#nffalphabet

[drabbles-mc]

Right For Once

Steve Murphy x F!Reader

For the @narcosfandomdiscord July Smut Alphabet prompt: angry sex

Warnings: 18+, language, smut, choking

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Me?? Doing a smut challenge despite typically avoiding writing smut like it's the plague?? It's more likely than you think!! Honestly, I'm super excited to see what I end up coming up with for this challenge. Here's to getting out of our comfort zones in July. 😌 Kicking things off with Steve Murphy because I can lmao

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

You didn’t know how the two of you had gone from arguing in the car, to arguing while walking up the steps to your place, to suddenly being tangled up and pinned against the closed door of your apartment. The entire drive back to your place, Steve hadn’t had a single good thing to say to you. And you were pissed off enough to reciprocate his energy. The two of you were physically and mentally beat up after how the day had gone, but you weren’t too tired to refrain from picking a fight. It was a real choice, after all, for him to be giving you so much shit about making rash decisions when he’d made quite the habit of waving his gun around in spaces that he shouldn’t.

But now all the snide remarks were being muted as his lips moved against yours, teeth pulling at yours just slightly. His hands were wrapped around your wrists, keeping your arms pinned above your head while he used his torso to keep you pressed tight between him and the door. One of his legs was wedged between yours, and you hated the way that your body automatically responded by grinding against him.

He finally pulled his lips off of yours, dragging your bottom lip just enough to make it sting as he did. You were fighting to catch your breath, your mind in complete disarray from everything, from the day, from the fact that you could feel the warmth of Steve’s breath against your face as he stayed so close to you.

“And I’m the reckless one,” you snapped with a roll of your eyes. Your sarcasm would’ve hit a little harder if you didn’t sound so breathless.

His grip on your wrists tightened. He leaned in, closing what little shred of distance he’d put between you, his nose brushing against yours. “You fuckin’ are.”

You shook your head at him, giving him a little resistance, trying to fight back against his hold on you just enough. It got you nowhere, of course. If anything, it just had him pinning you harder, his hips pressed against yours.

“This is you using good judgment, then?” you asked, knowing that he could hear the smugness in your tone even though his face was too close to yours for him to see it in your expression.

He let go of your wrists, hands dropping so that they were balled into the collar of your shirt instead. Somehow you almost felt more trapped that way even though you had back the use of your hands.

“Do you know what could’ve happened out there? What shit you could’ve fuckin’ landed yourself in? Landed all of us in?”

You leaned back, letting the back of your head tap against the door behind you. “Why don’t you fucking enlighten me, Agent Murphy?”

“Do you think that you weren’t wrong?”

You scoffed, trying to remain as collected as you could given the circumstances. “You’ve made it pretty goddamn clear that I was wrong, Steve.” You paused. “Got a weird way of showing it, but—”

The tic in his jaw was impossible to miss. You could only imagine what he was thinking, the remarks in his head that he wanted to say. You were waiting for it, for the next verbal blow. How he hadn’t exhausted himself between base and your apartment was beyond you.

Instead of coming back with another comment, he pinned you with another bruising kiss. You knew it was coming this time, and while the logical part of your brain was telling you that you should try to quit while you were still half a stride ahead of whatever mess this was about to turn into, another part of you was saying that the way was already an absolute shitshow, so what was one more thing? Steve was already pissed at you about literally everything else, so why not just throw this on the pile? At least this would be something the two of you could be mad about tomorrow, when you were done being mad about everything that had happened today.

One of his hands moved from your collar up to the side of your neck. His thumb pressed just beneath your chin, keeping your head tilted at just the right angle to keep your lips on his. You busied yourself with undoing the buckle of his belt. The slight hitch in his breathing when you started on the button and zipper of his pants wasn’t lost on you.

Bringing your hands up to his chest, you rested your palms flat against him before pushing him back. It wasn’t out of resistance this time, not trying to push him away from you. Both of you were fully resigned to whatever mistake this ended up being now. Your push this time was a direction. Rough guidance, the only kind either of you really knew how to give. And he followed the cue, allowing you to get him back to the couch in the center of your living room.

When Steve felt the backs of his legs press against the sofa, he made a point to stop, to not let you keep pushing. His hands gripped onto your hips, pivoting the two of you so that you now had your back to the couch. He pushed you back just enough for you to fall back onto the cushions and he was on you in an instant.

Before you could take too much time to think about it, your shoes and jeans were on the floor and Steve was hovering over you. It was close, almost cramped quarters on the couch for the two of you, but it’d work. It was fitting. Maybe if he was in the mood to clean up the mess of the day rather than make it worse you would’ve let him fuck you on your bed.

