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romanarose · 9 months

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If You Wanna Be Wild: Chapter 2

Javier Peña x Latina!sex worker!informant!Reader/OC x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Javi and Santi talk about where to start with Lorea; Santi thinks on his night with Candy

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it.

Additional warnings: Catholic guilt and religous trauma and religion talk. However, this is not an anti catholic page. We can discuss the problems of the church at large and the guilt that abstence-only and shame based discussions on sex can affect people, but my family is catholic and I have a lot of respect for the individual people, especially Latino-catholics.

For the record, this is a fic that takes place in the drug trade and deals with the darker side of humanity, so anything from Narco's and Triple Frontier is liable to be discussed or mentioned here. This is your warning. This is not a dark fic nor is it centered around dark themes like Leather and Lace or Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside, but they are open to be talked about.

Reader has a nick name: Candy. Not her real name just what she goes by on her profession. Much of the inspo for this and for the title came from the Bruce Springsteen song “Candy’s room” so check it out for the vibes.

Reader speaks Spanish and had hair. I've decided Candy is just latina coded bc she's a sex worker in colombia so this is what I'm doing.

3.1k words. Proof red by my beloved Fen

Perspective changed per section. When perspective is Santi or Javi, reader is referred to in the 3rd person or by Candy.

************************

You have Santi sat up on the bed, facing you. Well, Diego. That’s what he said his name was, but if he thought you didn’t know who the new DEA agent in town was, he was mistaken. After your 3rd arrest for prostitution, you got a lot more careful, and always tried to keep up with the police in the area. You wondered if he knew Javi.

“Alright Diego, tell me, what exactly is it you’re looking for?” You ask, but he looks confused, so you give a soft, warm sigh. He was one of those ones. “Are you just looking for a quick fuck? Getting to know each other and forming a connection, exploring things?”

Santi considered his options. “Well, maybe I’d like to learn a little bit… only had s-” He swallowed. “sex a few times… you know, lights off, missionary, couple pumps and done…” A nervous chuckle emitted from him, so you tried to ease him with a soft smile.

“Don’t worry, baby boy, we can do that. Let’s start with getting to know a woman’s body, how about that?”

“Garcia, wake the fuck up.” Javi’s voice broke Santi out of his daydreaming, making him snap towards Javi.

“Huh? Sorry.”

“Whatsamatter, pretty boy, got dicked down too hard last night?”

Santi’s eyes went wide at that. “Dicked-?!?! DICKED DOWN? JAVI!” He leaned in to whisper harshly, as if it was important enough to keep quiet but not so bad Santi couldn’t miss an opportunity to clutch his pearls. “Javi, you fucking know I could get arrested for that!”

“I’m joking, pendejo.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that!”

Apparently, Santi looked concerned enough that Javi backed down, raising his hands in defeat. “Tranquilo, tranquilo amigo, lo siento. Yo parare.”

A little shaken, Santi glanced down as he calmed himself. “Gracias, Pena”. He rolled his shoulders and shook his head before clearing his throat. “So. Lorea. What do we got?”

Santiago Garcia had never seen a pussy up close before. There’d been porno magazines, sure… and he’d… touched a bit. He wasn’t an animal, Will had explained he can’t just shove his dick into a woman, that could hurt her. No, you gotta warm her up first, seduce her, open her up. Santi heard more than he ever wanted to of the sordid detail of Will eating pussy. However, when it came to actual sex, Santi barely got through it without a panic attack. There was no way he was going to attempt to go down on a girl under those conditions. Still, he didn’t want to hurt her, so he made sure to finger the 3 girls he’d somehow bumbled his way into bed with.

He needed to do better. Candy was allowing him the chance to explore, get over his nerves.

“But I want you to cum…” He had insisted.

“Well aren’t you a sweet boy… I’ll make sure I cum, how about that? Let me worry about that.”

“But…” he had looked across at her. “But I wanna learn how too.”

She nodded with reassurance. “You will, trust me, I’ll teach you. Just for today, focus on getting comfortable. I’ll let you know what feels good and what doesn’t but what works for me may not work for someone else, so remember that. Most important thing is communicating and listening to her body, so let’s start there.”

That’s how he got here, flat on his chest with Candy’s legs spread out before him. Her pussy was glistening for him.

“Where do I… how do I start?”

Candy sat up just a bit on her elbows. “Start by just getting familiar, explore.”

So he did. Santi started with touching. His index and middle finger swept along her folds, moving and opening her up for his view. She was beautiful. He started with the top, the area just below her pantyline tan skin under a bush of hair followed by her folds coming to a head.

“That’s the clit, that’s very important.” She took his fingers and pulled back the hood. “Touch there” When Santi complied, Candy sank back down on her bed with a hum.

Santi felt a swell of pride at giving her pleasure. “Is that good?”

“Very good, pretty boy. Lot of nerves right there.”

He continued touching below, feeling the way her skin moved to his touch and how his fingers slid across the slick, soft skin below… She looked delicious.

“Can I taste you?”

“Where do we even start with something like this?” Santi groaned, flopping his head back.

Javi couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. “Don’t be such a child, Garcia. You take this shit one step at a time, just like anything else. Let’s start with what we know.”

The handsome younger man sighed. “Fine.” He pulled out the casefiles and Javi noticed how much calmer he’d seemed, less high strung… still high strung but that was just Santiago, Javi came to realize. “Gabriel Martin Lorea, coke dealer, devout catholic and family man… none of which stops him from hiring hookers.”

Javi chuckles. “Few things do.”

“Well, marriage should, especially when you have children.” Santi glared at him.

His naivete, something Javi had been dreading with a younger partner, ended up endearing Santi to him. “Right, right of course.” He smiled and shook his head before lighting up a cigarette.

“Do you really have to do that indoors?”

“So sue me. I’m the one smoking, it’s not like it can hurt you.”

“I don’t know, I heard of a study that secondhand smoke can-”

Javi blew a puff of smoke in Santi’s face. “That’s just anti-smoking propaganda pushed by doctors to sell more nicotine patches.”

Santi had dived right in. Once he had permission to taste, he very tentatively licked a strip up her folds and to the clit… and was suddenly a starved man, insatiable, desperate to devour her and drown in her juices.. She liked when he touched her clit so he was sure to latch his mouth over the hood. As he sucked, Candy instructed him to finger her and he was happy to oblige. This, he could handle at least.

“Good boy…” Candy cooed at him. “Such a good boy for me, so obedient.”

“Wanna be good.” He mumbled into your core as he lapped at her, hips rutting against the bed. “Wanna do good.”

When her fingers found his hair, tangling up in his curls and tugging just a bit, he couldn’t help but whine into her, toes curling in his socks.

“You’re doing so good, baby boy, so good, but I’m gonna need you to stop.”

Stop? He didn’t wanna stop. Santi wanted to die here with her… Was it time? How much time did he pay for- ait, he hadn’t even paid her yet. What was her going rate? He didn’t fucking care right now, right now he’d pay her his life savings, his military pension, his first born, whatever she wanted if he could cum.

“Whyyyyy?!” He simply went back to eating her out, taking every moment he had.

“Because,” Candy pulled at his curls, forcing him to look up and crawl back up her golden body. “Because you are about to cum, and I still wanna ride you.”

He could feel his eyes go wide at that. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what that meant… but for someone who had only ever done missionary, the whole concept seemed so… dirty. Santi chuckled nervously, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. “I’ll be honest, Candy, I’m not sure how much longer I’m gonna last as it is.”

He felt her chuckle. “Let’s slow down for a moment, then. I want you to undress.”

His breath hitched, but he made the move to undo his pants until she stopped him.

“Uh-uh, Diego. Stand up. Let me watch you undress.”

Undress like… standing? By himself? All out there and naked? “Um… can’t I do it here?”

“You can.” She confirmed with a kind smile. “But I’d really like to watch you strip for me.”

How could he resist that? Tentative, slow and careful, Santi stood up and Candy sat on the edge of the bed, bottoms off but still clothed top. “Are you gonna take that off?” It was half a joke, half a genuine question.

Candy nodded. “I will, just trust me.”

And he did, with everything in him.

So he took off his shirt.

“Okay. Catholic. Do we know what church he goes to?”

Javi raised an eyebrow? “You think a drug lord is going to daily mass?”

“No, but if he’s devout I assume he’s got a family that goes. Wife and children maybe, but definitely a mother. I don’t know one woman over 50 who doesn’t belong to a perish, especially a hispaña woman.”

“You find a lot of company con mujeres mayor, amigo?”

“Shut up. I say we start there. If we can find out about his family's church, we can probably find out a little more.”

Apprehensive as always, Javi crossed his legs, doubtful. “I don’t know, what can we possibly find out?”

Santi shrugged. “Not sure, but churches have a lot of records when it comes to members and if he has a family that is active we might find out something useful.”

“Is this really the best use of our time?”

Javi raised a good point, this might be a dead end, and they would have wasted all that time. “Just give me a picture of all known families and I’ll keep an eye out.”

Now that caught Javi’s attention, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You go to church, Garcia?”

A faint blush crept up Santi’s neck. His mother was very religious, that religion instilled into him and his sister. His sister couldn’t care less anymore, but then again she had never cared much about their mother’s harsh opinions and strict standards… Santi did. And so, even now with her passing, Santi attended mass often. Not a part of a regular perish, he just attended where he could and when his schedule allowed. The old women there did love him, but Santi knew Javi would never let that go. “Tengo muchas tías y primos en la zona. Si no muestro mi cara en la iglesia a veces, se lo dirán a mi madre y nunca escucharé el final.”

Javi didn’t need to know his mom was dead.

Santi nervously slides down his trousers and underwear, revealing the last bit of himself to Candy. Except for his tube socks. He wasn't sure what to do about those.

“Can I… move now?” He asked, a tremble in his soft voice.

She cocked her head to the side. “Does it make you nervous? To be seen like this.”

“To be seen like what?”

Candy stood up. “Naked, vulnerable, in full lighting…” She walked over towards him and placed her hands on her chest. “To let someone be able to see every part, every dip…” She felt over the ripples of his stomach muscles. “Every.” Lower. “Single.” Lower. “Inch.” Grabbing onto his hardened cock and began stroking it.

Santi let out a shuttered gasp at the touch of her hand. With her other one she lifted it to his mouth. “Lick, pretty boy.”

He was happy to oblige, not needing to know why. He didn’t need to ask questions with her, he could simply shut off his mind and let Candy guide him… mother knows best. Santi lapped at her palm, keening into it as the wetness smeared on his face.

“Such a good puppy”

The whine that emitted from him was out of him control; he liked the praise, he liked the nickname. He liked it a lot. He had been taught his whole life that sex was for procreation, a dirty thing to be done in shame and in quiet but here she was, proudly jerking him off with the now-wet hand… His mom would have said she was consumed by lust, that the devil had taken her, but Santo saw nothing but kindness in her eyes. Yes, he was paying her, he was well aware of that fact but she did genuinely seem to want to help him, to let him explore, to allow him to care for this basic human instinct… Was this dirty? Was this wrong? He wasn’t sure he cared anymore.

“Doing so good baby boy, are you close?”

He was seconds away from coming. “S-so close.” He had his head thrown back, letting her take the lead on his pleasure.

With that, she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, stifling his impending orgasm.

“Mierde!” Santiago grunted, body jolting a bit in the physical frustration.

“Relaje, guapo. Trust me, okay? Can you do that?”

He groaned, but complied. Santi trusted her with everything. Right now, he’d follow her into the dark.

“Alright, so Pope Santiago will case the churches in his free time. Where does that leave us during the time we actually get paid for?” Javi thought the nickname was fitting for the apparently religious boy.

“I think we need to learn more about his free time.” Javi put out his cigarette. “How about we talk to some girls, see if they know anything?”

Santi narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Girls?”

“Hookers, Pope, hookers.”

“Oh.”

Javi noticed how he suddenly became so nervous. The boy needed to get laid. The new information of Santi being at least semi-religious was a whole new insight on his psyche. He already seemed to be a bit of a mama’s boy, a goody-two-shoes with a shiny military career and a good heart, but this was a little different. Javier’s family was catholic, as most families were. He had been baptized, first communion, confirmed, the whole jazz but as soon as he’d got annoying enough, his mom stopped bushing the issue. Santi, however, was still practicing.

“I’ll handle that part, Garcia. Don’t worry, I won't drag the Pope into a whore house.”

Javi had no doubt Santi could hold his own in most scenarios. Hell, he’d seen it. In line of fire, interviews, everything Santi could handle. But take him into a room full of prostitutes? Well, they’d eat him alive.

“Are you ready for me, pretty boy?” You had him right where you wanted him, right where you liked pretty boys like him that you got to corrupt in moments like this… Santiago was special though, you could tell. He was innocent, but he was far from the most innocent. You’d taken plenty of virginities before, so many you’d lost track of it all, but the way Santiago looked at you right now as he was sat up against the padded headboard of your bed slowly stroking him as your legs straddled his. Santiago looked at you with reverence, adoration, like he was fully submitted below you… as if you had the power, even though it was in his hands as the customer. Yeah, he was a special one.

