#narcos lighting is best lighting

[azertyrobaz]

Office life Javi, part 1

#narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #javi #pedro #netflix #season 2 #yellow shirt #pocket shirt #smoking #narcos colors #narcos lighting is best lighting #my edits

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Walkway

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader (Reader is a teacher in Jackson, has long hair.)

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)

Summary: It’s your birthday, Joel takes you out to the Tipsy Bison, kisses (and does more to) you in the rain, and takes you home to give you a gift (it's sex, the gift is sex). Also, the thought of Joel spitting whiskey in someone's mouth happened and I had to write it out. 🤷🏼‍♀️

Warnings: smut, drinking, consent first, degradation second, followed by so much praise, hair pulling, spitting, Joel calls you a slut, fingering against a brick wall, F receiving oral, I watched that doggy style Narcos gif (for research) a lot, unprotected p in v, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), Joel’s canon age, Reader’s in her 30’s.

Words: 4,300

A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first published fic. I'm currently working on a grander scale fic with these two, I hope to have the first chapter out within the next couple of weeks. I just really wanted to get this out there! Thanks for reading and a big thank you to @ohheypedrito for all of her help and also to our phones for not overheating when I send 40 texts at once with ideas for fics. Hope you enjoy, can't even blame the feralness of this on the full moon.

Edit: I posted the Masterlist for Elks, my work these two are included in.

***

“Was turning 21 as fun as they’d show in movies back then?” You’re cuddled in next to Joel on his couch sketching in your notebook while Joel reads a book about Native Americans that you found him. You always do this, a random question or thought to break the comfortable silence.   

“Not for me, bought a 12 pack of Bud Light and split it on my porch with Tommy. Sarah was only a toddler then and I had work in the morning. Didn’t have the money or the time to go to a bar. ‘Course I don’t think a lotta people did anything the way they’d show in the movies.”

“I always wanted to have my 21st birthday at a bar, ya’ know? Wait until the clock strikes midnight and order a weird named shot.”

“Well, I reckon we could do that at the Bison tomorrow night. Might not be your 21st but I’ll get you whatever you want to drink, and the best part is you can drink before midnight.” Joel pulls you in closer and kisses your forehead, “What do you say, let me take you out for your birthday sweetheart.”

“Yes, please,” you sigh into his shoulder, “sounds amazing.”

“Wear that little blue dress I know you have hanging in your closet.”

The drinks flowing through you making you downright giddy, alcohol making you bolder, your body and your inhibitions becoming looser, your hands becoming addicted to touching Joel, first his leg, then his thigh, now his lower stomach, right at his waistband. You haven’t been this tipsy in a long time, your face feeling flushed and red more from your desire than any drink you’ve had tonight.

“You better knock that off before I take you outside in the rain and fuck you against the building, darling,” Joel huffs into your ear. His fiery warning massaging your neck causing your heart rate cooled by your inebriation to pick up. 

“Sooo, keep going?” You slur back. 

“If that’s what you really want,” Joel puts a forceful squeeze on your upper thigh, a layer of your dress laying between his skin and your skin. If you weren’t both sitting at the bar, and maybe in one of the more darker corners of the saloon you’d surely hike your skirt up and let him learn just how bad you want him.

It feels so good to let go with him, to giggle openly at his jokes, stare at his profile as he talks with a friend or two who stop by to say hello, or place your hand on his broad back just because you want to touch his soft blue denim shirt. 

You watch as his tongue darts out and licks the leftover whiskey off his top lip, Joel’s movements becoming a little slower thanks to the amber liquid he’s been drinking all night. Some droplets glisten on his mustache, you fight every urge inside yourself to not lean over and lick them up. 

“It’s what I want,” you respond as you move your hand back and forth across his waistband.

“Jesus Christ, I’m about ready to throw you over my shoulder and run home,” Joel says as he takes your hand into his and pulls it away.

“Not so fast. You told me you’d fuck me in the rain, that’s what I want for my birthday,” you whisper into his ear with a breathy giggle.

“Can’t fuck you out here in public. Small town ‘n all, but I’ll make you feel good,” Joel takes a last swig of his drink, puts the glass down and knocks his fist on the bar to let the bartender know you two are leaving. He leans forward and drawls into your ear, “Now finish your drink if you want me to show you just how happy of a birthday I can give you.” 

You nod and gulp your drink down. You’re so wet, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this turned on before. Joel grabs your arm with the perfect amount of pressure, you’ve never been so happy to get outside into the pouring rain. 

It’s absolutely storming outside, your footsteps sloshing in the puddles on the ground. The rain pelting your’s and Joel’s bodies as you walk through late night Jackson. It feels like you’re the only two people in the whole town as you make your way farther away from the bar. The bulbs of the string lights reflecting off the water gathering on the sidewalks making your path towards Joel’s house golden. You don’t rush, the two of you not scared away by the downpour, the drops cooling your burning skin. Joel turns down the street before his, pulling you behind one of the storage buildings, it’s darker back here, practically pitch black thanks to the rain clouds blocking the moon and the nearest light source being three buildings down. You’re pushed up against the brick, Joel’s hand gently cradling your head to block it from hitting the wall, he’s such a gentleman. 

“Happy birthday baby, I need you to tell me you want this, ‘n you’re okay with this, I have plans for you and I need you to tell me you want it.” Joel instructs you, all you can see is his eyes and the faint lines of his facial hair, the rest of him camouflaged by the darkness surrounding the two of you. 

“I want it, more than anything. Please,” your voice straining as you beg. 

“Tell me you want me to have my way with you,” Joel speaks into your slack mouth as he rubs his arched nose against yours. 

“I want you to have your way with me,” you moan against his wet shirt, “so bad.”

“Good girl, now, m’not gonna fuck you here, because I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop and I need to have you in my bed tonight.” Joel starts to move his hand down your body lifting the hem of your dress. “But, you are going to cum for me right here.” Joel captures your mouth with his. His hand starts to trace the outline of your panties, you mew out a cry as his fingers slip through and begin to pet you right where you ache the most. His hands are so big, his fingers so long and thick, always putting the right amount of pressure, moving the way you need him to move. Joel Miller is a capable man, everyone knows that, but nobody, except for you, knows just how capable he is. 

Joel sticks a finger in you, though his finger is thick and feels so good, you need more to fill you. 

“Another,” you instruct in between fevered kisses. Your pussy clenches as Joel pushes another finger in you. “Yessss,” you moan out against his lips.

“That’s my good girl, gotta get you stretched out f’me.” Joel begins to kiss his way down your chin and neck stopping at your chest, your hard nipples jutting through your wet dress. Joel takes one into his mouth, sucking the fabric and your tit deeper into his mouth. The sloppy wet sounds of Joel’s suctions making you want him more.

“Another finger,” you shudder out. “Three? You really want it tonight, don’t you?” Joel mumbles against your chest as he sticks a third finger in. It burns, it burns in the best way. You’re ready for him, it’s what you’ve been waiting for all night. You bite down on your lip as your legs begin to shake, Joel can tell you’re right on the edge and twists his fingers inside of you as he finger fucks you harder. 

Your orgasm bursts forward your whole body going stiff as you try not to wail out into the night.

“That’s iiiiiit baby,” Joel pulls his fingers out of you and softly pets your pussy from hole to clit.

Joel removes his hand from between your legs and brings it up between the two of you resting his finger tips against your lips, you open your mouth and begin to lick. His tongue meeting yours as you both clean his thick digits covered in you. He takes his hand away leaving just your mouths to taste each other. His kiss turns tender, your kiss turns desperate.

Joel pulls away resting his forehead against yours. “My beautiful birthday girl. Let’s get you home, my gift’s not done.”

Your body practically chills with the promise of what is left to come. Joel grabs your hand and you take it depending on him to lead you to his home. Every step you take you feel your wet core heavy with lust, you’re soaked from the rain and from Joel, if you could drown like this, you would go down with the sinking ship. His house comes into view, your body tingling in anticipation at the site as the both of you speed your footsteps up in perfect agreement. 

Joel throws open his gate, you’re following so close you almost trip on his heels making your way up his walkway and steps. He fumbles for his keys and unlocks his doors, you take the opportunity to run your hands all over his back and sides, rubbing the wet cloth of his shirt as it molds to his body. The door swings open and you both shuffle into his living room gasps escaping your mouths, both out of breath from your dash home and your mutual want for each other. You step out of your wet shoes and shake your hair out. 

“Take your dress off, right now.” Joel huffs out as he tosses his keys on the console table and begins to kick his boots off. 

You strip yourself of your baby blue frock as fast as you can. You’ve never had a reason to wear such a revealing piece of clothing. You don’t know why you held onto it, let alone grabbing it from the communal clothing rack, never thinking anything, or anyone, would be worthy enough for you to dress up for. Joel’s worthy, so worthy. 

“Feel like I’m a little underdressed here…” your words grab Joel’s attention as he moves his hands up to his chest to begin to unbutton his denim shirt. He gets one button taken care of before he rips it open. Shame, it’s your favorite shirt, you'll have to fix it for him later. You watch as a button rolls underneath a table, before you can note where it lands, your attention turns back to Joel to find him stepping out of his jeans and underwear leaving him completely naked. 

What a sight, what a fucking sight. There’s only a lamp on in the room, Joel’s body being cast in amber color and shadow, one side of him on full display glowing in the light, the other more difficult to discern. He moves forward stalking you. “Now I’m the underdressed one here. Take them off for me,” he says as he moves to pick up a bottle of whiskey from his shelf. 

You follow his instructions shucking your underwear down your legs and leaving them pooled at your feet. 

“Good girl,” Joel says as he begins to walk towards you unscrewing the lid off the bottle. He stands in front of you and takes a drink. “Open your mouth,” he orders as he grabs your hair and tips your head back. He takes another pull from the bottle, this time he raises his mouth over your mouth and begins to dribble drips of whiskey down from his mouth into yours. A moan raises from your throat, causing Joel to tighten his hold on your hair and arch your head back even more. He spits the rest of the whiskey straight into your mouth, you happily swallow his spit and liquor down. He unwinds his hands from your hair, takes another drink and kisses you, the whiskey and his tongue spilling into your mouth. Joel pulls back and takes his last swig before resting the bottle on the table. “Get upstairs.”

You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast in your life, tripping over your feet as you rush your way up, Joel’s naked form hunting you like prey up each step.

The sight of Joel’s bed brings a new wave of goosebumps to your skin. 

“Bend over on the bed darlin,” Joel turns on a lamp in the corner and pulls it closer. “Need to lick and fuck you with my tongue.” 

You move over to Joel’s side of the bed and bend forward, your ass sitting high in the air and your face in the sheets, you inhale the smell of Joel on his sheets. You swing your hips in giddy anticipation of what’s about to happen. 

You feel his body lean over yours, his erection laying over your lumbar. “Okay baby, once again, need you to tell me you’re good with me having my way with your body,” he tempts into your ear. 

“Fuck, y—yes, fuck, of course I am good. So good.”

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s heavy body lifting off of yours as he kneels between your legs. You feel his hot breaths on you where you’re aching for him the most, you widen your stance egging him on to touch you. “Look at you,” Joel licks your thigh, “so fuckin’ wet you’ve spilled out into your thighs.” 

You scream a pleasured yell as Joel’s teeth bite down into the flesh of your thigh and sucks your skin into his mouth. The pain is perfect. He loosens his bite, kissing and licking the spot, the sensation making your body quiver. 

“Okay baby?”

“Y-y-yessss,” you answer.

“Whaddo you need sweetheart?” 

“Lick me,” you beg out, “please.”

“‘Course. Where do you want me to lick you?” Joel questions as he nuzzles his head against your ass cheek, giving it a small bite.

“My pussy. Pleeeaaase,” you’d say you sound pathetic but you couldn’t care less, your lust overshadowing any type of pride.

“Mm, you sound so needy baby, you sound like you really need my tongue on you, huh?” His teasing drawl drives you crazy, your body won’t stop moving, absolutely radiating tensity from your want.

“Please,” you implore, sobbing out. 

“Alright baby,” his hands grab your cheeks and spreads them, widening his view of you. “Prettiest thing I ever seen, love your pussy.”

This act feels so depraved, everything on display for him, legs and cheeks spread wide, your pussy exhibited for him like it’s an art piece.

You literally scream into the bed, biting down on Joel’s comforter as his tongue finally meets your core. This, thiiiiiiis is what you’ve been wanting all night. Joel moans against you, not being able to hold himself back as he tastes you, his fevered licks exploring your cunt, his large tongue mapping every inch of you. He’s absolutely conquering you, the noises of his lips and tongue smacking against your wetness soundtracking his journey. 

He can feel you getting close your hips beginning to cant as your orgasm begins to crest. You knew it wouldn’t take long, between the alcohol buzz and Joel’s tongue lapping up your wetness and cum from earlier, you knew you’d be a goner. 

“Mmf, cum for me,” Joel speaks against you, his mouth full of you, too busy to pull away to clearly speak. You don’t think he can get any closer to you, his tongue working your orgasm up in intensity with each swirl and dash against your clit. You feel it, it’s here. Your legs instantly collapse, thankful that the rest of your body is resting on the bed. Your eyes tightly squeeze shut and then begin to rapidly blink as your orgasm shatters through you. Joel flattens his tongue against your clit as it pulses. You’re too turned on to make a noise, Joel stepping in for you and groaning as your juices seep out of you. 

“Did so good baby,” Joel says leaving one last kiss on your clit before standing up behind you. You want to flip over to look at him, you haven’t seen his face since you laid down on the bed. You have no energy, you’re just a shell of a woman, the only sensations you can feel is the pool of wetness in between your legs and your light inebriation.

Your attention gets pulled to the sound of Joel spitting in his hand, followed by a hiss coming out of his mouth. When you realize exactly what he’s doing, you summon the strength needed to turn over. You flip over, your back thudding on the mattress your legs still spread wide, feet resting on the floor. And there…. there…. THERE he is, standing in the middle of his room, one large hand wrapped around his hard cock softly stroking as he watches you with hooded eyes. You know you just came, but the sight makes your pussy clench with desire. 

Joel jerks himself off as his eyes roam your exhausted form. “Been thinking ‘bout this all day. You all laid out in front of me heaving for air after cummin’ all over my tongue,” slow strokes matching his lazing words. “Just about canceled our night out when you opened your door in that little blue dress, looked like you were wearing the sky, baby.” 

You bite your lip as all of your senses are so overtly overwhelmed by lust. The sight of Joel’s handsome face watching you, the hazel flecks in his eyes twinkling in the golden light of the lamp. The smell of the rain on your skin mixed with the heady scent of your arousal and Joel’s sheets. The taste of Joel’s whiskey tongue still in your mouth. The sound of Joel’s fist pumping along his hard cock. The feel of the aftershocks of your orgasm still quaking your body. It’s so fucking much, you need Joel inside you. The thought of feeling him stretch you causes a whimper.

“Yeah baby? Havin’ a hard time over there?” Joel stops stroking his hard length, his hand pauses on his shaft. “You want me to fuck you now?” 

“Pleeeease,” you keen out. 

“Alright sweetheart.” Joel confidently strides over to you, dick still in hand. He stops right at the edge of your feet. “Turn back around ’n get on all fours in the middle of the bed f’me.” 

You follow his instructions eager to please. The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can feel Joel enter you. 

“Good girl,” he praises as the mattress dips lower with his weight behind you.

Your heart is pounding so loud, your whole body thrumming, you gulp down a breath of air trying to calm your need. You feel Joel’s cock brush against your ass cheek, he’s so close to fucking you.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you real good and hard now. Happy birthday baby.”

And just like that, Joel buries his cock inside of you, you’re absolutely stretched around him. Your clit already worked over by Joel’s tongue, now your hole deliciously stinging while it flutters around his cock. He begins thrusting, tender and slow full strokes. Entering and exiting, swirling the head of his cock right at the entrance before plunging back in because he knows you love the feeling. Joel’s groans and your cries join in song as he begins to pound faster, the sound of your bodies slapping together match the rhythm. 

“Feel so fucking good, always so perfect for me. S’a good girl, always take it so good,” Joel grits out. 

He grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist as he pounds into you. “No one knows how fucking slutty you get for me behind these walls. They think you’re one of those innocent little teachers.” Joel pulls your hair harder causing a scream of ecstasy from you. “You love this, don’t you?”

You do. It’s so rough, so different from how gentle he always is with you. It feels like a luxury to be treated this way by him. 

“Y-y-y-yes, God I love it,” you whimper.

“That’s right. That’s what I like to hear. So pretty so smart. So much smarter than me, now I’m makin’ you stupid with my cock, right baby?” 

Everybody knows Joel Miller as the strong, silent type, a man of few words, somebody who doesn’t do chit chat. But with you in his bed naked and wailing as he slams into you, Joel Miller won’t shut up.

“Doin’ so good for me. So pretty, so perfect f’me. So wet for me.”   

“You made me so wet earlier, I was afraid I was going to leave a mark on the barstool.” Your words coming out as tortured weeps, so lost in your ecstasy you struggle with every word spoken. 

“Fuuuuuck.” That got him good. He pounds you even harder, the bed frame shaking violently against his wall, your body and cunt acting as if it’s the only barrier between Joel knocking a hole in the plaster. “Had I fuckin’ known I would have made you stick your face on that chair and made you lick yourself up as I fuck you against it.”

That’s it, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. Joel’s deep timbered accent grunting those deviant words as he grabs you and begins to roll his hips into your cunt. Your body is strung so tight and rigid in all places besides your hips and core, pumping and rolling along with Joel’s as he fucks you. You’re close again, your panting breaths letting Joel know. 

“Baby, if you gotta cum, cum,” his grip on your hips pressure into you. 

“Going … going.. going to,” the only words you can say as your third orgasm radiates out of your body, your pussy is the epicenter, tingles firing through your veins, your hands fisting the blankets at your detonation. Slack jawed and fucked senseless you rally the strength to not disintegrate and fall into Joel’s bed. Your world has been shattered by Joel, but your body survives for him, your legs and arms shaking under gravity and your weight as they deal with the fallout. 

“C’mere baby, lemme help you.” Of course he can tell you’re struggling. He reaches his hands around, clutching your stomach and pulling you up against him. Your back up against his chest, his hand seeking out your breast, the other wrapping around your torso and clutching you to him. He holds you as he fucks into you, his nose brushing against your ear as he puffs and grunts against your neck. “Fucking. Love. You. So. Much.” Each word matching a thrust into you. Your hands find his and grip them, you’ve never felt more loved and protected. Joel Miller has got you.

You feel the familiar shudder in Joel’s movements as he edges close to his climax. His labored breaths getting louder and more fevered against your neck. You’re absolutely wrecked, but the angle of Joel’s cock inside of you mixed with the feeling of the shudder in his movements as he edges himself brings forth another orgasm. Words are gone, just sounds, whatever your throat can muster up and out of your mouth. 

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it,” Joel repeats. His hands squeezing yours so tightly, his chest heaving against your back, his strong thighs straddling yours, his nose pressing into your ear. You feel his body tense as he pulls out. His release coating your pussy as his whole body surrounds you. Hot breaths huffing against the side of your face in between featherlight kisses. “Love you,” a whisper in your ear so delicate and sweet as he lets go of your hands. Your body falling forward without his support, your arms catching you before crashing down on the bed. Joel gets up with a groan as you lay yourself down on your stomach, taking the opportunity to stretch your legs out before rolling over on your side to watch Joel. He stands arms akimbo in the middle of the room. He’d look like a Greek statue if his shoulders weren’t rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. He’s gorgeous and he looks just as wrecked as you feel. 

“Probably shouldn’t have gotten up as quick as I did,” he chuckles. “Damn well feel like I’m standing in the middle of a earthquake.” You love the casual banter he puts forth seconds after being deep inside you, his cum still covering your core. This is love. 

You smile at him, your cheek resting on your hand as a makeshift pillow. You’re exhausted… the whole night and your four orgasms catching up with you. Eyes feeling heavy, matching your limbs you begin to drift off. 

A wet sensation in between your legs jerks you awake. “Sorry baby, just want to clean you up,” a whisper just as light as Joel’s tender attention as he washes you lulls you back to sleep. 

“Baby,” Joel’s low voice gently wakes you up along with a soft kiss to your forehead.

You groan as you stretch your sore muscles under the sheet, opening your eyes to find Joel gazing down lovingly at you. He’s backlit by the filtered morning sunlight shining in through his bedroom windows. What a way to wake up. “Happy birthday sweetheart, I’d let you sleep all day but I need to give you my present.” His face is so bright and cheerful, a boost in your confidence provided by just how happy he looks when he’s with you. 

“Thought you gave me your present already last night,” you yawn. 

“Sweet girl, that was a present for both of us. Now come on, get up.” You grab his offered hand and reluctantly get out of bed. Joel wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, his hands splayed across your back as you nuzzle your face in his warm chest. “Happy birthday.”

A/N: THANK YOU for reading my first ever fic. My inbox is always open. :)

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #elks #joel miller smut #joel miller fic

[chronically-ghosted]

you call and I come running

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 8K

summary: a drunken confession leaves you and Javi on unsure ground. When an on the run narco douses you in an unknown, off-market drug, Javier has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.

warnings: sex pollen, dub con due to sex pollen, minimal plot scaffolding to hold up a gratuitous amount of porn, minimally edited, feral!javi is best javi, the barest hint of breeding kink, not really butt stuff more like butt touching, light angst, no use of y/n, spanking

a/n: comes from @perotovar 's ask for my 100 follower milestone event: hi there! congrats on your milestone!! i saw your prompt list and saw "I’m so sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit." and "A whispered, “Fuck, can we do that again?” against the other’s lips." and thought it would be a really good combination for either javi p or max p? which ever one you feel fits better! 😊 (as for smut, only include it if you think it works!)

🤍Masterlist 🤍AO3 Link 

Bogota was begging for rain. At the end of summer, the city and its people had been suffering months of stifling, thick, humid air without a drop of relief. Sweat clung to exposed skin, dampening shirts and tightening waistbands. Heat weighed like a physical presence in the air while open windows and doors sought to tempt in some non-existent breeze, hoping to coax some pity out of the militant heatwave. But the heat and the moisture-thick air stayed, hovering like a cloud of mosquitoes, just as merciless and just as blood-thirsty. 

Night offered no consolation either. Stagnant and cloistered, the sun-bleached air greeted its visitors with a great, warm lick – like the wide tongue of a particularly aggressive bloodhound. The ongoing joke among the locals blamed the blackouts on all the fans, spinning throughout all hours of the day and night, instead of el gobierno barato. Only then came the sigh of ease, in front of whirling blades with ice water behind them. Flapping shirts and mopped brows. Only then, was there relief to the tension. 

Unfortunately, a running car would tip off any narcos in the area, so even that small miracle is denied to the two agents sitting in the darkness of la calle. A crack in the glass window releases a tendril of smoke, not enough to expect a breeze, not enough to wipe away the smear of sweat from across forearms and under knees. 

A drunken confession lingers even thicker in the air.

You thought you could do this. You really thought nothing would change – it was an accident after all. He didn’t mean it – he couldn’t – he was just teasing you, when he leaned over the sticky fourtop in the back of the bar at three in the morning, his breath tangy with the ghost of four glasses of whiskey, his body heat immense and overwhelming as he pressed into you and said – 

Whatever he said, you told him no.

Actually, you laughed and then said no. No, because he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t, he was just teasing you and he would never, ever, ever, ever know how much you actually wanted it and even if – even if you both wanted it, it could never, ever, ever, ever happen. 

It couldn’t. It was so absurd for him to even consider it, you laughed.

And then he never looked at you the same way.

You had done something irreversible. He had said the words, but you had done something irreversible to him. 

Something in the air had changed, maybe forever. And that, that you might have lost your partner, your friend, potential potential potential disappearing in a cloud of Marlboro smoke over bottles of cerveza, that was the worst part. 

He doesn’t look at you the same way.

Or at all. 

He smokes and he watches and he acts like you’re not in the seat next to him. Like his confession hasn’t cleaved him apart.

Nothing’s moved in hours. Neither the target or the shadows in the car. The tension presses up against the windows, hot and stifling. There is no relief.

“I didn’t want it like this, you know,” you say to the sun visor, arms crossed, low in your seat. “I . . . tried to see if Murphy would switch, but I didn’t think the tip would pan out so fast, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t want . . .”

The shadow next to you emerges with his face as he brings the glowing orange light of the cigarette to his mouth. Full lips, short thick hair below his nose, a jawline sharper than any hit of cocaine. 

“What did you expect?” he asks, his voice thick and heavy like oil. It clings to you.

You scowl into the darkness beyond your window. “For Murphy to me a fucking solid, for once. Covered his ass more than once after they adopted Olivia. I just wanted one goddamn –,”

He forcefully flicks the stub of his cigarette out the window as a precursor to punctuate his next sentence. “No. What did you want, if you didn’t want it like this?” 

The acidity in his tone stings you and you unintentionally flinch as if he had pressed the cigarette nub into your skin. 

“Javier, c’mon, that’s not fair.” 

He arches one eyebrow, his teeth clenched in his jaw, hollowing out a pocket of skin below his temple. The overhanging orange streetlights sap the color from his skin.

“So you get to make all the rules now. Got it.” He crunches up the empty box of cigarettes and chucks it in the back seat. You watch him with narrowed eyes as he settles back against the seat with his arms crossed. 

“Why do you have to make this difficult?” You snap. “You know this isn’t easy for me either.” 

“But it is easier than the alternative, right?” After two hours of ice cold silence, he finally looks at you and you can feel the spike of frost in your chest. The twitch in his jaw is the rage in his eyes taking physical form. “Easier than . . . trying. Right?” 

He looks away, already having confessed too much with whisky on his breath, and he can’t afford another slip-up. He knows this. You know this. You want to reach out and touch him but you worry he might physically slap you away if you do. You’ve hurt him in places Javier Peña doesn’t like to admit he has. 

“It’s not that simple,” you say to his thigh. “And you know it.” 

His jaw twitches again. “I’m not asking for your goddamn hand in marriage. I’m just — sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit. I want –,”

“No.” You say and you can feel the word imprint under your sternum. “There’s too much at risk. We’ve been in this fight for too long to get benched and if Noonan even gets a whiff of anything out of whack with her agents, she’ll . . . I want to, Javi, can’t you see that? I really want to – in case I didn’t make that crystal fucking clear. I want to, but there’s no trying for people like us. In a place like this.” The firm weight in your voice pushes on something that makes him look at you again. That rage has dissipated, melted, leaving only a corporeal ache. His brown eyes were endless in their confusion, their disappointment, their hurt. Please, he begs without words. You swallow, your thumbnail digging into your palm to keep yourself from launching yourself across the bench seat of his truck and into his lap. “I want to, Javi. I want . . . you.” 

He drops your gaze as if it burned him. He shifts back, hand coming up to cover his mouth, the side of his knuckle rubbing his upper lip as if coaxing whatever was sitting just behind his teeth back down his throat. 

Javier stares out into the oppressive Bogota night, his clavicle dewy with sweat and he shakes his head.

“Save it.”

You actually flinch. God, you knew it was going to hurt but you never thought it would hurt this much. Hurts so much it claws up your chest with cut-metal knives until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t see as tears flood your eyes.

“Javi, please.” Your voice is calm, despite the small implosion in your chest. “Don’t–,”

“No, I mean – look.” He points out across the dashboard.

The door that has been shut tight for the past three hours has opened. El Corto, a man who lives up to his name, pokes his round face around the edge of the door, glancing up and down the street with the paranoia of someone who trafficks drugs for a living. You turn your head into your shoulder to act like you are adjusting the firearm on your hip to wipe your eyes. Beside you, Javier turns the safety of his handgun and slips it into the back of his jeans.

“You good?” He sounds like Javier, your friend, and that swell of confidence gives you the strength to kick down a door into a whole nest of narcos. You meet his eyes and nod. 

The air is no cooler out in the open when you slip out of Javier’s truck into the dark night of Bogota. Javier strides across the black street, eyes just as fast as El Corto, paranoia just as high. There’s never any telling if the narcos are alone and that’s why you hang back just a bit, eyes on Javier and a dozen other places. 

“El Corto,” Javier snaps, sharp and demanding. The voice of authority. The narco freezes, narrow shoulders going taught. You keep eyes on his hands, your own hovering over your weapon in case he chooses to go for his. “Ven aquí. Tenemos algunas–,”

Without warning, El Corto takes off running, darting off down an alleyway. 

“Fuck,” Javier hisses and pulls his shirt out of his pants, experience the cruelest teacher. But you’ve already passed him –  running your favorite way to unwind, train, and way to avoid your problems, tearing down the alleyway after the shadow sprinting into the night. 

There is something singular about running that is more addicting than any drug the narcos peddled. A chosen target. A finite end. The only thing you had to count on, the only thing to worry about, is how hard you had to pump your arms, the length of your stride, the control of your breathing. Hunting down narcos was a breeding ground for chaos. But not this. This made sense. 

El Corto, despite having about half your stride, makes up for his short stature with speed. You catch only a glimpse of his jacket, then his shoe. A mile through an empty street and he finally comes into view. You’re gaining on him. The unrestrained creature in your chest roars and blocks out the searing pain in your calves, under your ribs. God, you swear you can almost smell him.

Maybe all animals, big or small, can sense the moment before the trap ensnares around them because without warning, El Corto darts left, leaping over a wrought iron fence into the lower levels of an apartment building. He’s gone before you can blink.

Snarling, you squeeze the fence railing as you tuck your legs over it, the momentum of your run clearing you from the tips. 

A voice in your head and possibly behind you is yelling at you to wait, don’t go inside without backup, but you can’t stop. You can’t help it. If you can’t have who you want, this is what you want. This is what you need.

And you need a fucking win. 

You burst through the screen door to an empty concrete room – torn carpet, wall paint chipped away, maybe an old living room – a flash of jeans around the hallway at the end giving a fraction of an indication of your target. So you take off after him, rounding the corner. You watch as he nearly runs through a faded yellow door, the wood cracking and splintering from the force as it slams open into the wall. The door ricochets off the wall, nearly slamming close again, just as you reach it, but the brunt of your shoulder knocks it back again.

And something cracks you across the chest. 

Powder. Blue. Lots of it.

You stumble, your eyes and nostrils burning, as it seizes in your lungs. You cough and hack, trying desperately to unseal it from your lungs, but it barely budges, barely slides loose. Blind and gasping from the heat of your run and through the powder, you veer off course, stumbling into what feels like boxes. Your knees tremble, suddenly unsteady on your feet. 

Through your watery eyes, you watch as El Corto drops the plastic bag that used to contain the powder, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“Puta,” he spits, the slur hardly original for a female DEA agent. He steps back and sheds the gloves you didn’t realize he had been wearing, still watching you with twisted interest. 

You’re no longer coughing, but the air still hasn’t settled in your body. You feel the heat in your lungs rise, expand, then fall, against your skin, as if it is in sync with your heartbeat. With every breath, a sour, sticky warmth presses against every joint in your body, every bone. There’s a knot building at the base of your spine, tightening your hips, and you stumble until you’re seated on one of the boxes, which you now see as packing crates. 

You swallow but your mouth is dry. Head heavy. Distant. Your eyes feel swollen in your skull.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” you whisper. 

He’s not scowling at you, you realize, he’s leering. Eager. Excited. He takes a step towards you. 

A floor above, you hear the sound of the door being breached and Javier calling out your name. El Corto scowls, as though his favorite toy had been taken away, before he tears himself away to the narrow window on the other side of the room. More shipping crates have been stacked against the wall and El Corto scurries up it, unlatching the window. He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

“Diviértete para mí, putita,” he waves with three fingers as Javier crashes into the room, his gun raised. He spots El Corto just as he slips up through the narrow window – the space no bigger than the width of a child – his foot kicking down the tower of boxes. Javier nearly nabs his ankle, leaping up the concrete wall, as the narco disappears into the night.

His open palm striking against the humid wall is a wet slap. “Fuck,” he snarls, this time pounding with the heel of his fist, “we almost fucking had him. What the fuck ha–,”

He turns and meets your gaze for the first time. His mouth drops in horror.

Sweat blooming across your forehead, you lean over on a crate, limbs trembling, breathing uneven. Every scrap of fabric over your skin burns, your thighs burn, your blood burns, you are burning. The sweat peaks in droplets that run down the back of your neck, under your armpits. Whatever he hit you with makes you want to take off every inch of your clothes –maybe then you could fucking breathe – but even then, it wouldn’t be enough. 

He’s got you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him, before you realize what’s happened.

“Talk to me.” Javier snaps, that authoritative force sharp and demanding, and it sends an aching bolt between your legs. You whimper in pain, your eyes fluttering. He shakes you. “Stay awake and tell me what happened. I need you to focus. ”

Your lips feel puffy, overripe and ready to split, your jaw tight and throbbing. “H-h-hit m-me with blu-ue – don’t–don’t know what i-it is.” 

Javier steps closer and the scent of his cologne hits you like a train. Groaning, a strange, unwelcome instinct yanks your head down into the curve of his neck, the source of the smell. The touch of his skin beneath your lips is a balm – cool egg yolk over a fresh burn – and you bury your face in deep.

“Oh, fucking Christ, Javi.” Your voice trembles, wavering down into a low moan. That same alien instinct latches your hands over his shoulder, nails digging into the cotton. But it’s not alien, you realize through the muggy, humid fog in your mind – you know this feeling. You are intimately aware of the coiling knot between your legs, your soaked underwear, the tightness of your nipples. But this can’t be happening. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t hurt like this. 

You gasp, in real pain, a throb that starts clenching your cunt before rippling up your spine and locking your shoulders. You hunch against him, waiting for the contraction to pass. 

“What is it?” Javi holds you, panic evident in his voice. You swear you can hear his heartbeat in his neck. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, goddamn it.” He demands with no bite in his command. 

He peels you off him, you hiss, ripped out of the soothing embrace of his arms, and he makes you look at him. His eyes are wide, mouth twitching. The entirety of his chest is blue, most of powder from your skin covering his shirt.

He cups your cheeks, trying to see if the powder has left an acid burn, as another wave hits and you lock your body, now a battleground against the strangling desire to turn your face into his wide palm and inhale. There’s liquid making the crotch of your pants sticky and it’s embarrassing. It’s mortifying and silly and the ounce of sanity still left in your head keeps an iron grip on every muscle in your body – sanity telling you to not fucking do this. Don’t do this to him. Not when it would mean so much to him.

