's obviously killed people before, too, but I'm just the most concerned about him killing me. What if he tells my father that I was snooping? I don't know what he'd do to me.

My dress and heels lay lifeless beside the lake, my eyes fixed on them instead of the tall man beside me.

"Please don't tell my dad," I plead quietly. "I don't know what he'd do to me, Harry."

Harry tilts my chin up, giving me a comforting smile. "I never saw you, darling."

"Who were they?" I ask softly.

"Rats," he answers firmly with a furrowed brow. "They were giving information to the DEA that just got into the country. You know it's serious if America is getting involved."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Will you be caught?"

"Not if we're smart."

"Okay." My arms wrap around my midsection. "Thank you for your discretion."

Harry chuckles, nodding. "I'll always protect you."

My brows furrow. "Even against my father?"

He stands gazing at me for a moment before letting out a small sigh. "It depends on the circumstances."

Fuck, that's disappointing.

"Right," I nod, picking up my dress. "I think I'm gonna head out. I've had enough of the cartel for today."

Harry grazes my face with the side of his finger, the cool metal of his ring electrifying me. "Please know that I want to protect you from everybody, including your dad. It's just in certain situations, my hands would be tied."

"Like if I was a rat?"

He nods. "Exactly. I'd lose my head too if I protected you."

"I'd never do that, though. I know better."

Harry leans in and presses a delicate peck to my cheek. "I know, darling. You're too lovely."

"Why are you so nice to me?"

He beams, stroking my hair and tucking it behind my ear. "I like you, y/n. You're fucking beautiful and incredibly bright. I love any time that we talk."

Butterflies settle into the pit of my stomach, making my face turn hot. "And you don't care that I'm a prostitute?"

Harry shakes his head. "You didn't ask to be one in the first place."

I sigh as I sit down beside the lake, looking at the glimmering water. "I begged not to be, but he just—"

Harry rests beside me, tossing his arm around my shoulders. "I know. I'm sorry I can't protect you in those moments, either."

"I'm used to not having protection, Harry. It's fine."

He sighs, gently easing my head to rest on his shoulder as we both gaze at the water. My body relaxes in his embrace, my face turning to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Harry lifts my head up by my chin, quickly and suddenly capturing my lips against his, making me gasp in my throat.

It's not at all that I'm opposed to this, but rather it was extremely unexpected.

"What are you doing?" I ask, his hands on my waist.

He pulls away, his eyes having darkened. "Do you want me to stop?"

With a small smirk I shake my head, pushing my head forward for more of his delectable lips.

We lay on the field naked and breathless, my legs shaky and weak from my orgasm, and my body glistening with sweat just like Harry's. I had no idea that today would turn out like this, but I can't say that I'm disappointed.

I gaze up at him from his tattooed chest, his golden cross necklace buried in his sprinkling of chest hair. He peers down at me, smiling as he pulls me up for another sweet kiss.

"I have to go," he says softly. "He'll be wondering where I went."

"Okay," I answer quietly, sitting up.

Harry slides on his briefs and pants, handing me my things with a gentle grin. "Let me walk you to your car."

Once we're both fully dressed, we make our way up the hill, Harry's hand in mine the whole way. He's being rather romantic about it which is not at all something I'm used to. And he actually made me have an orgasm, another thing that isn't ever achieved for me.

He pulls me in for a swift kiss, his hand at the small of my back as I giggle, my fingers twisting into his soft brown curls.

"Oh," he says quickly as if remembering something. Harry pulls out his wallet and hands me a thousand dollars all splayed out, a bashful smile on his face. "I don't want to take advantage of you, y/n. Please take it."

"That's way too much, Harry. And also, clients don't ever make me orgasm."

He chuckles, pulling me in for another kiss. "Consider me the best client, then."

Reluctantly, I take the money, shaking my head. "This is the most I've ever been paid for one session."

"God, I'd give you more if you wouldn't make fun of me."

I laugh, shaking my head. "You're sweet. You didn't have to pay me."

He pulls my hand up to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "I wanted to."

With one last glance to the handsome British man, I get into my car, Harry giving me a small wave as I drive away, his figure disappearing in my rear view mirror.

The encounter with him has left me feeling giddy and excited. Not only was he thoughtful towards me, but also just thoroughly romantic the entire time. I wasn't expecting Harry to ever become a client, but god, I'll look forward to the next time that I see him.

Later on, I decide to head to a bar near my house, just wanting to get a couple of drinks in my system for the night. I'm definitely not interested in anybody soliciting me since it's my day off, and I'm hoping nobody does.