You were pushing his jeans down off his waist just as he was curling his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He pulled them down your legs at the same time he pulled himself away from you. He only put enough distance between you so that he could take off and cast aside his own clothes. Then he was right back on you, pulling up the bottom hem of your shirt to peel it off over your head. You’d started off undoing the buttons on his shirt, but you only made it about three-fourths of the way before every single type of frustration coursing through you got the better of you and you ripped the remaining few, hearing a couple of them clatter on the floor.

Steve mumbled something against your lips, a sentence you couldn’t quite make out but you knew that he wasn’t thanking you for what you’d just done. Whatever rebuttal you would’ve come up with was lost the second you felt his hand running up the inside of your thigh. The string of curses that you let out under your breath when his fingers slipped between your legs was something he would’ve taken more pride in on a different day under different circumstances.

Your legs were just beginning to tremble when he pulled his hand away. Your head dropped back against the cushion as you muttered an exasperated, “Fuck me.”

Steve let your annoyed statement act as an instruction as he gripped onto your hips and pushed into you. Your legs immediately hooked around his waist, locking him to you. His hips snapped against yours in a way that had you clawing at his back, asking for more with everything but your words. His lips slid down the column of your neck, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin there until they sunk in right where your neck met your shoulder. You arched into him at the contact, nails setting in a little deeper.

You knew from the second he pulled his mouth off of you that there would be a mark left behind when this was all over. Just another piece of the mess. What was one more bruise?

He put enough distance between the two of you so that he could look down at you and really see you. Despite the motions that you were going through, the peculiar intimacy of it all, you could still see and feel the tension between you. Even knowing it wasn’t going to fix the issue, you still didn’t want to stop. A thought crossed your mind in scattered fragments that you would rather take all of Steve’s anger like this, let it be a problem between the two of you that you tried to work out this way, instead of him constantly making his anger everyone else’s problem that he came across. This had to be better than that, right? It certainly felt better for the moment.

His hand slid up your stomach and over your chest, creeping higher until his hand was resting around your throat. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and neither did you. The look on his face asked the question for him, because he was an asshole, sure, and he had been beyond pissed off with you all day, but still. He still hesitated with the silent question.

You were pissed off too. With him and just about everything else. But right now it was just you and him. And as much as you wanted to make things more difficult just for the sake of doing so, you found yourself nodding instead, curiosity beyond piqued at the way things were unfolding.

His hand tightened and your eyes instantly fluttered shut, body arching into him before you even knew what you were doing. Your eyes were closed and you couldn’t see him, but you heard the breathy, “Fuck,” he let out at the sight of you like that. For a brief moment he almost forgot the hell you’d put him through.

He heard the shaky gasp of a breath that you pulled in despite his grip. He could feel the way your body began to tremble the closer you got to release. Your nails bit into his arm, his shoulder, but you weren’t fighting against him. You were just out of ways to pull him closer so you had to settle for that.

Something about the sight of you like that, coming undone beneath him, looking so blissed out despite having no right after all the hell you’d caused, sent him over the edge right after you. His hand slipped away from your throat as he collapsed against you, his face buried in the crook of your neck for a moment as he felt the thudding of your heart, listened to the sound of you sucking in a full breath. Your hands rested on his back, flat, gentle compared to the way you’d been raking your nails against him before.

Once the two of you had started to catch your breath, you let your hands drift so that they were resting against his sides. “Steve?” you said, voice still a bit raspy.

He pulled back, looking down at you with an expression you couldn’t quite piece apart. “Yea?”

“Get the fuck off me.” You started to push him away from you, not roughly, but you needed the breathing space. “Please,” you added on, the ultimate afterthought.

He scoffed and shook his head, but he did what you said. You were pretty sure it was the first time you’d ever seen Steve without something to say. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he gathered his clothes off the floor. He tossed you yours as he came across them, and you shimmied into them the best you could from your current position on the couch.

Once he was dressed, his shirt open at the bottom because of the missing buttons, Steve ran his hands back through his hair. His face was flushed, tinged pink in a way that you might’ve found endearing if you weren’t so annoyed still.

He let out a deep sigh before looking over at you. “So…”

You sat up, swinging your legs off the couch so you were sitting on it properly. Bracing your arms against your thighs, you repeated the word back to him. “So?”

“What,” he gestured vaguely in the air, “the fuck now?”