To you. 

But fuck, you want it. You need it. You might actually die without it.

Tears spring into your eyes, making a gooey muck as they slide down your cheeks and mix with the powder. Whatever this is, you have to fight it.

His eyes dart to your tears, the little bit of powder still on your face, and without thinking, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs.

Sanity cracks the whip – if it gets on him, then –

With the last ounce of strength, you shove him back, as far away from you as you possibly can. The second his warmth is gone from your skin, you tremble and your knees give out. Fresh tears, spurred on by the pain, by the fear, by the shame, spill from your eyes and you curl up against the wall. 

“D-don’t, Javi, don’t. I th-think it’s t-t-transderm-mal–,”

“What do you–,”

You watch helplessly as his pupils contract and then expand wildly, black swallowing that aching brown. He shakes his head like a bewildered animal, sweat already bleeding across his skin, and he stumbles back onto a springy metal cot on the opposite wall. He blinks, hand tightening around his knee. It makes his forearm flex and you have to physically close your eyes, the sight forcing your cunt to clench down on nothing. 

“What . . . what the fuck is this shit?”

You bite your lip, your chin tucked to your shoulder as your body cramps, punishing you for denying it the only source of relief. You squint at him and see he’s half-hard in his jeans. You whimper.

“I-I don’t know . . . new– new party drug?” You grunt, your head thrown back against the wall. God, your skin is going to melt right off your bones.

“This is way fucking worse than ecstacy,” Javier murmurs, his jaw tight. “Fuck, got a bit on me, but you . . .”

He blinks at you, eyes glassy, with sudden and total understanding, with perfect clarity why you shoved him away, and what exactly you need. 

He murmurs your name and you gasp, another cramp yanking new tears down your cheeks. 

“J-Javier,” you swallow thickly, “I know what I s-said before, a-and in the car, but if you ever cared about me, p-please . . . please, just –,”

You can’t encompass all that you need into words, but you hope he understands, is feeling kind despite all that you had done to him. Your bones ache, skin too tight.

He shakes his head, but weakly, his eyes caught on your throat, the wetness clinging to your lips. “You’re just saying that because of the drugs. We have to call Murphy. Get us to a hospital or something.”

“Javi,” you whine and maybe it is the drugs, or maybe he has an inkling of how much it hurts, but he’s across the room in an instant. He grabs you by the shoulders and hauls you to your feet. He drops his head and inhales like he can draw the heat from your blood. The tip of his nose dragged across your jaw is a cube of ice against the furnace of your skin. You shudder, hands clasping around his shoulders, dragging him against you, his hands cupping your hips as if to steady him. 

“I-I’ll give you this.” Javier Peña doesn’t stutter. Your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds as you draw your gaze up to him. “I’ll help, cariño, and then we call Murphy. Okay?” 

You nod, dizzy and overheated and sick with wanting. You nod and tilt your hips forward into his fingers as they pop open the button of your jeans. The sound of the slide of the zipper drives a shiver through you and you feel his cock, fully hard, against your thigh. 

His lips brush your cheek, his voice slurred, dripping slow in molasses, sweet and dark. “I’ll help. I’ll give you what you need.”

The first press of his fingers against your pussy rubs slippery and wet. With a sigh of relief, you drop your head against the wall, hips shoving into his hand, begging for more.

“Fuck,” he wheezes. “You’re already soaking.”

“More, Javier, more.” 

He grinds his cock against your thigh to soothe his own ache. He nods slowly as if dazed, his eyes locked onto to where his hand disappears inside your jeans. “Y-yeah, okay.”

If any hesitation remains, it’s gone when he sinks two fingers inside of you and taps up. You moan and he shoves his knee between your legs. 

“You like that, pretty girl? Does that help?”

“Yes,” you gasp into his neck, his fingers rocking into you. “Yes, Javier, yes!” 

His touch douses the ache, the fire, across your skin, in your spine. With every snap of his wrist, he draws away the heat from your exposed, too-sensitive nerves, easing the lighting storm in your low stomach. The noises you’re making, the noises your cunt makes against his fingers – it should embarrass you, should draw red up into your cheeks and ears, but it’s just more release. You yowl like an animal in heat and Javier’s groin jerks against you. You gain enough sentience to realize he’s fucking you with his jeans on up the wall, his hand never slowing or easing. You can feel yourself gush between his knuckles. 

“You’re almost there, muñeca, I can feel it. Just give it to me. Come for me,” he pants into your clavicle, the spread of bone across your chest. You tighten at the thought of his breath against your nipples, his teeth on the soft weight of your breast –

And you do. You come with the easy brush of his thumb against your clit. White lightning soothes the rage beneath your skin and you shudder in his arms, forehead collapsing against his shoulder. The snap of his hips against your thigh is a bruising rhythm, harsh, feral, an understanding that only something rough and wild can actually save your life. 

“Is that better, querida?” His wide palm pushes the hair back from your damp neck, cradling your heated cheek. His thumb brushes just under your bottom lip. You can feel his own fever, radiating from his skin. “Can we get you somewhere safe?”

But you’re still too high, too taut, to answer him. Another one builds, stacks up on itself every time his rock-hard cock digs into your hip. He scissors his fingers and you bear down onto his thigh. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, but without exhaustion or anger. He sounds almost gleeful. When he looks at you, his pupils are blown wide, sweat making his skin glow. The skin around his mouth is damp. “Alright, I’m not gonna stop. You can have one more. One more, querida.” 

His shoulders tense, the muscles in his back shifting, as he changes the angle of his fingers, renews the pressure of his thumb on your clit. He brushes against something deep inside of you, wet and spongy and never before reached and you arch your back in response, air sucked from your lungs. His thigh nearly lifts you off the floor. 

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” He taps the spot again and tears flood your eyes and spill down your cheeks. 

“Oh my god, Javi,” you murmur and he seems to like that. You clamp down around him and his hips stutter, his moan deep and coming from an ache in his chest. He inserts another finger and your cunt sucks him in, greedy for more. 

He eases back into his rhythm, raggedly humping your hip, the rough material of his jeans burning between your thighs. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Fuck, I knew it would fucking feel this good. You’re clenching down on me so hard, baby.” 

On the tip of your next orgasm, the haze clears for just a second and you catch him in the eye. This isn’t just the drugs, you know, this isn’t just an excuse for both of you. This is hating to see the other one in pain. This is sharing a worry for a bit of yourself that lives in another body. What passes along the length of your gaze is the exact thing you feared losing. 

Selfishly, you’d rather not have him like this, than not having him at all. 

But this is what it could be, he tells you through an open, gasping mouth, through eyes that pin you to the wall, this is what we could have every day, every night. If you just let me in. 

If you just –

“Come for me.” 

You answer with his name, on a cry high and sharp, and you’re coming – harsh, fast, exploding as you drench him, his fingers pressing roughly into that one sweet spot. 

Javi slumps forward, the weight of him nearly stifling, as he gasps, his hips stilling, stuttering, stopping. His skin flushes cold for a second, sweat cooling his fever, his face buried in your neck. 

You feel it. Against your thigh. You swallow in surprise, the fog parting briefly again. 

“Javi, did you . . .”

He wrenches his hand out of you, releasing his grip on your hip as he lowers you down. 

“I’m not fucking calling Murphy,” he grits out.

*~*~*

Javier is a man of singular focus. Almost dogged and single-minded in his hunt, it’s rare he is even capable of listening to the voice of reason. It’s a different voice than his own that tells him when he’s doing something monumentally stupid. There’s a part of him that knows exactly why that voice sounds a lot like you, unconsciously knowing that you’re the only thing that could give him pause. And yet, there are times when he can shut the voice out, can shut out everything inside of him screaming at him not to do the thing he’s going to do. But this, this decision, genuinely has him torn. There is no right way to do this.

Well, there is a right way. One where he takes you to dinner, buys you flowers, walks you home, tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses you softly at first, then rough, until you beg him to come up the stairs. Despite what some may think, he is capable of being romantic. He can be sweet. He can ask nicely. 

But that is something he is not capable of right now. 

In his post-nut clarity – because, yes, he did come in his pants like a twelve year old with his first porn mag after having his fingers up your cunt for what was all too short – he realized the room you both were in was some sort of safehouse. 

A cot against the wall. A portable stove with something in the pan black and sticky. The crates are empty of any valuables – by the shape and length, most likely guns – but the few that are still full have a few bags of that elicit blue powder. He makes a mental note, somewhere on the very distant laundry list in his brain, to take a bag – with gloves on and wrapped up in several other baggies – to have it tested at the lab. Because whatever this stuff is, it might actually be more dangerous than cocaine.

Especially to idiots like him, he thinks roughly as he yanks the thread-bare mattress off its wiry frame onto the floor. He snatches up the cotton sleeping bag at the foot of the frame and unzips it, the inside facing down. This is such a monumentally stupid idea, he knows it is, but he can already feel that cramp building up his thighs, his cock throbbing awake, arousal clamping down on the base of his spine. And he just got a whiff of it. He can’t imagine what you’re feeling already. Behind him he hears you moan softly, never one to complain or whine when things get tough or hard, so he goes faster. He tucks up the other end of the sleeping bag in what he hopes is some semblance of comfort, but he wonders if that will even matter to either of you when it hits again which, judging by how hard his cock is growing, is eminent. The wet spot on his thigh, beneath his jeans, is sticky, uncomfortable. He needs no further reason to unbutton them. 

You moan, this time louder, higher, again and he turns to face you, his shirt already undone to his stomach.

You’re pale again, skin glossy and sickly wet. When your eyes flutter open, they’re glassy, gaze distant and unfocused. You twitch when that first cramp settles in deep. He thinks, his mind not entirely his own, about how deep the clutch of your cunt sucked in just his fingers and he shivers. He simultaneously wanted to get this over with and drag it out for days. Have you beneath him for days. 

Your legs tucked up beneath you from where he laid you down, Javi approaches quietly, kneeling as he takes off his shirt and goes to untie your boots. He touches your ankle as gently as he can and you shudder, cracking an eye open. 

“Javier, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and it hurts.”

In addition to the many, many agency violations, this is monumentally stupid because he’s obsessed with you. Has been for a while. Not just in a way that makes him want to fuck you for hours flat on your back, but in a way that your smile is the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first thing on his mind when he wakes up. An obsession with your wellbeing, your safety, your happiness. A persistent coiling thought about your laugh, and strength, and the way you can make grown men twice your size tremble in fear. You’re a hunter, just like him, and with your beauty – your staggering, haunting beauty – how was he not supposed to immediately attach himself to you? It came on slowly, his pathological need to be near you, and once he realized what it was, there was no going back. No turning it off. 

He didn’t mean to tell you when he was drunk, but after bagging another narco, it was like he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. A brief glimpse into a world where you both were safe, and happy, and – god willing – together and in this world, he told you and he was brave about it and you said it back and he felt warm all over. But that was not this world, not his reality. In this one, he has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over. 

“Sit up, baby, that’s it.” He eases you into his arms and it’s like his touch drags you back into consciousness. Your fingers dig into his bare arms as you take in his exposed chest. 

“Javi, fuck, I don’t wanna beg, but before when you – you – I felt better. It cleared. I don’t know why or how, but with your fingers inside m-me, it . . . helped.” 

“I know, cariño, and I want to help more.” His thumbs press up under your jaw, tilting your head up to look him directly in the eyes. There’s fear there, pain, and it’s agonizing to him. “But I don’t know if that’s what you want.” 

“What I want? Javi, I–,” your eyes widen in understanding of what he’s offering, of what he’s scared to do. What he’s scared to take without your permission. 

You swallow, a pink flush crawling up your throat. “I . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t want our first time together to be anything like this, but . . .” You shake your head, shuffling closer to him, your breathing thinning as the drugs start to strike matches against your nerves. “I just don’t want you to think it doesn’t mean anything.” 

“It’s gonna mean everything to me, no matter how I get it.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your chin, just in front of his thumb. You nod, eyes squeezing shut, as you fight this arousal that claws into your skin like meat hooks. He pulls you to your feet, holding you steady as your knees try to lock up. He unbuttons your shirt with shaking hands. 

You touch his chest like you’ve never seen a man naked before. The hesitant, awed touch of you sends all the blood still remaining in his head straight into his cock. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs to your cheek, your shirt off your body, his hands tugging your jeans down your hips. You nod again, speechless in your relief, and follow your jeans to the ground. Twisting on the nest he made for you, you slide your bra off, your nipples already tight and perk and waiting for his mouth. You huff, a sound so unlike you it makes him genuinely concerned, as the front of your panties darken again. 

“It’s okay, Javi, this is what I want. I want this.” You hate being vulnerable, he knows this, your attitude a front that leaves no room for sexist comments in the bullpen. And yet, here you are, deflowered and begging for him. You spread your legs for him, eyelids heavy, and he can smell the arousal on you. 

He drops to his knees, unsure where to start first, but the blue powder coursing through his veins demanding he puts his hands on your hips, which he finally acquiesce to. 

“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admits quietly. He wants to nip, suck, slurp every inch of you, wants to see that perfect body bend to his will, to his turning. He wants to fuck you open and stuff himself up inside you so deep it leaves a mark. In his haze, the instinct to fuck supplies him with an image of you pregnant, bred and full of him, and his cock twitches so hard he drops onto all fours over you. 

You slip your underwear over your toes and your knees take him by the ribs.

“Please, Javi, please.” 

He knows it must hurt, must be so blindingly painful for you to beg like this. You never asked anyone for anything and that independence turned him on and frustrated him to no end. 

“Please, be rough,” you ask him from under your lashes, your body writhing beneath him. His hips, on a separate system than the rest of him, thrust the rough teeth of his zipper against your cunt and you keen, the sound imprinting into every crevice and curve of his brain. “Make it hurt.”

Oh fuck, this might actually be the thing that kills him. 

He hushes you, stills your flushed whimpering with a kiss that ends in teeth against the high curve of your cheek. He noses to your mouth, then down to your ear, where he bites on your earlobe. He’s balancing on one hand as his other tugs his jeans down and off his hips. 

He wants to fuck your tits. Come all over them, have his spend flush up your throat, your chin. He wants to come so hard he blinds you with it. And then he wants to flip you over and fuck your ass with his come-lubed dick. 

You wriggle and whine, legs wrapping around his hips, tugging him down onto you when, half-a-mind away, he realizes he just said all of that outloud.

“Yes, Javi, you can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want.” His blood is boiling now, the white-hot bomb settling itself in the base of his spine, his balls already tight. Why he’s dragging this out is beyond him and possibly a medical detriment to you. 

“Javi, just fucking put your cock ins–,”

He watches as every conscious thought wiped from your mind, brow heavy, mouth seared open as he plugs you full of him in one rough thrust. You shudder and his elbows buckle, his body locked up tight because if he moves, if he dares to rub his cock through your velvet, hot clutch, he’ll come right there. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock makes space for itself inside you.

“Javi–,” he claps a wide palm over your mouth, his teeth straining in his jaw, his temple twitching.

“Baby, I know it hurts – I know it fucking does – but I need you to stay still.” It feels too good. You’re too hot, too slippery, and soft. He can feel the hum of words behind his fingers and he shakes his head. “Do not fucking move – I just need to – I have to –,” 

He inches in just a bit more and you both gasp to the ceiling when he bottoms out. Your rough curls against his pelvis sears him, hot and sweet like cinnamon. He drools when he thinks about eating his own come out of you.

You only get one word out, one word that sets his whole world on fire: “Please.” 

He rears back, yanks you up his thighs, hands cupping the backs of your knees and he plows into you. Your tiny fingers that have pulled countless triggers and clapped irons on criminals twitch, tightening into the smelly cotton fabric, your mouth contorted open. His pace, his thrusting, is relentless, unforgiving but the look on your face is pleased, an almost maniacal grin across your lips. 

“Oh, right there, Javi, just like that. Just like that.”

He’s faster than he is precise. Precise comes later when the bestial fog clears from his brain, when the lust bleeds out of his system, when he doesn’t want to hump you like an animal with his teeth bared and cock so deep inside of you it kisses your womb. 

Before his mind entirely succumbs to the mounting arousal, he’s grateful he had the foresight to take the mattress down. If he hadn’t, there’s a good chance he would have fuck you, the bed, and himself right through the paper-thin walls. 

And then he lets go. Lets this thing in his chest and hot behind his groin take over, lets himself indulge in whatever carnal, depraved thing sparks in his mind.

He’s fucking you so hard you’ll both have bruises by morning. 

He watches, transfixed, at the place where his soaked cock disappears through your puffy, wet lips into the mind-numbing heat of your pussy. He can’t stop watching. He barely feels your nails digging into his thighs. 

The walls of your pussy squeeze him and it makes him falter, hitch speed. His gaze is torn away and instantly, it focuses on the bounce and sway of your tits. Sweat droplets roll from your neck into the valley of your breasts and without hesitation he bends to catch them with his mouth, tugging you further down his cock. You cry out, hands digging into his hair, as his tongue drags a wet trail over the top of your breast, the tip flicking your rock hard nipple, then beneath the swell where he meets it with his teeth. 

You jerk, pleasure overwhelming. “Uh – oh – oh – fuck – Javi.” The words leave your mouth truncated, cut short by his rhythmic bouncing. He nuzzles your tit, streaking you with his own sweat, not able to stop fucking up into you to really get a good grip on your breast, but wanting to put the whole thing in his mouth. 

“I’m gonna do it right next time,” he swears fidelity to your skin. He grinds his teeth against your sternum. “Next time I fuck you I’m going to pull you apart bit by bit. Starting with these fucking tits and ending with my tongue up your cunt. Maybe your ass.”

Against his cheek, he feels your skin break out in ridges, your whole body shivering at his words. He leans up, grinning wildly and grinds particularly deep inside of you. You still haven’t fully opened your eyes.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You want my tongue up your ass. What about my cock, huh? Want my fat fucking cock inside there?” 

You whine, clawing at his chest, as you nod frantically. He could ask anything of you right now and you’d give it to him. And god, he wants so much.

“It’d hurt, baby, you know it would.”

You nod, words tumbling out of your mouth in a mindless babble. “I don’t care. I want it there. I want you inside me. I want it to hurt. I want you to fuck me raw, Javi.”

He groans, more like a growl, rapidly picking up his pace. He lifts your knees higher and fucks up, the change in angle making you moan so loudly it fills up his ears with blood.

“Tell me where you want it. Say it, querida.” 

“I want it in my fucking ass, Javi.” 

His jaw twitching, that primal, unrestrained urge in him wrapping itself around his spine, he shoves you off him. Wetness dribbles down his lap but he doesn’t let himself smell or see it for long, as he flips you onto your hands and knees, sliding in and pummeling your pussy from behind.

You whine, singing for his cock, and collapse onto your elbows, presenting your ass for him. The pair of you really are just fucking animals.

He presses his thumb to your tight hole, the wet slap of his balls against your ass suddenly the least obscene thing in the room. There’s barely enough room for his thumb there and he tips his head back at the thought that no one had ever taken you there before. His. All his and no one fucking else’s. 

“Javi,” you sob, that preening need gone from your voice as though you are begging him not to go further, but desire kept you from voicing what you actually wanted. 

His bottom lip twitches and he leans down and gently bites your shoulder, grounding you and clearing out all fear. Drugs or not, he’d never do anything you didn’t explicitly ask for, but the second this is all over, he’s going to get on his hands and knees and beg you to let him work your ass open. 

“Not tonight, cariño.” He slides his thumb out of you, his wrist twisting as he palms the meat of your ass. “But I’m not leaving this completely untouched.”

He smacks the jiggling flesh until he sees a pink hand print, earning him a yelp from you every time his palm lands. He feels fresh, sticky wetness soak his cock with each slap, enough for it to dribble down his thigh. He’s not going to shower for a week. 

The higher he climbs, the faster that animalistic heat leaves his blood. You’re not as pale as before, the skin of your back growing a nice healthy flush. As his grip around your hips tightens, he feels your cunt clench around him. If he won’t take your ass tonight, he still wants you puffy and sore. He leans back just to watch his cock pound your pink, abused hole.

“I’m close, Javi,” you admit breathlessly. He nods, leaning forward again, that image of your pussy split open for him deliciously sealed in his mind, and he drags his nose down your spine. Sweat from his chest drops and splatters against your skin.

“I know you are, I can feel it. Can I see your face? Watch you? Can I put you on top?”

You nod and he slips out of you for what he hopes will be the last time in his fucking life. He’s no longer drug-crazed, but he is drunk. Pussy drunk. Drunk on you. Imbibed by the juices trailing down his thighs. He shifts and you swing a leg over his hips, immediately swallow him deep inside you. 

Unlike the courtesy he gave you, you give him no time to adjust, grip his chest, and ride him within an inch of his life.

Your tits swinging in his face, he presses his fingers so tight into your thighs, he’ll be able to count the distinct bruises, and plants his feet. He meets you, thrust for thrust, and he watches your competitive nature battle your overwhelming chase for release. 

“Just come, cariño,” he pants. “You’ve done so good tonight. Just fucking come all over my lap. Let go.” 

His words melt something inside of you and you whimper, curling down over him, which he takes to wrap his arms around your back, and roll you under him. He kisses your chin, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His big palm cradling your head, he grinds low and deep, seeking out that place he touched with his fingers. 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You can come.” He prods that spot once and it’s all over. You clamp down on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth because as you arch, mouth open, tears down your face, he comes too. He comes and he comes and he comes until he drips out of you and that breaks another orgasm across you, this one bumpy and leaves you shaking. 

He feels dizzy, unsure up from down, the loudest sound he hears is his own blood rushing in his ears. He’s never been more exhausted. 

He can hear the vibration of you saying something against his throat, but nothing is quite working like it’s supposed to, so he slumps off you, his hand never leaving your skin, as he tugs you against him.

He’ll be dried and sticky in only a few hours – you both will – but that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is the feeling of your heartbeat over his. 

*~*~*

Morning, along with the scent of rain, glides in through the open window and your fingers twitch as sunlight hits you. Your eyes fluttering open, you lift your head from the sleeping bag to see wet puddles on the floor under the window, the concrete streaked and stained with water. It must have rained sometime last night and, shockingly, you didn’t hear a thing.

The heatwave had finally broken. 

It’s not until you’re full awake do you realize his hand rests in the cup of your neck, thumb rubbing smooth, soft circles into the hard knot near your shoulder blade. You smile, groaning softly, becoming more relaxed by how good it feels. 

You roll over and greet his eyes. They’re brown again, the hungry blackness gone, but leaving an edge of uncertainty in its wake. 

He wants to know how you feel about last night.

“You fucked up,” you tell him and that worried crease appears between his eyebrows. You inch closer, your hand curling up against his jaw. “All that time last night, all the time you had me under you, and you didn’t kiss me once.”

You close your eyes, drop your head, and press a fervent, determined kiss against his pink lips. You can feel it as he swallows it in, his body shifting forward, hand coming up to your hip. But just as quickly as it starts, he pulls away. 

Javier shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says almost mournfully, eyes downcast. “I don’t want to know – what you taste like, if . . . I can’t kiss you if this is the last time.”

He’s still respecting your boundary, your wishes, while coated in his release and yours. He knows he can’t be selfish with you again.

You wet your lip, hand still on his cheek. 

“Javier, you saved my life last night. That was some kind of fucked up drug, but if you hadn’t been here and did what you did, I think I would have had a heart attack.” He shakes his head, ashamed and desperate to prove you wrong. You understand his hesitation. It felt too good for it to be anything other than a transgression. “And if anything, it showed me something I think I already knew but couldn’t find in myself to admit. I need you, Javi. I need you because I can’t live without you. Because I love you.”

His eyes light up when you return the words he uttered in the bar. None of this is how it should have been – in an abandoned narcos hideout, but god, there’s not a single thing you’d change. 

“Yeah, baby? You mean that?” You nod as hot, natural desire flashes in his eyes as he pulls your body under him and captures your mouth in his. His warm palm cups your hip, your ribs, up under your arm, and pushes your elbow to your head. There’s more to say, more to worry about, but that fucking heatwave over Bogota has finally broken and Javier Peña’s cum is dried and flaky between your thighs. 

“We should call Murphy,” you giggle, withdrawing your tongue from his mouth. He shakes his head, the blunt edge of his teeth against your cheek. “There’s a deadly new drug on the streets. Lives are at stake.”

“My dick is at stake,” he murmurs, lips hovering over your skin, drawing your knee up to his ribs as he slots himself between your thighs. The smile slides off your face as he thumbs your raw clit in rough, desperate circles. 

“I thought you said you were going to take it slow next time,” you huff, hips rolling against his stiff cock. 

“I will. Gonna take you to dinner. Cup your ass over a distractingly short dress. Buy you flowers and fucking gold jewelry . . . then I’m going to take you home and open you up with my fingers, then my tongue.” 

“So what’s this?” You gasp against his neck as he sinks his cock into you. 

He groans, grunts, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the night making your cunt his personal possession. 

“This is me, fucking you, before breakfast. Then we call Murphy. Any objections?” 

You squeeze your knees around him, ankles hooked across his low back, sucking a mark into his neck. 

“Not at all.” 

When you do go public, not shying away from holding hands in the office, or openly walking in at the same time from the same car, Noonan is irate, but can’t bring herself to cut her two best agents loose. It seems catching Pablo Escobar matters more than some silly, little government-issued guidelines. She’d get her day in court, but not today. Not for a while. 

Noonan is annoyed. 

Murphy is not. 

“Came across some new party drugs and not a single thing happened, right?”

“You could have found it, taken it home for you and Connie to enjoy,” you say as you slide your arm across Javier’s back, his hand on your hip. He rarely ever takes his hands off you now. “But, no, you bailed on me instead.” 

“Sounds like you should be thanking me, instead of busting my balls.”

“He’s right, baby,” Javier nuzzles your neck. “Could have been him stuck in that basement with me, horny as a cat in fucking heat.” 

You shrug as Murphy makes a face. “I blame the heatwave.”

He leans into your ear. “And I blame your fucking ass in that skirt. I’m gonna take you home, make good on my promise. Any objections?”

“Not at all.” 

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x y/n #javier pena one shot #javier pena x ofc #javier peña smut #javier peña x you #narcos #narcos netflix #this is my first time writing sex pollen did i do okay?

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

More of You, Pt. 1

Direct continuation from the fic Wildflower! I'd recommend reading it first before this one (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

Part 2

One month since Ghost got deployed, one month since their 'date' got postponed, until Laswell called Jade to tell her that he'd gone missing in action.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC)

Word Count : ~ 7.8k words (I overdid it but idc lmao)

Warning : some angst with flufff don't worry, some whump, light gore, hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

Prompt : There's only one bed oop

Title and story inspired by the song with the same title by JP Saxe!

*****

“Ghost, give me a sitrep now!” 

“Watcher-1, things are not lookin’ good-- They found me.”

“We cannot get you an exfil in that area. You need to lose them first. Get out of there right now!”

“My ammo’s runnin’ out… I can’t lose them—”

“Ghost, do you copy?!

“Ghost!”

---

It's been two months since Simon told her that he's going out of the country to go on a mission. It's honestly crazy how much she missed him already, considering the fact that they were not even a couple yet. Jade couldn't even fathom how much his presence, or at least his mere existence in the same country, meant to her. Two months felt so long. Too long. 

No one to call her names, no one to ask her to go explore London culinaries, no one to go thrifting with (for Ghost's lack of variety of wardrobe), no one to have a drink while stargazing.

And no one to hug. 

Well, not that she ever hugged him for more than 2 seconds anyway. Ghost was certainly not a hugger. The only times they hug were after each… 'date', they'd come in contact for a short hug, before Ghost took off. 

He must've hated hugs. 

Jade sighed, resting her chin on her palm at the Le Jardin floristry counter.

It was a slow day. There were a few pre-orders, but there weren't even 15 clients that came in. One hour until the shop closes, and Jade was the only person at the shop. Her employees had left, while her parents were on a trip to Asia. Honestly, it miffed her, because now her mind was full of Ghost and Ghost only.

Where is he?, she wondered. 

The ringtone of her phone snapped her out of her thoughts. Jade reached for her phone on the counter, and Laswell's name was written on the screen. She raised her eyebrow at the sight, thinking of what else the CIA agent had in store for her after Jade clearly told her that she was retired. 

Rolling her eyes, Jade tapped the green button and put the phone on her ear, "Kate, you can't just call me whenever you run out of people to send out–"

"Ghost is MIA."

Not even a second later, her legs brought her to the front door before she flipped the tag from 'Open' to 'Closed'. "For how long?"

"Yesterday." Laswell's calm voice continued on the phone, "Ghost going dark is not an uncommon occurrence. He's used to it, and all this time he always comes back, but the situation was awry."

"What happened before he went MIA?" Jade switched the light off, climbed the stairs to reach her room and quickly opened her drawer to change into 'proper' clothes. 

"We had an intel about a hidden drug stash in South America. There was a suspicion that it might be related to the Las Almas drug cartel. After months of tracking, Ghost then found a hidden facility. He went to investigate, but it appeared that his position was compromised, and the last thing we know, he was being chased by the Narcos before the radio cut off." The CIA agent explained, her tone was stable, yet there was a tinge of guilt in them. "I fear he might be in a dangerous situation, or worse."

Zipping up her turtleneck, Jade then walked to her father's study, obtaining the key to open the discreet stash of weapons behind the shelves. 

"Price and Gaz are with Farah in Urzikstan, while Soap is halfway around the globe on another mission." 

She took her plate carrier, her karambit knives and their holsters, plus her firearms along with the ammo. 

“I apologize to you, Jade. I truly do. But you're our best tracker, and I know what he means to you, so I notified you first.”

Putting all the necessary pieces of equipment into a duffle bag, Jade then lifted the bag downstairs, moving fast to the backdoor and made her way to her sedan, sitting in the driver’s seat. 

“Your wheels are up in 3 hours and I'll brief you more on the way. Are you up for this?”

“Brief me now.”

-----

The facility was deep in the middle of a rainforest. Made of cement, hidden by the tall trees of South America, it was a well-hidden building, obviously far out of the public eye.

Hiding behind the tall bushes and her steps covered by the pouring rain, it was relatively easy for her to take a tour around the building to scout the area. Jade could at least count 12 armed guards outside, guarding the many sides of the building. They rotate the place constantly every hour, occasionally talking into their radio for reports. 

Twelve was a ton of people for the building’s size, almost too much. They were in the middle of a rainforest and far from any city. The only reason they need this much guard out would be a whole pack of hungry jaguars. 

However, judging by the number of Narcos' dead bodies that Jade had encountered in the mud along the way, the reason for the many guards was definitely not big cats.

Ghost. 

He must’ve stealthily killed his way in, and somehow he got noticed by a guard, and they started to hunt him down with guns blazing.

Jade swallowed. The only thing she was relieved about was the fact that none of those lifeless bodies was Ghost’s. It had been 4 days since Laswell lost contact with him. Ghost being captured had the highest possibility at this point, as the guards might not be placed to guard against who’s outside. 

But to contain who’s inside. 

"Watcher-1 this is Sierra-4, twelve armed guards on the exterior. I'm thinking of infiltrating them from the south side of the building." Jade spoke with a low voice to her PTT, preparing herself to go in, picturing every single step of her feet towards the building, every motion of her limbs to reach the point of entrance.

"Copy that, Sierra-4, you may proceed. Keep updating me on the situation."

Just after Laswell’s confirmation, sounds of gunshots rang from inside the building. That shocked and confused Jade as she lowered her scope which she had used to scout the area. All the guards turned around to face the building as more shots were fired from the inside. She could hear their loud chatters and shoutings through their radios, panic was written all over their faces as most of them ran inside to check the situation. 

Jade couldn’t quite hear what the guards were talking about as their voices were muffled by the rain, but one thing she could clearly hear in Spanish was,

‘The prisoner escaped!’

Ghost was fighting his way out.

"Watcher-1, I hear gunshots from the inside. I suspect it's Ghost." Jade spoke with urgency in her voice.

"Copy that, Sierra-4. It's your move. You need to go in and help him." Laswell replied.

"Way ahead of ya."

"Good luck." 

She scoffed, half-afraid and half-amused, taking aim with her rifle again as the guards were lowered to five. It was equipped with a suppressor, and taking out the dumbfounded guards outside was an easy fit. Their heads exploded upon impact with her bullets before collapsing to the ground, leaving the exterior unguarded. It was finally time for her to get inside.

To finally see him. 

'See you tomorrow, Lottie.'

Ghost had said before he softly kissed her on her cheek, promising to ice skate and eat Korean barbecue with her on the 15th of February, only for her to be left disappointed when she received a text from him the next morning that he’ll be going on a mission. This mission. 

Jade gritted her teeth at the memory, "I'm going in."

Rushing forward to the entrance of the building, She used her feet to silently press herself to the cement walls, the sound of gunshots was still going, albeit muffled. It’s like the sounds were coming from below. 

Basement.

Loading her HK416, Jade infiltrated the area. She perceived at least four armed people in the main room, all looking towards one particular hallway while muttering nervously in Spanish, which she immediately suspected was the way to where Ghost was. Throwing a stun grenade inside, five bodies quickly fell to the ground from her shots.

Suddenly, another group of armed narcos came out of another room from the northern side, opening fire towards Jade while she was reloading. A bullet went past her shoulder, the sound of it ripping the air around it left a ringing sound on her ear. She could do nothing but quickly hide herself from the incoming rain of bullets behind a wall. The narcos emptied their mags like their fingers were glued to the trigger. It seemed like they were not properly trained.

When they were reloading, Jade took another flashbang and threw the can to the middle of the group. Quickly canting her aim, her rifle couldn't pick a better time to be jammed, prompting her to curse and switch to the pistol on her hips on the right and picked up her karambit blade with her left. 

While the guards were stunned, it became muscle memory from there. Taking out three front-most people with the gun, using another as a shield from the incoming aimless fire, slitting the throat, and then  another Narco in the face with the butt of the gun before forcing her blade up to the under jaw.

Having cleared the main room, Jade huffed, quickly fixing the jammed rifle, and proceeded by silently going even further into the building. 