A good, young DEA agent, straightline former military, special Ops and he came to you to show him how to pleasure a woman; not just to have sex, not just to get off, but to learn how to heighten the pleasure of all parties… A church going boy too.

“Do I need to beg? Because I’ll fucking beg.” His hands were gripped at the sheets, lightning at the knuckles.

“Oh sweet boy, I won’t make you beg, I’m just checking in.” You sit up, rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds. Pulling down the foreskin, you begin to sink down on him, watching his eyes widen as your warmth enveloped him. He filled you right up. Every. Single. Inch.

“Breath baby, breath.” You urge him as you see his lips pressed tight together.

He did as he was told, releasing a breath.

“Good job. Now keep breathing, I’m going to finish undressing.” His cock was stuffed into you, and your bottom remained still as your top moved, stipping off your shirt and bra in one.

It was merely a whisper. “Beautiful…” His eyes were nearly glazed over in lust when you began your work.

Up, down, up, down… you moved on him with your hands on his chest for balance… he seemed almost in shock as he looked in your eyes, only staying momentarily to look at your breasts before quickly looking back at your face as if it was impolite.

“It’s okay to look, Diego. You won’t offend me. You can find me sexy, do you think I’m sexy, Diego?”

“So pretty…” It was gasped out and you could tell he was almost there again.

You began to bounce on him with more vigor and the “You can touch me too”

“I’m… I’m a little scared too…”

Running your fingers through his curls, you ruffle it, enjoying the look of the pristine young man coming undone for you. You take the initiative for him. Hand in hand, you guide him to your breasts, encouraging Santiago to grope and squeeze as he liked and you reveal in the feeling of feeling of his excited pawing. He was enraptured in you, you and him were the only thing that matter right now, and you knew it. You stretched around him, and you knew it had to be one hell of sight.

“Watch” Pulling him by his curls you guide him to look down where you and him connected, letting him watch the watch your cunt moved to accommodate him, making room to be filled over and over again. “See how my body let’s you in? I was made for you, pretty boy. I was made to take you inside me.”

The thick stretch was bringing you closer, and you knew he was only holding on by a thread himself, so you began to touch yourself. “Focus on that feeling, Diego. The feeling of us together. Can you feel it? I sure can.”

“I- I can, yes.” He was panting now, his bare tanned chest heaving with every bounce of you tits in his hands.

“Yes what?” But he looked up at you in confusion, a desperation on his face to be good, do good, do this all right. “Yes ma’am”

“Yes ma- ma’ammmm” With that, Santiago’s hits thrust upward into you, his eyes drilled shut and mouth tightly closed in his attempt to muffle his own release.

You did no such thing. As he filled you up, you spilled over yourself and felt the gushing release of your cunt soaking his cock, you yelled out for him, letting him know how good he made you feel. Relaxing onto his chest, Santiago wraps his arms around you like an affection-starved child, and you get a little hint into what you think this was all about.

He needed praise. He needed fondness. He needed skin to skin contact like nothing else right now. He needed to be a good person and do it all right and know he was doing it right.

Santiago needed to be loved.

*****************

IM BACK

Sorry i know it was a wait lmfao. I posted like 3 chapters of the wrong way sequel before this one lolololol OOPS

But i promise I got a fun plan for this fic! I hope you all enjoy.

Remember, reblogs are the only real way to spread work! Please consider relogging to support this writing.

Comments mean the world to me!

Asks are always open to discuss this fic or my others, but also for non fandom too! Talk to me about anything you're excited about! I wanna get to know you all.

Also, as a note im trying my best for historic acuracy but I know narcos goes from like 70's onward but this stays in the 70's. Pretend Pablo Escabar isn't an issue anymore lmfao.

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @itspdameronthings @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolbool @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @axshadows @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @laiisleitte @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleurs @ninebluehearts @puglover12

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lustaffairs · 4 months

Note

✏️

Smut request with this gif? And dark vibes?

🙏

File room boss

>1k, dark(ish?)!Steve Murphy x boss f!reader

A/N: ty @milla-frenchy. Steve bc the first line of your javi fic the brat instantly made me want to take steve here 😫

WARNINGS: I8+, mildly? dubcon, piv, orgasm denial, creampie.

--------------------------------------

Murphy had been acting erratic, and you thought he might have been on drugs. You weren't sure if it was the carnage, the divorce, or both. You asked him to see the DEA counselor, but he never went. One morning you got back from a work trip, and he was even more of a mess. He hadn’t shaved since the last time you saw him. His tie was already loosened. His eyes had darker circles. He looked hot, but you were worried about him. You called him into your office and asked him to give you his service weapon. He rolled his eyes, took it out of the back of his pants, and set it on your desk. Then, he braced his hands on the desk like he might push it across the room. He looked at you darkly.

His eyes were glassy. He asked, “That all? Or ya want this too?” His hand went toward his crotch and your heart skipped a beat, but he was only reaching to unclip his badge.

“Keep it,” you told him. “But I’m putting you on file duty until you get your shit together.”

“Oh come on,” Murphy complained. “You wanna catch this guy or not?”

You glared at him for questioning you. Then you said, “Follow me.” You led him into the file room and he sat on a filing cabinet as you showed him the shelves he should go through. You looked back to see if he was paying attention and he was staring at your ass in your skirt.

“Murphy,” you scolded. “Are you there?”

His eyes shamelessly panned over your body. “Yeah, I’m here,” he answered in a trance, then his eyes met yours. “Just need a second.”

“For what?” you asked. He got off the filing cabinet and brazenly adjusted himself before going to close the blinds. He returned with a darker look in his eyes.

“Sit down,” he put his hands on his hips and nodded to the filing cabinet where he had been sitting.

“You’re on thin ice, Murphy.”

“Just sit,” he repeated in a lower, more ominous tone. He wet his lips and watched as you took your seat. The metal cabinet was cool on the backs of your thighs. Complying was the last thing you should have done, but his display of dominance was turning you on.

He loomed over you, crossing his arms. “Know what I think?” He waited for you to say something.

You rolled your eyes. “What, Murphy?”

“I think you're into bad guys.”

Your face heated up at the accusation. He stepped all the way toward you, and his pants grazed your leg. The cabinet was hip height and just wide enough for him to brace his hands on either side of you. Not to be intimidated, you tried not to pull away. You couldn't do anything about the throbbing between your legs, but you didn't have to show it.

“How many ya thought about fuckin’ a Narco?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoffed.

"The Lion's a good-lookin' fella," he mused.

"No way."

He nodded. “I see those 'fuck me' eyes,” he taunted. “I see’em." He froze at the bottom of his nod and locked eyes with you. “But never when I’m on my best behavior.”

“Which is when?” you retorted.

He smiled with a barely audible chuckle, then walked his hands further as he leaned in. His face was a few inches from yours, and he smelled like cigarettes and whisky. Your heart fluttered and you were gushing wet.

“Now's your chance, boss,” he murmured. He brought his lips almost to yours, then barely grazed them. The spark between you was too much. You kissed him.

Right away, his tongue slid between your lips, he cradled your head, and used his knees to nudge your legs open. The force of his kiss and his body brought you down flat beneath him.

After you were laid down on the surface, he groped your breast and you moaned softly into his mouth. Your hips lifted on their own, seeking contact..He broke the kiss to mutter, “Good girl.” Then, with one hand, he unbuckled his belt, undid his pants and began to tug them down. The bulge in his boxer briefs made your breath hitch.

He stood up to further tug his pants down, then he pulled you by your thighs to the very edge of the cabinet. He threw his loosened tie over his shoulder then hiked up your skirt all the way. You watched his massive hands as he ripped open your pantyhose for access and the cool air hit your dripping cunt.

He looked at your cunt and wet his lips. You wanted him too bad to stop it.

“This doesn't change anything,” you told him.

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head with a contemplative pout. “We’ll see.”

He pulled his underwear down under his balls and you heard yourself whisper, “Jesus,” at the sight of his thick, stiff cock and his big balls.

He nodded and spat on his dick. Then he wet his lips as he ran his swollen tip through your dripping folds and said, “you're gonna gimme my gun back, aren't ya?” You bit your lip and didn't answer, scolding yourself for being so susceptible to this version of him.

He nodded, and when you didn't answer, he began to pull away. Fuck. You could always get him transferred.

You nodded in agreement.

“Good girl,” he whispered, then notched himself at your entrance and shoved inside. You failed to stifle your moan at the stretch, and he quickly covered your mouth with his. He backed up and slid into you again. His lips broke away, then he started slamming into you, pounding you with his big dick. The files in the cabinet were jostling around, then the file cabinet itself started moving and it was all making too much noise. “Fuck,” he breathed and slowed down. You writhed under him, desperate to come. "Door's unlocked, by the way."

"Why??" You whisper yelled, and he didn't answer. He was so reckless, like he had nothing to lose.

“Can't let ya come,” he panted, “you're too damn loud." Fine, you weren't going to beg. This would give you enough to think about and get off for weeks to come. He kissed you and slowly thrust into you for a minute, grunting and sighing quietly.

Then his deep voice broke the silence. “Where ya want it? Inside or on your blouse?”

“Fuck, Murphy,” you whined. “Not on my shirt.”

After a few more thrusts, he bottomed out and pulsed inside you. “Mmm,” you managed to be quiet but not silent. You were so close, but didn't get there. He pulled out right after he finished. Then he put himself together and left the file room alone without a word. Murphy was waiting for you in your office when you got there.

“My firearm?” he asked.

--------

Ty for reading 💕

#steve murphy smut #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy #dark!steve murphy #cw dubcon #narcos smut #lustaffairs ❤️‍🔥#narcos fic #boyd holbrook #boyd bungalow ☠️

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fuckyeahpedropascal · 1 year

Note

Your Pedro Boys matrix things are fantastic and spot on! If you haven’t already done it, may I suggest the underpants (or lack there of!!) matrix?

Pedro boys underwear matrix

Sweet anon! I'm sorry this request took so long. I actually made the matrix super quickly, but didn't have time to write the commentary. I had an absolute blast making this one, thank you so much for sending it in! If you're not familiar with each underwear type (I definitely was not), here's a cheatsheet.

Debate and discussion encouraged as always!

• Masterlist •

Pedro boys fashion matrix

Pedro boys colour matrix

Pedro boys smoker matrix

Commando

Javier, Oberyn, Ezra, Pero

The only canonical proof we have regarding underwear for Pedro boys is that Javier goes commando, and we thank the writers of Narcos for that. For Oberyn, it's all about easy access, whereas the space/medieval gremlins obviously forgo undergarments because it means more laundry. And they never do laundry.

Briefs

Javi G, Max P, Silva, Nico

We saw how cute Javi G is in his little Speedo's, you can't tell me he doesn't wear briefs. For Max P and Nico, I could just imagine these extra bitches to strut around their home in their briefs. For Silva, he's in the saddle all day, he doesn't want anything longer rolling up as he rides.

Boxer briefs

Frankie, young Joel, Jack, Marcus P

I'm biased here because I prefer boxer briefs on men, and all these boys give me major boxer briefs vibes. Young Joel in particular, just imagine him wearing them with the inside out tshirt when he stumbles out of bed on a morning Sarah's away to visit her grandparents 🫠

Boxers

Dieter, Max L, The Thief, Dave

Dieter is our comfort king, and you know he wears loose boxers under his bathrobe. @imaswellkid made the very valid point that Max L wears pinstripes boxers, so does Dave probably - very dad of them. The Thief definitely wears boxers under a pure silk kimono when he prowls about his mansion.

Midway briefs

Din, older Joel, Marcus M, Tim

Our modest tin can man would probably wear long johns under his flight suit if he could, but since it's not an option, let's say he wears midway briefs. Older Joel is probably (misguidedly) a bit insecure about his dad bod and probably wants some extra support with the extra length on the midway briefs. Whereas for Marcus M and Tim, I don't know why, but I'm imagining them walking around in midway briefs with their respective tac vest and shoulder holsters and I'm feeling pretty good about myself right about now 🫠

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xn3city · 23 days

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And finally: the one I've been waiting for, the young man whose face leapt into my mind's eye when I read @romanceyourdemons's wonderful idea about SVSSS as an American nineties TV series and led me to draw all this, your blorbo and mine: Winter Mississippi, and the useless fake silver crucifix his adoptive mother gave him.

And yes, his cutie mark is an inverted cross. He's a demon!

Notes on the supporting cast:

Pablo Escobar was still kicking around in the early nineties, and I knew I wanted the Heavenly Demons to be narcos, in conflict with the USA armed force cultivators. Huan Hua Palace's shady vibe works especially well with the CIA.

"Old Palace Master" is actually a great spy handler codename, but I was not about to give a black character a boss called "Master." I mean, you could do it in a fic. I can think of three authors just off the top of my head who I would trust to sensitively explore the hideous resonance that would give to the way Su Xiyan was abused and exploited by the OPM. But I'm not a good writer with a lot of prose to work with, I'm just a mid artist with one panel and most of it is taken up by a horny joke. I just said no.