You shrugged, running your hands down your face. “You can stay and we can keep arguing, or you can leave and we can argue again tomorrow.”

His brows knit. “You don’t think we should talk about—”

“Is it gonna change anything?” you asked, cutting him off. “I mean, really. Is anything actually different now?”

“I mean, yea, I was just fuckin’—” he stopped himself short this time, shaking his head. “You know what? You’re right.” He threw his hands up in defeat.

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “Wow. First time I’ve heard you say that all day.”

“It’s the first time you haven’t been wrong all day,” he rebutted.

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for making sure I got home safe, Agent Murphy. Now get the fuck out of my apartment.”

You weren’t yelling, but the look on Steve’s face had you thinking that he almost wished that you were. At least then he’d have a reason to respond in kind. Instead, he shook his head as he made his way to the door. He muttered under his breath, “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

If your head had been a little less foggy, you would’ve gotten the last word in. Instead, all you got was the sound of your apartment door slamming. Letting out a deep sigh, you leaned back against the back of your couch, staring up at your apartment ceiling. On top of everything else, now you had this to deal with too. You’d decide for sure in the morning if it was worth the trouble it caused.

[narcosfandomdiscord]

narcos fandom smut alphabet - finished!

you know what goes really well with summer sunshine and narcos tv rewatches? SMUTTY FIC!

(they put that bisexual lighting on Isabella for a reason, after all!)

this was our first month of prompts over at @narcosfandomdiscord! for every letter of the alphabet, we had two smutty prompts that fanfic writers used for inspiration. 🥰 our group ambition was to create at least one fic per letter—26 new narcos smut fics during the month of July—and we totally smashed it, in large part thanks to prolific work from @salt-is-a-terrible-currency. happy reading!

if you prefer reading on ao3, check out our collection. all fics tagged as #nffalphabet on tumblr. and it's just that simple 🥰

if you have any questions, you can message us on tumblr or join our narcos fandom discord here!

🍰 Prompt List & Fic Masterlist 🍰

July 1 — A — angry sex, anal

Right For Once by @drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, angry sex, 2.3k

Infuriating by @salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, angry sex, 1.5k

Our Man In Mexico by @hausofmamadas — Horacio Carrillo x Andrea Nuñez, angry sex, 2.5k

July 2 — B — blood, bound & begging

Final Warning by @purplesong1028 — Amado x Pacho, bound & begging, 490

Please (with your finger) by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, bound & begging, 1.2k

blood on vacation by @ashlingnarcos — David Barrón x f!Reader, blood, 1.8k

July 3 — C — cuffs, choking

If I go too far by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, choking, 737

mentirosos by @narcolini — Kitty Paez x gn!Reader, cuffs, 1.1k

July 4 — D — domesticity, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us.”

Taking Care by drabbles-mc — Diego Ramirez (Narcos OC) x F!Reader, domesticity, 2.1k

Lipstick's smudged by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, domesticity and “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 447

A Few Moments by @purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix/Pacho Herrera, “don’t make a sound or they’ll hear us", 482

July 5 — E — edging, eldritch

The first time I felt a ghost by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, eldritch, 716

July 6 — F — fight or fuck?, friends with benefits

No relationship talk by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, friends with benefits, 422

Unbroken Rules by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, friends with benefits, 2.9k

July 7 — G — gag/gagging, gun play

Paper-thin walls by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, gag/gagging, 361

Whatever He Wants by purplesong1028 — Amado Carrillo Fuentes x Miguel Félix, gun play, 416

July 8 — H — honor bondage, hatesex

Dress blues by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, honor bondage, 1.8k

THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US by hausofmamadas — Enedina Arellano x David Barrón, honor bondage, 2k

July 9 — I — infidelity, in public

Never meet your heroes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, in public, 955

Don't Mention It by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, infidelity and in public, 2.7k

No Strong Suit by purplesong1028 — Miguel Félix x Pacho Herrera, infidelity, 439

July 10 — J — jealousy, "just shut up already"

Unprofessional by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, jealousy, 4.3k

A bad idea by @artemiseamoon — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 2.3k

The ring by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, jealousy, 1.1k

July 11 — K — knotting, knocked up

Which time? by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, knocked up, 418

Secrets in the night by artemiseamoon — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 3.5k

Someday When It's Over by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x Original Female Character, knocked up, 2.8k

July 12 — L — luxury, lingerie

Eres guapa by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, lingerie, 544

Desire by artemiseamoon — Enedina Arellano x Original Female Character, lingerie and luxury, 3.9k