There was a long hallway with a number of doors along them. Jade smacked one door open, only to see white-coloured blocks of drugs on a table, and judging from the colour, cocaine must be the identity of the drug. She checked each and every one of the doors and found the same things. This building was a drug warehouse; a place where the drugs were stored before their export or distribution for sale. At first, she couldn’t discern for sure if this facility was indeed owned by the Las Almas drug cartel, but when she looked upon the notable stamp of El Sin Nombre’s skull, her doubt vanished.

Jade then moved further into the hallway and reached an intersection, where another set of gunshots and screams found her ears. Her legs brought her closer to the noise, finding a stairway downwards to the basement area. She quickly descended the stairs, finding herself surrounded by a dirty, poorly dug tunnel. Nevertheless, the ex-MI6 focused on her objective and ran to the source of the sound, when she finally reached the source of all the ruckus.

She turned from a corner with her aim up on an intersection, finding Ghost with his mask on, fighting four men at once, below them were the bodies of Narcos that he had killed prior. With a knife in one hand and his own pistol in the other, he stabbed a Narco in the neck and used his body as a shield from the incoming bullets. He then threw the knife straight at his assaulter’s face as Jade saw the other two taking aim at him. Upon reflex, Jade shot down the remaining Narcos, leaving Ghost the one standing alone in the tunnel seemingly dumbfounded at what just happened right in front of him.

With relief washing over her, Jade rushed towards Ghost, finding him still standing, still fighting, still alive. “Ghost!”

Only to be welcomed by the barrel of his gun aiming straight at her. 

Before Ghost could pull his trigger, Jade’s reflex kicked in and defeated her own sadness and sorrow of not seeing him for more than two months, and leapt to his side, grabbing the barrel of the firearm away from her. She then used her speed and abundance of energy to kick his ankle strong enough to push Ghost off his balance. He fell down to the ground with a loud thud on his back. Jade kicked the pistol out of his hand, before putting her whole weight to press on his entire figure. 

Still, Ghost was known for his superior combat ability and survival instinct. His hand found another knife on his hip holster, ready to stab the person who was holding him down.

“Simon!” 

The sound of his first name stopped his knife on its track, stopping right beside her neck – a few mere inches before blood could’ve been spilt. And just after he heard his name, he felt a soft touch on his uninjured cheek. 

Jade had opened his mask, revealing his face in the open. With how skilled and lethal Ghost was as an operator, she never thought she’d ever see Ghost in this state. His left cheek and eye were swollen, and there were traces of blood running down his temple. Even though black in colour, his clothes had darker spots where only blood could stain them. He had his plate carrier and his knife holsters on, but they too were stained with blood. 

And his eyes, it was filled with rampage, pure anger and wild want for blood. Yet it was unfocused, like a blind beast ready to get rid of anyone standing in his way. 

Imprisonment. Torture. 

“It’s me. It’s me. I’m here for you. You’re okay.” He blinked a number of times, and the red fog that had been clouding his vision disappeared, finding the face of the woman he loved right above him.

“You’re okay now. I’m here. Please, it’s over, Simon.” Her shaky voice continued, desperation filling her tone. Her green eyes were already brimming with tears threatening to fall down. “It’s over.” She breathed, hoping that somehow, her voice could bring him back.

“...Midget?” 

Hearing her nickname in his deep, hoarse voice was all the sign she needed. Ghost lowered his knife, and before he knew it, Jade dropped down to hug Ghost tightly, burying her face in his shoulders. She sobbed into the side of her neck, grasping his clothes with her fingers in relief. Finally, finally, he’s back in her arms. After days of anxious and dark thoughts about losing the only man she’s ever allowed herself to love, he’s finally here, in her arms.

However, that relief was short-lived as Ghost grabbed her shoulders and lifted her smaller figure away from him. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN’ HERE?!” 

That response startled her, “WH– I’M HERE TO SAVE YOU, YOU BIG BOZO!”

“YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE!”

Jade then wrestled her way out of Ghost’s weak hands, “YOU WENT MIA FOR DAYS!”

“FUCKIN’ HELL–” Trying to sit up abruptly turned out to be a big mistake as a sharp pain burst out from his side, making him grunt out loud. Noticing this, Jade held him up before he fell back down to the floor. She then glanced to his side, and there, she caught sight of a fresh graze wound on his side. Observing him further, she found a crudely tied, blood-stained bandage wrapped around his right shoulder. Judging by the sight of it, this might be the lucky shot that had subdued Ghost and made the Narcos manage to capture him. 

Nevertheless, they needed to get out of this building before reinforcements arrived. Seeing the condition he was in, he'll need some assistance to even stand now. fighting off the reinforcement would be impossible. “This warehouse – where’s the supervisor?”

“I gutted him.” He growled, hatred filling his voice. She could easily deduce that the supervisor was the one who had been inflicting these wounds to him.

And so, she used all her strength to lift and help Ghost stand up. "Can you walk?" 

"I can–" he stumbled to the wall, using his pained arms to support himself up. "Fuck…" It had been four days since he went MIA. That meant four days of badly treated wounds, blood spilling from the tortures, and no food. Still, he managed to escape and fight his way out, leaving dead bodies as his footsteps.

Such mental fortitude was something to be feared indeed.

"Alright, come 'ere, Big Man." Jade sneaked her hand behind his back and circled his arm around her shoulder before assisting him to quickly walk out of the damned warehouse. To hell with these drugs and the people inside. 

"Watcher-1, this is Sierra-4.” Pressing the PTT, Jade contacted the CIA. “I've secured Bravo 0-7. I repeat, Bravo 0-7 is secured."

—------

Prior to arriving at the warehouse, Jade had located a rickety old cabin inside the forest. It was placed near a river far away from the warehouse. Though it’s not fully hidden, it worked well as a resting place for the night as it was pretty deep inside the forest, and of course, because there’s no way that the man that she was currently holding up could walk all the way to the nearby city. 

Stepping into the wooden floors of the cabin, Jade glanced to the side where she found a single bed placed on the edge of the room. “There’s a bed there. Let’s get you down.” Straining her voice from holding Ghost’s weight for the entire 30-minute walk there, she finally sat Ghost down on the bed before he collapsed to his back, panting heavily and clearly out of fuel.

“Fuck… I’m beat.” He managed to breathe out with his sore voice.

“Here, drink some water. Drink all of it since we have a river in front.” Jade gave her own canteen to him, to which he chugged down to the last drop while still lying down. 

In the meantime, Jade tinkered with her radio, pressing down on her PTT to contact Laswell.

“Watcher-1 this is Sierra-4 do you copy?” 

Not long, the radio buzzed, “Sierra-4 this is Watcher-1, send traffic.” 

“We’re currently holed up in an old cabin near a river about four clicks northwest of the warehouse. His radio was destroyed by a bullet, so that might be why his comms suddenly disappeared.”

A loud sigh of relief could be heard on the radio, “That’s great news. How is he looking?” 

She took a glance at Ghost, who was still laying back while covering his eyes with the back of his hand. “Beat. But alive. Very lean. Injuries and wounds all over. He’d worn his mask when I found him, but…” A thought had been weighing on her mind the whole way they walked to the cabin. “If he got captured, then the first thing the Narcos did was obviously to take off his mask. Is his identity compromised now?”

“No. It’s still the same as ever. Even if they saw his face - as long as Ghost didn’t give out his name - there’s no record of his face anywhere. Every earlier visual identity had also been redacted.” Jade raised her eyebrows. So that’s how he maintained his anonymity all this time. 

“That sounds like him. Anyway, we’re pretty deep in the woods. Sun’s going down, and the nearest town is around 15 kilos from here. I think we need to lay low for a while.” 

“Copy that. I’ll see what I can do for your exfil, I’ll be in touch. You guys should rest for a while.” Laswell finally said, a tone of calm in her voice. “And thank you so much, Jade. I’m sorry for dragging you back again.”

Jade could only scoff at that. “It’s fine. Besides, if you’d sent out anyone else to find him… I’d be a wee~ bit offended.” 

“Oh? Is this what I think it is?” She could clearly hear the wide smile on the CIA agent’s face.

“I’m gonna go patch the big man up now. Sierra-4 out.” Finally finishing her report with Laswell’s chuckle as the last thing she heard, Jade sighed, watching the strong and steady flow of the river below. It was freezing, but at least they had shelter. Now all she needed to do was keep Ghost alive and comfortable while keeping tabs with Laswell.

—

"Lottie, why are you here."

Ghost’s strained voice pulled Jade’s attention from the wound that she was currently treating on his shoulder. That crudely-tied bandage was not replaced at all after his capture and left a terrible-looking injury, which by the look of it, was obviously infected that when she’d pulled it, the skin that already tried to heal got pulled along with it.

"What? I thought I said to you already. Your radio cut off abruptly, so Laswell sent me out to find you." Jade answered, still dabbing cotton onto the lacerated skin caused by the bullet.

"Fuckin' hell…" 

That tone irked her. "You sound like you don't want me here."

"That's right! I do NOT want you here!" Ghost yelled to her, making her lean back on the chair she was sitting on and stopped what she was doing. His angered face was a new sight for her.

"What?! Are you telling me to just stay back while I know you were captured?!"

“Laswell knew for a fact that this was not my first time going MIA. She did not have to tell you about it because as you could see, I got out on my own.” He told her harshly, that tone starting to aggravate her.

“You were missing! Can’t you see that I was worried for you?!” Jade countered, trying to keep her composure while he palmed his face in visible frustration, “More than two months you’ve been gone for a mission alone, and now that I finally have news about you, I was told that your radio cut off with gunshots!” 

“You should’ve just stayed home and get on with your days. I never asked for you to come here.” Gravely he told her as he saw Jade’s eyes start to turn sombre. Those words came out of his mouth on their own.

Deep inside, Ghost knew what was coming – He needed to stop himself.

“I found you battered and bruised, Simon! You can’t just expect me to–”

"I don't need you to save me!”  He raised his voice harshly, shocking her. 

No. That was not what he wanted to say. 

He knew; he truly knew it was the opposite. 

He didn't want her to get hurt.

"I don't need you!” 

Her face was everything he needed to know that he fucked up. Ghost saw her face turn to dread like her heart just got stabbed a thousand times over, that after everything she did, after everything she felt – it was only for him to tell her those words. 

For a moment the only thing they heard was the pouring rain outside. 

Before Ghost saw the woman in front of him grit her teeth, seeming like she chose to not believe what he just said.

“There were at least a dozen armed guards outside! What did you think you could do with those wounds?!" It was her turn to raise her voice, “If I hadn't been there to find you, what could you do with a gun an a knife?!"

It was the last thing that snapped him. Ghost ignored all the pain in his arms to grab onto her shoulders, 

“I CAN’T LOSE YOU!” 

And just like that, Jade gasped as she blinked. His grasp on her shoulder felt firm yet shaky, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of the searing pain or from the emotion he felt, as this is the first time she saw Ghost with that expression. Maskless, bruises all over, bloodshot eyes brimming with tears, and a face that had desperation and sorrow painted all over it.

He started with a low voice, but the emotions in his words still remained, “You’ve left this life for a reason, Lottie. And for a good one. Think of your mother, your father, your friends, who love you and care for you! What if you get hurt alone inside this fucking rainforest?! What if you die, huh?! What do I say to your parents?!"

"What if you die?!" Jade countered, trying to make sense of his words.

"I don't fucking care if I die!"

"You say that as if no one is waiting for you to come home! I DO!” Jade grabbed both of his hands from her shoulders, gathering them with her own. ”I love you!"

Her action surprised Ghost, but more than anything, the last three words felt like an epiphany. 

"You think Kate should've just shut up about it and left me in the dark?! Well, that's just fucking stupid, Ghost. If you think that you did this for me, then you're wrong!” She shouted bitterly, her scowl taking over her face in such a way that it looked out of place, tears already brimming in her eyes. 

"You think I didn't know that your missions are dangerous? I know that! That's why I can't just stand back while I know I have the full capability to find you! If it means that I can finally have you back, then to hell with my retirement! Great, now I'm crying!" All that stress and frustration of finding him these last four days came out of her in the form of tears streaming down her cheek. The thought of finding him beaten up, all bloody, or even worse, lifeless on the ground had been eating her mind. Nevertheless, she moved her body to find him, clinging to a desperate hope that he was still alive somehow. 

Ghost could only watch as Jade buried her face in her palms, her sobs muffled by her hands. "We had a date, Simon…" That sentence felt like a thousand knives impaling his heart. He remembered being very excited that early morning, anticipating the ‘date’ with her. He remembered himself being so happy and delighted for the date, heck, he even fucking looked through his wardrobe to find the best fit for the occassion, only to be left feeling empty when he suddenly got a call to go on a mission. He could still recall how shaky his hands were when texting Jade that he couldn’t make it for the date.

"I was waiting for it. It's my first date, ever. So I'm sorry if I'm a little excited to see you, alright?" Jade raised her head to face him again, revealing her messy hair, red eyes, and cheeks smeared by tears. “I can’t lose you too."

Ghost didn't know if it was because of his courage or something else, but he moved his hand and put it right above hers, gently enveloping her hands. "I don't want you to get hurt, especially because of me." He started, looking softly into her eyes, "I'm sorry." 

Hearing that broke something in him, as for once in his life, someone waited for him to come home. Someone wanted him to be fine, and it felt… foreign.

Now, that person was sitting before him. The woman he loved, and the one who loved him back, more than he deserved. 

The fact that Ghost initiated the touch made butterflies fly wildly inside her stomach. The temperature of his skin was quite alarming though, so she kept that in mind. "Well thank you, for your consideration, but please,” Jade lifted her arm to wipe her face from the tears aggressively, sniffing her nose. “I can't have you just promise me a date one day and then disappear the next. I won't let you ghost me." Her lips pouted in a way that made him chuckle. He might go crazy if she kept doing this. "If it means finding you, then getting hurt is nothing. If you went MIA again, then I will go out and find you again."

Ghost still felt the pain all over his body, that argument took all the spare energy that he got. Meanwhile, Jade took the sewing kit from the side table, getting them ready to close Ghost's laceration. 

"Also, put some credit on my name, alright? You know I can take care of myself, Ghost." Jade muttered while taking the forceps.

"I almost stabbed you though." He replied.

"Ah." That only occurred to her now. When he was fighting off the Narcos, he thought she was an enemy and launched a knife straight to her neck. "You were in full survival mode since the whole warehouse was trying to kill you. I understand." 

"Shit… what would I say to your parents if I'd killed you?" 

"Hmmm. 'Sorry, Sir, Ma'am. I killed your daughter by accident.’, and then your body would never be seen ever again, perhaps."

That got a light laugh out of him, "We're a crazy lot aren't we?"

"Damn right we are."

There was barely any alcohol to hold the pain as Jade sutured his wounds close, and even though she had mastered the medical suturing techniques, the searing pain was going to be there to stay.

All the while her hands work, she started again, "What did they do to you?"

Ghost flinched at the question. She really hoped it wasn't something too bad. From her observations, he was badly injured on the left side, which meant he must've been punched and kicked quite a lot by the Narcos. The right side had way fewer injuries, but the little lacerations on his head looked like something sharp.

He took a deep breath, "After they caught me, I was brought to the basement and they tied my hands on my back to a pole with a rope. My feet as well. They interrogated me about who I am and my ties with Alejandro Vargas. Of course I shut my mouth the entire time."

Jade still looked at him, sending him a signal that it was not was she was asking about. Ghost sighed, before answering again, "It wasn't much, just punches and kicks, splashed water on me. The leader was a huge twat though. He smashed a bottle of alcohol on my head." Ah. There's the answer to her questions.

"And I'm assuming you used the shards to cut the ropes to escape?" She inquired, her hands still working.

"Yeah."

"...You okay?"

He always hated the question, but coming from her, it felt different. Ghost knew how she had experienced the same things before considering they work on similar grounds. And if he wanted to be honest on the answer, she won't get much. "I'm mostly annoyed at their leader the whole time. Just thinking of how to get out of there." Ghost finally answered, "I've experienced far worse. If anything, they lacked creativity."

Jade sighed, not the worst answer. Either he was hiding the mental trauma or he's just that dulled to tortures. From the outside he looked fine and he acted like this was just another business day, but she could never guess what's going on inside his mind.

That last sentence made her chuckle though. "What do you think they should've done to make you speak?"

Ghost looked like he really considered it, "...To make me speak? No idea. Probably your favourite method."

"My method?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Nail-pulling."

"I--" Oh good heavens, he'd set 'nail-pulling' as her favoured method of tortures. "Okay, if and only if you have the right tools, alright."

He let out a chuckle, prompting her to laugh as well as she finished the suture on his wounds.

—---

Cleaning up Ghost's injuries was relatively easy, as he didn't have any lethal wounds that required urgent care and deep medical knowledge. Still, watching him hiss and grunt as she sewed his lacerations was hard to do. She kept mumbling soft "Sorry, sorry." to him in a vain attempt to soothe his pain. At some point, it appeared that Ghost was completely out of fuel and dozed off sitting up while she was cleaning his skin from the blood and dirt. Closing his wounds was only the first step of first-aid care because what came after could be harder to treat since he had that infected wound on his shoulder. 

He hadn't eaten in days, was completely out of energy, had a significant blood loss, bruises all over his body, and that infected wound had finally shown its damned effect: fever. 

Jade sighed. As much as he needed the rest, he needed to eat. She'd brought some antibiotic meds, but in order to have them he had to eat first. Her legs brought her to the cabinet near the end of the bed, fortunately finding a good clean sheet of the blanket. Though, it wasn't thick enough for her liking, plus it was pretty small in size and would barely cover his large frame. Beggars can’t be choosers, so she draped the cloth onto his shoulders and his legs, making sure his figure was covered.

Opening her backpack, Jade fished out two sets of MREs, along with a ration heater. With his wounds finally dressed up and he's sleeping soundly, she walked out of the cabin to the riverside, filling her canteen with fresh river water. Pouring the water into the ration heater along with the MREs inside, Jade walked back to the doorway to avoid the rain, waiting patiently as she wiped the rainwater off of her skin.

While she was letting the heating pack do its job, she sat back on the wooden floor, slowly untying her braids that had gone messy from the actions and the rain. Fully getting the braids undone, her hair finally became loose completely, falling on her shoulders, back, and chest in the most chaotic way possible that Jade had to run her hands through her thick hair to detangle the mess. 

"Lottie?"

Ghost's weak voice startled her, making her turn around and saw the man himself standing right behind her, blanket around his shoulders. “Ghost?! What– you should’ve just slept! You can’t stand just yet–” 

“Relax,” He said softly, sitting down beside her with visible struggle. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I won’t die from moving 10 steps.” 

Seeing how he coughed wetly made her pout in disagreement. She still thought he needed to stay in bed. “How are you feeling though?”

"...like death.” 

“I thought so. Your temp was concerning. May I touch your forehead? I have to feel your temp." Ghost nodded, still, her soft touch on his forehead and neck caught him off guard, as she stared at him trying to concentrate on measuring the heat of his skin. “You’re burning up! Dammit.” Jade exclaimed upon feeling the rise of his fever, it baffled her how he still had the energy to stand up with all those wounds. 

Out of nowhere, Ghost felt pressure on his chest, before realizing that it was Jade pressing her ears to his thorax. 

He froze right there and there, turning into stone like Medusa just stared him down. Ghost sucked his teeth and looked up to hold in his blush. He knew a hundred per cent that she was checking his breathing for that terrible wet cough he let out, but his brain had turned into a mush, his heart beating so fast like he just ran a fucking marathon. She definitely could hear his racing heartbeat, but no matter how much he tried to tell his heart to stop fucking beating like there's a whole damned carnival inside his chest, it was proven futile.

“Take a deep breath.” Her voice was the only thing that snapped him out of his thoughts, doing what she told him to do. 

After hearing the air going in and out of his lungs a number of times, Jade finally leaned back again. “Yup. I’m no medic, but I can hear pneumonia coming when I hear one. You need to go back to bed.” She stood up and tried to pull him up, which was to no avail as he was still dumbfounded on the event that just happened. "The sun's setting down and the rain won't stop anytime soon. It'll get colder than this."

“I just got here–”’

“Back. To. Bed.” 

Has she always been this demanding? He never liked being told what to do when it's not from someone of higher rank, but he could surely get used to this one. Ghost couldn't help the small smile on the corner of his lips as he stood up, walking towards the hard bed slowly before sitting down again. She gathered the steaming rations on her hands and sat back on the chair, his heart swole in a way he never thought it could. 

"I brought chicken sausage and… pasta bolognese. You can choose whatever and I'll take the other one." Jade said, opening the lids to let the heat out while waiting for Ghost's answer, but when he didn't say anything, only gazing at the foods, a thought clicked in her mind. "Or or or, you can have both of them, if you want. I'm sure you're starving."

"...What about you?" Yep, she guessed right. He wanted both of them. Big man needed a big meal. 

"Don't worry about me. You haven't eaten in days. I already had mine before coming to the facility, so I'm good, I promise."

A gulp, "Can I have both?"

"Sure."

----------

He’s back under that suffocating, smothering coffin under the ground. Trapped alone in the dark, he felt his heart beat racing, pounding against his chest that he could hear it on his ears. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

He’s afraid. 

Ghost tried to bang his fist against the roof, but it wouldn’t budge. Even until his arms were bruised, until blood came out, he felt that the earth would swallow him whole any second, before Ghost felt the wooden base of the coffin disappear into dust, which made his body fall into a deep, bottomless void, getting farther and farther from the coffin.

Just as he thought that he’d forever fall without end, his back hit the ground with a great force, waking him up from his nightmare. Ghost opened his eyes with a jolt of his entire body, breathing fast and laboured as if he’d just gained back his ability to take air in. 

"Hey." 

The familiar voice called to him, prompting the man to focus his blurred vision, finding Jade. He’s finally awake enough to register that this is no longer inside the coffin where he was buried alive, but inside a wooden cabin deep in a rainforest. The rain still falling outside, the sun long gone, only the moon to accompany them. His surroundings were dark, save for the soft yellow lighting from a portable bonfire on the bedside table. Ghost was laying on his side facing her, nothing to support his head from the absence of pillows. 

He then saw that his hand was grabbing Jade’s wrist in a death grip, almost shaking. She looked like she was startled by the sudden grip of her wrist when she'd just been wiping the sweat off his face with a handkerchief, but she didn’t show any sign of panic or daze, just calmness inside her eyes. "Nightmare?" 

Ghost released his grip and answered with an alarming wet cough, his breathing starting to sound difficult, before weakly muttering, "Why aren't you asleep?" 

"You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the floor–" He tried to wake up before being pushed down back to the bed on his side. 

"Your fever got worse, you were sweating, and shivering as well. That infected wound on your shoulder added to the problem." Ghost might not be in his best condition, but he could hear her worry as clear as day.

She looked messy with the very long red locks of hers undone, contrasting with her usual tidy and orderly appearance. And to be frank, she’d had that worried tone since the second she found him in the warehouse, since she heard that he was missing, and probably since the day he texted her that he’d had to go on a mission. 

"That is total nonsense! I'm not the one who's beaten up right now!” The logic must have left him because of the fever. Did he really want to sleep on the hard wooden floor with those bruises all over his body?! 

The usual Ghost would retort some sarcasm towards her, but all he did right now was to stare at her. Jade would've thought that he's completely out of it from the illness, until he mumbled,

"...You should let your hair down more often."

"...wHaT?” her voice cracked at his words. Why was he talking about her hair all of a sudden?

A light cough, “I said you should let your hair down more.”

“Wh– Why?" She chuckled, half amused and half confused. "Look at them. My hair's a mess if I let it down. It's really hard to take care of, especially in the wind. Let it touch the rain, and air drying it is basically a recipe for disaster." The ginger said while rubbing her heavily tangled hair. She had intended to brush them when Ghost was asleep earlier, but she must admit that she didn’t have the energy to do it. Days of tracking and helping him had taken more of her than she’d expected.

"That's precisely why." Ghost started, still eyeing her face softly.

"...What do you mean?"

"Beautiful.” He confessed, "You're beautiful when your hair's a mess, so let it down."

A pause as he tried to rack up an answer in his jumbled brain. "It's not sudden. I've always liked it." 

The sentence baffled, perplexed, and shocked her. Why did he say that? Why was he doing this?? What kind of dream or nightmare did he have?? Jade’s jaw dropped to the floor, her face turned almost as red as her hair because of that particular sentence. Ghost had never been one for talking, let alone compliments. That was the normal, healthy Ghost, then. So if he's on the opposite condition…

"I– What's with the sudden flattery??"

No one ever complimented her hair. Since she was a baby, a child, a kid in the orphanage, she kept being skipped by potential parents because of her striking red hair. 

Jade recalled how she would see a couple shake their heads as they whispered among each other, quickly looking at the other orphans. Her brothers and sisters come in and go to their new parents, while she stayed. And for that reason, she grew to dislike – hate her hair, only until recently did she ever see a good in them.

And now, this man just admitted that he had always liked her hair since the day he met her, albeit… in a feverish, delirious state?

"T-thank you for saying that, Simon." Finally finding the courage to react, Jade continued, "but anyway, how are you feeling? Dizzy? Nauseous?"

"...cold." Ghost mumbled.

For sure that thin blanket would be doing anything in the cold rain. There was no more piece of clothing or any blankets left inside the house to use. She had started a little portable bonfire on the bedside table to give the room some form of luminescence as the sun was long gone, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop his shiverings. 

Holding his eyes open was already a heavy task for him, but this cold felt like a thousand knives on his skin. He wanted to sleep, God, he wanted to sleep. He’s exhausted, except getting trapped in that coffin and buried alive inside that dream was the last thing he wanted to experience right now. Getting air into his lungs was also a burden to his chest. Even with the painkillers and antibiotic Jade had given him, his wounds hurt all over. 

However, this is nothing. 

Ghost had experienced this before, far, far worse than this, and he was still alive. He’ll tank through the cold, he could endure any pain. 

It’s the same as ever. 

Nothing’s different.

Had he ever heard that kind of sentence before?

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

Jade softly muttered to him, looking at him not with a look of pity, but of compassion and willingness to help. 

"Do you mind a– um… A cuddle?” The woman sitting beside his bed said nervously, prompting him to look at her face. "Shared body temperature. I suppose it's effective in this situation."

He took that back.

It's different now.

“...No.” He replied shortly.

"Really?”

“Yeah.”

“O-okay! The bed’s small, can you face the other way?” She asked, to which he nodded before he used all the energy he had left in his body to lie on his other side. With heavy clumsiness, he finally faced the wooden wall. The light of the moon shone through the window, hitting his face softly. Not long, he felt a dip on the other side of the bed. Jade had climbed on the bed and fixed the thin blanket to cover his figure properly. Ghost could feel her presence on his back, looming behind him. He didn’t know what to do, obviously. He never really shared a bed with anyone in a long time, let alone a woman. It’s almost pathetic. 

“Can I… wrap my arm around you?” Jade asked hesitantly to the back of his head. “I–I don’t mean anything weird, just to warm you up! Like I said I love you and all – and I do mean that – but in case you’re not comfortable with me hugging you I will totally understand and—”

“I said I don’t mind it.” Ghost cut her off before she could blabber more.

“Okay… I’ll just. Put my left arm above you. Like this.” Lifting her arm, she then gently put her wrist on his shoulder, just barely beyond his side line. “This okay?”

“...Hm.” She’s pressed to him. She’s affirmatively pressed to his back. Her warmth instantly traveled to his entire figure, pleasantly so. 

“Good. That’s really great, yeah. Your shoulder is really high, wow." He couldn’t say anything to that. Is that a compliment? “While we’re at it, lift your head up a little bit.” 

Even though it confused him, he did what she told, and an arm sneaked its way past his cheek and placed it firmly there, and before he could ask her what was she trying to do, he got his answer. “I’m your pillow.” 

Ghost let out a chuckle at her retort, and to be honest, he didn’t have any strength left to refuse the offer. His neck hurt and his head felt dizzy without a pillow, so he dropped his head right then and there on Jade’s bicep, and what she didn’t expect was the fact that he deliberately scooted back even further, finally clinging to her figure – a relaxed huff leaving him.

And just like that, Jade’s assumption that Ghost didn’t like hugs went down the bloody drain. She had to bite her lips in order to hold in the scream inside her. God, he must’ve felt her racing heartbeat on his back. He sounded like a literal puppy with that last huff. If she has a third arm she would’ve loved to pet his hair.

------

The rain hadn’t stopped since they arrived at the cabin. The cold seeped through the woods, piercing through Jade’s skin as she made Ghost have the blanket. Other than that, the woman couldn’t deny the soreness on her arm as his head was pretty heavy. She didn’t mind it at all though, as long as he was comfortable, a sore arm was nothing compared to what he must be feeling.

It’s been about an hour since she climbed the bed to cuddle with him. Jade could really tell a lot about his condition from this distance. He’s really hot to the touch, his shoulders moved up and down in a quite fast pace. Still, it seemed that the shared body temperature worked as his shivers stopped. Was he already asleep?

Jade moved the hand that was on his shoulder to the front of his face – waving it up and down.

"I'm still up." His deep voice startled her.

Shit. He’s still awake. "S– Sorry. Just checking."

Meanwhile Jade was waiting for him to sleep, Ghost couldn’t even bring himself to sleep, for fuck’s sake. And not because of the nightmare, but because of her presence on his back was all he could think about. He felt relaxed, but not relaxed at the same time. It’s like his entire being felt safe in her arms and presence, yet his mind thought that he didn’t deserve this. Because she had searched for him, she had to leave her home, family, and friends again, and even though Jade had told him that she would always go and find him – and the things he said to her – he still felt like an arse. 

"Lottie."

Jade noticed the name, prompting her to blink. "Mm? You okay?"

“Thank you... for saving me. And about what I said,” A brief pause, “I've hurt you. I'm sorry."

She stayed silent, looking at the back of his head. Ghost was always a blunt person, and it wasn't the first hurtful thing that he'd said to her. Calling her a midget was one thing, but saying that he didn't need her?

She knew he was in immense pain and under heavy mental duress from the imprisonment, but if what he said was true…

"Did you mean it? What you said?" Jade finally replied back, questioning him about the words he'd said. She wanted to know if he really mean what he said. She needed to know.

It took a few seconds for Ghost to answer, seeming like he was preparing himself. "No. Quite the opposite."

Hearing those words from him felt like a earning medal, prompting a smile coming from her lips. "Thank you, Simon. For staying alive.” 

“Will you forgive me?”

“I forgive you, because..." Jade lightly sighed behind him, "I need you too.''

And he thought he had a cold heart. That one simple sentence coming out from the one person he allowed himself to love after such a long, long time, made his heart - no, his entire being melt right then and there, in her arms.

A mosquito decided to land on Jade’s hand, making her sway the bug away. “Oof, there’s some bugs here.” 

"...What's the bugs' favourite band?"

Oh great heavens. A pun at a time like this? "...what is it?"

"Bee Gees." 

"Oh that's goooood." She must admit that his timing was immaculate. "You ever watch Bee Movie though?"

"...Only bee I know in movies is Bumblebee in Transformers." 

"Yeah well. Suits you I guess. And good for you for being oblivious about the Bee Movie."

"What kind of movie is that?" He asked.

"A movie. About bees suing humans."

"The fuck?"

"Yea yea yea we'll watch it when we get home. Now sleep." Jade chuckled. "Good night, Beanpole."

"Goodnight, Midget."

"I'm right here if you need me."

*****

"I know."

It's finally here!! To be continued in Part 2!

#WAHOO #THERE IT GOES GUYSSS #ENJOY #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #cod #simon ghost riley #charlotte jade le jardin #cod mw22 #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #art #ghost x oc #ghost x jade #simon ghost riley fic #cold heart #ghost fic #there's only one bed #tw whump #tw violence #tw guns #tw light gore

[mrsjavierpena]

not (un)expected | part 1

javier peña x f!secretary!reader

summary: Javier has one, only one very strict policy: to not ever fuck a co-worker; specially if that co-worker is his own secretary. but you make it such a hard promise to keep

chapter warnings: narcos' spoilers, smut, grinding, unprotected p in v, kind of exhibitionism, (light?) angst, a lot of cursing (its javier pena), kinda slow burn/slow start, unspecified age gap, work dynamics, reader has no name/descripition (but has hair long enough to pull), no use of 'y/n'

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language, i've done my best with grammar but there will be mistakes (fuck prepositions i hate them), so pls overlook those

wordcount: 7k

an: this is part one of a two part story; feel free to reblog and leave your comment. im so happy with the reception of this fic, its my first time posting something here, thank you guys so much for the support - also, if you want to be tagged in part two (really don't know when is coming out) just lmk in the comments.

hope you enjoy!

Javier was known for being an asshole.

Everyone in the office called him that; not to his face, of course, since he was the boss, but he knew, and honestly? He kind of did it on purpose. Being sent back to Colombia to be the CIA puppy didn't in fact thrilled him, but he also wasn't there to make friends. A little bit later than one month into his new position and Javier had already changed secretaries twice. Just by being himself.

The first one was a kind old lady that liked to talk a little bit too much for Javi's taste - which was none. To be fair, he tried to handle her. He listened to her talking of her yougest child finishing college, but she asked him if maybe he could get him a job at the deparment - what in the actual fuck? -, she felt the need to tell him that her older one and his wife were trying to have a baby - he wondered what gave her the impression he wanted to know that her son was fucking someone raw. She just wouldn't shut up. She left not much after a month, at his first snap - took him too long, to be honest.

The last one was a young man fresh out of the academy, who thanked him for the opportunity every time he saw him - which, since he was just outside his office, was pretty often. Despite how thankful he was for the job, he wasn't very interested in working, at least not as he was to flirting with another secretary in the floor below. But that wasn't the worst part, the kid had no idea what he was supposed to do and would go ask Javier for help for every task given to him - he swore he was shaking everytime. Javi didn't care that he was young and was learning, he didn't receive enough to raise a child at work. Didn't last a week.

Javier had headaches just by the thought of who would be sent next. With his current luck, it could be his ex-fiancée. He definitely didn't expect you knocking on his office door and introducing yourself as his new secretary. He was speechless for a moment; you were the combo of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life with a killing black pencil skirt, so tight it showed all your curves. You gave him a firm handshake and asked if he needed anything from you, and, when he denied, that was it. You went to your desk; didn't ask him questions, didn't tell him your whole life, didn't thank him for an opportunity he didn't give you, just went to do your work.