My favorite joke in this whole thing is that the Heavenly Demons are named Jesus and Lover-of-God.

Tried to capture that devoted gege-spitting wet cat dynamic between YQY and the Original Goods.

Shen Yuan pre-novel is such a cipher. I understand that the general consensus is that he died at about around 20, but…that's not the impression I got when I read SVSSS, actually. I get it now, but when he says something about not having gotten laid for twenty years: to be honest, I read that, and assumed he was, you know, 35 minimum, and having the mother of all dry spells.

And I think it makes the story better. A twenty year old wasting his time in his mom's basement reading crap webnovels and yelling on the forums: that's just a kid having a less than maximally productive gap year! He might well have had a stellar career of his own in real life eventually! It's not super surprising that he blossomed on Qing Jing Peak! But a thirty-five year old incel NEET angrily posting in that basement….that's a man who has had something go wrong in his life. I'm not saying you can't turn it around at thirty-five, you absolutely can, but I tell you: it's harder. Something is wrong, mentally or physically or both, and in a way that leaves a mark. Fifteen years are gone. Opportunites have passed that will not return. For that guy to be handed the responsibility of Shen Qingqiu's life, and do such a goddamn virtuoso job of turning it around: that is some bestselling-loveseat-level portrayal of how a different context could pull radically different capabilities out of a person. That makes SVSSS just as much about how the PIDW!world transformed Shen Yuan, and for the better, as it is about how Shen Yuan transformed Luo Binghe and his world. And that's a better story.

It does make the relationship age gap more disturbing - but if you weren't here for disturbing relationships, what are you doing reading SVSSS?

The cell phones are of course terribly anachronistic, but here's the thing - there is no equivalent, and there's no story without it. There is no Peerless Cucumber yelling at the frustrated PIDW author for hacking out the 6000th boring papapa scene, without creators being financially dependent on direct contact and support from their fans in a way that just didn't exist in the nineties. I remember how novel and exciting it was that J. Michael Straczynski hung out on rec.arts.sf.tv.babylon5; he absolutely did not have to. Eventually I decided that The Demon Heart of Winter Mississippi was, somehow, a nineties TV show about the 2010s, and everyone could have their phones. You know Minnie Liu is writing RPF on hers.

In case any of these weren't clear:

Demon Heart = Xin Mo Winter Mississippi = Luo Binghe (from @romanceyourdemons) "Don" Teófilo Lanza = Tianlang-Jun Chucho Lanza = Zhuzhi-Lang Sue Sheehan = Su Xiyan Codename: OPM = Old Palace Master Saul Czerniak = Shang Qinghua Wally Shen = Shen Yuan/Shen Qingqiu Julius Shen = Shen Jiu/Shen Qingqiu Adam Montague = Yue Qingyuan Helmut von Nordwüste = Mobei-Jun (from @romanceyourdemons) Shelley Howe = Sha Hualing Minnie Liu = Liu Mingyan Max Liu = Liu Qingge Néné Young = Ning Yingying Michael Ventola = Ming Fan

Fun game: guess whose likenesses I used for reference for all these characters!

#svsss #svsss fanart #sort of #scum villain's self saving system #the demon heart of winter mississippi #artbythree

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morallyinept · 1 month

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Shoot: Esquire Spain, November 2019

Photographer: JuanKR

Interviewer: Ana Trasobares

Grooming: Kristen Ingersoll

Full interview, behind the scenes, outtakes & shoot photographs below. 👇🏻

Jett's Pedro's Shoots Masterlist

• Cover shot and original images used in the magazine.

• Outtakes and behind the scenes images.

Behind the scenes shots of Pedro trying on outfits by Kristin Ingersoll:

• BTS Video

• Full Interview translated from Spanish

It’s a splendid day in Beverly Hills, but even more when Pedro Pascal walks through the door.

The protagonist of Narcos and in some chapters of Game of Thrones, is one of those guys who just shows up and gives off a good vibe. And there’s no pretending. Hours go by and not only does he not disappoint, but he goes on to become more: nice, kind, affectionate, a joker - very Latin and very normal.

This meeting in Los Angeles coincides with the premiere of his latest work, The Mandalorian, the most anticipated series by the amount of followers that the Star Wars universe drags. On November 12, Disney+ will launch its streaming platform in the US, Canada and the Netherlands and, among its offering, the first season of this series. While in Spain we will have to wait until March 31.

We spoke on the phone with its protagonist.

Who is the Mandalorian?

He is a lone gunslinger who lives adventures on the edge of the galaxy, one of those that appears in the famous Star Wars canteen where some play music, others play cards, others make or end a deal… all seem to live outside of the law.

Why have you been so excited to star in this series?

When the creator and director, Jon Favreau, called me, I was really crazy because I, like millions of children, have grown up admiring the Star Wars universe. George Lucas is an icon of our culture, he belongs to our happiest memories, so it didn’t take me half a second to say yes.

What was the first movie you saw in the saga?

I saw the first 3 installments in a movie theater in San Antonio, Texas, when I was very young. My father was a doctor and a die-hard movie buff. He took us to the movies three times a week.

Is that why you became an actor?

Sure, because of him [laughs]. He got me the idea by taking me so much to the movies. I must have been 3 the first time I went. Normal for those images to stay with me, right?

Listening to an actor so beloved in Spain on the other end of the phone is sometimes strange, but other times feels familiar. He speaks Spanish fluently, with some Latin expressions and others in English, but they all come from his soul, because he is one of those who has grown up between the two worlds.

His family left Chile when he wasn’t even a one year old, fleeing from the Pinochet dictatorship. Denmark was their first destination as political refugees, and the US was the country which later welcomed them and saw them grow. Texas, New York, Madrid, Los Angeles, Bogotá, Mexico City, London, Santiago de Chile… all places he likes to call as home.

With your resume and the current situation around you, it is impossible not to wonder about political refugees in general and the Trump wall in particular?

We are all afraid and anxious about the actions that Trump is taking. One tries to understand the historical and political context that we live in, but the only thing that is clear to us is that we're hoping that these are the last steps of a fascist, and the only thing he sells us is fear and lies. What is happening economically and culturally, that we have to live these extremes? We should all have the same rights because we all have the same needs.

How would you define Trump?

If ego were an image that would be Trump. This is their politics inside and outside of the US, and it's very disheartening not knowing yet who will win, the good guys or the bad guys. How am I going to feel safe with a person who doesn’t want to help others when they have the power to do so?

Do you think he will last long in power?

I don’t know, nor are the limits or the ethics of politics that should maintain the balance in society very clear. It scares me to see the truth die, because the truth is worth less every day. This is why we are so lost.

Pedro Pascal doesn't want to continue talking about politics. He says he would understand perfectly if someone told him that he was getting where they were not called, so we changed third.

As the protagonist of Narcos, let’s talk about drugs. In Europe, many think that legalizing them would end drug trafficking. Do you agree?

Drugs are a recurring theme for fiction because they portray a society, culture and intrigue that occurs around them because they are illegal.

And what do you think?

…What can I tell you, since my genes are of very liberal and left-wing blood, okay?

And he laughs. Caught the hint, there is no choice but to talk about cinema and after climate change.

Is the power of the Latin entertainment sector in the US appear to be true?

Yes, because the Latino public is getting better and better, so the Latin marketing and industry is also getting very strong. In this sense, Hollywood and cinema are lagging behind and should adapt to the new times, as streaming platforms do. These new avenues of entertainment do reflect reality by telling stories that represent the Latino public. After all, it's just another business.

How do you imagine the planet in 2050, if we continue to take care of it so little?

What scientists have been spreading for years must be put into practice. It is the least we can do if we want to save our home for future generations. It is also important that governments and those in power enforce these rules. As long as no action is taken, we will continue to oscillate between fear and hope.

Are you an activist?

My contribution, in addition to the small and necessary daily gestures, is not having children [laughs] …

Seriously? There is a current that encourages not having offspring so as not to end the planet’s resources. You are one of them?

[More laughter]… Well, I don’t agree with applying measures to control the birth rate because having a child is a very emotional need, so I fully understand parents because, I am Uncle Pedro, by the way. I have ten nephews and I assure you that without them I could not live. If we do things well, it is positive that people can continue to have families…

And he starts laughing as he shares a reflection, “pathetic”, as he says: “As I'm still single and childless, I can afford to drink water from a plastic bottle without feeling horrible, right?”

Looking forward to seeing him in The Mandalorian and next June in theaters in Wonder Woman 1984, we say goodbye to Pascal with one last question that we hope will bring you good proposals.

Pedro, when are you coming to work in Spain?

Please, I’m looking forward to being invited! Put it in big letters, that I would love to work in Spain! As soon as I can, I will escape and come to see you.

Jett's Pedro's Shoots Masterlist

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal magazine #pedro pascal photo shoot #pedro pascal photos #pedro pascal words #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

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Misc.

Klitz (The Girl Next Door)

pink bra strap pt 1 (1.6k) pt 2 (1.6k) pt 3 (1.8k) ♡ ▵ ◦

klitz headcanons pt 1 pt 2 ♡

Javier Pena (Narcos)

domestically (1k) ♡ ▵

matchmaker pt 1 (1.4k) pt 2 (2.1k) ♡ ▵ ⚘

three years (1.7k) ♡ ▵

Joel Miller (The Last of Us)

christmas vibes (1.3k) ♡

folded (3.4k) ♡ ▵ ⚘

rough day (1k) (easy read) ♡ ⚘

be my mistake (1.5k) ♡ ▵ ⚘

sacrificial (1.7k) ▵

jealousy, jealousy (2k) ▵ ⚘

i fall in love too fast (6.2k) (pt 2 to jealousy, jealousy) ♡ ▵

give in (2.3k) ♡ ▵ ⚘

needy (3.4k) (pt 2 to give in) ▵ ◦

stargazing (3.7k) ♡

feeling you (3.6k) ♡ ▵ ⚘

lovers and love. (2.4k) ♡ ▵ ✾

hairspray (1.7k) ♡ ✾

Sebastian Sallow (Hogwarts Legacy)

apologies (2.8k) ♡ ▵

Michael Gavey (Saltburn)

alone with you. (5k) ♡◦

(key)

♡- fluff/general

▵- angst

⚘- emotional

◦- smut

✾- pregnancy

#peterparkersnose #peterparkersnosemasterlist #klitz masterlist #javier pena masterlist #joel miller masterlist #sebastian sallow masterlist #michael gavey masterlist #saltburn masterlist #narcos masterlist #the last of us masterlist

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cositapreciosa · 1 year

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I’ve just rewatched narcos Mexico I love Mayo so much😭 Can I request something about him comforting his wife about the drama going on with tj like maybe this is just after he’s picked a side and she’s scared and worry about what will happen to him. I don’t know I’m just interested in mayo comfort vibe cause feel like I haven’t seen that on here!. Thank you! Hope your good🫶🏼

Burning bridges

Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada x gn!reader, 2121 words

a single use of Y/N, drinking alcohol, wanting to kill someone, the usual for the show

a/n : Hope you're good too!! Sorry it took so long, but it's finally here !! He is so husband material look at him <3

As always it's the fictional, not the real deal, enjoy xx

You have been waiting for hours. Pacing back and forth in the living room, running to the window every time you would see headlights coming in from the street, licking the wallpaper and out the way just as fast. It is still not him, not his car, not even his men coming to tell you that he would be late. Ismael was supposed to be here on time, as usual, as he does most nights, but tonight he isn’t and you can’t help this feeling of helplessness from taking over your mind. His dinner is getting cold on the dinner table, fork and knife perfectly placed around the ceramic plate, you even made sure to pour some wine into his cup.

You know he works hard to keep the business afloat, to give you this roof and this food to put on the table. You also know what the business is, even though he doesn’t like to tell you all about it. There are nights when he does, confiding in you when he needs your opinions. It is usually when you are sitting outside, enjoying the backward after a long day, he would light himself a cigar and offer you a glass of that expensive wine that you like. I want to know what you think about this, he always says, adding something about how it impacts you too, in a way.

You know that the police caught Miguel Angel, that his plazas aren’t holding up after his trial. You also know that your husband is thinking about joining forces for once and going around the Arellano’s back. You are pacing the kitchen, pouring some more wine into a glass. It is bitter when it goes down your throat, a reminder that this is not a normal night, that he would have at least called you if he planned on coming back late. Maybe you should wrap up his plate and put it in the fridge for him later, warm it up when he eventually arrives. He has to. There is no other option, no world where someone rings the bell at this hour to let you know he wouldn’t. Your husband has to come home.

The cat is slithering in between your feet, all purrs and soft fur against your ankles, but you don’t have the heart to pet him back. Your wedding ring feels heavy on your finger, thoughts are battling in your head, you haven’t been this anxious in months. You have met the Arellanos before, at the oldest daughter’s wedding, a beautiful reception where Ismael happily paraded you around. You could read them well, that night, see how squared they hold their shoulders, how political the whole thing was. If they wanted to kill your husband they could, they just had to ask.