Round-trip Ticket by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, lingerie, 7.7k

July 13 — M — mirrors, "make me forget (all about him/her/it/them)"

Another brick in the wall by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, make me forget, 812

Favors Owed by drabbles-mc — Maria Elvira x gn!Reader, make me forget, 2.7k

Like Old Times by artemiseamoon — Judy Moncada x Original Female Character, mirrors, 1.4k

July 14 — N — nipple play, "no one does it like you"

No One Like You by drabbles-mc — Javier Peña x f!Reader, no one does it like you, 2k

Sore by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, nipple play, 580

July 15 — O — on all fours, one night stand

Cascade by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, one night stand, 580

July 16 — P — praise kink, pulling hair

Dress blues, pt 2 by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader x Gurney Halleck, praise kink, 404

July 17 — Q — quiet (or trying to be), quickie

Sweet, sharp, addictive by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, quiet (or trying to be) and quickie, 464

July 18 — R — role reversal, ruined

Bad Guy Treatment by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, role reversal, 3.8k

What is she to him by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, ruined, 444

July 19 — S — submit, "say my name"

Stoke the flames by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, submit, 387

July 20 — T — trapped together, tied up

On company time by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, trapped together, 574

July 21 — U — upper hand, underwater

The Weight of It All by drabbles-mc — Walt Breslin x Sal Orozco, underwater, 2k

he keeps his rules. you keep him. by ashlingnarcos — Horacio Carrillo x gn!Reader, upper hand, 1.1k

Polkadots by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, underwater, 359

July 22 — V — virginity (loss or roleplay), video

Off the Backburner by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x f!Reader, virginity, 4.1k

In this moment of pretend by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, virginity roleplay, 435

July 23 — W — "we probably shouldn't do this", worship

Stay A Little Longer by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 1.5k

Lunch break daydream by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "we probably shouldn't do this", 497

July 24 — X — exhibitionism, exes having sex

It's complicated by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Helena, exes having sex, 971

Not Yours Anymore by drabbles-mc — Steve Murphy x Original Female Character, exes having sex, 3.2k

no witness by ashlingnarcos — Walt Breslin x f!Reader, exes having sex, 2.4k

July 25 — Y — yearning, "you look good like this"

Superman (4) by @garbinge — Javier Peña x f!Reader, "you look good like this", 5k

Lost Time by drabbles-mc — Horacio Carrillo x f!Reader, yearning, 2.9k

If he closes his eyes by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x Original Female Character, yearning, 442

July 26 — Z — zipper, zeal

Things Like That by drabbles-mc — Danilo Garza x f!Reader, zipper, 2k

Zealot by salt-is-a-terrible-currency — Javier Peña x f!Reader and Nathan "Cable" Summers from Deadpool x f!Reader, zeal, 4k

(note: we hit the link limit on this post so from now on, links will be to fics + to authors on their first appearance.)

[ashlingnarcos]

he keeps his rules. you keep him.

(gif by massivecolorspygiant)

Carrillo x gn!reader, 1.1k for @narcosfandomdiscord's july smut alphabet: upper hand

He has a key to your apartment, but he’s not used it in a while. Too exhausted, maybe. You flatter yourself that you’re an easy person to be with, all messy hair and eggs in the morning if he stays that long, domesticity a la carte, but he does make an effort when he shows up. Usually he brings something. It used to be flowers as a rule, but nowadays the gifts are more varied, as if in concession to your less romantic and more homey bent: a half dozen oranges, a used book, a bag of coffee.

Things are hard on him, you know. This week you heard Adán giving him away on one of the tapes, and though that hunt isn’t over (Adán is still walking around the place, laboring under the merciful delusion that Carrillo escaped the trap by way of a car breakdown) its predestined funeral is already weighing on him. 

You’ve cocooned yourself as best as you can, tried not to get emotionally involved with anyone at work—anyone else, that is—but there is trickle down. There’s been a little too much time gone past. There’s a cold bed, there’s a bag of coffee nearly running out, there’s—

You miss him. Put it plain. You miss him, you do.

Not being much of a talker, nor willing to make him an offer that’d be too painfully refused, you give yourself a bit of cover and the upper hand. You approach him when almost the entire office is long gone home.

It’s a sea of darkness illuminated by the occasional little island of lamplight coming from a desk: Urrutia, just leaving; Peña, leaning back in his chair; Carrillo, framed by the window to his office. 