I'm perched on a barstool, ordering myself a drink by only saying the names of the alcohols since I don't know how to make it more complex of a request. I've had to acquire the taste of neat tequila and vodka, which now I don't mind. The buzz comes on fast and it doesn't require me to know any Spanish of any kind.

A man sits beside me, saying something in Spanish to which I ignore, pretending as if he's not talking to me.

Then, in perfect English, he says, "No Spanish then, huh?"

With surprise and shock fixed onto my face, I turn to look at the man beside me. He has tanned skin and soft brown eyes with a dashing smile that sports a black mustache above it. His hair is also a slightly shaggy, shiny black that is flipped to the middle of his forehead. He's truly very attractive, but I really wanted to take the night off.

"No," I laugh slightly. "Hardly any."

The man chuckles as he sips his drink, a lit cigarette in the other hand. "Then what are you doing in a Spanish-speaking country?"

I wiggle in my seat, not wanting to give him any information about myself. "I could ask the same thing about you. You don't sound like you're from here."

"I'm not," he beams. "I was born in Chile, but then moved to America shortly after."

"And what are you doing in Colombia?" I ask with my head propped up on my hand.

"Vacation. I'm here with a few friends."

My head turns around to scan the bar. "Are they here now?"

"No, they're at their hotels with their wives."

"And you don't have a wife?" I laugh.

"No. It's hard to with my job."

My brows raise. "Oh, yeah? And what exactly is your job?"

"Would you be impressed if I told you I'm a pilot?" he chuckles with an arched black brow.

"Very," I giggle, "but only if that's the truth."

"And why would I lie?" he asks as he leans in, his voice low.

"Fine, Mr. Pilot. You wouldn't mind paying for my drinks then, would you?"

"Not in the slightest."

I giggle, shaking his hand as I stand off my barstool. "Then you have a good night."

With a victorious smile on my face, I leave the bar, making my way back to my apartment that isn't too far away. I thought it'd be better to walk rather than drive in case I drink too much, which in this case I haven't. Maybe a little tipsy, sure, but not enough to be impaired while driving.

There's a brief moment where I think I hear someone behind me, but I turn and nobody is there, making me shrug it off. I come up to the next alleyway, instinctively turning to look down it to find it empty. Perhaps it's the alcohol or the unsettled feeling that nighttime gives me, but I can't help but feel like I'm being followed.

I make it back to my apartment safely, climbing up the stairs in the building with groans of disapproval, my feet aching from my heels. At my door, I push the key in, being greeted by my shitty apartment that still somehow envelops me with a sense of comfort.

Even though it's a rather run-down section of town, and a less than adequate building, I still feel the most at ease here.

My tight dress slides off my body with a gentle tug, slipping on a nightgown before I tuck myself into bed. My mind flicks back to Harry being thrust inside of me, and his beautiful face twisted with pleasure. It causes me to clench around nothing just from the memory of him, and I know that he's going to be my new addiction.

As I shut my eyes, there's a knock on my apartment door to which I groan. Who the hell is here this late at night? With a wobbly, tired and tipsy walk to my front door, I pull it open, a man bursting inside suddenly.

"What the fuck?" I ask, watching as I can now make out the man to be one of my father's associates, José. "What are you doing here?"

"We were raided," he says with his back turned to me, holding several keys of cocaine in his arms. "I'm hiding this here."

"What? No the fuck you're not!" I shout.

José pulls his gun out and draws it on me, making my hands fly up immediately. "How about you shut your stupid bitch mouth and listen to me?"

"I'm gonna tell my dad—"

He scoffs, stuffing the cocaine beneath my couch cushions. "Who do you think cleared me to come here? Ever think that maybe your dad just doesn't give a shit about you?"

My emotions are once again held at bay. Why the fuck can't I cry?

"Just please hurry up and get out."

He finishes hiding the rest of the powder, finally lowering his gun. "You're lucky I don't fuck you right here for being such a bitch."

I swallow, my eyes staying on the floor as I decide to not answer him.

"Don't act like you wouldn't love it," he laughs. "It's your job to be a whore." José gives me a rough smack across my face, making me fall to the floor as I grip it. "Be happy that's all I'm doing before I leave." He slams my apartment door.

For a bit after he leaves, I'm sat against my living room wall gripping my cheek that throbs with a stinging pain. This isn't a feeling I'm unfamiliar with. The burn in my face only reminds me that I really am worthless here, and nothing more than a prostitute with no life worth living.

****

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