For a while, Javier was glad that you didn't give him any trouble, but that was until you quickly learned his habits. As soon as he arrived the office, you would receive him with a polite smile, a cup of black coffee and his schedule for the day. When he dove into files and forgot he was a person, you would bring him his lunch and wouldn't leave until he had at least a bite - as if he was a kid, what an absurd -, you would sense when he was stressed and would excuse yourself into his office with coffee and a pack of cigarettes and leave without saying a word.

He hated how much he appreciated that - even worse, how he liked that. It didn't take long for him to want to fuck you, to become obssessed with you. And it wasn't just him, he could see every other men in the department - single or not - turn their neck as they watched you pass by. But it was not just that you were hot, you were nice too; he would watch you from his office - not in a creepy way, though, he just didn't have anything much better to do - and you would distribute smiles and polite greetings to every soul that passed your desk, people would constantly stop by to small talk with you and you would let them be for five minutes or so before politely dismiss them to go back to work. Every fucking body there adored you.

Things had always been very professional between you both. Javi held back his flirty instinct and you- well, you didn't even seem interested in him at all. That was untill a very stressfull friday with Stechner giving him shit again. He left the building straigh to the bar, ready to drown himself on whiskey and find a quick fuck for the night, not expecting at all to find you aparently doing the same. Javier considered just ignoring you and go sitting with one of the women that turned their heads in his direction as soon as he entered, but something inside of him made him take the few steps to the bar and get the stool beside where you sat.

You almost spilled your drink when he approached.

"Sorry" you coughed "Wasn't expecting to see you here"

Your body language told him that you weren't comfortable with him there, he saw your backs getting as straight as when you were at work, and immediately regretted joining you.

"Well, that makes it two of us" he raised his hand to order his drink "What's the occasion?" he points to your drink with his chin.

Your grip on your glass seemed to tighten and you took one very long sip before answering dryly "I could ask you the same"

"Work" he raised his brows "It's always work"

"Did something happen after I left?" you pinched your brows.

"No, no, just people giving me shit"

"Oh, I see..." you sighed and silence fell between you.

"So..."

"Well..." you both started talking together and laughed akwardly.

"You go" you said.

"Am I bothering you? Cause I didn't mean to, I can sit somewhere else" he didn't even know why he was asking, he should've just said goodbye and left. He was already standing when your hand found his arm.

You sighed heavily "No, not at all, I'm sorry I gave that impression, sir" you seemed genuine, that's why he sat back "I'm just stressed"

Sir. Why were you calling him sir in a bar?

"Do you want to talk about it? If there's something bothering you we can discuss it and sol-"

"It's not work related" you were quick to interrupt "Work is, honestly, the simplest part of my life right now"

"Things must be pretty bad then, 'cause I see the amount of papers on your desk everyday" that made you chucke "The offer still stands, if you want to"

You took a big breath before dropping the bomb "Broke up with my boyfriend"

Now that was a new territory. He knew absolutly nothing about your life besides you moving to Colombia from the United States; he didn't know anything from your life back there, not your family, friends, definitely not about your boyfriend; and now, somehow, knowing you didn't have one anymore made it even harder for him not to want you.

"What happened?"

"Well, actually, it seems like we had already broken up a while ago and he just forgot to send the memo" you drank your whole half glass all at once ", since he was fucking every pussy that crossed his fucking way"

He was stunned. One thing about Javier was that he was never to deny any woman; honestly, he found every body attractive and apreciatted every woman that gave herself to him. He couldn't say he had a type, but you, with what he saw with your clothes on? He would fuck you every minute of everyday he could. It was absurd to believe someone would give up on you.

"Damn!" he couldn't help but say loudly, making your eyes go wide as if just then realising what you had just said.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you this. I apologise, sir"

"You don't- don't apologise" he almost raised his hand to touch you, but stopped himself before "How did you find out?" you looked at him with raised brows "If you don't mind me asking"

"One of my friends called me last night and told me. She saw him at a bar with two women" you laughed, but there was no humor to be found.

"And you were still smiling at everyone at work today" he was impressed.

You smirked at him "Don't let my personal life mix with work, sir"

"Smart woman" he nods "We for sure have a reason to drink, then" waving his hand to the barman "Let me buy you one"

You don't even bother to refuse.

After three more glasses of what he found out was tequila, your shoulders were much more relaxed and so was your tongue. He found out that you and your ex had been dating for six years when you got the opportunity of job and had to move; two months had passed already.

"And you know what the worst part is?" your laugh is dry "I don't even feel bad because my heart is broken or any shit like that, it's just that is so fucking humiliating" you groaned with your hands on your face "I'm from a small town, you know, by now every soul there knows what he's been doing"

He had to laugh "That's what you're worried about?" you looked at him with false ofense.

"It's my honor we're talking about here!" he laughed even more "It's silly, I know..." you sigh shakly as you take another sip of your drink "But it is humbiling, being cheated on"

"I can't fucking believe anyone could ever cheat on you" he thought. At least he thought he did, but by the way you were looking at him - pinched brows and a curious look in your face, he had to have said it out loud "I mean, only shitty people cheat on nice people. Only shitty people cheat, that's it."

You nodded after a few seconds of silence "You're right, sir"

"You should stop calling me sir"

"I don't think so"

"Why not? We're already half drunk together at a shitty bar"

"Because you're still my boss"

Without any response to that, he looks at you. Really looks at you. Your eyes glassy from the alcohol, red puffy lips looking more appealing than ever... It would have been so easy to just lean in and kiss you. When his eyes came back to yours, it almost seemed like they were on his lips too, that you were leaning in too, that you desired him as much as he desired you and... Then it was not there anymore. Suddenly, you seemed farther than ever, backs as streight as always and eyes avoiding his.

"I should go home"

He agreed. He put you on a cab. He wished you a goodnight.

Then went back to the bar to find someone to not spend the night alone.

The next Monday, though, you seemed even more professional than ever. Wouldn't be around him more than the necessary, wouldn't look him in the eyes and it fucking bothered him.

"Yes, sir?" you entered his office after he called your name.

He sighs as he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering to your skirt pressing against your tights "How are you?"

"I'm fine" you hesitated "Why do you ask? Is something wrong?"

"Lying to me, 's all" your eyes went wide "Listen, last night-"

Your nostrils flared, your hands clenching into fists; you took a deep breath before interrupting him "I am fine"

"Ok, then" he raised his hands in defensiveness "It's just that last night-"

"Last night I was drunk!" you passed your hands through your face "I said things I shouldn't have and I am embarressed and would very much appreciate if we pretended that it never happened"

Javier was silent for a moment. He understandood your apprehension, but damn if he wasn't dismayed by it.

"Alright, 'm sorry I brought it up. But just to let you know, you don't have anything to be embarressed for, you have my word that I wouldn't hold any if that against you and..." and it was nice to talk to you "Yeah, don't worry about that"

You looked at him for a few seconds before nodding "You need anything else, sir?"

Many things, yeah. For starters, you calling him by his name; second, being able to have a casual conversation with you when alcohol isn't envolved and third, your fucking clothes off because he got embarrassingly hard just by looking at you. But instead, he only denied and you left before any other word could leave his mouth.

Javi knew it was for the best. Fucking you would be no good - well, he'd bet it would be hot as shit, but too much trouble for a one night stand. He had a whole city to fool around with, to be focused in someone from his work place, his own secretary, was nonsense. You never even gave him any hint you wanted him, if anything, the actual opposite; you told him yourself last night, personal life away from work.

Javi made sure to remember all that.

➫

He didn't keep those thoughts for long, though.

A few days later, you met at a bar once again. A better one this time and with half of the office joined. It was Feistl's birthday and he invited the whole department for drinks. Nobody could hide their surprise when Javi aproached them; usually, he wouldn't attend this type of gathering, in his rarely free times, he better prefered the company of a good whiskey and a woman, and his colleagues knew that. His employee had invited him just to be polite and that was clear, but he knew you were going to be there, Javi just wanted one more opportunity to prove to himself that you didn't feel the same way he did, that he didn't have the same effect on you that you had on him. Once that prooved, he could move on. So he was there on a mission, trying to be the most discrete he could as he watched you from afar.

The two of you seemed to be the reflexion of each other from across the table, tense bodies and drinks in hand, the only difference being you talking with your colleagues and him not making the effort. To his defense, people weren't trying to talk to him either. Honestly, Javier kind of felt like it wasn't just that they were surprised to see him there, it felt like they didn't want him there at all by some looks he was receiving.

He was okay with that, he guessed, he would much rather analyse your behavior outside work. You didn't seem to change much, honestly; maybe your smile were a little bit more genuine, but the conversations were pretty much the same he heard you have back in the office and it could have been the larger amount of alcohol in your system that night, yeah, but you seemed more relaxed alone with him.

After half an hour there, Javi couldn't bring himself to talk to you, you seemed too interested in a conversation about the new coffee pot in the scullery with another secretary. He was getting frustrated, in another times he would interrupt the other woman and flirt with you effortlessly; it probably had to do with the environment, you were surronded by co-workers, or maybe he was losing his touch - it was almost like he was too afraid to make the move.

Javi decided to leave soon after one hour there. He congratulated Feistl for his birthday, said goodbye to whoever recognized his leaving, paid his bill and passed through the door.

"Hey" he turned around at the sound of your voice, seeing you walking towards him "Are you ok?"

He ran his hand over his chin "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know" you shrugged "you kind of ran out of the bar"

"'S fine, you should go back inside" Javi pointed at the entrace with his chin.

You tilt your head to the side "I don't really believe you"

"I'm not asking you to" he crossed his arms "And, what, you wanna talk now? You've been quiet at work all week"

"We're not at work, though, are we?" you were quick to answer.

Javi looked you up and down "No, we're not"

"You know" you took a few steps forward ", it's not like they don't like you, they are just kind of scared of you"

Were you watching him too? Why would you say that? How would you notice?

He furrowed his eyebrows "Scared of me? Why?"

You looked at him with yours raised "You know how you act at work, don't you?"

Javi sighed and looked away. He did act like an asshole at work, it didn't seem to bother you, though. Your gazes met again as silence fell between the two of you and he decided to take the few steps left to get you as close as you never got before.

"Are you scared of me?"

You kept your eyes locked as you answered "No. You're not as bad as you think you are" you licked your lips "At least not with me"

The air thickend between the two of you, the only sound being the noises of a night in Colombia. There was no way you were not feeling that too, the way your bodies seemed to linger to each other's direction. He's sure he's not imagining the way your breath heaved, how your chest expansed, the brightness in your eyes.

No, that was real, he was not mistaking it.

A voice broke the tension, you taking a few steps back to a safe distant from him. You both looked in the direction of the sound: a woman was calling you, the same woman you talked all night, at the entrance of the bar, a few feet away from where the both of you stood.

"Maybe if you went back there and paid the next round..." he swore he saw expectancy in your eyes.

"Maybe another time" you nodded; you both knew it wouldn't happen.

You looked at him one last time before walking away "Good night, sir"

Javi nodded even though you weren't looking anymore and his eyes followed the sweet swing of your hips as you made your way back to the bar. He could hear the woman asking what it was about:

"Nothing" you answered.

He would disagree.

➫

Javier was in a terrible, terrible mood. Things weren't going how he thought they would go, not even close to it. Feistl got a good lead about the Rodriguez brothers, one worth following, and he could do nothing about it; had to look to his subordinate and say no to his face. In the beggining, Javi had plans on reediming himself by catching Los Pepes, making amends with the city and it's people by arresting those who he felt like helped to ascend. He felt like a failure, and by the look on Feistl face, he thought so too. To worsen everything, as if it could get any, he had a huge, massive amount of piles to go through.

He lifted his eyes from the paper for the first time in hours when you knocked at the door. He knew your shift had ended a couple of hours ago, but you decided to finish the paperwork of the day so it wouldn't affect his own work the next morning, even though you couldn't have finished it on time because of the extra work put over you. It was something he frequently saw you doing, leaving much later than the others.

"I am leaving, sir. Is there something I could do for you?"

He scratched his chin and sighed heavily "Well, if you could make this fucking paperwork disappear I would built a statue of you"

You exiled a short laugh "I'm afraid that's not possible, sir"

"No, it's not" he reclined on his chair and looked at your body on the frame for a few seconds "Have a goodnight"

You nodded and left. He stood up to get a drink right after, hearing some noises outside that must have been you grabing your stuff. You were probably the last person on the floor besides him, and soon enough he would be alone, like he had been for so many nights, working until late, only able to go home to shower and come back. It wasn't much trouble, though, it's not like he could sleep even if he had the time.

A soft knock on the door surprised him, glass and bottle on each hand.

"Sorry to bother again" you said with only your head in the room after he told you to come in "But do you want help?"

He looked at you, at the pile and then at you again "You wanna help me with that?" you nodded "Why?"

"Nothing better to do" you shruged.

He should've said no. Should've told you to go home and have some rest.

He should have, yes.

"Have a sit" he pointed to the couch with the piles of papers he's been on for the last three hours.

You closed the door behind you and something on his skin tingled. You had never been this alone.

"Want a drink?" you didn't hesitate in accepting, as if waiting for him to offer.

Javier poured you one too and handed you the glass, something you thanked him for as you took a sip and he sitted beside you. You two stayed in silence reading, the only sound being the papers as you tossed them around.

"Can I give you an unasked opinion, sir?"

He almost laughed at that "Go ahead"

"You're separating these by topics, I see" he nodded "Taking one paper at the time and seeing what they are and then doing them separetly " he nodded again "I think it would be quicker if we made piles by the specific topics you have"

"You mean..."

"I mean" suddenly you stood up from the couch and knelt on the floor. Fortunally you didn't see his eyes going wide as you took a pile in your hands and put it beside you "You have a huge office, you should put the files on display and organize them better" you looked at him while taking the other piles "You helping?"

He smirked and hushed to help you. He liked this side of you; more relaxed, kind of bossy, tongue more loose... It was a shame you only showed him when there was alcohol running through your system.

"This, if you don't mind me saying, is how I organize the piles on your desk when I bring them to you, but you seem to prefer the hardest way"

Fuck, he was getting hard.

It was nuts. Absolutly nuts. What the fuck was happening, what effect was that you had on him? You did nothing but say a few dirty words without intention. Completely. Nuts.

"I do prefer the hard way" came out of his mouth before he could control it. If you didn't notice the double meaning or chose to ignore it, he didn't know "But I never noticed, no" he sighed "Honestly, I don't even know how it got to this point"

The paperwork, somehow, did accumulate, even though all he did of his life was working.

"I understand, I can see how you get lost in work" your focus was on the papers and you didn't seem to notice how he shifted on his place on the floor, trying to hide the beggining of an erection.

With your efficiency and new way of working, one hour and a half later and almost the whole paperwork gone, you're on your third glass and him on his fourth. He's used to drinking whiskey, but it was still alcohol, and it was making his skin buzz. You had already took off your blazer - his own gone hours ago - , wearing a thin blouse with a very modest neckline; your legs were crossed, making your skirt move up a little, and he was going crazy with just the tiny amount of skin you were showing.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead" you didn't even move your eyes from the paper.

"Why didn't you go home?"

You don't talk for a few seconds and he took the opportunity to stare "There's nothing waiting for me at home"

That got him thinking about your moving there. To go from a small town in the countryside to a city like Bogotá, not knowing a soul; you had acquaintances, yes, but he saw you that day at the bar, they surely were people you liked to be with, but were not friends of yours. Javi had been there, too, actually, if he would be honest with himself, he was still in the same situation. When he moved to Medellín, he had those people he could go out with and grab a drink after work, but that was all; at least until Steve came into the picture, the person he never thought he would befriend with, the only real friend he'd had in years.

"Yeah, I kind of get that" your eyes meet "Work until late for a reason"

"I guess we both need to get a life, then" you smirked.

"Cheers to that" he raised his glass to you, you did the same until it clicked with his "So, life... How is yours going?" he tried to act nonchalant by moving his eyes on the paper in his hand "With that ex-boyfriend thing and all"

Your laugh was low "Don't do that"

"Do what?" he raised his eyes again to find yours still on him.

You tilted your head to the side "Don't go down that road when we're like this"

"Like what?" he caught the exact moment your eyes fell to his lips, so he casually wet them with his tongue. If he wasn't so absorbed by the thickness in the air, he would have laughed at the way your eyes shut and your head fell back to rest on the couch.

"Drunk and... Not thinking straight"

Javi raised his eyebrows "I like the winding thoughts I'm having, though"

"Yeah" the look you gave him made him shiver.

Without breaking eye contact, Javi belted down his drink to gain courage and slowly moved his body until you were pressed side by side, giving you time to get your space again if you wanted to.

"This fine?" his voice was barely louder than a whisper.

You nodded.

"What if I wanted to kiss you right now?" he rested one forearm on the couch to lean his face closer to yours.

You gulped as you stared into his eyes "Then I think you should do it before we-"

He didn't give you the time to finish your sentence before his lips were on yours. Your lips were soft, he could taste the whiskey on your tongue as well with the gums you would chew all day. His right hand went straight to your jawline to lead the kiss. It was not a lulled kiss, neither a gentle one, Javier was ruthless, taking out on your lips all the built up tension from the last few months. He couldn't believe it was finally happening. You were quick to follow his pace, your fingers grasping his shirt and pulling him even closer. The first moan you let out get Javi even more eagered, his hand passing down your body to grab your ass. You took advantage of his action and, before he knew, you were climbing up his lap, knees on each side of his torso, and once you were fully sitted on his lap, you both couldn't contain a moan. At that point, your skirt barely covered half your ass; because of that, he figured that you wouldn't mind his hands slowly rubbing up your tights until they reached the fabric and rolled it up your waist.

Javi parted your mouths to take a good look at you on his lap, his eyes wandered from your heavy eyelids, your lips puffy and red from the kisses, your blouse-covered chest raising and falling as fast as his until they got to the black thong you were wearing and he couldn't help but moan "Oh, fuck me"

"You like them?" your mouth came down his neck to give him wet kisses.

"How wouldn't I?" he held you by the nape of the neck and brought your mouths together again "I've wanted this for so long"

You released some kind of laughter "I know"

"Oh, do you?" he raised his brows.

"You're not exactly subtle for an agent" you murmured between kisses.

He snorts "Well, thanks for the insight"

Javi couldn't resist the urge to touch you through the tiny piece of fabric and you moaned at the pressure at your clitoris, but he moaned too at the wetness he found.

Javi didn't ask you how long you had wanted him, you were grinding on his lap at that moment and that was all that mattered. But he wished you had said it, that you had desired him as much as he had desired you, that all this time he had been imagining this moment, you were imagining it too.

"Fuck baby, you are so wet already" his tongue licked a stripe on your neck "All this for me?"

You answer was muffled by a moan; it seemed positive, but before he could confirm you were linking your mouths again in a searing kiss.

You started moving your hips on his erection and you both moaned at the pressure. Suddenly, his torso is being pushed down to the ground, chests pressed against each other, your fingers tangled his hair and pushed and he fucking whimpered.

Jesus Christ, he was in heaven and was not even inside of you yet.

You grinded furiously against him and he found it absolutly beautiful how you were using him to pleasure yourself and was not embarressed to do so. So. Fucking. Hot.

He felt like he was coming in any second.

"Fuck, you keep doing that and will have me cumming on my fucking pants, bebita"

"Oh, say it again!"

"What? That I'm within seconds to cumming?"

You moaned loudly at that "No- I mean, that too, that's hot, but- oh fuck"

"Bebita?" he felt you shiver at the pet name and chuckled "You like that, huh?"

You grabbed the nape of his neck and lowered your head to crush your lips to his again, tongues fighting heatedly. Javi started to feel that heat boiling at the bottom of his stomach, his hips grinded against yours and the pressure were just perfect; by the sounds you were making, you were as close as he was. Javi reached for you ass and grabbed it with both of his hands and squeezed, adding even more pressure to the grindness. At last, he sucked the pulse in your neck and you started to shake above him; that combined with the sweet noises that came out of you, he was gone.

You collapse on top of him, fingers unconsciously running through his hair; his members were sore and he was so tired and satisfied that he could sleep right there. The both fo you took deep breaths while your head rested on the gap of his neck and his on the floor.

"I can't remember the last time I did this" he was the first to break the silence.

"I actually do this everyday to my pillow" you mumbered humurously and he moaned.

"Shit, you're gonna be the death of me" his hand ran up and down from your ass to your backs, loving the feeling of your curves.

You raised your head to find his eyes and the moment was gone. You both realizing what you just had done, the before contentedness in him that was mirrowed in your eyes then turning into panic.

"Shit" you clumsly stood up. You put your skirt down as quickly as you could.

"It's getting late" it was already late when you came to his office "I should go" you should stay, he wanted to say.

But instead he only nodded. He knew it was for the best. He shouldn't have let it come this far.

You quickly get your stuff and wishes him a goodnight. His eyes don't leave you until you pass through the door, yours, though, don't meet him once.

He stayed there on the floor, cum staining his pants, and even though he was fully clothed, the room had never felt colder.

➫

The next day was pure craziness. After you left his office, Javi went home, took a shower and lied in bed thinking of what had just happened between the two of you and what would happen from then on until he had to come back to work. Before he could even get to his office, you intercepted him with a cup of coffee and the news of a surprise and excruciating slow meeting with the ambassador, which led to another one with the CIA and then the atrocious combination of them both together. By the time Javi was freed from hell, everybody else were already leaving; due to your situation, he thaught that would be your case too, so he was surprised to see you still on your desk.

"I was waiting to see if you would need something else from me before I left" was your answer to the question on his face.

"I think I'm heading home too, actually" after a day like that, he felt like maybe he could even get some sleep.

He had work to do, yeah, and usually it didn't matter to him if his mind wasnt in the right place - it rarely was anyways -, but he knew nothing productive would result from working in that state. Javi also wanted to talk to you; he had so many thing in his mind, what he thought about during that whole previous night: he wanted you. So bad he didn't even know how to express it, so much he let himself cum in his pants just to get the little you were wailing to give to him. And he was concerned about what your reaction to that would be, because it was obvious that you wanted him too, but your actions showed him that you didn't want to want him. All those thoughts were consuming him, but it would have to wait for another day, he didn't think that was the right time, not at work. Maybe he could invite you for drinks and talk things through or-

"I was wondering if we could talk, too" you interrupt his thoughts "About yesterday"

If Javi wasn't a trained professional, he probably would've had his mouth opened in absolut shock. It was like you read his mind.

"Of course" you both looked around the department, the couple people remaining already preparing to leave. Still, he opened his office door and nodded for you to come in.

You were flustered, nervous even. Javi didn't know what to expect from that talk, he wished you would cave in to your needs and fuck him already, but he felt like you wouldn't be easy on him. Honestly, he couldn't read you.

The both of you stood akwardly in the middle of the room, door closed behind you. He waited patiantly for you to start talking, for you to take the lead of the conversation.

"So" you sighed "I wanted to apologise"

His face contorted in a deep frown "What for? You have nothing to apologise"

"I do, yes" you shook your head "It was completely irresponsible and unprofessional and we shouldn't have done that"

If you said you were embarressed last time, about the things you had said on the bar, Javi didn't know what you could possibly be feeling at that moment: your face was getting red, your eyes wouldn't meet his, your hands squeezed each other in your front; he kind of felt bad he was the cause of your discomfort.

"You didn't do anything by yourself"

"I jumped on you like a crazy-ass-horny woman!" over your shoulder, you look outside to see if there was anyone to witness your voice raising; there wasn't.

Javi could barely contain the smirk forcing itself upon his mouth at the memory of you riding him in that very same floor, just a few steps from where you stood. He really couldn't contain the beggining of an erection, though.

"And I loved that" you looked at him as if he was crazy for saying it "I did!" he took a few steps in your direction "And honestly, if anyone should be blamed it's me, I'm the boss, aren't I? The authority in the room or some shit like that"

The way you look at him said that you agreed, that he should be blamed too, should've had more self control, but you didn't say it and that made him smile, the way you still tried to keep your composure at work.

You sighed "Still, it wasn't right and I'm sorry"

"I'm not" he took another step towards you.

"It's not the point, sir"

"I don't think you are that sorry either" your brows raised in surprise "And fucking quit calling me 'sir' now, there's just us in here" another step.

"I'm just-" you shrugged "I'm trying to be professional, that's all"

"Baby we're a little too late for that now"

"Jesus Christ" you pinched the bridge of your nose, he could feel the frustration exhaling from you "You don't like to make things easy, do you?"

"What's the fun in that?" the joke landed flat "I have a proposal"

That got your attention "I don't think I like where this is going"

"Well, that's the thing" he took one more step "I think you do. You fucking grinded on me on this floor until we both came. You want me. What are you so afraid of?"

"You're my fucking boss!" your exasperation made him want to laugh and scream out of frustration at the same time "I like this job, I want to keep it"

"I would never put your job in risk"

"You can't be sure" it was true, Javi barely had a say in anything, but he would do anything in his power for you not to lose your job, especially because of him "And even if this" you pointed between the two of you "didn't make me lose it, it would be living hell if people found out"

"I can be discreet"

You crossed your arms "You're not taking me seriously"

"I am, I promise that I am" he really was "I just- You gave me a taste of what it would look like and now I'm starving for more" he scratched his chin, a little embarressed he let that slip out "I would do anything to have you for one night, we don't have to take work to the bedroom"

"Oh" you snorted "there's a bedroom in the scene now?"

"What?" he raised his brows "You thought I was fucking you in my office?" you went silent "You fucking did"

Javi is no romantic man, he thought about fucking you in every place possible, in the bathroom there, against the nearest wall, but when truly thinking about taking you, it would always be in a bedroom, somewhere you both would be able to take your time.

"Do you fantasize about it?" a step closer "Do you touch yourself thinking about me?" your eyes wouldn't meet his, so he carefully took your chin and angled your head until they did "Where?"

You gulped "Where what?"

"Where did you imagine?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Your desk"

"Fucking dirty woman" he smirked "I'm gonna fuck you on my desk, bebita" he took you by the waist, colliding your body to his "And on my couch" his nose traveled from your cheek to your neck "On the fucking window so eveyone can see how pretty you will look with my cock deep inside of you"

"Shit" your voice broke, breathless.

"Do you want it? Huh? To be full of my cock?" you nodded "I want words"

"Yes" you puffed.

"Yes what?"

You looked at him with a defiant look "Yes, sir"

He had to laugh "You are the worst"

His lips collided with yours with so much fierceness he was surprised they didn't start bleeding. His hands were all over your body, your breasts, your back, your ass. You pulled his hair with both hands and he moaned. Javi wanted you so bad it hurt. He decided to be bold and lifted you skirt to your waist, then placed you sitted on the edge of his desk, each of your legs on each side of his hips, pushing everything that was on your way to the floor, paying no attention to anything that wasn't you.

"I hate how you kiss me" you mumbled frustrated between kisses and he pinched his brows.

"You have a very distinct way to hate things"

"You just do it so well" your hands covered his cheeks "Makes me want to do this everyday"

Javi couldn't help but to smirk "I don't see why we can't"

"Yes, you do"

"All I see is a gorgeous woman with tasteful lips" he reached your covered mound and passed a finger through your folds, making you moan loudly ", wet lips" he smirked "telling me she wants to kiss me foverer"

You snorted "I didn't say that"

"That's what I heard"

"You are so cocky" you rolled your eyes.

"Damn right I am" Javi pressed his erection to your thigh.

"Yeah, I felt it yesterday" your hands went to unbuckle his belt, quickly reaching for his cock through his underwear and pumping him a couple of times "You're big, sir"

Javi moaned and threw his head back, enjoying the feeling, barely believing it was finally happening. You put down every piece of cloth in your way to his thighs, put your own panties to the side and started to guide him to your entrance.

"You think is gonna be that easy?" he murmured in your ear, dodging his dick to press on your clit instead, making you moan at the contact, but also groan out of frustration.

"After all this time, it should be"

"You know what I want to hear, baby" he peppered kisses on your neck while still grinding his dick from your clit to your entrance, you were so wet he knew you would have no difficulty to take him.

"Put this thing inside of me, already" you tried to move your hips to get more friction, frustration consuming you.

Even though Javi had a purpose of you to stop calling him 'sir', he could barely hold himself from sliping inside of you, so that's what he did. Your moan as he slowly made space for him inside of you will forever be in his mind. Javi cursed under his breath as your walls squeezed him and he had to take a moment to absorb the feeling. So warm, so wet, so tight, he was in heaven. But you were impatiant.

"Please, move"

"Say my name and I will"

"Why are you so attached to this?" you pinched your brows.

He did the same "Why are you so against saying it?"

You licked a stripe on his neck "To piss you off"

"That's okay" he smirked "You don't have to say it, I'm gonna make you scream it" he held your legs and roughly pushed inside expecting to hit your special place; by the way you gasped and grabbed him, he got it just right "Found it"

Javi ran his nose through your neck and your skin bristled "You're so sensitive here, aren't you, bebita?"

"I'm starting to think that you make me sensitive everywhere"

He laughed and stopped his movements again "Now that's a confession"

"What can I say?" you huffed "It seems like you make my mind go blank when you have your huge dick inside of me and won't. fucking. move"

He laughed and started to slowly take it out just to push it in again at the same speed.

"You're gonna fucking kill me" you whined "Please, faster"

"Are you needy, baby?" he licked your neck "I can feel you squeeze me. You're desperate for my cock, huh?"

"Yes"

"Yes, what?

"Yes, sir"

He increased the speed and you moaned louder "Unbelievable" his hips were reletless and he felt you getting tighter and tighter "You're almost there, aren't you, baby?" you couldn't speak, mouth half opened and nails digging into the skin of his arm "You like it rough, don't you?"

Then he stopped.

"What the fuck?" your voice is hoarsed.

"I'm fucking you slow, baby, is that a crime?" his smile was smudge

"You're evil" you whined, hips moving to find relief.

"I am evil? Who are you to talk about evil? You're fucking teasing me here, bebita. That's so wrong" he started to move slowly again "Just say my name and I'll let you cum"

You nodded your head no.

"Say it"

"No"

"Fucking say. It." he changed the angle to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you and pulled your hair until your back arched.

"Oh my God, Javi!" you screamed as you came hard on his dick, eyes closed tight, mouth opened and body tremblimg.

His name coming out of your mouth was like music to Javi's ears, and hearing it for the first time fomented something insane inside of him. He licked his thumb and pressed it hard against your clit, your eyes widened in surprise and he got a strangled sound out of your mouth as you came again, your body violently shaking under his hands.

"Oh shit, that's it, baby. You're fucking milking me. Shit, shit, shit."

His name was now floating through your lips like a hymn, and he loved to hear it.

"I'm gonna cum"

His words seemed to wake you from your trance "On my mouth"

"Shit" he steped away and out of you and one second later you were on the floor, knelt before him. You grabbed his dick with one hand, put the tip in your mouth and that's all it took for him to cum the hardest he had in his life. You sucked it, greedy until he had nothing more to give you "Let me see it, baby" he asked with a hoarsed voice, asking you to open your mouth, showing that you had swalloed it all "Fucking dirty woman"

You smirked and rested your forehead on his thigh, exausted.

"Come 'ere" he took your hand on his and got you to your feet, holding you against him by your waist "Can you walk?"

"I think I can learn how to do it again, yeah" he chuckled.

Javi lowered your skirt before sitting you on his desk again "How are you getting home?" he asked quietly as he slowly buttoned up your blouse, trying not to startle you and have you running away again.

"I'm taking a cab" you more gently than not stopped his fingers to continue the work yourself.

"Let me take you home" he fished your panties from the floor and put it in his pocked as he wore his pants again

"You don't have to"

"I know I don't. But I'm kind of worried if you will be capable to support yourself for enough time to call a cab after I fucked you this good"

You released the louder chuckle he had ever heard you give as you stood up "You're the absolute worst, Javier."

He started to get hard to the sound of his name on your lips.

"See? Perfectly stable" one of your eyebrows was raised and all he wanted to do was to kiss your attitude away.

"I guess I'll have to fuck you harder next time, then"

"I guess"

You both went quiet as you made your way out of the building and to his car, you only speaking to give him instructions to get to your place.

"There will be a next time, right?" he spoke as you left the car.

How silly of him to think that fucking you once would be enough, would make all the consuming desire go away, if something, it only made him want you more.

You took your time to look at him, as if staring directly to his soul and gave him a small smile.

"Good night, Javi"

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javi pena #javier pena narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier pena secretary #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #zaddy pedro #pedrohub #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Javi’s Playground✨

A/N: Ahhh I’ve been wanting to write a Javi one shot for a while, and I finally got the inspiration after listening to “Sex & Candy” by Marcy Playground. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me come up with a name and beta read so I didn’t chicken out and not post 😘 This is my first time writing Javi, so I’d like as much feedback as I can get 🥰 I tried my best with the Spanish translations.

Summary: Javi decides to blow off some steam at the strip club, but he doesn’t intend to attempt to take one of the dancers home with him.

Pairing: Javier Pena x fem! reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Tags: smut, flirting, Javi goes to a strip club, alcohol, smoking, unprotected p in v, oral, Narcos era, reader is a stripper, reader has long hair, switching POVs, some Spanish (translations at bottom of doc)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The glow of the amber lights swirl above his head as a crystal disco ball spins slowly, throwing its sparkly essence into the crowded strip club. This isn’t his normal place, Paradise Cove. It’s only a distraction, a secret alcove to let go of any thoughts of drug lords, innocent bloodshed, Pablo Escobar, or any traces of misery he’s been holding on to over the past treacherous year. This was a place for forgetting, relaxing the mind, indulging in mere fantasies he could only wish to grasp his torn hands around. So he’d drink, smoke, and indulge in beautiful women in peace on this lonely Friday evening. 

   The red walls are smeared with flecks of sparkles, and the atmosphere is bursting with energy and dim lighting. The cool glass of amber whiskey sits in his hand as he gulps down another swig, letting the burn coat his insides as he flicks the small lighter and lights up another Marlboro cigarette. He lets the smoke surround him, fogging his vision as he inhales the nicotine and lets it sit there dwindling around him in a blur. Just for a couple of seconds, just enough to take the edge off of his growing migraine. 