'' Y/N? ''

You scream, glass falling from your hand, shattering at your feet. You feel the liquid between your toes, ear the cat’s claw on the hardwood floor as it runs away. Ismael is in front of you, standing at the door, hat pushed up.

'' Ay Dios mio, Ismael. When did you get in?! I didn't hear you, how- ''

'' Don't move, okay? You'll cut yourself. ''

He moves to you, boots covered in mud. He looks tired, you can tell, with his sleeves rolled up, damp hair, you know he must have had a hell of a day.

'' I tried calling the warehouse, they didn't know where you were- damn it. ''

You hiss, raising your hand to grab at his shoulder as he nears, boots crunching on the shards of glass. Your toe starts to bleed, mixing with the wine covering the floor. He barely acknowledges your remark, pushing your un-asked question to the side. His hand comes up to your waist, caressing your side as it moves up, lifting you by the rib. You step carefully on his work shoes, naked toes meeting the leather as he turns on his heels, bringing you away from the mess.

'' I came through the garage. Didn't I tell you to lock it behind you, hm? ''

He does, every day before he leaves for work, every night before bed. His fingers are warm between your ribs and you can see him for the first time tonight. His shirt is dirty, mud you know you will have to scrub hard and long to get off. He is already looking at you when you meet his eyes, they are soft, tired, the skin creasing in between his brows. Your hand moves to his chest, where his heart is, caressing the shirt over his skin with your thumb.

'' I was... ''

Scared? Would that even be the right word? You were scared for him, for what it would entail for you after if anything were to happen. Anxious that there was nothing you could do to prevent this, only being able to stay home, cook eggs in the morning, soak his dirty shirts, and pour him whiskey in a cold glass when he eventually comes back. He gives you a small smile, one that barely pulls at his lips, lifting only on one side. I know, he wants to say, and you don’t feel like you have to end your sentence anymore.

He kneels in front of you, pressing his warm hand behind your thigh and then to the joint of your knee to lift your foot off the ground. You can feel his breath on your leg, the tip of his hat tickling your thigh.

'' You don't have to do this. You'll get blood all over your shirt. ''

He scoffs at the irony, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket and pressing it to your toe, holding your heel with a firm hand when you inevitably jerk away from the pain. The cut is minimal, nothing a good bandaid wouldn’t fix, but the blood still runs on the side of your foot, staining the tissue red.

He looks up to you once again, you notice a scratch on his face that wasn’t there this morning.

'' They burned the boats. All of them. ''

He doesn’t say more, he doesn’t need to. You know who he is talking about, what they are doing and why. You sigh softly, leaning back on the counter behind you. You did tell him that Chapo’s offer was a good deal, that he should consider it, and now you have to stand here and listen to the consequences of it. Ones that you felt couldn’t touch you, ones you felt he would be protected enough not to deal with. He wasn’t even in on the deal yet, but they already came at him like he was.

'' I'm sorry, cariño. ''

It is sincere, you mean it. You know how hard he works at the dock, how many can count on his fleet for a fair wage, hopefully living the normal life he didn’t choose for himself. Maybe you were wrong to tell him to listen to Chapo, maybe making friends and alliances wasn’t a good idea after all. Your hand reaches for his hat, taking it off and discarded on the counter just as fast. Your fingers come back down, moving untamed curls back and away from his forehead, he leans into your touch, pressing his cheek into your palm.

'' I made you dinner, but you weren't coming home. ''

'' I know. ''

He sighs, forehead falling on your thigh. His moustache scratches your skin, his thumb caressing your ankle as he talks.

'' I should have called you. It's just- Everything was on fire. Pinche Arellanos. ''

You are playing with his curls again, fingertips untangling hair at the nape of his neck. There is nothing you can do to tame his anger, nothing to convince him to take a step back and think about it. You know your husband in and out, you know what is coming and there is nothing you can do to stop this.

'' I'll take it. '' He says, '' I'll find Chapo and I'll take the deal. I'll kill them for this. ''

His fingers are shaking against your ankles as he unwraps the handkerchief from your toe. It has stopped bleeding now, leaving a red mess and a small gash in its place.

'' What if they kill you first? ''

You whisper it, in the space between you, with his warm hand still on your foot, his eyebrows frowning at the words. You don’t mean this as a jab at his strength, at what he is able to do. You believe him when he says he will kill them, you have watched him come home with blood on his shirt that he never cared to explain, taking out guns from hiding places you didn’t even know existed.

'' Do you think I would let this happen? '' He continues. '' I won't. ''

'' That is not what I'm saying, Ismael. I'm just- ''

Your voice breaks, you can’t hide it and you know he heard it. He raises up, pushing off his knees, his hand trailing your leg until he rests it on your waist. You can smell what is left of his perfume, see the speckles of green in his eyes. You know he is waiting for you to say more.

'' I worry. I worry so much for you. ''

He closes his eyes at that. You know he knows, that he can see you biting at the skin around your nails, that you never go to sleep if he is not in bed with you. He feels guilty, even when you tell him it’s fine, even on those nights when you actually mean it at times.

'' Every night your dinner gets cold, I always think- '' You sob, you can’t help it. Your throat is tight, you can’t breathe, '' This is it, and I'm just waiting and waiting and I- ''

'' Hey. Hey. '' His other hand is on your cheek now, pressing you to him, keeping you unbelievably closer. '' Respira hondo, amor. ''

He is shushing you, mouth in your hair, your nose in his neck. You can feel the metal of his wedding band, cold on your skin as his fingers wipe the tears off your cheek. You finally take a deep breath, for him, because he wants you to.

'' Please be careful, Ismael, I don't know what I would do if you don't come home. ''

It comes out fast, stumbling over words and shaky breaths. You are gripping at his shirt, creasing the fabric between your fingers. In a weird way, it feels like if you were to let him go, right now, tonight, he wouldn’t come back at all.

'' Don't say that, amor, '' His voice breaks on the last word and he brings you closer, breathing in your scent, hand cradling your cheeks, '' Don't say that. I fight every day to come back to you. I always do. ''

You know he is hiding in your hair so he doesn’t have to face you, tell you that even if he tries, faith is something he can’t control. No amount of soldiers or money could give him this power. You let him lull you, ease those thoughts in your head. Maybe they will be back tomorrow, during dinner when it once again inevitably goes cold on his side of the table, but you let him keep them at bay for now, tucked in his arms, lips moving against your hair, promises after promises.

En lo próspero y en lo adverso, en la salud y en la enfermedad.

Ismael holds you tighter that night. You know he is not sleeping and he probably knows that you aren’t either, but you enjoy it, his presence, his chest against your back. The feeling of his breath on your neck, his warm hands sprawled across your stomach. Your toe is still throbbing, a bitter reminder of what happened, of what is to come, because it will, and there is nothing you can do to stop this. He whispers in your ear.

'' I'll end this. '' Them, he actually means. '' Whatever happens, I'll come home. '' Whoever.

You can only believe him, believe that he would, and you do. Your fingers intertwine around his, pressing a gentle kiss on his knuckles, bruised and scared from all his hard work. I believe you, you tell him, I’ll be here when you come back. He smells like soap, an aftertaste of cigar, his fingers ghosting under your ribs.

For better or for worse, in sickness and in health.

#narcos imagine #ismael zambada x reader #ismael el mayo zambada x reader #narcos mexico imagines #ismael x reader #el mayo x reader

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drabbles-mc · 1 year

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Out of Time

Amado Carrillo Fuentes x F!Reader

For Day 29 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: surrender

Warnings: 18+, language, angst

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: In true drabbles-mc fashion, I have no idea what happened here with this one but I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. We love fics all based on vibes in this house lmao. Also, thank you @hausofmamadas for giving me a little nudge out of my comfort zone. tqm, df 🥰

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

Once it all started to unravel the way that it did, Amado decided that there was no other choice. Surrender was never going to be an option for him, not the way that it was for the godfathers. He wasn’t going to turn himself in and simply do his bid. What would it all have been for, then?

So there he was, packing his bags. All the work he’d put into his beautiful home, or rather, all the money he’d put into his beautiful home making others do the work, and now he was going to take off and leave it vacant. It was a small loss, he supposed. With the money he had he could afford to make just about anywhere home. It was a skill that was going to come in handy, too, because he didn’t know how long he was going to have to be on the run before he finally settled down somewhere quiet enough for him to live out the rest of his life in quiet, secluded luxury. That’s really all he wanted now: to be left the fuck alone.

The suitcases that were on the floor beside his bed were already filled with clothes. The zippers on them were strained, nearly to their breaking point, but they still held. There was another still on his bed, open and only half-full as he continued to pack away more clothes into it. Part of him felt like it was a bit ridiculous, packing up his clothes and some of his other easily replaceable belongings, but he still found himself doing it. Maybe it was sentimental, he wasn’t sure—there wasn’t enough time for him to sit back and try to figure it out.

He was the only thing in the entire house making noise, so it wasn’t difficult for him to hear the sound of someone else coming up the stairs that would lead to the hallway that held his bedroom. He reached for his gun even though he wasn’t quite sure who it would be. If it had been the cops, or the feds, they would’ve already caused a scene. They wouldn’t have been able to make such a quiet entrance—they wouldn’t have sent one man in alone.

He moved quickly, quietly across the floor of his room. He positioned himself so that he was hidden behind his open bedroom door. His breathing was slow, controlled as he listened to the footsteps slowly but surely get closer and closer to his room.

Through the sliver between the door and its frame, he caught the silhouette of the person as they started to step into his room. The second he was able, he stepped out from his hiding place, grabbing them and pushing them back towards the wall of his room with his gun pressed underneath their chin before he even had a moment to stop and check and see who it was.

When the wall stopped him from being able to keep pushing the person, he finally looked to see who it was. His eyes widened when he saw that it was you, the nerves that had been mounting went away, replaced instead by guilt when he saw the fear in your eyes with the mouth of his gun pressed harshly against your chin.

“A-Amado?” you stammered out, unable to even get your arms to cooperate enough to try and push him away from you.

He lowered his gun, tucking it back into his waistband as he loosened his vice grip on you. “Querida? Qué paso?” He knew that he should’ve been apologizing for nearly splitting your skull in two, but the question came out first instead.

There were still goosebumps on your skin even though the only thing still touching you was Amado’s warm palm. His fingers curled around your bicep, thumb tracing back and forth to smooth over the way that he’d gripped onto you so harshly before. You were trying to get out the words that you wanted to say, but it was proving to be more effort than you thought it was going to be.

“Estás saliendo?” you finally asked, a slight tremor to your voice.

He hesitated at that for a moment. The answer was evident—he knew that you knew. He wondered if you just wanted to hear him say it. Maybe you were looking more for the answer to the question that was coming next: Why? Although you were also smart enough to put together the broad strokes of the answers to that question as well.

Stepping back from you, granting you some more breathing room but with his hand still on your arm, he nodded once. He watched you look at the suitcases on his floor, the one sitting on top of his mattress. Your eyes traveled around the room—it was the only spot in the house where things were looking like they’d disappeared or were out of place. All that square footage and the only room with things that mattered enough to take with him was his bedroom.

“Cuándo…” your voice trailed off, not quite sure if the answer mattered once you started to ask the question. The exact time of his departure wasn’t what your real concern was. Whenever it was, it was clearly soon. Too soon.

Selfishly, the next question you wanted to ask was, “Were you just going to leave without telling me?” but you couldn’t manage it. It seemed small, childish even, to ask that when hardly two minutes before he’d had his finger on the trigger of his gun that was pressed against the bottom of your jaw.

Clearing your throat, you allowed yourself to lean back against the wall behind you for support, taking what you could get. “Adónde vas?”

He gave a slight shake of his head before shrugging. He made just enough of a motion with his arm, like an attempt at throwing his hands up in defeat without truly committing to it. “No sé.” He huffed out something that would’ve been a laugh if the air surrounding the conversation between you hadn’t felt so heavy. “Lejos de aquí.”

You nodded slowly, trying to process what he was telling you, still trying to process the scene that you were seeing in front of you. For as much of a mess as Amado’s life could be, his house had always been spotless. That was one of the perks of never having the time to be there—it never got to the point where it looked lived-in. The only person who had been around enough to even try to make a mess had been you, and you were always careful. But now his room looked like it had been pulled apart, broken down like an old car in search of decent scraps to put into a new one.

Pushing yourself off the wall, you slowly walked over towards his bed. Aside from the wrinkles at the foot of it where he’s been rotating out his suitcases, it still looked perfectly-made. The pillows were all in their correct spots, the blanket and sheet by the head of the bed still folded and set to perfection. You found a spot beside his suitcase and sat down, trying not to think about the way that he was watching you so intently.

You reached into the suitcase, fingers dragging along the fabric of one of the last shirts that he had thrown into the bag. The black cloth passed so smoothly beneath your fingertips. An impulsive part of you wanted to ball it up inside your fist, leave a set of wrinkles that he would have to contend with whenever he got to wherever it was that he was going. Leave him some nuisance to sort out that would make him think of you once he had left you behind. You thought about it, pressed the pads of your fingers harder into the fabric, but then you stopped and just smoothed over it with your palm instead.