You knock gently before you let yourself in and lock the door after you. You make eye contact with Peña through the open blinds, then close them. Carrillo is looking up at you from the desk, pen still in hand, keeping his questions to himself with rare patience. 

You need a haircut and a shave, you don’t say. The two of you talk of nothing but work here, and he never touches you, and that is the way of it. That’s his rules. That can continue. 

As you walk towards him, he stands up. Not wary, but collected, ready for anything. His lips part like he’s got something to say, and you can’t have that. Whatever it is, you don’t think you want to hear it. He’s before you now, and in the split second before the first syllable can slide out of his mouth, you slip your hand between his shirt and his trousers, grip the canvas hard, and tug towards you a little. 

The trick is not to try and read his eyes. They’re near black and bottomless. Then there’s the rest of his face, stubble, scattering of scabs at his temple, shadows that cling to his jaw like they love him: just let the raw beauty cut into you, just stand there and take it as the warmth of him bleeds through his shirt and into your knuckles. Hold that gaze. 

“I always obey orders,” you say. The door might be locked, but he’s got a way out. All it’d take is a word.

“I wouldn’t let you in here if you didn’t,” he says. 

He’s letting you. It sends an warm rush of relief through you, viscerally good and viscerally alarming at once; you’d given yourself the excuse of being at work to cover for him if he turned you away, and yet it turns out that excuse was too flimsy. If he’d said no, it would have mattered a great deal.

But he didn’t say no, so you press your other hand flat against his stomach and feel the slight tensing and then relaxing under your fingers as reward. You smile a little at that, and he doesn’t smile, but his face gentles, looking at you. The warmth of your palm a promise. I’ll take care of you. 

You look down and unbutton his trousers, reach inside his briefs, and kneel. 

The floor is hard and cold against your knees, he’s soft and salt in your mouth, and then there it is—the slight shake in his long slow exhale. You grip his thigh through the canvas, fingertips digging in a little, and take your time with your work. 

You’ve never talked about it, but you know you’re the only one who gets to do this, and that’s the pull of it. That, and the power, the way his breathing goes heavier. Lungs don’t lie. When you look up, it’s hard to tell in this light, but you could swear his eyes are closed. You take him down as deep as you can, welcome the burn in your throat. You’ll choke if it means you can make him stutter. Fair trade.

When he comes, he has to put one hand on his desk to steady himself. He’s breathing like he’s run a race, still trying to stay quiet even though he can’t. With no towel to hand and an endless will to watch him shiver, you lick him clean. His hand on his desk is a fist, and you can see the tendons tensed in his inner wrist too.

Once he’s clean, you sit back on your heels and wait for him to open his eyes. He does so slowly, looks down at you through a haze, heavy-lidded and as full of intent as though he hasn’t already come. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. 

When you stand, you stand close enough to feel his body heat, invading his personal space. He’s no longer panting, but he’s still breathing a little faster than usual. You tuck him back in, zip and button up his pants, and stay where you are. If you won’t touch him, he still won’t touch you; it’s delicious and excruciating at once. He smells like sweat and cigarettes, fucking rank. You eye the hollow of his throat just above the neckline of his shirt, golden like all of him is golden in this light. You consider just begging.  

After a second, he takes his hand off his desk. 

You lean in. there’s a spot just behind the corner of his jaw, and you press a lingering kiss there, deliberately; it’s the only place you’re touching him, until it isn’t. He turns his head towards you, and then you’re cheek to cheek, his stubble scraping your skin. You’ve had his cock in your mouth, and yet it’s that that makes you blush, somehow. When you pull back, you’re not sure if you want him to see it. 

You walk away. Your own footsteps seem unnaturally loud. As you unlock the door, you say, “Come see me when it’s over.”

“As you command,” he says, and that makes you smile a crooked little smile, despite it all: that’s your line. 

The door unlocks. I love you. No, you don’t say it, and you don’t say goodbye either. You walk. You’re already gone.

[salt-is-a-terrible-currency]

Infuriating

Narcos fic! It's been a long time. Written for day 1 of the Narcos fandom smut alphabet over on @narcosfandomdiscord

Fandom: Narcos

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Words: 1 473

Pairing: Javier x OFC Aurora

Prompt: angry sex

Warnings: smut, fighting, mention of narcotics and mules, implied chilldhood trauma, pregnancy

Tag list: it's been forever since I wrote for this fandom, so I don't know who to tag anymore

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Javier’s question is punctuated by the front door slamming shut. Aurora stomps past him into the kitchen and begins to pull at the drawers, furiously in search of something. Maybe a knife or a meat hammer to kill him with after how he ‘embarrassed her’ at the police station, though he can’t say he understands why a concerned spouse showing up to get their loved one home is embarrassing.