   He throws his head back and exhales, blowing the smoke out as the music changes over to a tune he knows. “Sex & Candy” by Marcy Playground starts to play from the blaring speakers, the song slowly slipping through his ears as he sits up just a little straighter in the black leather chair. 

   The crowd hollers when the next girl takes the stage, low whistles reverberating off the side mahogany tables as the volume of the music picks up. He doesn’t realize what they’re all making a fuss about until he looks up and sees you. The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Esplendida. 

   You’re so radiant, the way you strut across the stage in your crystal clear stiletto high heels as you spin in slow motion, running your fingers through your thick, long curls as you look over your shoulder and flirt with the crowd. Your legs are so long, the curve of your thighs begging to be touched as you sway your hips side to side and get lost in the song.

   And then there she was, in platform double suede. Yeah, there she was. Like disco lemonade.

   He can’t help but grip the damp glass in his hands a little too tight as he spreads his legs wide and relaxes into the plush leather, his eyes glued to you as you slide down the pole gracefully. He wets his lips as his tongue glides across his bottom lip, his cigarette burning his flared nostrils as he oogles the way you please the crowd with every single move you make across the reflective stage. 

   He watches the way you push the swell of your breasts up with your delicate hands, eyes the tiny black lingerie set that barely covers your porcelain skin, assesses the way the lacy thong skims across the curve of your hips, and nearly drowns on his sip of bubbling whiskey as you bend down and show off the thick globes of your ass. 

   Javi sets the half empty glass of alcohol down beside him on the little sturdy table and grabs his denim clad knee as he sinks his nails into the fabric, trying to hold himself together as he listens to the track play through the massive club, watching the way you keep turning and finding his searing gaze. 

   I smell sex and candy here. Who’s that lounging in my chair? Who’s that casting devious stares in my direction? Mama, this surely is a dream. 

   His brown eyes blow wide every time you turn and wink his way, casually flirting as you flip your hair and bite your lower lip, sending him spiraling as he feels the blood rush to his cock in his tight jeans, feeling just how hard he is now as his thick cock presses into the metal of the zipper. It’s like you know what you’re doing, sparkling eyes penetrating his gaze as you flirtatiously bat your long mascara coated eyelashes and eye fuck him from the glowing stage, making sure he’s getting exactly what he came her for. To feel good, to indulge in his fantasies, to make him think you want him. But customers don’t get to take strippers home. That’s not how this business works, not how it’s supposed to run, unless… 

   You slide slowly down the metal pole, ending up on the floor of the lit up stage as you spread your legs wide and tease him just a little as you play with the straps of your panties and press your heels into the floor, giving him a view that just about takes him out. He leans his elbows against his knees, rakes a hand through his thick mustache as he groans into the palm of his hand while sweat sticks to his tanned forehead. 

   He loves the view that’s on display, loves the outline of your pussy as he swears he can see wetness pooling there in between your legs while you sit there and tease him with the biggest smirk on your face he’s ever seen in his life. Those red, plump lips, those glistening thighs that deserve to be kissed, that pulsing core that begs to be lapped up. He can see it now, you splayed out on his bed while he fucks you deep, bottoming out as you scream his name, claw at his tanned skin as you beg for more. He’d take care of you. God he would. And fuck does he want to. Gravemente. 

   He can feel the precum sliding against his thick length, can feel just how badly he wants to palm himself through his tight denim as he watches you fall apart on the stage before him. At this point he has no restraint, can barely sit here and watch as you start to crawl on your hands and knees toward him, hypnotizing eyes that lock on his as he leans forward and unfastens the black tie that clings to his button-up white collared shirt. 

   His eyebrows furrow, lips parting unbelievably as you curl your finger and beckon him to come to the side of the stage, your gaze flicking over his figure as he prays you don’t see the erection that’s begging for some kind of release that’d involve hands, or maybe a mouth, a warm tongue…

   He takes another drag of the sweet nicotine and pushes himself out of the leather chair, slowly trudging up to you as he lets his eyes trail generously over your perfect body. When he finally makes it over to the end of the glossy stage, he sees just how beautiful your eyes really are, eyes that were just eye fucking him seconds ago, eyes he’d love to gaze into while he cants his hips against yours roughly. Eyes he could lost in, swim in.

   You smirk his way, letting your hands run through your tousled curls as you flutter thick eyelashes up at him. He digs into the pit of his denim pocket and pulls out a crisp twenty dollar bill as he cautiously slides it inside the lace of your push-up bra, his fingertips grazing the edge of one of your perky breasts as he groans in response. Your skin is so soft, he thinks what you have underneath the lace will be even softer, divine, delicious. 

   You bite your bottom lip flirtatiously and play with the end of his loose tie, letting the silk slip through your fingertips as he watches in a blissed out daze. You could’ve chosen anyone to target, could’ve had attention from any of the sleazy men in this nightclub, but you chose him. The one with the flecks of honey eyes, the one that couldn’t keep his eyes off you for one second, the handsome stranger who must’ve been new to this place. 

   “You new here?” you ask curiously as you eye his stance, watching the way his eyes seem to light with burning fire every time he even dares to look your way. 

   “Been here once or twice before, but this is the first time I’m seeing you, hermosa.” He lets his dark eyes slide down your body, a smirk curling across his plush lips as he leans in closer, until you can smell the tinge of nicotine lacing through his taste buds. “You sure look good up on that stage, amar. Prettiest thing I’ve seen in a city like San Francisco.”

   “Oh? You like what you see?” you blush as you hang your legs off the end of the stage, just enough to brush his thighs as you feel how strong they are. 

   “Oh, I like what I see alright. Follando perfecta.”

   You feel your cheeks burn bright red, feel your thighs clench up as you see how thick his fingers are, how dark and ravenous his eyes look, how hard he is underneath the fabric of his tight jeans. You don’t ever get this wound up about customers, but something about well dressed, smoldering men makes you want to lose all dignity and throw yourself at him. He must be so good in bed. With the way he’s staring at you, all hot and bothered, he may as well just carry you out of this club. Even if it’s technically against the rules. 

   “What’s your name, handsome?” you ask as you brush your heels against the side of his ankles and watch him tense up under your touch. 

   “Javier. Just call me Javi for short, though. And yours, hermosa?” You tell him your name, your real name, not your stripper name, even if that’s against the rules, too. You clearly don’t care about any fucking rules at this point. 

   “Ahh, that’s a gorgeous name. Telling me your real name, yeah? Aren’t you a little rule breaker,” he teases as he cocks up a thick eyebrow and slides his thumb over his lips as he brushes against his thick mustache. You wonder what it’d feel like with his mouth covering your core, his mustache brushing over your swollen clit as he licks and licks until you come apart on his large tongue. 

   You pull yourself out of ridiculous wet fantasies and watch the smoke fall off his tongue. “I live to break rules,” you tease as you pull him closer, catching the end of his black tie as he’s so close now that you can see the embers of brown flecks scatter across his dark eyes. He’s so handsome, you think you want to go home with him. 

   “That right, hermosa?” he asks as he takes another long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke away from your face as that smug smirk still encases his playful teasing. 

   “That’s right,” you giggle as you gently curl your fingers over the wrist that holds the burning cigarette. 

   He watches you carefully, eyes full of trouble as he puffs out a breath and fills your nostrils with the stench of whiskey and nicotine. “What do you say, hermosa? Wanna take a tour of my bedroom tonight?”

   You carefully snag his lit cigarette from his outstretched hand and slide it in between your crimson lips, taking a slow drag of the cigarette as he watches you with dark, wide eyes and parted lips that shine with the gleam of amber colored whiskey. You gently blow out the smoke in his face and lean forward as you wrap your manicured fingers around his loosened tie. “You can give me money, yes, but what else? I have plenty of money. What is it that you want, handsome?”

   He grabs the cigarette from your open hand and takes a whiff of the nicotine, letting it blow right back into your face as you smell whiskey, smoke, and trouble fill your lungs.

   “Te deseo…” He says it slowly, meticulously like it’s the most sensual thing he’s ever said to a woman before. You don’t know what it means, but it damn sure sounds like you need to say yes. 

   Your eyebrows raise as you smile wide his way. “I don’t speak Spanish, handsome. But I think I want to say yes. Wanna indulge me in what exactly it is you want?”

   He takes another slow drag of his cigarette as he smirks your way. “I want you, hermosa. In my bed, underneath my body, so I can fuck you fast and hard. Wanna rip off that lace and devour your sweet pussy until I have you coming apart on my tongue. Wanna make love to the beauty that stole my heart away tonight.”

   Your breath hitches as you gasp out of breath, not realizing you clutched onto his leather belt and clenched your sticky thighs together as slick pools warmly in your lace. You should’ve known he was a handsome menace the first moment you saw him sitting there with his glass of cold whiskey and lit up cigarette. You should’ve fucking guessed. 

   His body is now too close to yours, chest pressed against yours as you stand shakily off the stage and feel just how bad he wants you through the fabric of his tight jeans. You can see that way his dark eyes flick over yours, feel the heavy breaths coming from his broad chest, smell the stench of trouble and nicotine lacing around your wrists as he slowly grabs a strand of hair and whispers your name into the shell of your ear. 

   It’s almost too much, almost enough to get you fired right on the spot until the music suddenly changes to a Rhianna song, signaling it was time for the next dancer to come out. You abruptly pull away from him as you feel the tension sit thick in the air, almost like a fog takes over and you can’t see anything clearly anymore. 

   It’s your time to go, to mingle with other clients, and he knows that, you can see it in the understanding of those big chocolate eyes that stare adamantly at you. You give him a flirtatious wave and brush up against his large arm as you whisper up to him, “I get off in an hour. Meet me in the back.”

   He watches you saunter off, half smiling as he realizes he got the girl. He never misses, almost never gets turned down, but this one he might want to see again. He can already tell he’ll want you to stick around, maybe even make you his. Maybe he won’t have to walk this lonely, overbearing life alone anymore. Maybe…. just maybe you’ll stay. Maybe he’ll let you stay. Maybe for a night, a month, a year, forever. 

   The smell of sweat covered bodies, vanilla scents of sensual movements and whiskey clad tongues fill the room as you move at a slow, passionate pace. His meaty hands and smooth tongue are everywhere, sliding down your neck, pulling your pebbled nipples into his warm mouth, and lapping thoroughly at the slick between your sticky thighs. 

   Your moans come in sync. Elated, deafening, ravenous every time he licks a thick stripe over your dripping core. He groans each time you rake your fingers through his mess of dark locks, your pleasurable moans filling the room every time he pulls your puffy clit into his mouth as his thick fingers curl up into the spongy walls that make you see blinding stars in your vision. He doesn’t stop even after the first time you come for him, spilling all your pent up slick as he laps up every single drop between your thighs. 

   He pulls out another mind blowing orgasm with his experienced tongue alone, and he doesn’t even give you a minute to breathe before he’s splitting you in two with the slick cock that fills you to the brim, bottoming out in you time and time again until you feel him everywhere in your system, like the nicotine and whiskey that fill his lungs night after lonely night. He licks into your mouth, his smooth tongue dancing along with yours until you can’t taste anything but the tang of neat whiskey and toxic nicotine that bleed into your bloodstream, tasting like sweet addiction and danger, a lover in disguise. 

   You’re already close again, almost spilling yourself around his thick cock as he bends your knees back and folds you like an acrobatic so you can feel him deep, rough every single time he snaps his hips against yours and buries his face into your neck with furrowed eyebrows as he sucks and bites against the base of your neck. 

   “Come for me again, hermosa. There you go, such a good fucking girl. Let me feel you again. Squeezing so tight around my fucking cock,” he growls as he guides his thumb down to your clit and starts to circle nice and slow, the pressure building in your spine as you start to let go. 

   “Javi,” you moan as you scratch your long nails down his bare back, clawing at his tanned skin every time he guides his slick cocks inside you, reaching that spongy spot that makes you plead and moan with every thrust of his hips. 

   “Attagirl, hermosa. Tan encantadora,” he pants as sweat covers his glistening forehead. Once, twice, three more tight circles on your bundle of nerves and you’re squeezing his cock, spilling yourself all over him as you moan loudly into his ear as he comes seconds after, throwing his head back as he groans with pleasure as thick ropes of white come paint your insides. 

   He topples over next to you in the damp, twisted sheets and pulls you against his broad chest while his free hand lights a cigarette up while he gets lost in the thick cloud of nicotine and musty sex. While he sucks on the addictive stick of nicotine, his dark eyes wade over you as his lips graze warmly over your sweat covered forehead. 

   “Did so good for me, hermosa. You wanna stay the night? I can get you all cleaned up in the morning, and we can go for breakfast. Maybe eat you out on the kitchen counter while I make you coffee. What do you say, hermosa?”

   You shift closer against his side, sliding your fingers over his glistening chest as his deep breaths fill the void in the spacious room. You flick your eyes up to him and study him, watching the way he inhales smoke and stares warmly down your way, like he’s in a lucid dream just watching the girl of his dreams. “You mean like… you want to keep seeing me? This wasn’t a one time thing?”

   His jaw goes slack as his lips parts open, putting the burning cigarette out on the pale blue ash tray on the edge of his mahogany nightstand. “That’s right, hermosa. A sweet, beautiful, gorgeous girl like you deserves more, and I want to give you that. If you’ll let me.”

   You take in his offer, your fingers threading through his as you crawl over him and graze your swollen red lips against his. “Okay then, Javi. Show me your world.”

   He cups the back of your neck and brings you down to his lips as he slots his tongue between your lipstick smeared lips, pulling you deep into him as you taste every shade of red he can paint you, coating you in desire you’ve only ever dreamed of. 

   He tasted like sex and candy, and you were just getting started. 

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging or commenting or leaving me asks 🩷

Spanish Translations:

Hermosa - beautiful

Esplendida - gorgeous

Gravemente - badly

Follando perfecta - fucking perfect

Tan Encantadora - so lovely

Tags: @keylimebeag @sawymredfox @littlevenicebitch69 @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape

@vivian-pascal @msjarvis @amyispxnk @jasminedragoon @burntheedges

@akah565 @princesatracionera @rav3n-pascal22 @604to647 @pedrostories

@syd-djarin @tuquoquebrute @r3dheadedwitch

#Javier Pena #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena one shot #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #Javier Pena Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #javier peña #javier pena fic

[josephquinnswhore]

Hello

I’ve had this idea for a while :}

What if reader and Pedro had a la la land moment when they break up and then reunir two years later at an awards show and realize they still have feelings for each other

Like right person wrong time :>

Finding Our Way Back

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female reader.

Summary: you and Pedro rekindle your relationship after seeing him at an award show, it’s been two years since you’ve separated and he looks better than ever.

Word Count: 3.7k

Content Warning: allusions to reader that worked in a shit workplace, fluff.

Note: thanks so much for requesting. Thought I’d do the MTV awards since he’s nominated and I’ve already written about Pedro at the Oscars! I hope you love it 🫶🏼

As an interviewer for Vanity Fair, you knew it was highly likely that you’d run into your ex boyfriend, Pedro Pascal at the MTV awards as he was nominated with Bella Ramsay in the category “best duo,” after his latest role as Joel Miller. Although things had ended amicably on both ends, it had been two years ago since you split; your maturity, respect and the love you still had for him played a part in that clean break. You wanted to beg for him to stay with you, to try and make things work; but he was having a big breakthrough in his career and you couldn’t be selfish with him, after decades of his hard work to get to where he is now, so you let go. After years of smaller roles, despite you reassuring him he was incredible in all roles he played, he knew this one would change his life, working on a project with his idol Nick Cage.

Funnily enough, being in this situation was how you met. You standing at an event in a dress that was too tight and itchy on your skin, waiting to interview the nominees for this award show. Although all those years ago you didn’t work for such a well known, respected company as VF.

You worked for a small company called For You Entertainment, they were working their way up the ladder attending small events with D-List celebrities when your producer thankfully got you a breakthrough, an interview with the cast of Narcos at the end of season 2 premiere. You were nervous and fidgeting with your lilac sequin dress that was so tight you were cursing your stylist internally for making you wear clothing that was a size too small for your waist. Your lungs felt heavy as they couldn’t inhale fully, the feeling of being claustrophobic in your own skin was dizzying, along with the sweatiness of your hands and the bright light from your film crew, it was all too much. A staff member from the event, led Pedro to you and you knew you were screwed, the knowing look in those chocolate brown eyes, he knew how anxious you were feeling, he read you instantly. Your co-workers were ready to begin filming when Pedro held his hand up, signalling for the men to stop momentarily, and they did.

“Hey, I’m Pedro. It’s so nice to meet you…”

His hand meets your own as you introduce yourself, he catches the wobble in your voice as your confidence plummets to the ground beneath your heels. He offers a kind smile and you’re enamoured by how kind he’s being, how gentle and attentive he is; he was doing whatever he could to make you comfortable.

“Are you okay?”

You let out a shaky breath and huff out a small laugh,

“this is my first ever interview with like, a real celebrity and you’re my celebrity crush. Plus this dress is a size too small which they picked on purpose, something about making my boobs perkier.”

The speed at which your mouth rambles leaves your brain unable to comprehend the words that leave them for a few seconds, the moment you register what you say your eyes are wide and Pedro is laughing sweetly.

“It’s a pleasure to be here with you, don’t be nervous, I think you look stunning. You can do this, I’m here to help you make things go smoothly! Shall we?”

How wrong he was, he wasn’t just like any other guy, that’s what drew you in, he sucked you into his orbit, the gravity holding you down to him. Alas, you agree to start the interview. Your nerves somewhat shaken and cheeks a deep shade of red, along with a tingle of heat on your face you’d never experienced prior to Pedro’s flattery.

“Let’s do this.”

You bare a shy grin and give the camera man a thumbs up as they prepare to start the interview.

There was nothing wrong with your relationship with Pedro. It had just seemed like the relationship had run it’s course through the years. You were studying and working full time, 60 hours a week you were in a chokehold of being underpaid and overworked, being younger, new to the industry and vulnerable, you let your boss expose you to the cruelty of the profession when you had several employees that treated you like a doormat. Pedro had always insisted he hated how much you worked for them; how terribly they treated you and crushed your potential within months, that you could achieve more.

Pedro has just gotten a main role in “the unbearable weight of massive talent” when things fell apart, he was incredibly hard working and committed to his work life, the man that was practically married to his career left you in a position of what felt like roommates more than actual lovers. The conversation was hard and you almost didn’t go through with it; you knew you’d regret it but it was necessary, you couldn’t live like this anymore. You missed the intimacy and the connection, feeling like you were in a loveless relationship even though you loved him endlessly.

He had gotten home from a long day of filming, body slumped as he walked through the door, hours and hours on end of filming had him exhausted, he was surprised to see you sitting on the couch with the light and tv on when he walked through the front door.

“Hey, you’re up?”

The confusion in his voice was evident and you inhaled a shaky breath, turning to face him, you nearly backed out of your plan like a coward. Instead you invite him to sit next to you.

“Yeah, we need to talk, will you come sit?”

Pedro’s thick eyebrows are pinched in a frown, looking his age when the wrinkles in his face become evident. The lounge dips as he sits next to you, his large hand on your knee as his brown eyes watch you.

“Is everything okay?”

His voice is cautious and you just exhale, not questioning your own judgment.

“I think it would be in both our favours if we part ways, I’d prefer if we could do this amicably and still be friends afterwards. There’s no connection or intimacy anymore, we’re both too busy. Maybe if,” you sigh loudly unable to find the courage to finish the sentence. Luckily, Pedro knows what you’re thinking.

“If we were at a different stage in life, right?”

He finishes the thought in your head and you nod, fat tears falling down your face, his arms are quick to pull you into a hug, your head rests on his shoulder and he kisses the back of your head.

“I still love you, maybe things will work out for us one day, hm?”

You chuckle, the noise wet as you choke back your tears, “that would be a dream wouldn’t it?”

Having worked for Vanity Fair for the past 12 months, you had met some well known A-list celebrities, some in which would be here tonight at the mtv awards, some people attending not as well known but still nonetheless attending and perfectly deserving of your attention. Your black cocktail dress hugged your figure perfectly, hair pulled upward and styled neatly. Your faces natural beauty was accentuated by the light make up that had been carefully applied by the companies make up artist. The shades of pink and gold on your eyelids were glistening in the lights that shone a bright white overhead as you stood in the middle of the walkway right before the entry to the building where the awards were being held.

Your manager had warned you sympathetically that Pedro was one person you’d be interviewing, it didn’t take much reassuring on your behalf to assure her that although and and Pedro hadn’t really spoken since you broke up; besides the yearly birthday messages and him liking your Instagram posts, that things were okay between you and you were happy to interview him.

When you see him, he’s looking as handsome as ever. His brown hair had a few greying strands on the side of his head near his temples. The purple suit he wears clings to his body and he wears it with finesse, the grapefruit colour makes his skin look its glowing in a golden light, the suit hangs off his broad shoulders with no room to spare. A small heart-shaped patch in his black and grey beard was still failing to fill with hair on the left side of his face. He smiles so widely when he sees you, quickening his casual pace to a speed walk to bump his body into yours, wrapping his strong arms around you to pull you into a hug, his big muscles bulging against your dress-clad skin. You accept the hug and pull him into you, squeezing him as your arms wrap around the back of his neck, the cologne he wears compliments the natural musk of him that you recognise and miss so dearly.

You fight the urge to look at his plump lips a second time, the shade of pink whispered sweet words to draw you into him like a hypnotist, threatening you to kiss him against your will. He pulls back and stands tall next to you, he towers over you, even in your 3 inch heels.

“Pedro Pascal, what a warm welcome. Thank you so much for joining us this evening.” You greet warmly, holding the microphone between the small gap between your bodies, he misses the redness on your cheeks as he grins so widely his dimple exposes itself.

“Thank you for having me, it’s so great to be here, and it’s so great to see you, look at you, you’re looking stunning this evening.” He stands a little too close to you than he does anyone else that’s trying to get an interview from him, his fondness of you showing through the camera that records you.

“You always were a charmer weren’t you. This suit is incredible, you’re looking dapper tonight.” Your free hand that isn’t holding the mic gently runs a hand down his suit, keeping your hand on his chest, getting a feel for the material. You grin at the redness of his cheeks before getting to what the fans really want.

“Now, there is something your fans are begging me to address. As the self proclaimed biggest daddy on the internet, are your fans all your children?” Pedro laughs, the sound is ringing in your ears like the most delightful song you’ve ever heard. He takes the microphone from you and turns to the camera, “yes, you are all my children. I will warn you, grogu may get a little jealous.”

“That’s so sweet, why do you think you chose these roles that have you as basically a father figure?” You muse, eyes batting unintentionally as you’re drawn into his charming character. “I mean, truthfully I would love to have kids someday. Since that’s not an option right now I’m opting for the role of playing dad.” Your heart starts racing, both in awe and disappointment, knowing you would never be the one to bare his children, as his girlfriend or wife, you had missed your opportunity years ago.

“Now we do have a question that a lot of people are begging us to ask you and who are we to deny them?Does Joel Miller in the tv series meet the same fate as the game?” Pedro bares his teeth in a grimace and looks directly into the camera. “It’s going to be almost exactly the same, sorry kids.” He shrugs casually before turning back to you.

“Well Pedro it’s been such a delight to talk with you this evening, we’re wishing you and Bella the best to win an award, have a wonderful evening!” Pedros hands cross in front of his torso, fumbling with the silver ring that sits on his pinky. “Of course it’s amazing to see you. Thank you, have a great night.” He waves to you sweetly as he walks off with a staff member that’s leading him into the building. You stop filming and let out a big sigh.

“How are you feeling?” Your cameraman Andrew asks, “I’m okay, just feels like an open wound still, I guess.” He offers a sympathetic smile, “you did great. That was an awesome interview, everyone’s going to love it. Your chemistry is off the charts.”

You silently agree. The chemistry was still there, maybe you should just, text him later as a “it was so good to see you” curtesy text. Regardless of how terrible he was at texting, it would show you made an effort.

It’s been hours since you saw and spoke to Pedro, his image ingrained in your brain every time you close your eyes, where you’re normally met with blackness this night you’re met with his smile, the smell of his natural musk, the scent of his cologne lingered on your own skin as if he lie next to you. The heaviness of his hands as he hugged you felt as if he was still touching you, it made you restless. You were struggling to sleep even when the streets below your apartment began turning off their lights, one by one you seemed to be the only one wide awake in the neighbourhood.

11:28pm. After changing your mind about half a dozen times on what to write, you settle on something kind and friendly, and you send the text: “it was so good to see you tonight, you look great.”

To your surprise it’s barely a minute before he replies: “it was such a pleasure to see you, can I ask you something?”

Your heart is racing as you can barely think about what he could possibly ask, you assure him: “of course, anything.”

The bubble comes up as if he’s typing, then disappears. You grown as you watch him type and delete this message before it finally comes through after a few minutes: “going to bed anytime soon?”

You raise an eyebrow to yourself and whisper, “seriously that’s what took you so long?” And reply to him: “nope, wide awake.”

“Want some company? I can bring coffee.” You rub your eyes in disbelief, wondering if this is real or an illusion.

“Please do. You know how I like it.” You send through your address as you’ve moved to a newer and slightly bigger apartment in the last year. “Be there soon.” He replies without a moments notice.

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself as you rush to the bathroom, attempting to make yourself look presentable, brushing your hair down neatly before braiding it, smoothing out your pyjamas and turning on some lights in the living room as you turn on the tv to Disney Plus turning on Moana as you attempt to sit comfortably.

There’s a soft knock at the door and you get an alert on your phone that someone’s outside, you check your phone, seeing Pedro standing in black pants, a white shirt and a large black trench-coat, a cardboard cup holder in hand with two Starbucks coffees occupying the space. You smooth out your pyjamas once again and unlock the two locks to your front door, feeling winded as you see your ex boyfriend standing there looking as beautiful as ever with a shy smile on his face.

You open the door and step to the side, “please, come in.” He shudders slightly from the breeze that drafts in from outside, your house abnormally warm and the feeling is welcome on his cold skin. “You have a nice place here. How long ago did you move in?” You take the coffees and sit them down in the cup holders in your lounge as he takes off his trench-coat, the atmosphere too warm for the accessory. “Coming up 12 months now. Right after I started working for Vanity Fair.”

You gesture for Pedro to sit on the lounge after he hands his coat on the coat hanger by the door, he keeps a respectable space between you, unlike earlier in the evening where he stood entirely too close. “Moana always was your favourite.” Pedro muses to himself. “Somethings never change.” You reply with a shrug, the statement having a double meaning behind it.

“Yeah, I guess. What’s new in your life anyway. Other than work and all the formalities?” He questions, the hopeful look in his eye beams as you sink comfortably into the grey couch, “nothing really, I’m quite boring these days. The same girl you know.” You sip your coffee and hum in contentment, missing the way Pedro whispered “and love.” After your statement, “thanks so much for the coffee, it’s perfect. It’s any wonder you still remember,” you admit.

“How could I forget my girls coffee order?” Pedro freezes, realisation of what he said sinks in. “I mean, I meant- I didn’t..” he stutters and you rest your hand on his, trying to diffuse his panicked state. “It’s okay, I’ve missed you you know. Seeing you tonight made me realise how much I never got over you.” The admission has both of your skin burning with desire and slight embarrassment. “You feel that way?” His voice is sweet, you wish he would just talk to you all night, you’d simply sit and listen.

“Of course I do. I’ve always loved you Pedro.” Just like that the bomb has dropped, the elephant in the room is too large and suffocating to ignore, you still love him, years later you still love him.

“I’ve been needing to hear that for such a long time. I love you, I was a fool to let you go,” you lean into the warmth of Pedro’s hand as he caresses your face, your heart rate spiking at his touch and confession. “We can always just.. pick up where we left off,” you offer sweetly. Pedro’s eyes raise at your offer, the ball was in his court and he was going to take it. Without another word he pulls you into him, your lips smashing into his, moulding together like two unique puzzle pieces that were made for each other.

You part your lips and grant him access to deepen the kiss, years of unspoken love and missing each other all came to surface with this kiss. When you pull apart you’re both heaving, foreheads pressed together you stare into his chocolate orbs. “Please be mine. I don’t think I could go another day knowing you’re not mine.” You exhale a shaky breath, the taste of him still on your lips, “I was always yours Pedro. We just had to find out way back.” Pedro’s thumb strokes your cheek and let’s put a small laugh, almost in relief. “I’m grateful we did. Everything feels right again.”

You nod as you silently agree with him, the hole left empty now felt overfilled, you knew your cup would never be empty again with Pedro by your side again, “stay the night.” Your nose grazes his cheek as you whisper. He pulls you into his lap, strong arms holding you in place as he kisses your shoulder. “When have I ever been able to say no to you?”

“I’ll teach you how to stop being such a people pleaser one day you know.” You jest lightly. “As long as I have you, none of that even matters, baby.” You turn to kiss him, the intoxicating sweetness of his lips is almost impossible to pull away from. “You’ll always have me. Promise.” A few moments of silence pass before you ask, “did you win the award?” Pedro hums before he realises what you’ve said, pulling his eyes away from the tv, “yeah we did, Bella was stoked, it was such a big moment for them.” You lean into his chest, smiling in content with how perfectly things were falling into place.

#Pedro pascal #mtv awards #Pedro pascal as Joel miller #Pedro pascal x you #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal x fem reader #Pedro pascal rpf #Pedro pascal x ex girlfriend #right person wrong time #Pedro pascal x interviewer reader

[babydin]

Sex (With My Ex) 

Wrong place at the wrong time might've cost Javier his relationship with you, but he's as smooth as he is handsome and it isn't long until you fall back into old habits. He's a drug and you're addicted. - Javier Pena x f!reader - 18+, minors DNI! - Song inspo: Sex (With My Ex) - FLETCHER - References to cheating, alcohol, fingering, dirty talk, cursing, vaginal doggy style, light choking, biting, references to bruises - 1865 words -Comments/likes appreciated - A/N: There is Spanish in this and I am not a native Spanish speaker, it is something I am learning so please forgive me if my grammar or anything is incorrect! I'm still making my way through Narcos so I'm sorry if I don't have his voice 🥺 Also I figured out how to post this without splitting it or linking it yay me! 

I just had sex with my ex in a New York apartment.