“Esto es el fin?” you asked, “Para nosotros?”

For us might’ve been a little presumptuous on your part. But you still deserved an answer. After all, you’d caught the man getting ready to leave without offering you so much as a goodbye or a warning first. If you were here, you might as well make him to through the effort, the pain of stating the obvious. You’d earned that much at least, you’d like to think.

He frowned at the question, and you tried to figure out if he was frowning in confusion because the answer seemed obvious, or if he was frowning because he was actually sad about leaving you behind. Maybe it was something else entirely. Still, you waited patiently for his response.

He shrugged, pausing a moment, his brows knitting like he was trying to think of an answer that wasn’t the most obvious one. “Sí…” he dragged the word out for a beat longer than necessary as he reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment.

“Amado,” you said as you shook your head, sadness plaguing your voice, “what the fuck?”

His eyes snapped back to you at that. You weren’t sure what caught him more off-guard, the sudden switch or the heaviness and sadness that accompanied a question that was usually shouted between the two of you in anger.

He walked over to the bed, positioning himself so that he was standing between your legs. He looked down at you, silently waiting for you to look up at him. “Qué quieres de mi, mija? Hm? Digame.”

“I—” you started, stopping yourself short as you shook your head. The reality of it was that you weren’t really sure what you wanted from him. A heads-up? An invitation? For him to go back in time and not wind up on a path that led to him having to make the choice to either live on the run or to surrender and die in prison? Sighing, you dropped your chin towards your chest as you admitted, “Yo no sé.”

“Hey.” He rested his hand on your shoulder. When you didn’t look up at him, he said, “Mírame.” When you finally looked up at him, he repeated his question. “Qué quieres? Quieres salir conmigo?”

You found yourself shaking your head even though you weren’t quite sure if that was your real answer. You tried not to think too hard about the way his hand warmed your shoulder, about the look in his eyes that you almost thought meant he wanted you to say yes to the question.

“No puedo…” you started, stopping and shaking your head, “I can’t just…”

He tilted his head, like he was curious, almost confused. “Por qué no?”

You leaned back, shock all over your face, “Por qué n—” you cut yourself off, shaking your head, unable to believe that he really just asked you that.

Maybe you should’ve expected it. The rest of the people in his life could pack it all up and leave just like he could, after all. You were the one thing that wasn’t like all the others. You were the only one in his world who couldn’t trade it all in with the flip of a switch. Maybe that’s what the offer was, though, an opportunity to change that.

Despite the fact that you’d thought about it, contemplated it for longer than you thought, you knew that you weren’t going to go. It was an easy choice for Amado. If you had been left with the same choices that he was, you’d probably pick the same thing. But those weren’t the choices that you had. There was so much more left for you here than there was for him, and despite every hopelessly romantic bone in your body, you knew that neither one of you was enough to sway the other. Amado was going to leave no matter what you said, and you were going to stay no matter what he offered.

Reaching, you took his hands in your own. You tried not to think about the tears gathering at the edges of your eyes as you gave him a small pull towards you, trying to coax him to come just a little closer to you before he left you for the last time. You watched him, all of him, the slight slump in his shoulders when he made the decision to give in, when he realized the answer you were going to give him.

He knelt down in front of you, putting himself just below eye-level with you. Your fingers were still threaded through his. Your lips twitched as you tried to keep your tears from spilling, keep your bottom lip from trembling. Leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his.

Taking a deep breath, you said, your voice shaking more than you’d ever admit to after the fact, “Tu sabes…”

You felt the rise and fall of his shoulders and chest from the deep breath that he took. Precious seconds that he didn’t have an excess of anymore, still being spent on you, for you, with you. “No puedes salir,” he said, his voice heavier than you thought it was going to be.

He didn’t know why it hit him so hard. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to leave without even saying goodbye, knowing that for one reason or another he wasn’t ever going to see you again. He’d been ready for that. Maybe the melancholy would catch up to him when he finally slowed down, maybe then he’d feel a passing twinge of regret. What he felt now though was so much more than that, heavier on his shoulders.

Leaving without telling you would’ve been all on his terms. He was in control of it. He wouldn’t have had to stick around to see the pain on your face over it, either. By then he would’ve been long gone. Also, if he had just left without telling you, he wouldn’t have been stuck in the situation he was currently in—he wouldn’t have been getting rejected by you.

Taking one of your hands out of his and resting it on the side of his face, you traced your thumb along his cheekbone, over the stubble that was growing longer, somewhere between unruly and an actual beard.

“No,” you finally said, your voice soft.

The two of you lingered that way for a moment, letting that one word hang between you, the short, simple confirmation that this was the end of the road for the two of you. It didn’t have to be, but it did. Amado couldn't resign himself to what life would look like if he chose to stay, but you could. You had to.

He took a deep breath, and for a fleeting moment you thought that he was going to have something profound to say, something that would shake the foundations of the entire situation. Or maybe he’d kiss you, something so fierce that it would blot out the heart-wrenching reality that the two of you were facing something that would sweep you off your feet one last time. But he didn’t do either of those things. Shaking his head with his forehead still pressed against yours, he let out the breath he’d taken in before getting back up onto his feet.

Neither of you said anything else as he went back to packing up the last of his things. Every item he put into the pile, you found yourself running your hand over it. The next shirt, each pair of pants, rinse and repeat.

By the time he was done, with all of his bags now stacked by the door, you were hoping to have something more to say. He was hoping you’d have something more to say too, because this part had never been the part that he was good at.

Walking from his doorway back to the bed, he sat on the mattress beside you. He let his hand wander, allowed his fingers to hook into yours. He was looking down at your joined hands rather than in your eyes. “Estas segura de esto?” he asked.

You chuckled quietly at that, the sound a little sad beneath the humor of it. It felt like you were supposed to be the one asking him that question. He was the one leaving everything behind to start over somewhere else, drop his old life in favor of a new one without knowing how it would play out. Your life was staying startlingly the same. The only thing that was going to change was that Amado wasn’t going to be in it anymore.

Finally forcing himself to look you in the eyes again, he saw the hint of a smile on your face. He mirrored your expression, knowing exactly what you were thinking. He gave your hand a light squeeze. “Ven conmigo.”

Your smile widened a bit at that, the tears in your eyes growing. “Es mi última oportunidad, yea?”

He nodded. “Yea.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. It was soft, drawn out longer than it would’ve been any other day because you both knew that it was going to be the last one. He leaned back into you, not the way that he usually did, not in a way that was aimed to escalate or rile you up. He was soaking it up, savoring the feeling in a way that he didn’t take the time to do nearly enough before.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were still closed for a few seconds longer. You studied his face while you could. When he finally opened them, all he said was, “Lo siento.”

Your automatic reaction was to tell him that it was okay, but you both knew it would’ve been a lie. Part of you wanted to make a joke about how he should get going before he missed his flight, both of you knowing that the humor lied in the impossibility of it. But nothing was making it past your lips. Instead, you leaned in and kissed his cheek, unbothered by the stubble when maybe on a different, better day you might’ve been.

With more effort than he thought it would’ve taken, Amado forced himself up onto his feet. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of your head before walking towards the door. He picked up his bags, lingering in the doorway as he turned back to you. You could spot the lingering sadness in his eyes that hadn’t been there when you’d shown up. Still, he managed to give you a smile.

“Disfruta la casa, yea?” He took another step back out into the hallway. “Para mi.”

You nodded, the sad smile on your face pairing a little too well with the tears that were beginning to trickle out onto your cheeks. You desperately wanted something more to say, but the same emotions that were clouding your mind were also choking out any chance to give him a comeback, to end things on the same note that they’d started so long ago. But you couldn’t, so you watched him turn and disappear out of the doorway, the last of your seconds with him finally spent.

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gothcsz · 11 days

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter VIIII.

GIF CREDIT

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: After months of dancing around their emotions, Javier and Paloma finally address the tension between them head-on.

WORD COUNT: ~9.2k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: smuttt, bulge riding, dry humping, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, javi being an asshole, angst, crime talk (if it's not accurate don't @ me), descriptions of violence against women, vomit mention, slut shaming(?), detective!javi is very gorgeous ME, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: we did it… we did it joe !! javi and OFC finally [REDACTED] !! thank u to everyone who has been keepin up w this foolery so far, it makes my lil heart happy to see engagement < 3 also wanna say that years of watching criminal minds is finally starting to pay off and i rly hope u guys are enjoying the crime aspect of the plot because i'm havin A LOT of fun writing and developing it !! shit is gonna get twisted and intricate so brace yourselves for where we're about to go !!! the smut in this chapter is heavily inspired by touch it by ariana grande so i def recommend giving that a listen bc i feel like it just fits their vibe so well (i may or may not have used some of the lyrics in the dialogue.. oop!) last thing sooo irrelevant but mayor abbott looks like jonathan bailey (bridgerton hive RISE!!) in my head so take that as u will xoxo always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

As the sun casts its golden rays over the quiet outskirts of town, a grim discovery awaits the two men. The body of Jessica Valdez, the young girl reported missing from their neighboring town, lies lifeless in a shallow ditch. Javier stands beside Sheriff Leighton, their expressions grave as they survey the scene before them.

Reporters and curious onlookers have gathered, drawn by the spectacle of flashing lights and the somber atmosphere. A small group of people whisper amongst themselves, their hushed tones mingling with the distant sound of camera shutters clicking.

Romeo's authoritative presence looms beside him, a pillar of strength in the face of another tragedy. His eyes narrow as they push through the gathered crowd, commanding respect and order in the chaotic scene.

They duck beneath the yellow crime scene tape, ignoring the questions being hurled at them by the press.

“Are there any indications of a motive for this murder? “

“Is this connected to the similar incidents in the area recently?”

“Is there anything the public can do to assist with the investigation?”

Javier's stomach churns with sorrow as he takes in the sight. The body lies face down and sprawled in the dirt. He clenches his jaw, steeling himself against the wave of frustration threatening to overwhelm him.

Another failure on their behalf and all he can think about is the kiss shared between him and Paloma.

“ Talk to us, Cecelia. “

“ Well, at first glance: the body is still fairly warm so she was alive a few hours ago. It looks like she was held captive somewhere due to the bruising on her wrists and ankles. There are signs of malnourishment and she has smaller injuries scattered throughout her body. I won't know more details until I do the autopsy. “ The coroner answers before continuing, “ Her chest is completely slashed through, just like all the others. Still our guy. Or girl–– you never know nowadays. “

Javier's jaw flexes out of exasperation, mirroring the heavy sigh that escapes the sheriff's lips. The weight of this repeated revelation settles over them like a suffocating blanket, casting a shadow over their efforts to uncover the truth.

Despite their tireless pursuit of justice, they find themselves no closer to catching the culprit or unraveling the mystery shrouding these towns. It's fucking infuriating.

Amidst the tangled threads of his personal life, Javier has momentarily lost sight of his purpose for being here. He has been too immersed in his own character transformation and entanglement with Paloma, overlooking the harrowing reality unfolding around him: innocent women continuing to fall victim to brutal, senseless violence.

The gravity of his oversight has a mixture of guilt and despair settling deep within his chest.

Javier prides himself on his prowess, his ability to navigate the most intricate of cases and weather the toughest of storms. As a seasoned field agent with a string of accolades to his name (some undeserved, others very well deserved), he's faced down challenges that would make others quiver.

Yet here he stands, feeling utterly impotent in the face of this whodunit in the confines of a sleepy town.

It gnaws at him, this sense of inadequacy, like a persistent itch he can't scratch. It's a bitter pill to swallow, a humbling reminder of the unpredictable nature of crime and the limits of his own expertise.

He needs to be better.

“ What's interestin', though, is this, “ She stands, motioning for the two men to follow her and they share a look before wordlessly complying. Cecelia hands them both a pair of latex gloves, instructing them to put them on.

They make it a few feet away from Jessica's body and that's when Javi sees it.

“ Is that vomit? “

Cecelia nods, “ It is. I'm betting it's hers. The interestin' bit isn't that she vomited–– but the contents. Take a look. Tell me what you see. “

Javier is the first to kneel with Romeo looking over his shoulder. He eyes the evidence, pushing his aviators to the top of his head, making out the larger chunks in the grossly colored bile.

He can't discern what it is right away and Cecelia encourages him to use his hands, which has him looking at her ludicrously and muttering how gross this shit is in Spanish before doing as suggested.

Poking his latex clad fingers in the mess, Javi analyzes the contents and that's when he sees a symbol marked in ink on one of the scraps.

“ It's flesh. Human flesh. “

Shit . He sees it now, the mark is a tattoo and he quickly barks out an order to have one of the lingering deputies come take pictures of it.

“ Son of a bitch is feedin' people… people. Would explain Nina Thorton's missin' leg. What the fuck is goin' on here? “ The sheriff sounds defeated and Javier just remains silent as he mulls over all this new information that's been revealed.