“I was thinking that someone was in trouble,” she says through gritted teeth. “A kid by the sound of it.”

“Aurora, you’re-” Javier cuts himself short, instead gesturing awkwardly to the swell at her stomach. She’s only just started showing and after the first time she set foot at the grocery store in a fitted t-shirt the Peña house has had to field more calls from nosy townspeople than the goddamn DEA ever did. He can’t blame them: she’s even more gorgeous now.

Even now when she looks like she might murder him, it’s a struggle to keep his mind from wandering into thoughts on the quickest way to undress her. Aurora straightens herself, spins on her heel to glare daggers at him.

“I’m what, Javi?” she snaps. “Infirm, feeble? Incapable of protecting myself? If you’re so goddamn scared that I’ll do something stupid, why did you decide to have a kid with me?” He puts a hand on his hip, raises the other in a ‘hold your horses’ gesture.

“First of all I’m not worried. Second of all, you’ve not been either of those things a day in your life.” That’s not true. He knows it even before he says it, that there was a long time in her childhood were she wasn’t able to protect herself. And he most definitely is worried about the two of them: his wife and the little girl that he’s seen in his dreams. Aurora’s face falls for a second. He almost goes to apologize for having, indirectly, brought up the past but stops himself as he knows she’ll only be more upset by it. It’s a mistake Javier has made before. Aurora picks herself back up, her brow returning to its pinched state and she huffs at him.

“I’m fine, baby’s fine, and oh,” she snarks, “the 12-year old that was about to get robbed by some asshole is also fine, thank you for asking.” Javier pauses.

“He was only 12?” He knew there’d been a kid peddling drugs involved but assumed it was one of the high schoolers. In his mind, he sees the boy that pointed a gun at him when he cornered one of Escobar’s men. Aurora huffs even louder.

“Yes, Javier. He was a little boy.” Shit. Javier rubs his eyes. They just keep getting younger and younger. First it was pregnant women swallowing balloons and now this. When he looks up at Aurora she’s got her jaw set in stone, arms crossed over her chest so tightly he’s tempted to say she’s hurting herself.

“You did good,” he admits, begrudgingly so, “but I’m still angry with you.” Her face contorts.

“Well, I’m fucking pissed at you!” She spreads her arms out wide, gesturing to the empty air as she closes the distance between them. “Where do you get off thinking you can scold me like I’m a toddler stealing cookies?” The anger, temporarily dampened by the realization that there’s a 12 year old moving drugs in Laredo, returns full force to Javier.

“You’re my wife, that’s our baby, I’ve seen enough people die to last me a hundred lifetimes,” Javier lists the reasons, ticking them off one finger at a time. “A little bit of concern about your well-being is kind of part of the deal.” Aurora steps forward. She’s so close he can see the gold in her eyes. How long has it been since they had a moment to themselves? The ranch has been overrun by out-of -town family for the better part of a week, and before that Aurora suffered brutal morning sickness. He wraps his fingers around her scarred left arm, even more tanned and warm from a long day in the sun, tugging her closer.

“Funny, seeing as I’m not allowed to be concerned about my husband when he’s snooping around town, asking about those deliveries coming in on the water.” Even as she makes the snippy comment, she steps into his arms though her eyes are hard as they meet his gaze.

“That happened once,” he dismisses.

“Twice,” she counters, “that I know of. Don’t you fucking lie to my face, Peña.” He knows he’s in trouble when she uses his last name. Back when they were with the DEA they always used each other’s last names, it was just how things worked. That shifted dramatically once she moved to the ranch.

“Don’t you fucking get in the middle of ongoing robberies,” he retorts. Her braid has started to come undone, dark curls falling around her ears and framing the sharp cheekbones. She pouts, saying nothing. The sight of her full lips pushed forward drains what little self-control Javier had left. One hand still around her arm, he brings the other up to cup the back of her head and presses his lips to hers in a harsh kiss. There’s no moment of hesitation, no pause where he thinks she might reject him and walk off in a huff. Aurora wrings her arm free from his grip and wraps them around him. He doesn’t even realize she’s pulled him along until there’s the low thud of her back hitting the counter, a grunt escaping in a pause between kisses. Javier pats the counter.

“Get up there,” he gruffs. She hoists herself onto it, his hand at the small of her back keeping her from knocking over the salt and pepper shakers. Thank God she wore a dress today. She’s still settling in when his hands begin to wander up under the skirt.