“Do you want to come in?”   It’s been almost a month since you caught Javier with another woman’s tongue down his throat, it didn’t surprise you and you almost felt like you should’ve seen it coming. He had been spending more time on his case than he had with you, more time with his informants than he had at home, of course it was inevitable that she was getting to see him at his best and his worst, get take out with him, kiss him goodnight, suck his dick when he got praise from the boss. He told you that it was just a kiss, and it was just the one time but he came home to you and slipped into bed and turned his back to you most nights and it was that that made it hard for you to believe him.   You don’t know why you said yes, maybe it was those big dumb Bambi eyes he was giving you, or the way he smelled of lager and cigarettes, but you step into Javier’s apartment and give him a cold look as you brush past him and stares down at the ground like he knows he deserves it. You have a box of things he’d left at your apartment, and you drop it carelessly on the couch. It’s mostly clothes, a few tapes, a mug he bought you from a vacation to Cape Town last year. It had a crudely drawn pair of tits on it, you never did understand his reason for buying it for you but every time you drank from it you remembered spending an entire afternoon getting fucked by him under a mango tree. You both got sunburn. Javier comes to you with a glass of something over ice. It looks and smells like tequila, you don’t want it but you take it to be polite. “You look nice.” “What do you want?” You knew you looked nice. You had purposefully worn a skirt that showed off as much as your legs as you could get away with without getting a public indecency charge on you, and a shirt that accentuated the curves of your torso in a way that wasn’t so obviously trying to, but did anyway. Your hair was tied back, exposing your neck because Javi was a biter. “Babygirl, let me explain. Will you let me?” He looks pathetic; it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. He’s full of apology, he’s full of regret, his eyes are wet, and maybe he’s terrified of losing you. You shoot the tequila in one gulp and set the crystal tumbler on the side table then take off your jacket and lean back against the back of the couch and raise your eyebrows, indicating to him to go on.  “I swear to you, it was one kiss. Once. She came onto me–” You scoff. “I know. I know that’s such a bullshit excuse but it’s the truth. Her mouth had been on mine for half a second before you showed up. I would never break your heart like that, mi vida.” He moves closer to you, “Come on.” You could’ve melted into him right there, his soft sultry tones and those puppy dog eyes, the smell of tobacco smoke burning in your nose, the shot of tequila burning in your veins. “No, Javi. You can’t just – You can’t just sweet talk me in Spanish and expect me to just forgive you. You really fucking hurt me, you pig.” Javier pouted,  “Soy un cerdo. Un cerdo podrido. Un cerdo muy apenado y podrido.” He reaches up and touches your cheek with his thumb, “Lo siento mucho.” It turned out he could just sweet talk you in Spanish and you would forgive him. The second that apology left his lips you grabbed the collar of his shirt in both your hands and pulled him into a heated kiss, surprised at how much you had missed the taste of stale cigarettes and beer. He pushed into you and forced you to sit on the edge of the couch, your legs wrapped around him and his jeans were so tight you could feel the outline of his cock against you, he wasn’t hard but he would be soon. That feeling alone was enough to get a pool of arousal forming in your panties. Your hips rut against him, desperate for some friction at your core as pressure builds. You haven’t had anyone inside you since Javier, you aren’t sure if anyone else can compare.   He feels your pleading movements and slips his hand between the two of you, it finds a home up your skirt and into your panties, the warm slick welcome he gets makes him moan into your mouth. You pull away slightly to unbutton his shirt, “¿Se besó como yo?” you ask, with the little Spanish he has taught you, you hope it’s intelligible. He spares you the struggle of having to translate, although hearing you speak in Spanish leaves his knees weak, and answers you in breathless English, thick fingers massaging your sex, “Gatita, nobody kisses like you.” You moan desperately and try to buck against his hand, needing more of him, all of him. You pull his shirt out of his jeans and make quick work of unbuckling those. Your trembling fingers are clumsy on the fastenings, but you can feel the ghost of his length as stiff as a board and pushing awkwardly against the already tight denim. “You’re so wet, kitten. You miss me?” “Fuck me.” You’re not above begging him. He doesn’t even have to ask you to, it comes so easily; the way he gets you so riled up so quickly, skilled fingers stroking your clit with ease as you coat them with your arousal, his softly toned chest heaving as he struggled to keep his breathing at a steady pace, of course you had missed him. You needed him. Nobody in the world had ever fucked you as good as Javier Peña.  “Please, Javi.” you get his jeans open and pull them down just enough to reach inside and pull out his thick cock, hard and twitching in your hand. He doesn’t give you any time to pleasure him though, he rips you off the couch and his hand pulls your panties down in one swift move, so fast you barely have time to register what happened, but as your underwear drops to your ankles you step out of it so you can spread your legs as wide as he needs them. Javi turns you around and pushes you back over the couch, his knee pushes between your thighs to nudge your knees apart and he guides his cock between your soaked labia, coating himself in your arousal, and you moan as you feel yourself around him. You suddenly wonder how it would feel to ride him like that, his stiff cock pressed against his stomach under your weight as you rub your clit on his shaft until cum oozes out of him. Your thoughts are disturbed when Javier presses his tip inside you, your sex is aching for him, already pulsating around him, welcoming him in, trying to pull him deeper as he stretches you with his girth. He doesn’t ease in tonight, he fucks his way in, each thrust has him entering you deeper until you have all of him, his hands on your hips pulling you into him and you know you’re going to bruise from the brute force of his pelvis smacking into yours but you will wear those bruises proudly. His fist twists in your ponytail and he pulls you up off the couch a little, leaning down to meet you. That was another good reason to wear your hair up, you thought. Built arms wrap around you, the one hand finding your clit again to rub rapid circles over it as the other holds your throat. You moan loudly without a care for any of the adjacent apartments. Javier’s teeth find your neck, just behind your ear, they sink in and they suck hard and he claims you as his own. You hear him grunting, feel the heat from his breath and the sweat from his brow, and it drives you insane. “Javi—” you gasp desperately, “Javi, ba–baby I’m—” You don’t need to finish your sentence, and he knew exactly what you were going to say. He fucked you harder, so hard it made your teeth rattle, his fingers launching a relentless attack on your clit, as if he was trying to start a goddamn fire down there. You couldn’t hold onto your orgasm anymore at this rate, and you mistakenly turned your head and looked at him, his face all twisted with concentration, tan skin flushed with a fire burning within him, glistening with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. Each forward thrust of his hips forced a moan from you until you came hard. Both of your hands wrapped around his to stop him from rubbing you any more, and your thighs clamped together as the muscles of your sex ebbed and flowed around his cock, you moaned from deep within your throat and could not believe how sensitive you were. Despite your reaction, Javier did not stop pounding into you, fucking you through your orgasm and when you were coming down he took both your hips in his hands and continued, pulling you into him as he fucked you. You had barely time to recover from your first orgasm and you felt a second brewing already, your knees were weak and you gripped onto the couch for stability.   Javier’s teeth sank into your shoulder and his hand once again found your throat. “You got me so fuckin’ pussydrunk, kitten.” he purred into your ear, his breath heavy as he struggled to catch it between his harsh thrusts. Your eyes roll back into your head and you reach back to grab at his hair desperately, pushing back against him as your second orgasm washes over you so quickly. It’s so intense that your mouth falls open but no sound comes out, the walls of your core clamp down on Javier and claim him and it doesn’t take him long before his calculated thrusts become messy, then few and far between, and then completely still as he spills his orgasm deep inside you. His voice went up an octave as he released his thankful moans into your neck. The feeling of him filling you up made you find your voice, a strangled gasp filling the air as you tugged on his hair and forced him closer into your neck. Javier’s grip loosened on your body, his touch turned suddenly so tender but still he held you close, feeling your body trembling. “Missed you.” he whispered against the shell of your ear. You smile lethargically and try to steady your racing heart that seems to beat only his name Javier. Javier. “You’re amazing Javi.” You tell him. “Stay. Please?” You think for a second and then nod; how could you possibly say no? Nobody in the world is ever going to love you like Javier Peña.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier pena fluff #javier pena one shot #javier pena fanfiction #( javier pena: babydin )

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Your stories where Bill Kaulitz is readers dad feed me ngl. Could you do one with a teenage fem!reader who doesn't sleep? Like she tries to but physically can't and so she just silently wanders the house at night like a freaking ghost. Like he could go in the kitchen at some ungodly hour for a midnight snack and when he turns on the light she's just standing there making a full on meal? Idk bro it came to me and now it's stuck in my head 😭

(Why is this so me coded 😭)

Late Night Cook

Once again, you will be the death of your father

He is trying to hard to get you on a schedule

He has been trying ever since he had you, which was probably fairly young considering he's 33 and you're a teen

But even he was young back then so he didn't have the best sleeping schedule

Most of the time you guys would crash out of sleep exhaustion together

Not even willingly, one second you were up and the next passed out

Usually when you were younger it helped to sleep with your dad

But as you grew up that stopped

Made him sad but it's life

But even then your sleep was still non existent

Which he also noticed when you were younger

It took everything to get you to sleep and then some

He has tried everything to melatonin to narcos and nothing seemed to work

Mainly he lets you be and trusts you to know yourself and get as much sleep as your body would let you

But now he is used to hearing you up at all hours of the night or walking around and just seeing you standing there wide awake

He most definitely put you in online schooling so you could have your own time and school schedule

He an you felt it was best for now

When he wakes up in the middle of the night sometimes you could be so quiet and so loud

This time you were quiet and he actually bought you were asleep for once

Big mistake

He walked into the kitchen for a glass of water and almost fucking died

You were standing there like a raccoon cooking food!

He had to hold his chest for a second as he spilled his water and you're just standing there and staring at him

He thought you were a demon for a second

Especially because it was dark as fuck and you were cooking in the dark

I don't even think he noticed for a minute before you turned on the flame and he yelled

He thought the house was haunted until he turned on the light to just see you cooking

After that he was just like "...got enough for two?"

"Yeah, daddy."

"What are you cooking, baby?"

He's so used to it by now at this point nothing you do surprised him

He did encourage you to try and sleep

And hey, even crawl in dad's bed

Always helps and he's always willing to let you curl into his side like you're four again

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@billsjum6ie @bigbootahjudy @ilovebill-and-gustav @r3dheadedw0rld @kiwitsune @V4mpyboyy @novaaisstupid @billybabeskaulitz @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0 @graciegizmo3184 @sweetpuffy12 @80s-tingz @ryiana @yuriayato5 @bunnysenpai31 @banshailey @bellastoner420 @victryzvv9 @stxngnr @killed-kiss @stilesandjames @m00nzyblogs @sylisan @lyzit @trixiekaulitz @laylasbunbunny @5hyslv7 @limaswife @nyxwritesshit

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader

[azertyrobaz]

Office life Javi, part 2

Part 1

#narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #javi #pedro #netflix #season 2 #yellow shirt #pocket shirt #smoking #narcos colors #narcos lighting is best lighting #my edits

[girlboybug]

You Can Be the Boss

"he has a white corvette like i want it, a fire in his eyes no i saw it, he's bleeding from his brain and his wallet, he's sick and he's taken but honest."

or the one where you're javier's current favorite informant but steve doesn't quite trust you.

what’s playing 🎧 : you can be the boss by lana del rey

pairing : javier pena x reader x steve murphy

word count : 8k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, threesome, soft!dom javi, brat tamer! steve, rough sex, face fucking, blowjobs, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, good cop bad cop type beat, sir kink, dash of officer kink, use of cuffs, light slapping, degrading, denied orgasms, sprinkle of edging, unspecified age gap, references to anal but no actual anal, (sorry to my anal enjoyers), bisexual coded javi and steve ;3

a visual, for your viewing pleasure ;)

TRIGGER WARNINGS : dubcon (power imbalance), steve is a big ol meanie ;((, implied of infidelity, (?) if there's anything i missed pls lmk!!

a/n : once again need to state i am not caught up on narcos, my spanish is non-existent, timelines might b wonky, and idk if connie and steve get back together, but in this they're separated lolz, anyways pls enjoy!! <3

his hand feels warm when he rests it over your thigh, curling his fingers over your skin, rubbing his large palm back and forth. “can i get you something to drink?” he asks softly, keeping his words hushed and gentle. 

you stare blankly ahead, nodding. he pats your thigh, rising from the couch before he disappears into his kitchen. 

when he returns, he bends down in front of you, squatting just beneath your eye level, taking your hand in his. your eyes slowly drag down to him, watching as he molds your hand around the glass for you, running his fingers across your knuckles before his touch migrates to your chin, holding it with care. 

“you’re okay.” he promises, and he looks like he means it, but you don’t believe it despite wishing with your entire being that his words were the truth. “javi, if they find out i’ve been telling you all this–” he unclenches your grip around the glass, setting it down on his coffee table and replacing it with his hand. his fingers lace with yours, allowing you to squeeze him instead. 

“they’re not gonna find out. you’re staying with me for now, and i’ll work something out at the embassy, we’ll get you out of here, for good.” he murmurs, his words smooth and calm, caressing around the shell of your ears, trying his best to coax you out of the numb, scared state you’ve dwindled down into. 

“what’s the use of leaving colombia if they’ll just find me in america?” your words tremble from your unsteady lips, and he sighs, leaning in to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. 

he kisses your forehead, trailing down to press his lips down the slope of your nose, stopping just before his lips meet your own. “they won’t find you, you have my word.” he forms his oath to you in a quiet breath, his words falling to your lips. you take them in, trying your best to let them resonate, in hopes that you’ll believe it. 

you tilt your head upwards, just enough to reach the curve of his lips. you press them to yours, leaning in closer towards him, wishing you could just fall into him. 

he’s quick to reciprocate, quick to catch you. he holds your cheeks in his hands, cradling you into him. your lips click and connect, the sound of your lips together, his warmth, the way he feels a part of you in this moment settles your swirling nerves back into a complacent, dormant state. 

you hum a content sigh in his mouth, your shoulders dropping relaxedly when he kisses you deeply, letting you pour yourself into him. he’ll drink your worries, your fears, your anything into him, he’ll take it all from you if you allow him to. 

if javi is anything, he’s consistent. consistent in always being the place you can go to forget about the whirlwind of shit you’re in. granted it’s temporary, but most good things tend to be. 

the door pushes open and you gasp, jerking back from javier, instinctively moving behind him. he rushes to guard you, angling his body in front of yours. his shoulders droop with a sudden irritated deflation, huffing in annoyance while he watches his partner walk in, eyes following his casual movements as if he didn’t just give you an actual heart attack. 

the tall blonde man drops his coat on the table, shutting the door with a push of his heel against the white wood.

he drags a tired hand down his cheek before he turns to eye you two suspiciously, well you suspiciously. “yeah sure why not,” javier shrugs, holding your knees towards him, keeping you still with his hand under your lap. “make yourself at home.” he mutters while steve paces over to your sitting figures. 

you look up at him silently, his glare is fast to land on you. “oh yeah because i’m interrupting something super important here right?” he flicks a brow, scoffing when he loosens his tie. 

“yeah actually,” javier nods, and steve rolls his eyes, his hands falling to his hips, looking down at you like an unbelieving teacher ready to scold his most troublesome students. “alright, what’s she doin’ here then, y’know, besides the shit you usually do with your ‘informants’?” you glare back at him, not understanding why he always seems to have a general distaste for your presence. 

“she just gave me information we couldn’t beat out of someone,” and steve nods, his fingers rubbing at his stubble, tongue in his cheek, nodding with faux assurance. “uh huh. and what would that be?” 

“she knows the route escobar’s gonna be using to his next hide out. she knows who’s accompanying him, she knows the times–steve,” his warmth leaves you when he stands to match his partner’s stature. “she’s got a shit ton of valuable info here, so why don’t you ease up on her?” 

steve purses his lips, turning his gaze on you, and suddenly it feels like a spotlight is burning through your skin. “and how in the hell does pablo escobar’s maid know all this?” 

“walls are thin. i hear them downstairs while i clean the upstairs, sound travels up the pipes in the bathrooms, it’s not impossible to listen in.” your explanations fall on uncaring ears, he’s already shaking his head. 

“i don’t believe her. too convenient, and i doubt his men are that stupid to talk that loudly about their plans in front of the help,” he tilts his head at you, emphasizing when he says the help, and now it’s your turn to stand. 

“fuck you,” you spit, surprising yourself when the words come out. javier moves in between you two when steve stalks towards you with a hard glare and a mouth fired and ready to remind you of your place. 

“hey,” javier calls his attention back, steve’s eyes begrudgingly leaves your’s before he turns them back to his partner. 

“if you trust me, you trust her.” he reminds and steve sighs longly, carding a hand through his hair. “also,” javier eyes over steve’s disheveled figure before looking back at him. “why’re you here?” 

he drops down onto the chair beside the couch, legs spread, head rolled back against the cushion, his hand rubbing over his forehead. “connie. she wants an official separation.” your eyes widen in fake shock, shaking your head and looking away while he talks. “makes sense,” you mutter under your breath, somewhat satiating the hatefulness you want to spew at him. 

“i’m sorry,” javier sighs, juxtaposing your unsympathetic reaction with a concerned one, coming over to press a hand to his shoulder. “we can talk about the routes tomorrow, we still have time. did you wanna…talk about it?” steve shakes his head, and you want to roll your eyes, praying javier sends him back home soon. 

“no, it’s alright jav, just came by to see if you wanted to grab a drink but,” he’s looking at you again. “i see you’re busy.” javier smooths over his mustache, sighing quietly when he glances at you. 

he wouldn’t mind going out with steve to some bar for a few hours, he can see the visible pain on his friend’s face, but your life is higher on his list of priorities, and he can’t get himself to leave you alone. 

“i’m sorry murphy,” javier starts but steve shakes his head, holding a hand up to pause his apologies. “nah don’t be, i’ll get uh, outta your hair.” he gets up to leave and you feel like leaping into the air at your sweet success. 

but javier cuts your joy short, immediately ejecting you from off of cloud nine when he stops steve from leaving. 

he swipes the dust off his watch, checking the time before he looks over to steve. “look, it’s getting kinda late, why don’t you crash on my couch tonight? you can help yourself to the fridge, but i’m sure you’d raid it with or without my permission.” javi’s lip curls in tune with his joke and steve chuckles, easing away from his stress for the moment. 

“yeah,” steve exhales, rubbing his knuckles under his eyebags. “alright,” he agrees. 

javier nods, rustling steve’s shoulders with a grin. “i’ll grab you somethin’ you can sleep in, and y’know where the bathrooms at for when you wanna change.” 

“thanks jav,” he calls out after him when he walks away, and you expel a breath of quiet annoyance, plopping down into the seat in front of steve. 

he eyes you up and down, and you pull your legs together, resting your elbows on your knees, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs. 

you hate him, you’ve never been more sure. 

__ 

there’s multiple reasons why steve isn’t particularly fond of you. most reasons are arguably just his own projections. none of them are all that valid or have anything to do with the things you actually are responsible for. 

for one, he doesn’t trust you. but someone else seems to. and to be fair, javi is a smart man who trusts those deserving of it, no disputing that. 

however. 

women are his weak spot, and if he were to get taken advantage of, it’d probably be by one. and he can’t shake the feeling that you’re doing just that. 

maybe the information you give them is real, but then you could also be going off and warning escobar and his sicarios as soon as you get back to them, forever sending him and javier down an endless wild goose chase. 

but then again, you do seem to be honest and genuine — at least your fear is when you stress how they cannot find out that you’re the rat amongst them. 

that seems real. 

and steve knows he shouldn't let that be why he treats you as rudely as he does. he additionally acknowledges the fact that you always smelling so annoyingly good that he can smell you before you even enter the room, is also not a valid reason to dislike you. 

except, this? 

this is a new, more realistic reason to not like you, he thinks. 

you’re fucking loud. 

he can hear your goddamn moaning through the thin wall separating javier’s bedroom and the couch he’s currently laying on. he’s starting to think there’s a chance you weren’t lying about hearing escobar’s plans through the walls while you cleaned. 

he tosses and turns on the couch, trying to use the pillow javier gave him to muffle the sounds but god, it’s like you’re determined to make steve hear you. 

all he can hear is your moans, your whiny mewls for javi, jaaavi, and he can hear his godforsaken partner, who he might request to be changed after this, groan your name, telling you how good you are, how perfect you are, calling you his hermosa — and it’s driving him crazy. in his descent into a sleepless delirium he begins to genuinely wish his hearing would go out, just for the night. 

__

“what do you want?” javier breathed above you, your thighs on either side of his leg. his knee pushing right up against you there, teasing your clit. 

you swallowed hard through heavy breaths, hands coming up to run down his jaw, your fingers brushing along his stubble. “i just wanna forget about what’s going on,” you responded, a sense of pleading under your breath while you spoke. 

he kissed you, trickling his lips down your neck and chest. “puedo distraerte,” he murmured, his hands pulling your sweater over your tummy, replacing the wool with his lips. 

his mouth was hot, and eager to latch over your clothed cunt, his tongue swirling around your clit, pulling a drawn out cry from amidst your bitten lips. 

it’s been 30 minutes? an hour? an eternity? and you two are still at it from when that all started, and steve thinks he’ll die, in fact, he hopes he does. he’s lost connie, his kid, and now his sanity from hearing his partner fuck his 100th ‘informant’ just a wall away from him. 

“oh my god!” you squeal, and nope, that’s it, he can’t do this. 

he rips the blanket off his body, his sock covered feet landing on the carpet, carrying his haggard, exhausted, irritated, body to the bedroom. 

he pushes open the door, cringing when you yell, avoiding looking at you while you grab the sheets to cover yourself. “steve what the fuck?” you shout, and javier huffs, lifting the sheets from off his head, moving away from the place between your thighs. 

“do you fucking need something?” javier grits, and steve folds his arms over his chest, clenching his jaw when he sees your bodies shine with a sheen coat of sweat from the moonlight peeking in. he clears his throat, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with javier. 

“i need you guys to shut the fuck up, that’s what i need. ‘been hearin’ you two all night, i can’t sleep.” he sneers, and javier scoffs, his eyes landing on the bulge steve is sporting behind the borrowed pair of sweats, feeling smug in place of embarrassment. 

“yeah, i’m sure that’s why you can’t sleep.” he tilts his head downward toward his crotch, and steve grows hot, standing up straight when he grinds down on his bottom teeth. 

javier sighs to himself, eyes glancing over steve, then panning to you beside him before he speaks again. “i don’t usually share but, i can make an exception tonight. only ‘cause you’ve got shit goin’ on.” javier shrugs, and both you and steve gape at him 

“what?” you smack javier’s arm, feeling your face get hot at the mere idea of such a suggestion. 

“stop playing around and just kick him out,” you whisper yell, but steve’s way ahead of you, already turning on his heel, wondering if he’ll be able to hail a cab this late at night. 

“m’not kidding. steve, i’m serious,” he calls out, halting steve mid step. he turns back around slowly, facing you both now. 

javier leans down, resting his chin on your neck, holding your arms in his hands. “steve’s handsome baby, don’t you think?” he whispers, his fingers trailing up and down your arms. your breath picks up when you really look over at steve. 

he’s good looking, in fact, that was the first thought you had when you met him, but it all quickly went away when he began being rude to you. 

and despite that, you find yourself giving in, nodding meekly. steve’s chest gets tight when you agree, his cock betraying him and twitching behind his shallow confinements. “steve, she’s pretty isn’t she?” he says temptingly, his voice a deep, rich siren song that pulls both you and steve right into his grasp. 

steve’s jaw wants to lock on itself before he can say something he can’t take back, but it's too late, his logic and reason is slowly depleting from him just like the air in his lungs the more his eyes flicker between you and javier. 

“yeah,” he croaks, and a ghost of a smile graces over your lips when he admits to your attractiveness. “you wanna show him how pretty you are quierda?” he whispers in your ear, and you nod a hypnotized yes, allowing him to hook his fingers under the sheets, slowly pulling it down to reveal your bare chest. 

steve gets weak, his cock throbbing painfully in his boxers, he’s sure you can see it now, but he’d rather you feel it instead. 

he wants to let his hand drift down to his cock, to ease the strain he feels but no, he won’t give in, he won’t seem weak, not in front of you, and definitely not in front of javier. he’d never hear the end of it. 

he closes the door behind him and your heart picks up, clenching the bedspread beneath you when he starts to move in towards you both, eyes pointed at you like a hawk. 

he forces your gaze on him, his finger under your chin, craning your neck upwards. his eyes bounce into yours and you feel small under his hold and stare, struggling to maintain the downward look he’s shooting your way. it lays over you heavily. 

he pushes his thumb between your lips, watching you suck on it, teeth grazing the tip, a semblance of a smirk curling at the corners of your mouth when you stare back up at him. 

steve already feels debilitated and he hasn’t even touched you yet. he doesn’t like that. he refuses to let you have this much control over him. 

he’s going to make sure you stay in your place. 

“alright.” he breathes out, pulling his thumb from you, turning to look at javier. “she listen well?” and you roll your eyes, scoffing quietly when you lean back into your preferred agent of the two. 

“‘course she does,” he says proudly, rubbing your arm affectionately, sending a fluttery feeling to your lower stomach at the praise. 

“think you can listen to me?” he murmurs to you when he leans down to your level, knees dipping into the mattress. you test the waters, eyeing him while he inches in closer, slowly erasing the space between you two breath by breath. 

“what if i don’t feel like it?” you ask, words quiet amidst the air betwixt both your parted mouths. he chuckles something dark under his breath, eyes flickering from your lips back to your eyes. “if you wanna cum tonight i think you’ll listen to me.” 

your breathing pauses in your throat at his statement, and you have no witty response to shoot back. you’re quiet. 

finally, steve thinks, lightly snickering when you respond with nothing. 

javier shifts around, sitting upwards and leaning into steve’s ear. “she likes it when you touch her like this, f’you wanna give her a reason to listen, do this.” he whispers, before moving back down to where you rest in his bed. 

steve watches as javier moves the sheets, exposing your bare lower half. steve exhales sharply when his eyes focus on you, scanning the sight laid out for him. 

you feel shy, your body being feasted on hungrily by the wandering eyes of two men who want nothing more than to devour you. 

javier’s hand makes its way to your thigh, running the palm up and down slowly. “part your legs for me, quierda,” he says softly, and you do as he says, spreading yourself for both of them to see. 

his fingers trace over your clit, running circles over it, keeping the pressure tight, focused, right where you need it to be. your breath picks up, your hand tightens around his wrist, your eyes falling shut at his touch. 

steve stares at the way javier unravels you, taking his time to make you feel good. he knows what he’s doing, and he’s impressed by what he sees. 

he wonders if you’d react the same way if it were his fingers. he wants to find out. 

steve gets closer, he brings his middle finger to your lips, and you take him in with no need for verbal instructions, your tongue swirling around the digit while you push your hips onto javier’s fingers. 

he slips it from out your lips, bringing it down to your cunt. 

he breaches your entrance, dipping into you, and you gasp, eyes opening wide when you feel his finger, long, and thick, traveling into you, joining javier in the ministrations on your cunt. 

you feel spoiled, with javier kissing your neck, whispering about how wet you are, and steve, his face just a single pull of air away from your’s while he curls his finger right where you crave to be touched. 

his lips just barely brush your skin, occasionally gracing over your parted mouth when your head turns side to side from the steadily increasing pleasure that burns your skin. 

you feel too proud to ask for a kiss, instead you try leaning into him, but he moves back just a little when you do. if you want something, you ask for it. 

“steve,” you whisper breathlessly, chest heaving, pebbled nipples poking him through his white t shirt. “what?” he asks, and javier peers over at you two, feeling his cock twitch when he glances down, sight joining the sound of your soaked cunt taking their fingers. 

you swallow away your pride piece by piece, it’s a painful feat but the rising need inside you is starting to override it. 

“kiss me? please?” you hushedly plead with him, praying he obliges. javier sponges kisses across your shoulder while steve eyes you for a moment, visually tracing the curve of your lips, feeling a pair of hands restrain him away from taking your lips into his own. he wants to, but fuck, connie. 

“gonna keep her waiting?” rings through his ears  from javier, and he breaks from his trance, realizing that he’s already in too deep, connie’s gone, and kissing you won’t change that. 

he lurches forward, kissing you hard, almost angrily. you nearly topple backward, but javier’s right there, he’s got you. 

you whimper into his mouth, struggling to keep up with the way he moves against you. your hand strokes the strong arm belonging to javier, the other coming up to cup steve’s jaw. 

his hand, big and strong, comes to your throat, keeping you in your place when he kisses you.  

his teeth ghosts a bite on your bottom lip, his tongue running across it to smooth the tinge of pain away before it travels into your mouth, tasting the hint of something sweet on your tongue. 

he groans in your mouth, the sound pulling a shiver from the depths of your spine. “make him feel good, quierda,” javier whispers, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, his mustache tickling your sensitive skin. 

you nod mindlessly, silencing the whine that begs to come out when they shift away from you, withdrawing their hands from between your thighs. 

you lean forward towards steve, fingers hooking under his sweatpants nervously while javier moves behind you, his warm hands panning over the curve of your ass, one of his favorite sights. 

steve stares you down while you tug down the sweats along with the plaid boxers that rest on his hips, his lips curling up at the way your mouth falls when his cock springs up, hard, his flushed pink tip glistening with precum. 

he’s just slightly longer than javier, cock not having as much girth as him but in no way, shape, or form, are either men small. 

this is going to be quite the exploit. 

“gonna stare at it or are you gonna suck it?” he half scoffs, hand traveling behind your neck, and you glare up at him from under your eyelashes, lowering yourself down to him. “just remembered why i don’t like you,” you grumble, your complaining cut short when you feel javier’s tongue back on your clit. 

you whine, pushing back on his face when you sink your mouth down onto steve’s cock. 

he hisses upon immediate contact, your mouth is hot, wet, perfect. 

your moans vibrate around his cock from the way javier’s tasting you, his fingers pushing deep into your fluttering hole. he palms himself, running his thumb over his leaking tip when he peers over and watches the way you take his partner’s dick into your mouth. 

you bob your head, rising up only to sink downward, eyes squeezing shut, trying your best to take as much of him in your mouth as you can but his length is not making it easy on you. 

your tongue runs along the base of him, coming around to swirl over his tip when your lips encase it. he groans, head falling forward, eyes lowering beneath the bush of his brows at you. 

javier can’t take it anymore, your little whimpers eliciting from the flick of his tongue, the way your hole squeezes around nothing, just begging to be filled, and the slick sound coming from your mouth when you suck over steve’s tip is too much, he needs you. 

he rests back on his knees, aligning himself with your entrance before he pushes in, feeling a heavy sense of pride settle into his chest when you let out a drawn out moan of his name. 

you slide your lips off of steve’s cock, replacing it with your hand when you turn over your shoulder to watch him put it in. “javi,” you croon through a tearful moan, eyebrows strung in an earnest curl. 

he runs his thumb across your bottom lip when he’s fully inside you, a look of adoration screwed with pleasure casting over his face. 

but steve’s hand is guiding your attention back to him, javi has enough of it anyways, and he’s pulling your jaw back onto him. 

it’s hard to focus on trying to keep your pace and rhythm on steve’s cock when javier’s fucking you with everything he’s got, his cock nudging deep inside you, filling you out so good it makes your eyes roll back. 

steve almost feels a little jealous, feeling like he deserves the same amount of acknowledgement you give javier. he holds you by the back of your head, making you give him more attention. 

you gag, sliding off his cock, resting on your palms, jerking forward into his hips from javier’s thrusts, struggling to catch your breath. “uh uh,” he shakes his head, pushing you back down. “not gonna let you stop ‘til you suck it right sweetheart,” he mutters, and your face gets hot, ashamed at how his orders make you clamp down around javier’s cock. 

javier groans at the way you’re gripping him, and he leans forward, pushing in even deeper, feeling pride fill him once more when you whine around steve’s cock. 

“don’t be too rough with her,” he grunts, semi opposing his own words, rolling his hips in unbearably deeper, abusing the sensitive spongy spot inside you with the fat head of his cock. 

steve dryly laughs, tilting his head at his partner before glancing down at you working him down your throat, eager to please him, eager to finally earn some praise from him. 

“looks like can handle it. in fact, i think she likes it,” steve proves his point, pushing his hips in deeper, and you gag, but you tighten around javier at the force of action and he exhales humorously, pursing his lips. 

he bends down, kissing your shoulder blade. “quierda, quierda, taking us both so well,” his voice careens around you like the drag of his palm over your skin. 

“s’right, take it,” steve murmurs, his hand just behind your jaw, thumb running across the tears that stream down your cheek. 

your eyes shutter closed, body content with being filled front to back so wholly, the men who occupy you grunting with primal approval. 

javier’s fingers inch over your clit, rubbing the little soaked button as a reward, and you cry around steve’s cock, hands gripping tighter onto the sheets at the stimulation. the way his cock prods into you, paired with the swirl of the pads of his fingers over your clit feels earth shattering. 

steve’s eyes drift over to javier, his broad shoulders adorned in scratches from presumably you, the downward pull of your nails across his skin was probably created moments before he came into the bedroom. his cock twitches inside your mouth at the thought.

javier’s eyebrows are pulled together, eyes narrowed down at your body, hips pulling back only to ram back into you at full force with a certain precision that has you crying around steve’s cock. 

he’s fucking you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do and steve can’t help but watch. 

his thrusts pick up speed inside your mouth, the itch you’re satiating just grows and grows and he can’t stop chasing the relief you provide him. 

javier’s gaze that follows the way you bounce from each thrust he pounds into you shifts into an upward stare back to steve’s intent eyes, and he exhales heavily, jaw clenching tightly. 

the men watch each other, the sound of your moans and gagging mixed with their low and thick grunts and groans is something that will float back into your minds when you all separate, forever haunting you in the wake of silent moments. 

steve finds his eyes landing over javier’s lips, watching the way his tongue darts out and drags across his bottom lip and he swallows back the thick groan that wants to leave. 

he falls forward, his cock pushing in deeper between your lips, his head resting on javier’s shoulder while he grinds into your mouth. 

he inches his hips back, keeping his cock down your throat but still allowing you some leeway to pull off for air while he finds refuge on the broad expanse of javier’s shoulder. 

their shared groans of your name fall into each other’s mouths and you whimper, pushing your ass onto javier, mouth sucking around steve fervently, desperate to please both men. 

steve’s mouth drops open when you suction your lips around the head of his cock, teasing him with the fat stripe of your tongue and he shivers, his teeth baring down against javier’s flesh. 

he winces at the pain, but he likes it, he accepts it, welcomes it. 

“she feel good?” steve drones in a low groan, and javier holds your hips, pulling you all the way down on his cock, making eye contact with steve when your sobs rack around his cock, watching the way his eyes screw shut. “feels amazing, squeezin’ me so good,” he grunts, his hand coming down to lay a hard smack over the fat of your ass. 

you yelp at the rough affection, the little squeaking sound coming out muffled from the activity currently preoccupying your mouth, prompting a cocky breathless chuckle from steve when he leans back, eyes falling over your pretty face. 

“if i knew she could put this mouth to use other than runnin’ it i would’ve had her on her knees sooner,” he relents airlessly, heavy pants leaving past his lips. javier laughs hazily, leaning in, his cock shoving itself deeper inside you while his hips mold over your’s like broken pieces reconnecting.  

his hand wraps around your throat, lips sponged gently to your ear. “i think steve just paid you a compliment, hermosa,” 

you look up at steve, doe eyed with long wet lashes, blinking appreciatively, feeling warm all over when he taps your cheek with his palm, not hard, but not gentle either. you take whatever you can from him. 

steve rolls his head back up to javier, twirling his finger to the side, motioning for the pair to switch. he wants a turn inside you. 

“why don’t you ask me nicely?” he says through a soft gruff breath, leaning in closer to his face, his hips clasping tightly over yours, his cock burying itself so far in your cunt it burrows in your tummy. 

you whine around steve’s cock, his hand coming to the back of your head to pacify you while he scoffs at javier. 

“‘scuse me?” 

“i said, why don’t you ask me. nicely?” javier repeats, his head tilting to the side. 

asshole. 

steve’s jaw hinges forward with irritation, his eyes falling down to where your ass and javier’s hips meet, his chest settling into a deep pit of desire, slowly plucking away his inhibitions of trying to seem like he’s in control. 

“please,” his voice shakes a little, the desperate plea beneath his hushed words. 

javier’s brow flicks up, lips pursing with satisfaction and he pauses inside you, prompting your swollen lips to roll from off steve’s cock, turning into a disappointed pout when you look at him from behind your shoulder. 

“what’s wrong?” you rasp, and steve takes in his bottom lip, his top lip perking in smugness at your voice. 

“are you okay with us…switching?” javier asks, running his hand along your hip softly. the nerves in your tummy tighten like the strings on a corset, sucking you in and stealing your breath at the thought of him fucking you. 

you turn back to look at steve, before you’re swallowing away your pride, nodding in agreement. 

a grin spreads across his face, and he pats your cheek, whistling when he twists his finger in the air once more. “get over here an’ turn around for me,” 

your eyes start to roll at his orders, the action cut short when the loss from javier makes you wince. “yessir officer sir,” you joke dryly through a breath, a part of you not wanting to let on how excited you really were for this. 

steve’s cock twitches at your joking, unaware of how much he really liked that. 

javier lays further into the bed, arm behind his head while he watches you crawl towards him. an excited glint shines for a passing second in his eyes when he watches the way steve stares down your every movement, eyes following each and every little sway your ass makes before him. 

your hands rest on javier’s thighs before they’re slipping off him, panickedly grasping for the mattress when steve’s pushing you into the bed, shoving your face beside javier’s knee and hoisting your ass up for him. 

he breathes out a heavy, content sigh when his palms encase your ass, your glistening cunt just weeping for him. 

it’s steve’s turn to be greeted by your face craned behind your shoulder, cute little features contorted in a curious pleasure, eyebrows pulled together, bitten lips pouted while he cocks his head at you. 

he grabs your wrists, letting your cheek shift and fall to javier’s thigh. 

javier graces his hand behind your neck soothingly, silently making up for his partner’s rough actions. 

steve’s cock grazes against your cunt and you shiver, feeling him press up onto you, his hips flush to your ass while he wrangles your wrists together. “hands behind your back, hermosa.” his mustache tickles at your ear, your lips trembling against the hot skin of javier’s thigh. he taunts you with the pet name, reminding you he’s heard your pathetic mewls and moans you so graciously gave to javi. 

it was his turn to earn some of that graciousness. 