Kidnapped, held hostage, fed human flesh, murdered, dumped.

All the other victims up until now have only been taken then killed. None of them held captive for long. Not all of them consuming flesh.

But then there's Nina and her postmortem severed leg.

Fuck, the answer is right there, interwoven in the intricacies and lack of details in the cases.

No more fucking around, no more helping girls sneak back inside their homes, no more distractions. He has to focus on doing his job.

He will catch who did this, he will prove himself to be qualified to do what he was brought here to do.

Javier remains kneeled and deep in thought as Romeo and Cecelia continue on with their observations. He looks around to study their surroundings, wondering if there is anything else that is right in front of him that he cannot see.

“ Three outta five have been brunettes around the same age. I think that's something worth considering now, “ Javier breaks up the conversation betweens the sheriff and coroner, both of them turning to look at him as he stands from his kneeled position and begins to take off the gloves, “ Seems like they found their type. There's got to be a purpose for the consistent victimology. “

They've migrated over to Jessica's body now, both men doing last minute look overs before she is transported back to her hometown for her parents to identify and for Cecelia to preform the autopsy.

When a deputy comes over to take the last bits of photo evidence, he looks sickly but Javier ignores it. It's not until her body is turned upright, exposing her mauled chest, that has the younger officer hurling over and throwing up, some of it landing on Romeo.

“ God fuckin' damn it, Andrews, spew that shit elsewhere. Fuck, not only are you contaminatin' the crime scene but you got it all over my damn pants. “

The sheriff goes on a tangent, chewing the officer out and threatening to suspend him for two weeks with no pay. It's harsh, Javier will admit, but he doesn't say anything, remaining stoic with his arms crossed against his chest as he watches it unfold.

Eventually, every one trickles out. Even the nosey reporters and townies. Javier wants to stay, walk around the surrounding area to see if anything else was left behind. Maybe something was dropped or buried nearby, and while they had assured him that others have already done a thorough search–– he'd feel more comfortable if he did it himself.

“ Ya mind stoppin' by my place so I can change? Kid ruined these. “ Romeo's gruff voice has Javier losing his train of thought, too engrossed in looking out into the vast area of the woods around them as the sun slowly begins to set.

Right, they arrived together, driving from the station in Javier's cruiser.

“ Sure. “ He replies plainly. His plans for the evening now include getting Romeo situated so that he can come back here and investigate all on his own. He might even drive to Fayette to retrieve the autopsy from Cecelia as soon as she completes it.

With the Leighton home being on the other side of town, this gives the two men time to talk the case over; going over all that they know and all that they've discovered. Romeo confides in Javier about feeling inadequate about the way he's doing his job and, in a turn of events, Javier does the same. In his own way.

The mutual understanding is a relief, though the guilt of his kiss with Paloma is palpable and it makes Javi feel like a fraud.

Across from him is a man who has extended nothing but kindness and trust, offering camaraderie and a sense of belonging. Yet, despite this, Javier found himself drawn to his daughter in a way that felt both exhilarating and forbidden.

It feels wrong, achingly so. A bitter realization that despite their mutual longing, their connection can never be fully realized. It's a harsh wake up call: if he truly wants to better himself, he must shed his bad habit of losing himself in women and distance himself from her.

What a discomforting prospect, the inevitable separation. But he knows it's the only way forward. He understands that in time, they will both resign themselves to the reality of their infatuation.

It's a familiar ache, this sense of inevitability that haunts his romantic endeavors like a relentless specter. Javier knows the drill all too well; it's not his first rodeo in navigating the treacherous terrain of severing emotional ties.

His love life feels like a series of missteps, a cursed labyrinth from which there's no escape. Despite the initial allure of each new romance, he's come to anticipate the eventual descent into disappointment. No matter how promising the beginning, the journey always seems to lead to the same desolate destination.

With him pushing them away. Or worse— hurting them beyond measure.

Fuck the idea of reinventing himself here. He can find peace and monotony anywhere else.

Javier will follow through with his responsibilities, and the second he's able to peel out of Seminary–– he will, leaving her behind as a bittersweet memory. A beautiful yet unattainable dream that he will carry with him for years to come.

As they pull in to the Leighton residence, he sees the woman that lives in his head perched up on the fence that surrounds the immediate area. Her baggy jeans are hanging low, exposing the sheer fabric of her underwear. She turns as she hears the sound of a car approaching, and her lips pull into a smile once she sees who it is.

Paloma fully expected to wake up the following day filled with regret and plagued by a hangover. The only thing she experienced was the latter, but it had quickly been nursed by a greasy breakfast and some yard work.

Javier had kissed her back, that was enough to feed into her delusions that he does want her. All inhibitions have been dropped, she's prepared to lay herself out for him–– to tell him that she's wanted him since the moment they met.

It might seem premature, an impulsive plunge into the uncertainty of his reaction to her feelings, but the tender memory of their shared kiss eclipses all rational thought. She finds herself irresistibly drawn to the possibility of something more, unable to resist the pull of her emotions.

His touch still lingers on her skin. His hands tracing the curves of her body with a hunger that left her breathless. She can still feel the way he had grabbed her ass then gripped onto her hips, pulling her closer to him.

But it was his mouth that left the strongest impression. His tongue had explored the depths of hers, tasting and teasing her with a ferocity that made her feel alive.

In that moment, she had felt desired, cherished, and wanted. It was a feeling that she hadn't realized she craved so badly until last night. She knew that she would never be able to forget that kiss and the way it had made her feel.

She's giddy, her excitement bubbling up like fizzy soda, reminiscent of the first time she ever kissed a boy. Except Javier isn't a boy–– he's a man. A man whose expertise and skill are a potent aphrodisiac, heightening her arousal to levels she never thought possible.

She's been hot for him all day, even touched herself to the memory of his soft lips, the tickle of his mustache, against hers then imagining them everywhere else. The mere thought of it is enough to send her heart racing, and she knows that nothing will satisfy her until she has him in her arms again.

Romeo gets out the car, muttering that he'd be right back and Javi opts to stay put. He does not want to speak to her, knowing that the second he gazes into those beautiful brown eyes–– he'd buckle. He needs to build animosity between them; it's the only way for them to definitively be able to separate from one another.

But she doesn't make it easy, of course. Because the second her father is inside, she's practically skipping over to the driver's side of the cruiser.

“ Hello officer. Here to bring me in for all those crimes I committed last night? “ She teases as she leans her forearms against the rolled down window, the cowgirl hat perched on her head complimenting her so well.

Javier swallows thickly, taking a lengthy drag of the familiar cigarette between his lips. He can't outright ignore her so he decides to be short instead.

“ M'not here for games, Paloma. “

She's taken aback by his tone, her smile faltering.

“ Well excuse me for tryin' to make conversation. Wasn't aware that you're in a mood today. “

There's a pause despite her attempt to add a teasing tone to her words to lighten him up. It falls flat.

“ I'm not looking to have a conversation. You can go. “

Her brows cinch together at his dismissal, this is not how she was expecting for this to go.

“ What's goin on'? Is this because we… because of the kiss last night? “ She lowers her voice towards the end, red blooming across her cheeks but she keeps her composure.

“ Jesus, “ Javier chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. It sends a sharp pang through her heart. “ Why do you always think that's the fuckin' problem whenever I don't want to talk to you? For someone who claims to be a grown woman all the time, you sure as shit don't act like it. “

She stills, the buoyant confidence that had propelled her toward him evaporating in an instant, replaced by a wave of hurt at his unexpected chilliness. What has gotten into him?

“ Drop it and move on, Paloma. We just found Jessica Valdez's body dumped out in a ditch. S'not the time to be hung up on a damn kiss. “

The sound of the screen door shutting close breaks her away from him and the trance she'd seemingly gone into. Another victim, another tragedy to confront… and here she is acting like a smitten teenaged girl.

The urge to cower and crawl into herself, to surrender to the overwhelming embarrassment and sorrow, threatens to engulf her entirely. She remains silent, fighting back the surge of frustrated, angry tears as she pushes off the car and trudges wearily back toward the house.

Javier exhales heavily once she strides away without a word, feeling a weight settle on his shoulders. He had braced himself for a snide remark or some form of verbal retaliation, but her silent departure was far more impactful.

“ I'll be home late. Don't wait up. “ Her father murmurs as he passes her, planting a tender kiss atop her head. He lingers there for a moment but she doesn't question it, knowing it's because of what they found today and she doesn't even mind that he hasn't told her about it.

As he breaks away, she conjures up a semblance of a genuine smile, masking the turmoil within, and nods before he affectionately pinches her nose and continues on his way.

She doesn't look back, she doesn't cry or go inside–– instead she picks up her discarded gardening gloves and proceeds to channel her energy into the simple act of mowing the grass.

She finds herself alone at the open bar as the party continues in full swing. It's been days since Jessica's death, and the tense conversation she had with Javier still lingers in her mind.

“ Drop it and move on, Paloma. “

Unlike the last time they went without speaking, there is much more tension between them now. The worst part about it is having to act as if nothing is wrong in the presence of her father.

No daddy, everything's fine! It's not like I threw myself at your co-worker not once, but twice and both times he made me feel like a fucking idiot!

She lets out a disdainful sigh, her fingers curling around the glass containing her coveted cherry root beer since she's decided to part ways with alcohol and any other substance for the time being.

The two men are busy mingling with other guests and have been since the moment they arrived. Despite her efforts to divert her gaze elsewhere, her eyes keep involuntarily drifting towards Javier's broad figure.

The event had called for formal attire, so when he strode in wearing a meticulously tailored all-black suit, her breath caught in her throat. The sharp lines of his outfit, coupled with the crispness of his button-down and the matching tie, made her momentarily forget why she was so upset with him. He looked too damn handsome.

It's brutal how the things we desire most often seem to radiate the brightest when they're just out of reach.

Observing him mingle effortlessly with others is entertaining. Contrary to her expectations, he appears completely at ease in this bustling social setting, a far cry from the disdain he expressed for large gatherings that morning in his kitchen.

He's acting a lot more extroverted and… smile-y. It pisses her off as much as it melts her heart.

They make their way over to her and she makes a point to not even look in his direction. She's now caught between her father and Javier as they order another round of drinks.

It really doesn't help that she's now standing shoulder to shoulder with him. The heady aroma of his cologne, laced with the familiar tang of cigarette smoke and the faint hint of whiskey, envelops her senses, making it impossible to outright ignore him.

Javier Peña is like a blazing beacon and she's the foolish moth drawn inexplicably closer to his flame. But she knows all too well the danger of getting too close, like a moth singed by the heat, the allure of his brightness can be killer.

Javier had assumed that with news of Jessica being found dead, their attendance to this party wouldn't be mandatory.

Well, he thought wrong. It is a cruel reminder of how life goes on, even when tragedy strikes.

Another dead girl, another over-the-top party.

Which is why he'll give it an hour–– tops–– to shake whoever's hand and meet whoever else, then he'd leave. It's a simple plan, the only thing making it difficult for him is his proximity to the woman he’s desperately trying to cut ties with.

She looks so beautiful tonight, donning a calf length simple black dress that hugs all her curves just right.

“ There they are! My Law and Order! Y’all keepin’ the townsfolk in line? “ The boastful voice of Mayor Jonah Abbott draws near and Javier suppresses the urge to roll his eyes.

Foolish of him to think he wouldn’t have to interact with the titular birthday boy tonight.

He greets both men with a firm handshake, and when his attention turns to her; Javier has to drown the subtle spark of frustration with his drink at the way his eyes rake over her body.

“ And of course, Miss. Paloma. They say a smile is worth a thousand words, but yours? It's worth a million dreams. “ He brings her hand up to his lips to plant a kiss against her knuckles and all she does is offer him a polite smile. Here we go…

“ Mr. Abbott— “

“ Jonah, sweetheart. Been tellin’ you to call me that for years now. “

Her smile threatens to twitch out of annoyance, “ Jonah. Happy Birthday. Thank you for invitin' us to your home. “

“ Always a pleasure to have you 'round. I heard about your performance up in Dallas. Shame I missed it. Woulda loved to hear that beautiful voice of yours and seen you up on that stage. “

Javier can't help the subtle grunt he emits at the mayor's overt flirtation, causing for her to just briefly glance up at him with a bemused flash crossing her stare.

The familiarity of Jonah's behavior strikes a chord within him. Once upon a time, Javier was just like this–– an arrogant charmer with a penchant for flirting with anything in a skirt. Standing here amidst the other man's smooth talk, he sees through the facade with clarity born of experience.

It's a performance, an act to charm his way in between Paloma's legs, though Javi can clearly see that she's not falling for it. Does Romeo notice it too, he wonders? Or is he blinded by the mayor's charisma, unable to see that this man clearly wants to sleep with his daughter.

Then again, Javier's opinion on this is irrelevant and invalid since he too has been in the same predicament since meeting her. At least he didn't do it blatantly in front of the sheriff's face.

Or, in a turn of events, perhaps Romeo doesn't give a damn. Jonah Abbott presents himself as a viable candidate to be with his daughter; a young politician with deep pockets and a keen interest in her.