“You’re infuriating, querida,” he grumbles as he finds her heated core, covered by damp cotton. 

“Shut up.” She punctuates it with a bite at his neck. He cups her sex, feels blood rush to his crotch. He braces himself against the counter with one hand, the other at her hip. It’s a struggle getting her panties out of the way, with her shifting this way and that to tug them down and him so desperate to touch her that he can’t keep his hands to himself. She takes care of his clothes too, unzipping the jeans and shoving them down to his knees. She pauses to squeeze his bulge - big golden brown eyes staring at him. She’s still mad at him, though there’s love there too. Absolutely infuriating. His boxers join the jeans, erection curving up towards his stomach. Aurora takes him in hand and he groans from deep within his chest. Her legs hook around his waist, keeping him close, but even if he could pull back he wouldn’t want to. In fact, he wants more. Javier grabs at the shoulder strap of her dress, snagging the bra strap underneath it as well.

“Off,” he orders. He’s already been reduced to one-word utterances but when his love, his wife, pulls her top down and somehow manages to unclasp then throw aside her bra he forgets both the English and Spanish languages in their entirety. With her guiding him, Javier pushes into her in one swift motion. It’s sloppy, rushed, tinted with anger, desperation and the awareness that Chucho won’t be gone forever. Javier loves it all the same. Is grateful for her very existence as well as for how she clutches him in her cunt. She leaves wet kisses along his neck and at the hollow of his throat, leaving sparks in the wake of her lips. A familiar heavy feeling begins to build in his crotch and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to hold it at bay for long. Throwing aside the skirt that’s draped itself over her thighs, Javier reaches between them and grinds the heel of his palm against her clit. Aurora jumps.

“Shit,” she curses but he knows it’s a curse uttered in appreciation. His hand there is the extra pressure she needs and soon she’s shaking beneath him, building to her peak, and when she comes she flutters around him as her teeth sink into his shoulder. Another two stumbling thrusts and he follows with a growl and eyes squeezed tight as if his life depends on it. They stay there, wrapped around each other, as if they have all the time in the world.

“I still can’t believe you scolded me in front of the cops,” she mutters, face buried against his chest.

“Yeah?” Javier replies. “I can’t believe my pregnant wife inserted herself into an ongoing robbery.”

[artemiseamoon]

Preview: Secrets in the night

Divorced! Horacio Carrillo x Gianna (Ofc) | ft. Javier & Steve

Words: 3,499

Summary: "It's just sex" - Words uttered between heated kisses and late nights. What Gianna and Carrillo didn't know was how far from the truth that would be a year later. Even if neither one has the words or courage to admit this aloud.

Warnings: more angst than smut. The smut is alluded to but super light. Secret relationship, pregnancy, voluntary termination.

Part of @narcosfandomdiscord | smut alphabet

Below is a preview, read on A03 *Site is back up 💕 use gently

It was easy to forget how it started. Countless secret rendezvous late at night when everyone's gone home.

Work never stopped, especially for Carrillo, but between the hours of 2-5 am the rest of the world disappeared. Paperwork, missions, and planning were replaced by a soft mattress beneath their bodies. The two of them submitting to forbidden pleasure and fucking away every single stress and worry from the day before.

In those hours, they found peace; peace in the ecstasy of carnal pleasure, peace in the way their bodies worked in sync. Those moments of heightened breathes, soft moans, and the sweet music they made as they pushed each other over the edge time and time again. Those moments became something deeply special and meaningful to the both of them, though neither would voice such a truth aloud.

It wasn’t rare to dissolve into bliss the night before then face each other at a morning meeting. Gianna always wondered what Carrillo was thinking in those moments. She wondered what he thought as he laid down plans for her, Steve, and Javier when just hours earlier she was able to drive him to great highs of pleasure and watch him melt in her arms during the comedown.

Gianna got to see him in a light no one else could. She got to see him fall into a restful sleep, lighter than she's ever seen him before; every muscle in his body relaxed as he lay beside her. Gianna saw little bits of his softness on those nights. And sometimes he’d kiss her shoulder before going back to sleep.

Read on a03

No tags | @artemiseamoon-updates | a03: artemiseamoon

[purplesong1028]

No Strong Suit

Rating: Explicit

Paring: Pacho/Miguel Ángel

Words: 439

Written for Narcos Fandom Smut Alphabet Day 9: Infidelity

PS. This can be seen as an individual story, or in the same universe as A Few Moments

His phone starts ringing when Pacho is halfway through getting his pants off. For a brief moment, Miguel seriously considers ignoring it. He’s so painfully hard right now that he doubts he can have a productive conversation anyway.