“s’bout time you show me some goddamn respect,” he mutters in your ear, flicking his head up towards javier who’s watching intently, his cock aching at the sight. 

“you got your cuffs?” he asks and your back stiffens. 

uh oh. 

javier’s lips curl evilly and he chuckles below a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “yeah. need ‘em?” he responds knowingly and you crane your neck up at him, eyes peering at him pitifully. 

javier purses his lips at you with faux sympathy, running his thumb across your lips before he’s looking back at steve for confirmation. 

steve nods and javier doesn’t argue. 

he opens the first drawer on the nightstand beside his bed, his hand returning with a pair of silver handcuffs. 

he tosses them to steve and he catches it dutifully, unlatching them before he puts them around your wrists, seconds away from locking the cold metallic constraints tight and in place. 

you’re turning back to look at steve, imploring with him desperately to not use the cuffs on you. “no no please, sir i don’t want the cuffs,” you whimper against the flesh of javier’s thigh, your sounds traveling straight to his cock. 

steve didn’t even have to tell you to keep calling him sir, you barely even realize what you’re saying at this point, it all just feels like babble coming mindlessly from out your bitten lips. 

steve’s throat gets tight at your pleas, the title of respect you’ve given him without even realizing what you’ve said makes his cock throb against your soaked cunt, itching to just push inside you. 

“too bad. you can earn your way outta them.” he offers, running his hand across the curve of your ass before he speaks again. 

“you’re gonna be fuckin’ good for me like you were for him, you hear me?” he orders, the air in his words thick with authority. you nod feebly and he smacks your ass, the sheer force from his hand pushing you further onto javier’s lap. you cry out, the pain vibrating through your flesh. 

before you have time to speak or think or breathe, he shoves himself inside you, no resistance from your needy, drenched hole. he groans when he forces himself in all the way, your cries from his cock floats around in the thick air like music to his ears. 

you lower your mouth down onto javier’s cock, trying to busy your mind away from the intense feeling of being rocked forward endlessly by the fluid motions of steve shoving his cock into you. 

he’s fucking the length of his cock in your little hole, molding your cunt to the extent of it. his cockhead kisses your cervix with each rough thrust he impales you with. 

javier’s head rolls back when your tongue curls around his shaft the way he likes, the tip of it running along a vein of his, his breathing starting to falter all over again. 

it’s harder sucking javier like this, you can’t rely on your hands to please what you can’t reach, your drool dribbles down the base of his cock, the place where your hands would normally be, but javier doesn’t mind, he could almost kiss steve for giving him the gift of watching you struggle and gag around his cock like this, drooling like a fucked out slut. 

steve’s lost in his own physical realm of pleasure where nothing exists except for his cock burrowed in the wet tunnel of your cunt, his cock head ramming into your sweet cervix uncaringly, cruelly. 

he relishes with his head fallen forward at the way your sobs come out muffledly from the sound of his partner’s cock down your throat, because of him. it’s because of his cock you’re crying out like this. 

his blonde hair falls limp with sweat in his eyes, but he doesn’t mind it, his lids fall heavy with blinding pleasure, his hand pressing you down by your lower back, forcing you to arch further on his cock. 

the two men find endless pleasure with you, you’re the gift that keeps on giving, and they will happily keep on taking. 

javier’s head rolls towards you, chin resting low while he stares down your bobbing head that struggles to fully lower down onto him. 

but it’s just so cute the way you struggle, he loves watching you try to be so good for him and take him as far as you can into your mouth. 

you’re definitely his sweetest informant to date. 

“fuck,” he breathes out, the crown of his head falling back to his headboard, your suctioning lips sucking the head of his cock too well, that it makes him feel lightheaded. 

his hands, on the edge of callousing, come over the curve of your ass, gripping the fat of it, pulling you apart to sneakily look at your little hole, feeling his cock throb inside you when he imagines the other things he’d like to do to you. 

the things connie would never allow, which is okay, he respected that. 

but you? 

he’s sure you’d do just about anything he or javier asked of you. and he’s willing to bet with enough sweet words from javier and sternness from himself, they could get you right where he wanted you. 

he tilts his head, rolling his hips into you deep and hard, enjoying every little jolt forward you make onto javier’s cock while he thumbs over your hole, wondering if maybe you’d let him have you that way next time. 

fuck. 

will there be a next time? 

he really, really hopes so. 

you shiver when you feel his thumb swipe over that part of yourself, mouth sliding off javier’s cock to catch your breath and shut your eyes at the feeling. 

javier’s cupping your face, a sharp exhale from his nose replacing whatever jumble he was about to say when your tongue flicks over his tip, enveloping him down your throat once more. 

steve’s leaning over your body, his cock traveling in too far inside you, naturally pulling a drawn out cry from around javier’s cock. javier pants, head falling back at the vibrations between his thighs. 

“fuckin’ tight,” steve groans, his forehead resting on your shoulder, forcing himself to keep his eyes open to peer up at javier. 

his brown hair has fallen damp just under his eyebrows, tickling his lashes, his mouth is drawn open, wispy murmurs of your name pouring out like a chant amidst a ritual, holy and sacred. 

“for a whore,” steve adds, and javier chuckles through a breathy moan, the way you clamp down around his cock at his comments is not lost on him. his fingers find your clit, and you tense, your back immediately falling into a deeper arch, desperate to feel more of him. 

you come up for air, needing a break from the soreness trickling along your jaw, your gaze now ascending towards javier, looking up at him with big watery eyes. you instinctively leaning into his warm palm that comes to cradle your face while your stare lingers over him.. “i’m so close,” you whimper and just like that, steve’s fingers withdraw from your clit and instead go back into digging into the plump flesh around your hips. 

javier looks up at steve, joining you in your confused stare. “steve please,” you plead, struggling to look at him through the rough jolts from his hard thrusts. “c’mon,” javier’s honeyed tone calls his attention and steve looks over at him, tilting his head. “i don’t think she’s earned it,” he looks back down at you, brings his lips to your ear and grows smug when you cry out from the way his cock intrudes into you even deeper. “if you wanna cum you better work for it. girl.” 

javier’s cock twitches in your grasp at the way steve talks to you, and you’re just about pulsing around him, eager to prove you deserve to cum, you’re hungry for it. 

your mouth is back on javier, watching the way his eyes screw shut and his brows furrow once more when your tongue drags all around him, trying to also greedily take in as much of steve as you can, pushing onto him, wanting nothing more than to be fully enveloped by him. 

his fingers tease your clit, gracing you with fleeting touches that make your skin prickle over into a fiery heat only for it to be immediately extinguished when he pulls them away. you’re trying your hardest to continue to make javier feel good, and your efforts are definitely not for nothing. his breathing grows more staggered, his thrusts into your mouth lose their pattern, he’s holding you by the back of your neck, forcing himself to lean forward and watch you take his cock down your throat. 

“fuck, fuck, take it, take it yeah, shit,” he pants, fucking your jaw through his orgasm, his hips hitting your chin with every rough piston he makes. you’re squeezing your teary eyes shut, trying to take both him and steve abusing your holes the best way you can. 

he slides his cock out from your lips, gently wiping away your sweaty forehead while you fight to catch your breath. each gasp of air is pulled away from you by the rough impaling by steve’s cock that hits you deep over and over. 

“did so good for me querida,” he whispers to you softly, juxtaposing the way you’re getting fucked by his partner. you just whimper at his praises, wriggling your hands around in your cuffs. javier doesn’t ask steve before he acts, he just grabs the keys and unlocks you, feeling slight guilt when you wince and sigh in relief when you’re finally free from your constraints. 

steve glares at javier and he ignores it, rubbing your wrists soothingly while steve slows his thrusts. 

you almost panic, worried he won’t let you cum at all now, you bring wrists behind your back once more for him, and the purest and most intense form of pride blooms in the depths of his chest at your little actions. he grips your wrists together in one hand, making eye contact with javier while he speeds up his thrusts inside your soaked cunt. 

javier’s spent cock throbs and he swallows hard, his chest rising and falling heavily. “sweet isn’t she?” javier utters, watching the way steve’s hips pull and push into your’s. with a side perk of his lips he shrugs, running his free hand over the curve of your ass. “yeah. when she feels like it.” 

javier chuckles, bringing his fingers to your clit, keeping the pads of his digits still. you look at him, wordlessly pleading with him to override steve’s rules and let you cum. “you make him feel good quierda, an’ i’ll make sure you get what you want.” and with a kiss to your forehead, that’s all you’re left with. 

he drinks in your moans, his lips falling to yours, keeping your face tucked into his palms while steve chases his orgasm inside you. he’s lost in you, you’re all encompassing, the way you’re gripping onto him, your cries for him getting drowned out in javier’s mouth – fuck, you’re too much. 

you break apart from javier’s lips, unable to keep going like this without cumming. after all, you were never the patient type to begin with. “please steve, feel’s so good, i need to cum, please let me, promise m’gonna be so good,” you’re near tears, ready to beg and plead with steve for however long it takes. javier looks at him along with you, his cheek resting on your forehead. “let her,” javier orders instead of suggesting, and steve doesn’t have it in him to argue or deny you any longer. 

his fingers inch over your clit, rubbing the sticky little button in the way you need, and you sob in relief, your cheek falling onto the mattress, letting your body be overtaken by the older man, your fingers intertwining with his while he pounds your orgasm into you. “thank you thank you thank you,” you cry through a series of shaky drawn out moans. you gush around him, panting loudly, losing all the air in the room while you cum. your body feels like it’s going to explode and honestly, it just might. 

steve assaults every single sensitive spot inside your body, his fingers on your clit staying put, your legs in return turning into jello, trembling hard with erratic shakes. 

“bet y’don’t think i’m that bad now huh?” he whispers in your ear, and you shake your head dumbly, resting your head on javier’s lap while steve continues to fuck you through your orgasm. 

he’s getting sloppy, he’s close, he can feel it. “i wanna cum in you, jus’ like this, gonna let me? as a lil’ thanks baby?” he grunts and javier runs his finger across your cheek, lowering his voice towards you. “gonna let him querida?” 

your words barely find you, all you can feel is steve’s cock buried deep in your tummy, words don’t even seem real in this moment. “cum in me,” you manage to murmur, your sore clit tingling at the thought of his cum pouring out of you. 

steve didn’t need to hear anything else, your meek words of permission played on a loop inside his head while he holds on tighter onto your hips, pulling you down on his cock, his hot cum spurting deep inside you. he groans, his head falling back, mindless utterances of how good your fuckin’ pussy feels, dissipates into the thick air. 

he pushes in a few more thrusts until his cock softens, and he tucks himself away into his boxers. he eyes your spent, sweat coated body before he lays down beside you. javier pulls the sheets over your bodies, letting you bury your face into his chest. steve gets stiff, is he overstaying his welcome?

you seem to read his mind, because you’re pulling his arm around your side, keeping him close to you. he smiles to himself, and clasps his front around your back, glancing up at a pleased looking javier. 

javier winks at steve before his attention returns back to you. “you okay querida? feel alright?” he asks gently, and you nod sleepily in his arms, yawning tiredly. “mhm, just really sleepy,” you mumble, and javier shushes you, kissing your hairline. “s’okay, you can rest now.” 

steve kisses your shoulder, surprising himself by the gentleness in his actions. he’s too tired to analyze anything right now, he just lets himself rest beside you. “night murphy.” javier hums and steve chuckles breathlessly. “yeah, night javi.” 

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #steve murphy #boyd holbrook #pedro pascal #steve murphy x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #steve murphy x you #javier pena x reader x steve murphy #narcos netflix #narcos smut #narcos fanfiction

[metaphoricgibberish]

hi, hello - my name is sara and i write depraved things about pedro pascal characters. i'm not super into writing one-shots (love reading them tho) so all my stories are in series format. my DMs are always open, i love talking fics, pedro, tlou, narcos, and anything at all regarding men old enough to be my father.

happy reading, i appreciate you all tremendously <3

To the Light [ joel miller ]

"He was such a greedy fuck, when had that happened? What was it about her that had turned him into this… desperate, frenzied, fucking insatiable man that had stooped to the point of planning his entire day around getting a glimpse of her. It wasn’t just one thing, he knew that, rather it was an amalgamation of everything about her, everything he could see, everything he knew, and the large cavern of things he didn’t know, but wanted to so badly it ate away at him, like a virus, like fucking cordyceps, surging through his body and altering his brain chemistry, his ambitions and intent, so that it was just her, his sole focus was just her."

summary: Joel finds a young woman being held hostage by a group of men while he's out on patrol one day. He brings her back to Jackson, where she's given the opportunity to have something resembling a real life, for the first time. The two of them orbit around each other, destined to crash, if both of their reservations don't get in the way.

pairing: joel miller x ofc / f!reader rating: 18+ mdni word count: 96.8k (completed)

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Joel finds the love of his life lost in the woods.

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Fic playlist on Spotify

Read insatiable (a To the Light one-shot) here.

Read hearth (a To the Light one-shot) here.

Dawn [ javier peña ]

"It had been wrong, back then, his feelings for her. He'd known that and that's why he'd never let anything happen between the two of them. But he'd always been weak. That first time he'd seen her after Richie had gone off to fight a war just as brutal and useless and the one he'd been fighting out in Colombia, that first time he'd really seen her— just a glimpse as she left the market, bag hoisted up on her hip, long, wavy hair bouncing behind her, shapely legs visible in that little yellow sundress that hugged her waist just right— he'd been a fucking goner."

summary: Javier Peña returns to his hometown after leaving the DEA. He doesn't want the undeserving praise everyone is trying to push on him, he doesn't really want anything at all, beyond a quiet life on his father's ranch, such a stark contrast to the atrocities he'd witnessed over the ten years away. But there's one familiar face that he can't seem to shake no matter how hard he tries.

pairing: javier peña x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 71.5k+ (ongoing series) - 9/11 chapters up a.n. first chapter of my new Javi fic is up! each chapter will be named after a Lana Del Rey song with a corresponding lyric (idk Javi is Lana coded to me). I hope you enjoy <3

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Javier Peña falls for his best friend's little sister.

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Nights Like This One [ joel miller ]

summary: Joel Miller is hired by an elderly woman to fix up her home. However, in the middle of the renovations, she dies and her daughter, Lily, moves from California to Austin to live in her mother's home. Joel continues to work on the house despite the two of them constantly butting heads. Tensions rise and the two are destined to crash whether they like it or not.

(Initially takes place pre-outbreak, story spans through outbreak day, all the way to 2023).

pairing: joel miller x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 3.1k (ongoing series) - 1/24 chapters up a.n. lol hi!!! i promise i will finish Dawn so very soon, and i know i just put out the To the Light one-shot, but I started drafting this the other day and i was too excited to wait so here's the first chapter! i hope you're all not sick of me at this point, because this fic is a doozy, i'm so excited to finally share it with you after it has lived solely in my head for the last five months.

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Joel Miller finds the love of his life right before the world ends.

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Fic playlist on Spotify

Sanctuary [ javier peña ]

"She glanced over at him, her lips hinting at a smile as his pretty brown eyes locked on hers. She wanted him to tell her something now, not that she had taken him here as a greedy means of give and take, even though that’s all their relationship was. Give and take. Just sex. If she couldn’t know his last name or why he had scars all over his chest, then she wanted to know what he thought was beautiful, what he thought was ugly, what existed in both spaces for him."

summary: Takes place after the third season-- Javier moves to San Francisco to escape what he'd witnessed in Colombia over the past several years. The DEA is desperate to get him down to Mexico to help take down the Guadalajara Cartel, but Javier isn't so sure he wants to continue down that path. His decision only becomes increasingly more difficult when he meets a bartender named Emma, whose commitment issues seem to mirror his own.

pairing: javier peña x ofc rating: 18+ mdni word count: 93k (complete)

see tags and warnings on ao3

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Javier Peña meets his match in the form of a little bartender in San Francisco.

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#fanfiction #pedro pascal #ao3 fanfic #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us fanfiction #narcos smut #narcos #javi p #pedro pascal fic #javier pena smut #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos

[undercoverpena]

v. a new day

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter five of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. smut. oral sex (man receiving), angst. bit of emotions are coming outttttt. Wordcount: 6.3k AN: apologies for the lateness, my personal life has just been throwing things at me and I didn't want the emotions to bleed in when i was editing. also, if there's errors, i'm so sorry, i have had no sleep. pls forgive me. as always, huge thank you to @yeyinde who allows me to ramble continuously and to @guyfieriii who is on her way to get me a magazine and send it to me. I adore you both.

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“I can’t believe you caught him?”

“Me neither.”

You lean back, eyes wide, twisting the cord around your finger.

“I did call you—last night. After we’d seen him. Rang your place, work...”

Swallowing, you smile. “I, um—“ 

Looking up as Peña steps out of his office, sliding his tie through the loop, eyes staring over you. Drinking you in. Making every part of you burn up under his gaze. 

“—had a date.”

“Oh. How did it go?”

Biting your lip, you watch him. How his brows furrowed, letting your eyes descend down before noticing his tie. How it sat off-centre—all threaded in a rush. 

You suspect he’s been ordered to attend a meeting. One likely about the day's events, one with a lot of Colombians, officials and higher-ups. So, you gesture. 

The corners of your lips slightly rise, watching his smile slowly grow.

“It was good. Nice.”

Van Ness snorts. “You going to see them aga—actually, fuck this, I don’t think I wanna hear anymore.”

“Wasn’t about to tell you, Van Ness. Hey—I have to go, please be safe.”

“Always am.”

“Says the man catching Narcos—anyway, Stoddard is here, speak soon.” 

“He best not be making you drinks…”

“Promise he isn’t.” 

You place the phone down, standing up as Peña comes to a halt barely an inch away from you. 

“That my name now? Stoddard.”

“Well, you’re struggling to sort your own tie, does seem a Stoddard thing to do, sir.”

He twitches his fingers at his side. Has been doing so since he guided Gilberto out to the flashing lights and clicks of cameras.

The significance of what they’d done—what he had done—crashed into him. Not knocking him off his feet, not even knocking him off his axis. But it kickstarted something.

It truthfully only slid over him when he slid into the seat of a car. 

They’d done it. Proved that surrender wasn’t the only option—that they could be caught. Because they had caught one of them. The ones they all said were untouchable. Right in his fucking home, hiding away. 

A new lease of life spreads as Javi swallows. A thrum of energy, one which has been missing since before he was sent back to the States, rippling through him as though it had never gone. Disturbing the regret he’d been feeling since… 

They’d done it. The thought rolls around, his finger occasionally stroking his bottom lip—sometimes pinching his thigh as the streets flash past the window. Doing so even as his knee hits the door, needing to, just to be certain he’s awake, and not dreaming. 

The truth it’s all a reality weaves into his muscles, the adrenaline bursting into his bloodstream—beautifully blending with the newly rejuvenated oxygenated cells that swim to his heart.  

He knows there's a shitstorm waiting for him at the embassy. For what he’d done—but, then, they hadn’t really wanted him here for the accolades.

Stechner hadn’t vouched for him because he’d been a rule-follower. More someone to blame, to use.

And now, he’d shown them the sheer proof that it could be done—the surrender could be nil and void. They could get more.

That’s what he’d thought as he had hammered his knuckles into Martinez’s door, pulling on a string marked ‘do not touch’. Hoping he’d be forthcoming—that he’d trust him to work alongside him. 

Javi hadn’t been sure if a speech on how much he wanted to do right would make up for what had already transpired. Less excuses spoken, and more acknowledged errors that he’d been determined—foolishly so. Blinded and only seeing through tunnel vision. Focused on the wrong thing; determined, but for what? None of it became clear even when he’d sat in his childhood home—or stood out in the field. The more he looked for answers, the less weight his reasonings had—the fewer excuses he could grasp at why he’d let things poison and ruin. 

In the end, he was grateful he hadn’t needed to spout any of that. The sheer opportunity that Javi had brought it to him, had been enough. 

Not sure any of his truthful ramblings would have made sense, anyway.

It was a true second chance. A hope which had been living in some recess, brushed off and placed front and centre at his feet. His hand outstretched, watching as Martinez shook his—a truce, of some sort, a promise. Maybe, in the smallest way, an element of forgiveness—not that Javi would allow it. It didn’t mean he’d squander or wreck it either, using it to stand a little taller and ensure his shoulders were a little more square. 

It’s why he takes a moment when the car pulls up outside the building. Sitting, spreading his palms in long strokes over his thighs. Catching his breath. 

He can already feel how things have changed. Already knows there will be faces turning when he steps inside, the burden of it meeting his shoulders again. Having temporarily moved it, placed it on the floor while he focused on what needed to be done. Now, the music was playing, and the true heaviness of what a second chance meant began to rest on his bones. The true power of doing good didn't just provide accolades, but gifted in moon-eyed agents and hopefulness he felt guilty squashing. 

It begins when he steps down the embassy stairs, bodies stopping, turning. His cheeks warming, ears burning as they murmur and mutter. Focusing on it, while another part blindly wants to ignore it as he enters the office. It’s why the first clap doesn’t register. 

It takes a moment, the applause slowly raining around him, covering him. Layering in thick noise that soaks into his skin and makes him feel cold, rather than joyous. 

The worst thing is, deep down, he knows there’s an old version of him who would have smirked at all of this. Who’d have relished in it. Likely lifted his chin, and shook each hand—man or woman—rather than sinking his chin to his chest like he’s currently doing. Trying to shy from it, get through them all as they begin to move closer, ready to congratulate him—shake his hand. 

A part of him knows he should be glad. Should be proud he has somewhat earned the notoriety he walks around with now. A slither of it, anyway. 

Finding Stoddard’s hand, he’s the only one he shakes. Not sure what to do with the rest of his body as he lets his eyes move across the room, seeing the closing circle of those wanting to thank him, celebrate and pat him on the back. But, his eyes land only on the pair which pulls him to shore. 

Yours.

The one person not clapping—leaning against your desk, head tilted to the side, doing your trademark smirk. The one Javi likes to think is just for him because he pulls it from you so frequently. The one which hits your eyes and shines like the sun on a cloudless day and warms him, even if he keeps trying not to let it. 

His heart sinks, just a touch. It’s still floating on the surface of the day and is the only explanation for why it doesn’t fall to his feet. Because as he lets his eyes fall over you he realises it’s the first opportunity he’s had to think of you. To allow himself to think of you. 

How he hadn’t had a chance to make sure you got home okay. The last sight of you had been in his office, lips swollen, eyes shimmering with post-lust bliss and your clothes a little off-pristine. Your hand on his wrist, sliding circles into his pulse—all thought-out and considered. You’re gonna get him, Javi. Your teeth chewed the skin of your lip as the words washed over him, a nervousness to you he rarely ever noticed—a slight discomfort in your forced expression.

But he hadn’t asked. 

Swallowing, he releases the hand in his.  

“–Where you going? C’mon, we want to toast you…”

Hearing Stoddard, but watching you. “Start without me.”

He never questioned the tight expression when you released his wrist, his hand grabbing at things from his desk—all set to walk out, to leave. Be safe, Javi. 

It echoes through his ears as he crosses the room, watching as you take a deep breath as the gap between the two of you closes. 

Javi could let himself feel it now—the spark and the concern. Could question it—let it fill him. He could find the words to ask why Cali undoes a part of you, why you always place one particular type of mask up when it's mentioned—when someone goes. Unpicking it all, seeing it all as though someone was showing it to him all on video. 

Having been so laser-focused before, he’d missed it. Placed them all to the side, noticing the other things—the ones inflicted by others' words and actions, and not the looming one hovering over you as you worked.

Something had happened to you in Cali. Something that was left from the reports. 

He tucks you away, hides you—keeps you purely for the times he can spare a second to truly think and consider you. Sometimes, it’s in the quiet—in the calm. A welcomed retreat, a safe haven. A person who populates a carved space in his mind, one you had barely needed to hack at to make. Because, in truth, he made it for you, found a place that he could store you in for when he felt safe enough to let you out, and he wasn’t sure what that meant. 

Now just watching in slow motion as you try to hide what he assumes is relief. 

It’s a gift, how you keep people out. One he would admire if he wasn’t on the other side of it and wasn’t able to recognise how quickly and smoothly you were able to slide up the veil which isn’t breachable. While he doesn’t know what monsters live in your wardrobe or which ghosts haunt you, he knows there’s a reason why you can’t tell him too. 

A reason why you talk in riddles whenever bureaucracy is mentioned. 

A discomfort which ebbs and flows, but never truly meets the two of you, even if it tries to. It did so before he fucked you on his desk. A look so similar to the one you gave him in his office, all soft eyes he wasn’t sure if he could ever earn deserving.

He knows people consider you to be a storm. A restless bundle of anger and lightning—thunder rumbling with every step of your heel.

But, as he comes to a stop in front of you, Javi realises he hadn't seen you like that, not since the first day when you'd tried to convince him you were. Not even as you slide around your desk, using the wooden furniture as a barrier between the two of you. 

Ironic, really. When the two of you used one similar as a surface for relief, hours and hours ago. 

Javi thinks you’re something more akin to a rain cloud—all set to burst and let whatever it is you hold close fall like raindrops. Maybe they’d be acidic, maybe they’d burn those unfortunate to be underneath, but he’d only care for the relief on your face. 

The one he’s sure is hiding behind the smile he’s being presented with. 

“Congratulations, sir.” 

He slides his shades from his shirt, nodding at you. Thanking you. 

Continuing, you clear your throat, “I think the Ambassador would like to see you.” 

You let your words wash over him, before dropping your hand close to your mug, slowly pushing it toward him. A gesture, a bold one in a sea of eyes. 

Voice dropping, you flick your eyes up to his, “You can have one sip.”

“And, if I take one more, cariño?” 

Your lips scrunch, a real smile—all teeth and lines in your cheek—so desperate to break out. “You wouldn’t want to know, sir.” 

Each time he swallows, he tastes your coffee. 

Desperate to find a mug, to enjoy one more sip in some silence—even light up a cigarette, if he could be spared. But, it’s one thing, then another. Almost feeling the flutter of anxiety and adrenaline merging into something unheard of. 

From the meeting to the note in his file, right to the press conference he had needed to lead. 

As soon as it ended, he was led to the staircase—practically shoved off. His feet all heavy, legs like lead as he steps down, ready to hide in his office and release many heavy, simmering breaths.

That had been his plan. His only focus—until he finds you waiting.

Then he thinks of the file room, his place, his desk…

It knots all inside of him—that thrum of disbelief that blends so disastrously with the sudden acknowledgement he doesn’t deserve you. Something he thinks a lot, yet is finding it harder to fight off under tiredness and waning adrenaline. 

It isn’t just whatever it is between you—the fun, non-committal thing neither of you are likely to acknowledge—but your mere attendance in his life. 

The way you make things brighter, shine something that makes the edges a bit more colourful and meaningful. Not quite ready to allow it closer to the centre, to let it touch the parts of him still tainted in darkness and regret. He doesn’t think even your shine can do that alone. 

Wiping a hand over his face, he moves towards you. Absently wondering when you’ve snuck in, having not seen you arrive or between his meeting finishing and arriving here. He’d looked for you, met Stoddard’s eyes and nodded for him to come.

Yet, here you are, shaking someone’s hand as Javi moves past another person, noticing that you’ve removed your jacket, so that he can see the outlines of your bra straps through the back of your blouse. He spots the clipboard pressed to your chest, hand wrapped around another mug—one he soon realises is the one you always give him. 

It diminishes, the part of him which wants to protect you from him. From the disappointment he tends to bring and the fact he’s so thoughtless. That even under your occasional frostiness and many secrets, you’re kind… sweet. 

It’s why he should blink, and turn away—not that he can tear his eyes away enough to solidify his thought of walking away. Your presence practically demands his attention, even if you’re talking to someone else. Your leg crossed in front of the other, a white pen tucked away behind your ear and hearing, as he moves closer, the Spanish flowing from your tongue. It’s crisp, and clear—rolling beautifully to his ear as the conversation nears an end. The man’s hand in yours, another placed on your arm—squeezing—bidding you farewell.

Something unfurls, and stretches its legs inside of him. Only settling when the man’s hand leaves your arm, leaves the close proximity and is walking away. 

“You making friends?” 

Shrugging, you smirk. “Apparently so. You looked good by the way.” 

“I did?”

Nodding, you hand him the mug. “Yeah. Like you were supposed to be up there. You know, before you get into your head, it should have been someone else.”

He nods, taking a sip, wincing at the strong taste of alcohol—frowning at you as you smile wistfully. 

“Thought you could do with something stronger. Also, you doing the conference is smart, I like it—takes the heat off Chris and Dan.” 

He nods again, taking another sip. More prepared this time to coat his throat in amber, staring, wondering how you managed to sneak a mug of bourbon to him. Not that he should be surprised. You seemed to manage to do a lot, keep things turning, keep things organised. 

“So, sir. How do you plan on celebrating?”

He takes a long drag, raising his brows that hopefully says, I think you already know, and from the smirk, you shoot him back, you do. The two of you fall into a walk, one where your strides match, where your eyes can be on the other but not walk into a thing or soul. Not speaking, not for a minute, your eyes taking him in—raking over him, assessing him for something (or nothing) he can’t be sure. 

“Are you waiting for an invite for that or…”

Shrugging, he watches you take the mug back as he narrows his eyes. “Never been one to wait to be asked to be somewhere, cariño.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” you comment, sliding closer as you press the button for the elevator. “So, what? You want to take me home and fuck the day away?” 

He looks at you, flicking from your eyes to your lips. Watching as you swipe the tip of your tongue against your lower lip. Your body heat is almost smothering his skin—even through his shirt and jacket. “If I ever say no to doing that, cariño. I’ve got brain damage.”

Smirking, you nudge him, the ding of the elevator's arrival making you step back. “If we have a choice, I choose yours. It's fancier.” 

“I don't know, I bet you have candles and decorative pillows.” 

“That what makes a place fancy in your eyes? The amount of candles someone has.”

“I have no candles.”

Snorting, you shake your head as he presses the button for your floor. 

As the doors close, he glances at you, how your expression is fixed on the metal doors. 

“I’m glad you came back, Peña.”

He hears it, and conjures another set of words. Ones he heard, ones he had been meaning to acknowledge—until the phone rang. Until life hurtled a thousand things, and then he was flying to Cali. 

Javi… I was worried. I was worried about you.

You turn your head, flicking your eyes over him. “Another night, I’d show you how unfancy my place is. Tonight, though…”

He knows. Knew even before the teasing had begun about his place or yours. His thumb strokes over his middle and index finger as he chews his cheek. 

“Plus, someone must have come in and knocked all your files on the floor,” you say, a lightness to your tone, “Left your office in a right mess.” 

The doors pinged open, only able to watch as you step out—not waiting for him, just leaving him behind, chewing his smirk.

The moment Martinez left his office, he just remained sat on the edge of his desk.

It had taken longer than it should to sink in. The power people had, the corruption, how it bled and rotted in every corner of the place. The enormity of it all, how without his sacrifice and him handing his notice in, it would have all been undone.

Martinez was the good one. The one who hadn't toed the line, hadn't stepped into the grey, hadn't even been selfish. Not like him.

He drained the glass, finished his cigarette—staring at a patch on the floor until his fingers wrapped around the edge, feeling marks along the wood. For a solid minute, he traces them, feels the lines, the deepness to them, until his mind wonders if they’re from you.

No, Javi. Just you. Only you. 

It’s instant, the way he darts to his bottom drawer, rummaging through until he retrieves the file—the one marked with your name. The one he’d sourced before, now paying attention to the parts he had ignored then. 

From the look on your face, you’re as surprised to see him, as he is that he knocked. A wine glass in hand, the red of it sloshing from side to side as he observes you process his arrival. That he even got out of the car. 

“You… know where I live?”

He drops his hand from leaning on the door frame, wiping his mouth. “I know where you live.” 

Opening the door, you step aside—hands tugging at your cardigan to wrap it around yourself. “Some could call that stalking, sir.” 

“Y’gotta stop with the sirs.” 

“Do I?” 

You smirk—it spreads up your cheeks until it hits your eyes, before your hand pushes the door closed behind him, keeping your eyes on him. 

All he can think is how pretty you are. How beautiful you look, even if you’re all undone—nothing on your face, a baggy t-shirt and some shorts, the thickest socks on your feet. 

“Drinking alone, cariño?” 

It’s slow, how you lean against the door. Not letting the two of them head further into your place. “Some days justify it. Don’t you think?” 

He does. 

More than he wants to say—not wanting to spoil your evening. Taint your home with talks of work and bureaucracy. Things he suspects you know more than you’re likely to share. The thick lines through your file are all an indication of it.   

You take a sip, and then another. 

Adding nothing, just letting him stand there, and he half wonders if you expect him to plead his case here—or whether you’re assessing whether to eject him out of your place as quickly as you left his prior. 

Mainly, he focuses on the fact it smells like you. Floral with a hint of darkness—your decor not all that different from his, just with additional touches. Some candles, some colour—some attempt at making the place feel like a home and not somewhere to rest your head. 

It’s only in the growing silence does he hear the faint sound of music, something low, involving a guitar thrumming in the background. 

“Are you lonely, Agent Peña?” 

He places his hand in his pocket, leaning against the wall opposite you. 

“No.” 

You nod, rolling your lips. “Just in the neighbourhood then?” 

He wipes his mouth as his other hand rubs his palm against his index finger in his pocket. Suddenly unsure why he was here—why he’d found your address and come. 

Javi wasn’t lonely. Didn’t have the time to be. A sea of paperwork on his desk, the guilt weighing down on him, hearing the colonel's voice over and over—the once pleasant taste of liquor now turning bitter in the back of his throat. 

“You forget I know where you live, so I know you’ve come out of your way.”

A laugh escapes and falls from his lips as he dips his head. 

It all of a sudden catches up with him, how the day has been a range of emotions. The delicate way things had needed to happen, the thrum of adrenaline—the joy, the meeting, the conference… 

Lifting his chin, he finds you still watching him.

No smirk. No smile. All soft edges and a comforting presence—waiting. For what, he can’t be sure, but he kicks off the wall all the same. Sliding his hand from his pocket, softly wrapping it around your hip as he places his forehead against yours, walking you backwards, taking the glass from your hand and placing it down. 