Javier can't shake off the mental picture of the man’s wedding ring adorning her finger, of her transforming into the perfect, submissive wife, tending to the household and filling this place with snot nosed kids. But such a scenario doesn't align with her fiery and headstrong nature. She's far too independent and spirited to succumb to the confines of domesticity, particularly for a man like Jonah.

Then again, why the fuck does he care?

“ Well as you know, I do two shows every weekend at The Whiskey Fox. Could always stop by and see me and the band. “

“ A busy man like myself always has a full schedule. Though I reckon I should make some time to be out in the community. Wouldn’t hurt to stop by for dinner and a show. “

He winks at her and of course he does it when her father turns to order himself another drink. Javier's jaw flinches.

“ Now Romeo, why have you been keepin' this badass motherfucker hidden from me? I knew we had someone new joinin' the force but I didn’t think it’d be the Javier Peña. A goddamn American hero— right here in Seminary, Texas! “

As Jonah begins his praises, pairing them with a harsh slap to his shoulder, Javier remains cool and calculating. He refuses to be swayed by empty compliments.

Meanwhile, she breathes a silent sigh of relief as the spotlight shifts away from her, and she finds it amusing at how everyone seems to talk about Javier.

A hero. A true patriot. Such a brave soul for fightin' the war on drugs on Uncle Sam's behalf.

If only they knew the truth––if they had even a glimpse of the darkness he's had to face, they wouldn't be so quick to idolize him.

The label of hero, bestowed upon him since the demise of Escobar, sits uneasily on his shoulders. The adulation feels like a burden he never asked for, a title he never wanted. It's a reminder of the complexities of his past, the mistakes he's made, and the ghosts that continue to haunt him. Javi despises the word, resenting the way it overshadows his true self and the countless sins he harbors in silence.

“ Gotta keep 'em humble. Keeps the head on straight. “ Romeo banters back, pulling one of those haughty, rich men laughs from the mayor.

She cringes at the pretentiousness echoing in the air.

The men break out into small talk leaving her feeling awkward as she swirls the almost fully melted ice around the empty cup. It’s not until Jonah is getting ready to move on to a new set of guests that the attention is turned back to her.

“ And you, pretty girl, owe me a song. Specifically that one Linda Ronstadt song from the Fourth of July barbecue last year. Remember? S’only fair… consider it a birthday gift from you to me. “

Despite her inner discomfort, she maintains a face of cheerfulness, though her stomach sinks with apprehension at his request. Memories of the barbecue flood her mind, vivid recollections of his relentless pursuit despite her repeated, albeit polite, refusals.

The word 'no' is on the tip of her tongue, but knowing all too well the persistence he's exhibited before; she succumbs to the weight of the occasion—his birthday—and the anticipation in his eyes.

“ Blue Bayou, I remember. Does the band know it? “ She inquires, her gaze flickering towards the live band stationed near the open area of the dance floor where a throng of people sway to the music.

She’s secretly hoping that they don’t, but the song is very popular so her hope dwindles.

“ If they don't, they will. I'll introduce you when it's time. “

With a tight and forced smile gracing her lips, she simply replies, “ Okay, “ accompanied by a subtle nod. His wicked grin spreads larger, almost daring Javier to react by punching him square in the jaw.

Regardless of how he feels towards her and their situation, it irks him to no end how this man blatantly disregards her boundaries.

Her body language screams apprehension, evident to anyone observant enough. However, Mayor Abbott is too fixated on persuading her to comply with his wishes to take notice. It's apparent that he's not accustomed to hearing the word 'no'.

Javi just holds his tongue, an insult threatening to slip out, as he finishes his drink with a practiced air of nonchalance.

The mayor finally says his goodbyes before walking away and her shoulders drop instantly.

“ Guess I owe ya twenty bucks. “ Romeo mutters, digging into his suit pocket for his wallet.

The laugh she gives, though slight, simultaneously soothes and torments his heart.

Damn it all— this is going to be torture but he must endure.

“ She bet that he was gonna pull somethin' like this before leavin' the house. I was dumb enough to think he wouldn’t. “ He explains to Javier as he slips his daughter the twenty dollar bill which she slyly stuffs under the fabric of her dress by her chest.

The action, seemingly simple, is so hot to him.

“ How many times do I have to say m'not a damn show pony that does tricks whenever it’s asked? He’s so lucky that I'm polite and that it’s his birthday— If not I woulda told him to shove it—- “ She doesn’t finish her sentence as they’re approached by a group of people that she doesn’t recognize nor care for.

She feels like an afterthought as they bombard the men with questions about the recent cases and other related topics, so she takes that as her cue to leave, ordering another mocktail before slipping away towards the dance floor.

She is fully prepared to turn her brain off to enjoy some semblance of normalcy before she's thrown back in to the confusing pit that is her current status with the former DEA agent.

Attempting to convince herself that she's enjoying the moment, she sways to the lively rhythm of the music, lost in her own solitary dance. A few partygoers approach her asking for a dance which she declines; peeved by all the unwanted attention she's getting.

This isn't even her party. She holds no merit here.

Javier only catches glimpses of her from his peripheral, engrossed in a conversation with a man who remembers him from his sheriff days in Laredo, before he left for Colombia. The discourse drones on, punctuated by forced laughter and idle pleasantries. Each word falls flat, devoid of substance, yet Javier remains steadfast. Anything to keep him and his mind away from her.

Suddenly, the screeching sound of microphone feedback reverberates off the opulent walls of the ballroom-style venue and she winces at noise.

“ Excuse me, sorry–– I'm not very good with these things. “ The man of the hour apologizes, his voice crackling through the speakers. She inwardly curses, anticipating what's to come next. Setting her now-empty glass down on one of the nearby tables, she smooths her hands along the velvety fabric of her dress, ironing out any wrinkles, and hastily fixes her hair as best as she can without a mirror.

With a deep breath, she pushes down her nerves, summoning a smile to face the adversity when he introduces her. She steps onto the stage, the room erupting into scattered applause as she approaches the microphone.

♫

Midway through the song, to her surprise, Jonah joins her on stage, transforming the solo performance into an unexpected duet. Despite her inner discomfort, Paloma maintains a composed expression and tries to conceal any hint of surprise in her body language as he draws nearer.

Her unease heightens when he pulls her close against him, the heat of his body against hers as they sway to the rhythm of the music during the instrumental interlude of the country song. She reluctantly complies, her compliance more a result of avoidance of potential consequences than genuine willingness to dance with him.

The sight of his possessive grip on her waist, pulling her into an unwelcome dance, ignites a surge of vexation within Javier. He feels the tension in his muscles coil tighter with each step they take, their bodies moving in sync to the rhythm of the music. It's unbearable to watch, the image of Paloma in Jonah's arms twisting like a knife in his gut.

Without a word, Javier makes his escape, his strides purposeful as he navigates through the crowded room. He mutters a vague excuse to Romeo, the urgency in his voice betraying his need to flee from the suffocating scene unfolding before him.

Finally stepping out into the cooler night air, Javier takes a deep breath to soothe his frazzled nerves. He makes his way towards a gazebo that's right by the large pond, putting as much distance as he can between himself and the party inside.

Leaning against the railing of the structure, he retrieves his trusty pack of cigarettes from his pocket, hands trembling slightly as he lights one. Each drag offers a fleeting moment of respite from the turmoil brewing inside him.

Inside, the song ends and she wastes no time in descending the stage, a sense of urgency propelling her movements. She refuses to linger, her mind consumed with the dread of another unwanted encounter with the mayor. Surveying the crowded room, she searches in vain for her father or Javier, but they're nowhere to be found amidst the sea of faces.

Determined to escape the party atmosphere, Paloma makes a beeline for the exit, craving the solace of the summer night air. Stepping out onto the porch, she inhales deeply, the breeze offering a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the event.

The night is alive with subtle sounds—toads croaking in the distance, the distant murmur of conversation—but it's the solitary figure in the distance that captures her attention. With a sense of inevitability, Paloma finds herself drawn towards the silhouette, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she descends the steps leading to the gazebo.

When she approaches, Javier remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the tranquil expanse of water before him. The rhythmic puff of his cigarette punctuates the silence, a tangible barrier between them. Despite the tension hanging in the air, Paloma presses forward, her resolve unyielding as she closes the distance between them.

“ We need to talk. “

He stands like a statue, the weight of her words are heavy, yet he remains resolute in his silence, hoping that she'll simply give up and leave him be. But Paloma is nothing if not persistent, her frustration bubbling over as she confronts him.

“ Fuck, Javier will you at least look at me?! Acknowledge that I'm standin' here tryin' to speak with you?! “ Her voice crackles with pent-up emotion, her southern accent deep as each word is laden with an intensity that he can't ignore.

Reluctantly, he turns his head slightly, his gaze skimming over her figure with resignation. It's a small concession, but it's enough to stoke the fire of her frustration to new heights.

“ I dunno why you've decided to be such a jerk to me all of the sudden, “ she continues, her tone laced with a raw edge of hurt and confusion. “ You're tellin' me that I'm bein' childish a-and that I need to move on from the kiss but we both know it's so much bigger than that. We've been dancin' around it since the moment we met and I'm tired of pretendin' like I don't want you. “

His eyes close briefly, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before he retreats behind his stoic facade once more. His fingers find their way to the bridge of his nose, pinching tightly as he struggles to find the right words to respond. But before he can form a coherent thought, she presses on, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession.

“ I told myself I wouldn't care if you didn't feel the same way, “ She admits, her voice growing softer now, tinged with a hint of desperation. “ But that was before I got to know you. Before you somehow wriggled your way into my heart and overtook my mind entirely. We became friends, and I-I didn't want to screw that up. But then we kissed, and in that moment, I knew you wanted me just as badly… “

She draws closer, her hand reaching out tentatively to rest on his shoulder, the touch sending a jolt of tension coursing through his body. It's a silent plea, a manifestation of her vulnerability, and it's all he can do to keep his composure still as her words wash over him like a tidal wave.

“ Every time I see you I don't want to behave, Javi. I'm tired of being patient, so let's pick up the pace and finally give in. “

He flicks his finished cigarette out into the water, the ember trailing like a shooting star before disappearing into the dark abyss below.

Slowly, he turns to face her fully, the summer air crackling with tension as he takes in her determined stance. His hand shoots out, grabbing hold of the wrist that had just been resting on him, his dark eyes boring into hers in an act of intimidation.

But Paloma doesn't back down, her gaze unwavering as she meets his stare head-on. Instead, she brings her free hand up to rest against his chest, the heat of her touch seeping through the fabric of his shirt as she steps closer, closing the gap between them until his dress shoes are toe-to-toe with her pointed heels.

He doesn't make an effort to step away or decline her advances, his resolve crumbling in the face of her determination. Her words have jumbled him up completely, the sudden revelation of her feelings catching him off guard and leaving him reeling. The direct mention of what they've been indulging in for the past few months digs into his achilles' heel—his tendency to fall in love in the damndest of times.

He stares down into her eyes, a storm of conflicting emotions raging wildly. The lust swirling in her gaze stirs something primal and raw within him. Any rational part of his brain seems to shut down in that moment, his thoughts consumed by the overwhelming desire to kiss her again, to lose himself in the exhilarating whirlwind of emotions that she evokes from him.

“ It's obviously insane, m'not a fucking idiot I understand the repercussions…. but we both know what we want, so why don't we…” She whispers, tilting her head up until their lips brush against one another.

“ Why don't we fall in love? “

It's not clear who makes the first move, but their lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss—a fierce collision of desire and pent-up longing that surpasses the one they had previously shared. Paloma's hand on his chest clenches the fabric of his shirt while Javier relinquishes his grip on her wrist, his own hands rising to cradle her jaw in his palms.

The taste of the lingering cigarette smoke mingles with the faint bitterness of alcohol on his breath, a heady combination that heightens her desire. She moans softly into his mouth, her tongue intertwining with his in a desperate attempt to savor every fleeting moment before it inevitably slips away.

Javier, consumed by the intoxicating sensation, slowly walks her back until her back is against the sturdy pillar of the gazebo, his movements now possessive and urgent. He deepens the kiss, molding his body against hers as if to merge their souls into one.

Her touch is addicting, a bittersweet symphony that resonates in the depths of his bones. Despite the warnings screaming in the recesses of his mind, urging him to stop and pull away, he finds himself unable to resist the magnetic pull she exerts over him.

Breaking the kiss, Javier's lips trail down the side of her mouth, blazing a trail of heated kisses along her jawline before descending to her neck. His teeth graze her delicate skin, resisting the urge to leave a trail of marks in their wake as his tongue traces a path along her neck and up to her earlobe, where he bites down gently.

“ Is this what you wanted, nena? For me to shower you in my fucking attention? “ He husks, his voice thick with desire and a hint of frustration. His words swim between them, a question laced with layers of longing and palpable need, as he continues to lavish attention upon her neck, each kiss and caress fueling the flames of their mutual desire.

Paloma just whines, arching herself into him as her thighs rub together to relieve the tension of arousal that is assaulting her core.

“ Yes, Javi, that's all I want. I want you to talk to me, to touch me, to make me feel good. “

Her hands are now against his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket as she feels the muscles beneath tense at her touch. A low, guttural groan escapes his lips in response to her words, a primal sound that sends shivers down her spine.

“ I can make you feel good, hermosa. Better than any fucking culero (asshole) in this town. “ He murmurs, his voice dripping with possessiveness. With deliberate intent, Javi begins to hike up her long dress, the fabric yielding easily to his touch until it's gathered at the top of her thighs, exposing her black, lacey panties. His hands roam lower, trailing a path of electricity along her skin until they find purchase behind her thighs, gripping the soft skin firmly as he effortlessly lifts her into his arms.

She wraps her legs around his waist, anchoring herself to him as he hoists her up against the solid pillar of the gazebo. She feels his hardness pressing up against her clothed cunt and it has a sharp pang of pleasure sprouting at her core, igniting a fierce heat to course through her entirely. His touch is electrifying, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through her body as she surrenders to the intrinsic urgency of their shared horniness.

The pure conviction in his tone only adds to the intensity of the moment. She wants nothing more than to be completely ruined by this man. She wants to be his, and his alone.

Javier grinds his hips up, the friction between them firing up every nerve ending. Her pussy throbs with need, aching for more of his touch. She can feel every inch of him pressing against her, his hard cock straining against his pants, begging to be released.

As their bodies move in perfect harmony, she wraps her fingers in his hair, tugging at it lightly. His lips move from her neck and crash against hers, a wild, passionate kiss that leaves them both panting for air. It grows more frenzied, their teeth clashing together in a desperate and selfish need for more. She moans into his mouth, the sound sending a jolt of electric arousal straight to his cock. He grinds harder against her, his hips moving in rhythm with hers.

She can feel her orgasm building, a fierce heat blossoming through her body. Her whimpers turn to animated moans as she writhes against him. The last time she dry humped someone to completion had been way back in high school and that had been an overall embarrassment so it's never something she revisited.

Not until now, with Javier who is making her feel like she's the only girl in the fucking world.

His fingers expertly trace the curve of her breast, teasing her hardened nipple through the fabric of her dress. She arches her back, pressing her chest into his hand, silently begging for more. He takes the hint, groping her and squeezing it gently, relishing in the way she shudders.

Her eyes close in ecstasy as he continues to stroke and knead her tit. His other hand trails along her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to the heat between her legs. When he finally reaches her core, she gasps, her body trembling with need. He doesn't touch her, instead he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of her thigh.

“ If this is what you wanted so fucking bad then go ahead and take it, needy girl. Go on, make yourself cum by grinding that wet pussy all over me. “

She mewls, throwing her head back as she feels her orgasm building. She's such a sight to bear witness to, how her swollen lips part and his name slips from her tongue like a hymn, making his cock twitch.

Her wetness seeps through her flimsy thong, leaving a damp spot on the fabric of his dress pants. He can feel it seeping through the material and it drives him mad. He needs to be inside her, to feel her walls fluttering around his cock as they finally give in to each other…

But first, he wants to watch her unravel just like this.

“ I'm close, Javi… “ His lips hungrily devour the tender flesh of her neck again, making her eyes roll back as their hips continue to move at a sensual pace. The metallic zipper of his pants brushes against her sensitive clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. She can't help but cry out in sweet surrender, her voice louder than before.

His large hand clamps over her mouth, preventing her screams from echoing out.

“ Don't get us caught, chiquita. Wouldn't want your daddy comin' out here and findin' you like this–– all cockdrunk and begging to be fucked. “

His dirty and abrasive words are like fuel to the flames of her impending climax, sending her spiraling out of control. Her rhythm stutters, her body writhing uncontrollably as she bites down on the skin of his palm as the orgasm overtakes her entirely.

All that can be heard is their heavy, shared pants. His hand falls from her mouth as she falls limp in his arms, her body jolting every now and again with the aftershock of her intense orgasm.

She peppers tender kisses along the bare expanse of his jaw, silently berating him for having his shirt buttoned up for once and the pesky tie restricting her from licking and biting against the tantalizing skin of his neck and collarbone.

“ Need… need to feel you, Javi, please. “ She whines against his ear, her hands trailing down from his broad shoulders, over his chest, then down to his belt buckle. She can still feel the swell of him pressed up against her sopping cunt and despite just coming hard; she's craving to feel all of him.

This is the pivotal moment where he knows he should exercise restraint, where the noble path of virtue beckons him to rise above the consuming tide of desire. To explain to her that they can and never will be anything but an unattainable fantasy.

But he doesn't, instead Javi lets her untuck his dress shirt from his pants and helps her with unbuckling his belt.

“ We shouldn't do this, Paloma… “ Is all he can say in an attempt to keep it from happening but she shushes him, her hand slipping beneath his boxers as she wraps her manicured fingers around his girth and begins to pump him slowly.

“ Mierda, “ He curses in Spanish, his forehead falling gently against hers as his eyes flutter close at the overwhelming feeling of her softer, smaller hand jerking him off. Her thumb glides over the tip, spreading his excessive precum over the length of his cock.

“ But we want to… oh you're so big Javi. Gonna be feelin' you for days… “ She sounds like something out of a wet dream and he simply can't hold back any longer.

He instructs her to grab his wallet from his suit pocket and to retrieve the condom he keeps in there, receiving a playful eye roll from her but she doesn't push her luck–– she needs him badly and she'd go absolutely feral if he decided to deny them both the pleasure of fucking.

His strong hold on her keeps them secure against the pillar, she rips the small package with her teeth then pushes his pants down enough to release his erection, rolling the latex on easily.

There's a moment where suspension hangs in the air, both of them staring into each other's lust blown eyes.

“ Don't think about it too much, please. Just fuck me. “

Her insistence is such a turn on, spurring him into reaching down to ball up the thin layer of her panties before he yanks them off, the sound of the fabric tearing apart causing her to gasp. Stuffing the ruined material into his back pocket, he readjusts so that the thick head of his cock presses up against her exposed and puffy folds.

“ Such an impatient little thing, hermosa. I shouldn't even give you what you want. Should just walk away and leave you here a desperate and wet mess. “

Gripping onto the base of his cock with his free hand, Javier nudges it between her slit and teases her, the head repeatedly brushing against the pearl of her clit.

Her breath hitches, rolling her hips to entice him into entering her, “ Please, Javi, I'll do whatever you want just plea–– oh f-fuck! “

He sinks into her pussy, leaning forward to bite down on her shoulder to keep his own sounds of pleasure at bay as he feels the way her fleshy walls contract around his cock, stretching her with how thick he is.

Her fingers return to intertwine themselves in his hair as he begins to set a delicious pace, fucking into her with a passion that's making her see stars. The feeling of his teeth digging into her skin is an added stimulant to the already immense pleasure.

“ Damn it you're so tight. Feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty girl. You satisfied now that I'm giving you what you want, huh? “ He grunts out, nipping at her jawline as all she does is keen and moan, too overwhelmed with how good he's making her feel. “ Spoiled little thing, gonna fuck that right out of this tight little body. So you can learn, fuck, learn how not to be such a fucking pain in my ass. “

She's too wrapped up in the feeling of him brushing up against her cervix to fully process what he is saying against her skin. Their lips slant over each other as they kiss messily, the way he fucks her making her brain melt.

There's no thoughts up there, just the feeling of him as he continues to break her open with his delicious cock.

His hands fall down to her waist, holding on tightly as he goes from languid thrusts to a quicker, more brutal pace as they chase their orgasms.

She's glad that they're far away enough to where no one can interrupt this moment, though the idea of there being an onlooker does entice her more than she'd ever admit.

Her legs tighten around his waist, the pointed heel of her shoes digging into his backside as she feels a knot forming at the pit of her stomach, indicating that she isn't far from coming undone.

“ C'mon nena, be a good girl and let go, “ His thumb finds itself being pressed against her soft lips and immediately she opens her mouth, licking around then sucking the digit and maintaining eye contact through it all. It has Javier grunting out a few explicits before letting his saliva coated thumb drop between them, rubbing tight circles against her clit.

This has her clenching around him and crying out, which causes a smirk to tug at his lips as he puts more pressure onto her clit. “ Tan bonita así, toda lista para mi. (So pretty like this, all ready for me) “

She tugs harshly at his hair at the sound of his Spanish, her arousal topples over and her second orgasm hits her like toppling bricks. She squeezes his cock tightly inside her, her legs an iron grip on his waist as she bites down harshly on her bottom lip, almost drawing blood, to keep her intense whimpers and moans from spilling out and drawing attention to them.

Satisfied that he's made her unravel on him, Javier fucks her through her orgasm relentlessly until he's spilling into the condom, burying his face in her neck, right where he can feel her pulse, and grazing the skin with his teeth. He wants to leave a mark, for her to walk around with evidence of him on her body but that'd be a wrong move atop of all the other wrong moves he's made tonight.

Paloma breathes heavily, mind hazy as she tries to recollect herself from the throes of passion bestowed upon her by Javier Peña. They stay there, embraced in one another before he pulls out of her with a grunt and she whines at the loss of him.

Her legs unwrap from his waist as he tentatively sets her down, discarding of the condom into the water as he tucks himself back into his pants and she pulls her dress down, not even bothered by the fact that he ripped her underwear right off of her.

“ That was a mistake. “

His statement cuts through the night air and she's already struggling to catch her footing on wobbly legs, the effect of being fucked hard and good.

“ Javi–– “

“ No, Paloma, I'm fucking serious. “ He asserts, his voice taking on a sharp edge, landing like a heavy blow on her already rattled nerves.

“ All that sentimental bullshit you were saying before… it means nothing to me. You're just a distraction–– a pretty face that's been keeping me from doing my damn job. Now, there's another life lost, and instead of finding answers, I'm too busy babysitting you. “

“ Don't you dare pin your incompetence on me, Javier, “ She shoots back, her tone tinged with anger and frustration, “ I've seen my father struggle with this bullshit for months now–– it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you. S'not my fault you're not as clever as everyone thinks you are. All the praise you get for being such a fuckin' hero and yet… look at you. Unable to meet the expectations. “

She adjusts the thin straps of her dress back up her shoulder, wincing slightly as she brushes against the bite mark he accidentally left against her skin, knowing that she's going to feel that atop of the soreness between her legs after this.

She braces herself for the inevitable discomfort that will follow, both physically and emotionally.

Javier's jaw tightens, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he fights to maintain his composure. He knows better than to let her words get to him the way that they are.

This is exactly what they need, some intense fight to fully shatter the illusion of their involvement.

“ Look at you, Paloma, “ He sneers, his words dripping with contempt as he levels a scornful gaze at her. “ Throwing yourself at me every chance you get like a whore. I used to pay for shit like this, but you? Oh, I didn't spare a fucking dime. Giving it all up for free. “

Her jaw drops, a surge of anger and indignation flooding her senses as his words cut through her like a knife. She raises her hand instinctively, intent on delivering a stinging rebuke in the form of a slap across his jaw. But before she can make contact, his grip tightens around her wrist, arresting her movement with an iron grip.

“ Don't be stupid, querida, “ He mocks her, his voice laced with disdain as he delivers each word like a venomous dagger. “ Now that I fucked you one good time: Leave. Me. Alone. How 'bout you go back inside and fraternize with the mayor. I'm sure he's eager to give you all the male validation you're clearly chasing after. “ He tilts his head, glaring at her in contempt. “ Better yet, run off to your junkie, criminal boyfriend; won't be long before he knocks you up and you're stuck living in a run down trailer park in this shitty fucking town. “

Paloma's heart shatters at his callous words, tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks unchecked. She gazes up at Javier, but the man before her is no longer the sweet, charming figure she thought she knew. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now glint with coldness and malice, rendering him unrecognizable to her.

“ Fuck you, “ She spits, wrenching her hand free from his grip with a mixture of anger and hurt flashing in her eyes. Despite the tears welling up, she summons every ounce of defiance to shoot him a disdainful glare. “ You're a piece of shit, Javier Peña. “

With those final words, ones he's heard a plethora of times before, she whirls around, her footsteps echoing loudly on the wooden stairs as she races to the nearest bathroom.

Ignoring the throbbing ache between her legs, a reminder of their recent intimacy, she finds solace in the confines of the lavish restroom, allowing herself to unleash the torrent of tears pent up inside. Feeling foolish and utterly used, she wonders how she could have ever fallen for a man like him.

Meanwhile, Javier is left grappling with the sight of her heartbreak now etched into his memory. Pushing aside his own conflicted emotions, he knows he can't afford to let their tangled affair distract him any longer.

This is what you both needed. He reminds himself, looking out into the water as the silver moonlight reflects off of the surface. Harsh, but she'll get over it.

With a resigned sigh, he retrieves another cigarette, the familiar ritual offering a fleeting sense of calm amidst the storm raging about.

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