He tells himself he needs a moment. A stolen one that doesn’t bleed and change into others. A break in from everything, for a second. 

It only shifts when he wraps each finger on your hip, pulling you close. He keeps your shoulder blades against the wall, the guitar strumming increasing as much as his heart is beating. It’s all rhythmic, a remix of a song he isn’t sure of—but one he is tuned into all the same. 

It takes his breath away how you look at him. How it’s harder to stop himself from falling into them, worsening as your hand cups his elbow. At first, it’s all shared breath and waiting. Neither moving, his forehead just remaining against yours.

“Are you okay?” 

It’s so soft. Barely audible if his body wasn’t pressed against you, as he shakes his head, feeling your fingers slowly sliding in gentle circles around his elbow. Cupping him, keeping him as close as his hands keep you.

“What do you need?” 

He says nothing. Afraid that saying ‘you’ is too much. Having hoped the action would speak louder than the words as he stares into you—mixing brown with yours to make a colour artists dream of. 

“Hey,” you say again. More demanding, assertive. “Javi, what do you need?” 

He doesn’t think, doesn’t attempt to. Embodies the former version of him—the one which had gone to the Colonel’s home, to begin with—the one who takes and takes and takes. 

“You drunk, baby?”

He hears you swallow, before slowly shaking your head. 

“Good,” he whispers.

Closing his eyes, he lifts his forehead before dipping his head, his mouth captures yours. Javi merges the taste of sweet wine, whiskey and his cigarettes together, creating a taste so intoxicating and delicious he’s not sure he ever wants to come up for air. 

Just need you, he thinks as his tongue slips past your parted lips. 

Only want you, he urges as he feels your other hand sliding around his neck, deepening the kiss, his tongue able to taste that small whimper you do when he squeezes your hip. 

It’s different—but then each time he kisses you is. It has been needy, and passionate. Another, it has been soft, almost meaningful. Now, this time, he’s able to feel how warmth consumes him as you kiss him more purposefully. He deepens it in search of more, kissing you more hungrily, full of need and want.

It’s only when he feels your hand skate over the back of his neck, fingers teasing the bottom of his hair, does he slow. In time, pulling back, pressing his forehead against yours—bruising your hip with his fingers as he takes a few deep breaths. 

“Whatever it is…” 

“We can’t fix it, cariño.” 

It’s cold—the way he says it. Wishing he could retract it the moment he sees your brows scrunch. Instead, he shows no sign of letting up his grip on you. Hoping it’s enough to wordlessly explain that he needs you close, wants you—in fact. Needed to just be around you. Even if he shouldn’t, couldn’t… 

He presses two fingers to the side of your cheek, curling them. Your mouth parts, words—likely reassuring ones, knowing what he knows about you—are all desperate to fall and heal over the cracks. But, he shakes his head, watching your lips close as quickly as they had opened, your fingers continuing to draw shapes at the base of his hairline, studying him—searching his eyes.

Then, like a light in a dark room, understanding spreads across your gaze. Illuminating everything, likely connecting the dots in that beautiful—but deeply fascinating—way you do.

“Martinez…”

“Cariño… not, not right now.”

Slowly, you smile, spreading your fingers in his hair—tugging on him, pulling him with far too much ease until his forehead presses back against yours. 

“You did this… before.”

A breath escapes his lips. “Yeah…” 

“Why’d you come, Javi?”

I needed you.

It wasn’t a lie. If anything, it was more truthful than he cared to admit or accept. Which is why he didn’t say it—didn’t let on that the moment the walls began to tremble, he thought of you. Looked through the blinds, bitterly disappointed you weren’t there to be witty and sarcastic, smirk in that way that gets under his skin and make some flirtatious comment that makes it hard not to kiss you.

He could tell you that. Be honest. 

Instead, he says nothing, staring into your eyes until he feels your other hand, the one which has been continuing to grip his elbow, squeeze. 

“Okay. Lemme look after you,” you whisper, before kissing him.

Brushing your lips against him, before pulling away and then kissing him again. Testing the waters, looking for some form of permission as he grips your hips, giving it to you. He doesn’t protest when you begin trailing kisses down his jaw. Your fingers sliding around his arm, to his waist, to the belt holding his trousers up. 

Holding the base of your neck, he stares into your eyes, feeling your palm brush suddenly over his cock. “You don’t have to, car—“

“Shh,” you whisper. 

Slowly, he watches as you lower yourself to your knees, his throat going dry at the mere sight of you. Watching as you grip his cock. All teasingly slow, dragging it out—your tongue sweeps across your bottom lip as you continue to stroke him. 

Eyes closing, he lets his head meet the wall. Needing more—almost asking for it.

It’s what you want, he assumes. Because as soon as he reaches the point where he’s going to ask, you wrap your pretty lips around him. Taking note of the way you run your tongue around the head of him before licking a stripe along the underside of his cock. Finding that your eyes don’t leave his—watching what you do to him, enjoying it. 

It’s endearing.

A desire building, suddenly wanting nothing more than to watch—how he wants an unrestricted view of such beauty—of you taking him down your throat, of your cheeks hollowing, even if your actions are compelling him to close his eyes. 

You’re always pretty—but this is something else. You are on your knees for him. 

Taking as much of him as you can, your hand working what you can't fit—his own hand tightening around your head as you wrap his cock in warmth.

He feels you smirking, your mouth pulling back as you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, a hand grasping the back of his thigh as you hum around him. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, cariño.” 

The tip of your tongue slides over his slit, making him hiss again—making your name tumble freely from his tongue as he leans himself against the wall for leverage.  

“I know,” you whisper, tracing your lips with his slick head, “Come down my throat, Javi.” 

He grunts, nails digging into his palm as you take him down your throat. His other hand bites into your head as you take him deeper, his hips spluttering, thrusting against your tongue. 

Your eyes have closed.

The window into your need to please him vanishes, and he wants to ask you to open them. To let him see. His finger strokes the top of your cheek, feeling the dampness from a tear at how deep you’re taking him. 

How deep you want him down your throat. 

His hand aids you, fucking into you as you hollow and moan—it vibrates all around him. It covers and smothers his own grunts and groans. The one you pull from him with ease, because everything with you he is slowly learning is easy. Not complicated—even if the situation is. 

All he can think is you’re a fucking goddess, an angel—something he’s now one hundred per cent sure he doesn’t deserve. 

He hisses out your name, feeling your hands clutch at him for balance, his moans filling the hallway of your place until he’s coating your throat in his pleasure. You lap up every drop of it, swallowing it—swallowing all of what he’s given you.

You don’t move, not for a minute. Him slowly pulling himself from your mouth, your hand wiping any spend from your lips to your tongue. 

“You’re… fucking—”

“Something?”

He snorts, arranging himself before he fastens his trousers, shaking his head. His hand offers out to you, pulling you up from your knees as he adjusts your cardigan—as he places his lips against yours. 

“I didn’t… this wasn’t why I came around.”

“Why did you… come round?”

His muscles tighten, swallowing as he stares at you. 

Then you smile, placing a hand over his chest, palm flat, fingers spread. “You got anywhere to be, sir?” 

Javi is frowning, before the rest of your words sink in. His hand captures yours, holding it flat against him as he shakes his head. 

“Because you’re here, may as well let me toast you.” 

Some mornings greet him loudly—sweat clinging to his skin, head hammering, and the world chirping.

The morning, it greets him gently, softly. The sun slides through open curtains, a calmer sound of occasional passing cars greeting his ears.

It’s only then that he registers he’s waking beside you. Your warm, soft skin curled against him—his own arm holding you close, keeping you close. 

It takes a second for the sleep to flutter past his eyes, glancing at the clock on your bedside table—the one which ticks ever so loudly now he’s awake. It’s obvious the two of you have managed to catch a few hours, remembering how he’d brought you in here—thrown your decorative pillows to the floor with a smirk that you kissed immediately from his mouth.

He had told you he wouldn’t stay. 

But, here he is. Now, though, he should move—even if he’s unsure if he wants to. 

It’s never been his favourite thing, waking up outside of his own space. Never mind besides someone else. There were occasions and exceptions. He’s not prepared or currently capable of assessing whether you’ve slotted yourself there, either. 

All he knows is… he likes it, being here. 

Enjoying the fact he’s been allowed to steal a moment of this—of you. Letting himself enjoy it, the sound of your soft inhales and exhales, the way you fit against him—not in a way that looks perfect but simply feels it. 

And it scares him. Just a little bit. 

That thought returning, the one which bellows and beats the drum that you deserve better: than him, than what he can give you and the life you’d have being around him. 

Pinching his nose, he knows he should go to the office. Should begin to unravel the highs and lows of the day prior. Make a start on the paperwork that is already mounting higher than he expected. 

Instead, he turns his head. Selfishly admiring the way you sleep so peacefully, how he’d somewhat expected to find a creased forehead or a tightened jaw. A part had also expected to hear nightmares plague you, knowing there’s something there—living in your mind. A bad memory, a past which hammers at you to get out. 

He’d half expected to have his own rear its head too. 

Instead, he’s sure none had greeted the night air. 

If anything, he slept peacefully, soundly. Almost oddly, for the most consecutive hours since way before Escobar was caught. He shuffles against the pillow, eyes widening when he realises and feels your head rolling ever so slightly on his chest. The smallest of movements that had rippled out into hearing you murmur. 

Freezing, it dawns on him that he doesn’t want the bubble to burst. Studying, secretly praying he hasn’t woken you, as your lashes flutter and your lips don’t press back together. He’s a passenger, unable to stop the undoing as your brows dip, your fingers spread over his chest—

“J-Javi?” 

It’s full of sleep, his name. And fuck, it has never sounded so nice.  

He thought it bellowed or screamed as he fucked someone was good, but this… is something else. It takes a chunk from him, snatches it, and renders him thoughtless as you turn your head on his chest, looking up at him, blinking. 

“Morning,” he whispers, thumb stroking your cheek. “I’m… I should go, cariño…”

You frown, not like normal—smothered in sleepiness that it doesn’t quite form. 

A string is plucked in his chest when your fingers slide over his chest, watching them rub at your face. A desperation rises in him to kiss you, to taste what morning and goodness is like—even if it's coated in unbrushed teeth and last night. 

But, it’s his moment to move—his chance. To relieve you of his presence. 

Not that he takes it. Instead, he absorbs the moment he was robbed of the first night he took you to his—of seeing you without armour or walls. 

“If y’give me…”

“—cariño—“

“… like fifteen, maybe twenty minutes,” you say, words monotone and low as your hand slowly drops from your face to his chest. “I need… really need a shower. Then can come wit’you.” 

As soon as you sit up, cool air brushes over the places you’d been against him—goosebumps appearing over his skin as you stretch. His hand lightly grasps your forearm, keeping you from sliding out the sheets completely as he whispers your name.

Lets it slide into the air of your home, around the two of you—the room he secretly wishes could pause time so neither of you had to leave.  

Not ready to face the fallout from Martinez, the look of ‘what’s next’ on everyone’s face. Never mind the note clearly from Stechner. 

“You don’t… you don’t have to, I need…” 

His fingers move to your cheek, sliding over your jaw, only managing a half-breath as you flick your eyes to look over him—stunning him in a shade, he’s not sure truly has a name. 

“W-what?”

“Nothing,” he lies.

Following your suit, he sits up, your sheet falling to his waist as he marries his lips back to yours. Fingers finding your chin, keeping you there, stealing another moment, and another. Doing so until your hand wraps around his wrist, thumb stroking a line up and down his wrist. 

“I need a shower…”

He snorts. “You don’t have to come with me.” 

“I’m normally in an hour or two later anyway—plus…”

“Plus?”

Your lips slide, less of a smirk but more than a smile. “I have to come and ensure you don’t fuck with my organisational system. No other reason.” 

“Not one?”

“No.”

He tuts. “I can keep things organised.” 

You scoff, light and airy. “Peña, you’ve been here five minutes, and your desk already looks like it’s amassed ten years of files, so—I’m gonna call bullshit. Respectfully.” 

“Respectfully?”

“Yes.” 

He allows a laugh to escape, light and airy, it falling from him with far too much ease. Pulled from some depths he hasn’t allowed himself to explore. 

Sliding from him, you stand, grasping at a t-shirt that begins to mist over your body—hiding your skin, your curves and the marks he’s left from view. 

“I… I should say, I don’t mind that you showed up at my place, Javi.”

He traces his mouth with his thumb, looking at you. “Javi, huh?”

You smile, rolling your lips as you sigh. “You wore me down.” 

“Go shower, I’ll wait for you.”

Pausing at the door frame, you glance at him, half your body framed in shadow and the other in the morning light. He’s not sure he’s ever seen someone look more beautiful in the earliest hours of a new day.

chapter six ->

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[noxturnalpascal]

Congrats on your milestone, Patti! We're lucky to have you. I'm grateful for your friendship and your fun and positive presence. I don't really have anything to ask for, because you already made my dreams come true with Mutual 💙 🤟

OH MY GOSH - this moodboard is everything 😍

This beautiful office that he's defiling, the post-fight knuckles, the straining buttons, ✨the bulge✨....... Pedro said it best 👇

Thank you for sending this lovely accompaniment to the little story I wrote and thank you for being inclusive, encouraging, and supportive of me since I was a little newborn blog with less than 50 followers. I'm so glad I got to know you and I'm lucky to consider you a friend.

🫂

If you're interested in reading a little bit of "fluff "about working with Bulge Steve Murphy - you can read Mutual, which I wrote for Toxic's boyd-a-thon.

⬇️ Maybe some THOTS on the first time Steve got caught? ⬇️

The First Taste (1.3k) Steve Murphy x F!Reader

You arrived with the Ambassador almost two months ago and Steve remembers the first time he saw you, sitting at your desk by the window, the late afternoon light pouring golden over you while you shrugged off your blazer, presumably warmed from the sunlight. He saw your chest pushed forward, your pale pink blouse was translucent in all the places it shouldn’t be, and he could make out your lacy bra underneath even from across the room. Only an elbow in the side from Javi snapped him out of his reverie. 

You’ve been on his mind ever since.

That’s how he finds himself tucked away in Messina’s office one dark night. The three of you were stuck with writing up a report of a botched Search Bloc mission, Carillo having gotten bad information and two of his men having been killed. Every step forward seemed to be met with two steps back in this hunt for the Narcos. It was bad enough that he and Javi had to deal with getting their asses handed to them by Messina, but then the Ambassador had assigned one of his “top attachés” to deal with the headaches they were causing him in the form of: you.

You were smart, capable, professional, and blunt. You didn’t hold back your frustration over having been given this assignment, your disappointment in their failures, or your cutting personal remarks. Javi was able to let the insults roll off his shoulders, give a playful reply, and calm you down enough to make the work go by amicably. However, Steve was not as easily placated. His issue wasn’t that he was angry with you. No, that would have been easier. 

His issue was that the meaner you were, the harder he got.

After nearly three hours you were finally happy with the report and Javi wasted no time grabbing his gun, coat, and smokes and excusing himself. You mumbled something about finishing the typing at your own desk, where you were more comfortable, and left the office without even saying goodbye to him. You’re such a bitch sometimes. His cock is fucking throbbing.

He practically runs to Messina’s office, closing all the blinds but not bothering to lock the door. It doesn’t matter because this is going to take a shamefully short amount of time. He hastily undoes his belt, shoves his underwear under his balls and plops down on her sofa, already stroking his hyper-sensitive cock, biting his lip to stop the moans that threaten to spill out of his mouth. He’s a dozen strokes in with the finish-line already in sight when he hears your fucking voice. It can’t be you. It must just be his sick mind fucking with him.

“Murphy?!?” you snipe, louder this time.

He hears your heels stomping towards the door and now - cock in hand - he’s really wishing that he’d fucking locked it. If you come in that door his career, no… his life, is over. You’re the ambassador’s favorite worker, you’re gonna call him - maybe even right there from Messina’s desk - and tell him what a fucking disgusting pervert Steve Murphy is and he’s gonna be on the next flight back to Miami. How is he gonna explain this to Connie, who even though she’ll be thrilled to be going back stateside, is gonna wonder what happened. 

He watches the doorknob turn in slow-motion. 

“Murphy I know you’re still here your keys are-” you stop mid-sentence and mid-step. 

Your eyes bulge out of your head. Fuck. Here it comes. The look of disgust. The insults. The screaming.

Except it doesn’t come. He looks at your eyes and doesn’t see disgust. What the fuck? You look…. Impressed?? Holy Shit. He knew he fucking saw you looking at the bulge in his pants two weeks ago! He convinced himself you must have been looking at something else but he swore he caught you with your eyes boring into his zipper while chewing on a pencil eraser during a meeting with the Ambassador.

“Umm,” he works up the courage to speak.

“What are you doing, Murphy?” you ask, breathless.

“What does it look like?” he says, hopeful.

“What’s wrong with you,” you whisper. 

Well shit. I guess he was wrong again. You’re not turned on. That hungry look he thought he saw in your eyes must have been something else. How is he gonna tell his parents he lost his job? No one's gonna hire him. He’s gonna have to work security at some shitty club full of narco cocaine.

“I-” he begins the impossible task of explaining himself.

“You’re such a fuckup that you don’t even lock a door when you jerk off in your boss’ office?”

Jesus Christ. He has to squeeze his shaft so he doesn’t come right then. You notice. He’s just realized you haven’t taken your eyes off his dick since you walked in the room. Fuck yes, he was right.

“I thought you left.”

“Yeah right,” you huff out a laugh. “You probably just wanted to show that thing off.”

Well goddamn. Are you enjoying this as much as he is? He thinks you might be. He slowly begins pumping his hand up and down, tentative but hopeful. You watch him, unblinking. You begin to take slow steps towards him, eyes never leaving his hand making short strokes, concentrating on the ruddy head of his cock. You come closer and closer, until your feet sit between his on the ground, his knees splayed wide on either side of you.

You’re close enough to touch him now but he doesn’t think you will. You’re still just watching him.

“Is this gonna take all night?” you taunt.

He groans, precum flowing out of his slit and running down the domed head before the upward motion of his hand catches it, spreading it down his shaft. He’s close again. He can’t believe this is happening.

“You know, I thought Peña was a dog, sticking his dick in every hooker in Bogotá, but you’re even worse,” your eyes widen as he moans at your words. “You have a wife waiting and you can’t even make it home to come inside her.”

He whines, speeding up the movements of his hand on his dick, reaching his left hand to grab and tug on his balls. He leans his head onto the back of the couch, eyes closed.

“No, instead you sit in here alone and defile that couch like a fucking degenerate.”

That does it. He grits his teeth and grunts as his come spurts out in ropes, covering his shirt and tie, some of it flying far enough to hit the couch next to him. Jesus Christ he’s not sure he’s ever come this hard. He squeezes out the last of his spend, letting it run down his fingers before gingerly tucking himself back into his pants. He looks up to meet your eyes but you’re not looking at him anymore. You’re facing away from him. Shit. What now?

You turn back to him, your eyes slightly glassy and your forehead damp. You hand him a tissue that you grabbed from the box on Messina’s desk. He probably should have grabbed the tissues first. He kind of is a fuckup, like you said. He grabs the tissue out of your hand, forgetting that his fingers are dirty, and some of his spend transfers onto your hand. 

His eyes go wide and he opens his mouth to apologize but before he can utter one syllable, you bring your dirty finger to your mouth and shove it past your lips. His mouth drops open. You pull your finger out of your mouth with a pop. A frown forms on your face, your eyebrows knit together.

“You’re a very sick man, Agent Murphy,” you growl, then you turn and walk out of the office.

#follower milestone #follower celebration #ask #toxicanonymity ☠️ #mutual #prequel #the first taste #boydo #boyd holbrook #boyd holbrook smut #boyd bungalow ☠️ #steve murphy #steve murphy x reader #narcos fanfiction

[garbinge]

In the Midst of Chaos

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Prompt: Bandaging them up while you both tell each other about your day

A/N: okaaaaay, so first time posting this year but I have some stuff in the works I hope to get out ASAP! Enjoy my first ever Javi fic. Watched Narcos last year, indulged in way too much Javi fic and then went back down my Pedro Pascal rabbit hole because of TLOU so a Narcos rewatch happened and now, well, this happened! Please be kind as it’s my first time writing for Javi (and Narcos!).

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Cursing, light angst, mentions of bullets + blood, canon-level mentions of violence, guns, shooting, etc.

Narcos Taglist: @drabbles-mc (Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

The swarm of people in and out of the clinic on a normal day was enough to give anyone anxiety, but the buzz around the space currently was a little more intense. The shooting happened in the blink of an eye. One minute you were treating a wound infection on a young woman and the next you both were diving under the exam table for cover. 

The window was high and the building was made from thick concrete which made it hard for stray bullets to graze you or your patient but the glass shards made their way down to you. Your face was covered in cuts, nothing too serious but your arm needed some tending to, maybe a couple stitches. 

But that was your last concern. You made sure your patient was okay first, instructing her to stay under the table until the police arrived, and immediately went to find Connie. 

Chaos. That was the best way to describe the atmosphere in the clinic, but you kept your cool. Living in Colombia all these years had taught you that a clear head was the best way to survive. Your eyes scanned around to see the blond hair woman who was a little more frantic than you. You couldn’t blame her, though. This was her first month being here and after experiencing a hold up at the airport, a dead cat, and now a shooting…there wasn’t much less you would expect from her in this scenario. In all honesty, she was holding her own pretty well. 

She turned to you and ran, you brought her into the room you were originally in, expecting to see the patient under the table still but she was gone. In the midst of the chaos you let out a disappointing sigh, you knew your best bet was to stay in one place, with the way the bullets had been shot it was likely a drive by and no threats were in the building, but the anxiety of it all was that you couldn’t be 100% sure.  

Connie was sobbing at this point, her cries were silent as you both sat huddled together on the ground. You were thankful for that at least, you didn’t have to add tension to the situation by quieting her down. What felt like hours had passed, but as you kept your eyes focused on the clock you knew it was barely 15 minutes… you heard tires squeal outside, more clear than ever before since the window was non-existent now. You heard the voices outside, you could tell they were the police just by how they spoke, less slang and franticness in their tones but more purpose and firmness. 

Even with that knowledge, it didn’t make the door opening to your exam room feel any less daunting but when you saw his face you let out the exhale you had been holding the entire time. 

Connie was out of your arms in seconds when she saw her knight in shining armor’s face, engulfing Steve in an embrace with no concept of letting go. Steve was looking her over immediately, asking her questions. His eyes glanced over towards you when Connie mentioned your name in her mile a minute explanation of what was happening. Javi was already moving over to you, but just before he was standing in front of you, you noticed Steve had given you a nod. His way of thanking you before bringing Connie to the medic for a full check. 

Moving your stare back to Javi, you could see his shoulders slump in a bit of relief when you offered him a look to let him know you were okay, your face softening and your breath starting to inhale and exhale properly versus just minutes before. Part of him was happy you weren’t dead or bleeding out but another part of him was distraught you were dragged into another situation like this. 

“I’m okay.” You whispered as he guided you up off the ground. No amount of facial expressions or body language would match the relief of actually hearing those words. Despite that, there was no embrace or hug or urgency in his moves as he guided you to the table that you had been hidden under just minutes before. It wasn’t like him, his main concern was to make sure you were physically okay which is why his eyes scanned over yours and then continued over the rest of your body. 

“Shit.” His eyes stopped at your right arm, his touch was light as he moved it around to get a better look. 

“We match.” You said nodding to his shoulder. His shirt was ripped and the blood from the cut was seeping onto his shirt. The bullet proof vest sitting only inches from the cut.

Javi’s head dropped and when he picked it back up there was a small smile on his face. “You or me?”

“You talk first, I patch up.” You were moving to the counter where all your medical supplies were. Your luck must’ve not completely run out because despite there being glass everywhere the area of the counter where the gauze and bandages were was untouched. You jimmied the draw open that always was getting stuck and pulled out the antibiotic cream, saline, and alcohol. 

You turned around to place the items on the exam table to see Javi had taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his t-shirt button up. A laugh left your mouth at the site of it. 

“Shirt off and start talking, Peña.” 

Javi laughed as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

“It’s not that serious, I jumped off a balcony.” 

You rolled your eyes as you poured saline over the wound and touched up the edges with gauze. 

“Who were you chasing?” The question rolled off your tongue like you weren’t asking something extremely classified. Peña didn’t answer right away which made you ask a different question with a little more worry in your tone. “Who was chasing you?” 

He looked up at you as you asked, you were now grabbing the alcohol and getting ready to pour it on the gauze to disinfect the wound. 

“Sureshot.” 

Your eyes darted to him when he said it, you expected him to say no name at all, but when you heard the nickname of one of Pablo’s closest men, you were shook to your core. 

“and you had it right the first time, we were chasing him.” 

“We?” You asked as you moved his shoulder in preparation of the sanitizing to come. 

“Okay, I.” Javi corrected himself. 

You patted the alcohol soaked cotton against his open wound without warning and he hissed. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He surrendered.

It was your one rule. Never be alone. Either of you. With the targets you both had on your back, it was a piece of comfort you both had in the midst of all the crazy shit always happening.

“Don’t apologize, just fuckin’ do it Javi.” The tone you used wasn’t mean, just exhausted. 

“Baby, I’m..” He wanted to come up with an excuse but he stopped himself and nodded in agreement. 

You were starting to put a few butterfly bandages on the cut when you saw the bruises on his side. 

“A balcony, huh?” You softened your tone even more. 

“Still hurts less than you yellin’ at me.” He said that sentence with a full texan accent and it warmed your heart. 

“It’s because I care, mi amor.” The pet name rolled off the tongue, it had been years of you calling him that, years of you two being in what felt like groundhogs day in Colombia. You moved here for mission work looking for purpose and ended up finding love. Meeting Javi was luck but marrying him was fate. Going to that little chapel in Cartegena, one day you were celebrating a wedding, and the next you were both back in the front lines of your lives. Haven’t looked back since. 

“Speaking of caring, I really would like to take a look at that.” The cut on your arm looked worse, it definitely needed to be stitched up, and there was a chance there was still glass stuck in it.

“I can have Connie fix me up, don’t you have to get back to work?” 

Outside the exam room it was bustling with people, members of the search bloc, regular street cops, more DEA members and CIA from what you could tell. 

“Carrillo is here, he can handle it with Steve. My priority is you.” He was sliding his shirt back on as he stood up, nodding at the table for you to take a seat. 

“Steve is going to be tied up with Connie, she’s a little shaken up.” 

Javi turned to look at you, a little shocked by what you said. He knew Connie could hold her own which just made the reality of what happen really sink in more him. He could have lost you.

“Bottom left drawer.” Now, you were sitting where Javi just was, back to the medical supplies as he searched for what you assumed to be your stitch kit. You didn’t need to be looking at him to know what he was doing. Making his way over, he decided to sit across from you instead of leaning over you, patting his thigh so you could rest your arm there as he treated the wound. 

“What happened?” The tweezers were picking at the glass shards that were still lodged inside. 

While you weren’t flinching, your face was scrunched up as he picked at the wound. “One minute I was seeing a patient, the next we were being rained on by bullets and glass. It had to be a drive by, I didn’t hear anyone inside.” You gave him all the information you had. 

“It was the cartel.” Peña was now dropping the tweezers into the petri dish. “Grip my hand.” He ordered you as he picked up the alcohol bottle. Your cut was much deeper than his and yours was way more likely to be infected so pouring the rubbing alcohol on it was the only way to be sure you were killing off any unwanted bacteria and Javi knew that. 

“The cartel?” You questioned, ignoring his request. 

“Cariño, por favor.” He begged you now with glistening eyes and an extended hand for you to grip. You obliged, taking his hand and gripping it tight. “Deep breath,” he said calmly and breathed in with you, “on the count of three,” he began to count down the numbers, “1,” and the minute the last syllable hit the roof of his mouth the alcohol was being poured on the wound. It was like him to have you prepare for 3 and go on 1, even though it hurt more, you knew it was smart. Your body tensed, you flinched back, but your hand got caught in Javi’s grip and his eyes glued to yours. “Deep breaths, baby.” 

“I’d rather have you yelling at me.” You referenced him from mere moments ago. He laughed at the comment and grabbed gauze to pat the wound dry and clean up any blood he could. 

“I think the cartel knows the girl is here.” Peña’s voice whispered. That context was enough, you knew he was talking about Elisa, Steve had been extremely upset with the appearance of the guerrilla communist, and while Javi was too, he was a little less forthcoming about it. Now with what happened, Steve was going to shout his opinion from the rooftops and Javi was going to be forced to pick a side. 

“Javi, that means this entire place is compromised.” Your voice had stress behind it, this was your career, your life and life’s work. Javi had his and you never took that from him, another thing that made you two just work, you understood the importance of it all. 

“Not if we get her out.” Javi was now getting ready to stitch the cut back up. “2 stitches?” He asked before you had a minute to take in what he said. 

“2 is fine, 3 is better.” You looked down to assess it again. 

“You want a painkiller?” Javi asked as he set the sutures up in the forceps. 

The look you gave him was almost laughable, and that’s practically what he did. “Let me at least put numbing cream around it?” Javi negotiated with you not wanting to add any more pain to your day. 

The look you gave him was enough of an answer and he threw his hand up in surrender and began to thread the suture through your skin. Your face stayed brave, your jaw might have chiseled out at points as you clenched your teeth to fight through the sting. Javi checked on you when appropriate, not enough to prolong the process but just for a second after each stitch. When Javi finished the second stitch and looked up to read your face, you spoke up. 

“How do we get her out?” Your brain was trying to wrap itself around the idea he mentioned earlier. 

“You aren’t going to like it.” That was one thing about Javi, he kept it straight with you. It wasn’t always like that, in the beginning there was a sort of a bliss to your relationship, but it didn’t last long. Javi called you from his apartment at 4 in the morning, telling you to come over. Walking into a room with him a bloody mess wasn’t what you were expecting but it’s what got the walls to break down between you. It’s also what made it real, it wasn’t just a fling, something to pass time, it was then where you realized you both supported each other's purpose.

“Do you?” You asked him. “Do you like the plan?” 

“Less like and more that there’s no other option.” Javi got ready to thread the last stitch through.

“You want me and Connie to bring her out.” It was easy to read the situation. 

Javi offered a small nod and looked up at you, it was to get a sense of your thoughts but also to check on you as he finished the last stitch. 

“I think that you don’t like that plan.” A smirk filled your face. 

“You’re right, I don’t.” The gauze wrapped around your arm as he was bandaging it up. 

“What’s Texas like?” You asked him, sincerely. There was nothing more to discuss. Whether either of you liked it, it was happening. You and Connie were going to have to help Elisa escape, there was only one other option which was to deal with more of what had just happened…and that was an option you both liked significantly less. Instead of dwelling, arguing or giving Peña a chance to do the same, you changed the topic.

“Beautiful,” he reminisced, “like you.” 

“Ahhhh, Agent Peña, the smooth talker. I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

You smiled up at him as he stood up from the exam table. His hand was now intertwined with your injured one, bringing it up to press a soft kiss to the back of it. You had mere seconds before the both of you were about to reenter the chaotic investigation that was happening outside. He’d pull you into questioning with other members of his team, you’d have to treat people who were likely trampled on in the flight to escape bullets, and you’d have to tell your story of events likely 50 times over so Javi stood there with his lips on the back of your hand making the seconds feel like hours before the both of you were up and standing at the door of the exam room.

You both stood straight ahead before Javi looked to where you on his right and squeezed your hand to get your attention back on him. 

“When we catch Escobar, I’m getting us a first class ticket to show you all over Texas.”

With a nod, you responded. “Then let’s catch that son of a bitch.”

#javier peña #narcos #Narcos Netflix #narcos fanfiction #javi peña #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javi pena #javier pena #hurt and comfort #narcos hurt and comfort #javier peña hurt and comfort #javi pena hurt and comfort #pedro pascal

[mostthingskenobi]

Diego Luna is in Katy Perry's The One That Got Away music video and it's been one of my go to music videos since Rogue One. Just letting you in on it in case you weren't aware I think you'll enjoy it.

Hello there! YEEESSSSSS!!!! I am aware of this and I have to admit I don't get it LOL!!!!

I mean, I totally get it, but also why???????????

I'm not saying I don't get why it's your go to. I TOTALLY understand!!!!!! It's fucking DELIGHTFUL!!!

This was my exact reaction when I happened upon this music video for the first time:

But I will say... it is worth watching... for reasons... mainly hair reasons... but other reasons as well...

If I was Katy Perry, I'd want any excuse to hang out / make out with Diego Luna...so I get it.

Considering this man is mortified that he was in Dirty Dancing Havana Nights where he played the gentle, family-oriented, innocent but sexy Cuban waiter-turned-dancer who doesn't want to "waste the music," I'm surprised he agreed to play the other end of the cliche spectrum of a wild, artistic bad boy who literally drives off a cliff 😂😂😂😂

But I'm not complaining. I would watch Diego Luna do anything. Literally. He could sit there and read the phone book and I would be in raptures.

A man who can play this character:

And this character:

And this character:

And this character:

And make me believe every single performance is a gift to the world.

Yes, Diego Luna is gorgeous and charming and funny. But he is profoundly talented, creative, and courageous in his work, and I feel like he is one of the best actors of our time. I became convinced of this when I began watching Narcos in between Andor releases. Cassian and Miguel are completely different men, though one could argue there's a modicum of crossover in the way they become disillusioned. I suppose you could even say that Casssian and Miguel start in similar places but develop in opposite directions. To watch one actor play both journeys is nothing short of amazing.

One of the many things I love about Diego Luna is that he will not be boxed in to a "type" or a specific genre. He participates in unexpectedly light and enjoyable projects, like much of his voice work in animation. Or he appears in unpredictable places, like a Katy Perry music video 😀

When you sent me this ask, you probably didn't expect me to go off the rails gushing about Diego Luna...but as you can see, very little pressure is needed to send me into a full-on tornado of Diego Luna love!

#ask #ask me anything #diego luna appreciation! #diego luna #katy parry #the one that got away #dirty dancing havana nights #narcos mexico #rogue one #the book of life #cassian andor #cassian #andor #miguel angel felix gallardo