But then, what if it’s important? Fuck, it’s always important when he gets a direct call.

He sighs heavily and pushes Pacho off to the side, who thankfully doesn’t protest. He grabs the phone off the nightstand and hits the answer key harder than necessary.

“Miguel? Are you ok? You were supposed to be back three days ago.”

He lets out a frustrated grunt at Daniella’s voice. “I told you I was meeting with the Colombians. What do you want?”

She keeps talking about how no one tells her anything and she was worried, but seriously, how worried can she be? She doesn’t love him. If she is concerned about him, it’s only because his safety affects her own.

“I’m fine, Daniella. I’ll be back when everything’s settled here.” Miguel says blandly and hangs up the phone.

A skillful hand returns to his waist, digging into his underwear. “Sounds like your poor wife’s worried.”

“It’s nothing.” His pants are still uncomfortably caught around his ankles. He kicks them off.

“Maybe because you don’t give her enough attention. I wonder why.” Pacho pulls his underwear down, and he can’t help but let out a relaxed sigh.

“Is that what you want to talk about? My wife?” He watches Pacho climb on top of him. At this point, the Colombian’s naked body doesn’t feel novel anymore, but still, he can’t help but stare as the other man straddles him.

Maybe because in some ways, he still can’t believe this is really happening.

“Oh Miguel,” Pacho chuckles, “trust me, it doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it bothers you.”

Of course it doesn’t. It’s not like Pacho would have some moral code of not having affairs with married people.

“And it clearly doesn’t bother you enough either.” Pacho continues, while rubbing their hard cocks together. “Fidelity has never been your strong suit.”

Miguel moans as pleasure starts to build up. He holds Pacho’s waist, feeling the muscles underneath moving with their rhythm. He doesn’t want to finish off like this today. He needs to fuck Pacho, or lets Pacho fuck him. He didn’t travel all the way here just to get off like a teenager.

Because for what it’s worth, Pacho is actually right. He is a lot of things, but not loyal. When there’s an enchanting opportunity, he takes it.

Miguel gathers all the strength in his thighs, and flips Pacho over.

@ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc @narcosfandomdiscord @narcolini @mandaloria314 @hausofmamadas @cositapreciosa @salt-is-a-terrible-currency @artemiseamoon @flightlessangelwings

[ashlingiswriting]

[drabbles-mc]

Settling down to enjoy this with the BIGGEST fucking tub of popcorn that you could ever imagine. Cartoonishly large.

“Señorita! N— no puedes entrar ahí, por favor! He’s in a meeting. I can’t— If you don’t have an appointment, I can’t let you back there!” -> no but it's SOOOO not fair that you have me cackling right off the rip. I'm yodeling. Andrea doesn't give a FUCK if she needs an appointment. Nor should she!!! 😂😂

And this, ladies, is why it pays to wear sensible footwear. -> no but this is so true. on my days at the office I wear heels to be ~fashionable and professional~ and it makes me MISS my days at the school wearing my nikes sksksk

She turned back and kept on tearing down the hallway, closer and closer to the door marked, ‘Colonel Horacio Carrillo’ in block letters that were just as uppity and patronizing as he was. Or maybe it was just because it was his office, the arrogant prick. -> you're going to have me screaming for the ENTIRE 2.5k of this, aren't you???? I'm not upset about it!!!! I'm not upset about this. But this has me losing my shit in SUCH a way. Like. OF COURSE this is how she feels about him. Why wouldn't she???? 😂😂 She's so valid and right for her bitterness. I don't even need further context to know that she's right 😂

He wasn’t even threatening to slash her tires. -> I fucking LOVE the way you write her. All I'm picturing is

For a split second and against her own will, the image of him sitting at the bar flashed in her mind. -> GAGGED that we are getting backstory. I'm vibrating into the next plane of existence. I'm soooo 👀👀👀👀👀

Dressed like a dad, but in khakis and a grey polo that fit far too smartly for him to actually be anyone’s dad. -> there's a daddy joke to be made here but i shan't do it KEKW

car windows all smudged with insistent palm prints that said something like, ‘mmm, that’s right. Just a little closer.’ -> fuck OFF Kay this is so hot it's not fair. it's just!!! it's not fair!!!!!

Carrillo’s nostrils flared. Yeah, that’s right. Fuck off. -> these three sentences in successio of one another is just. so so fucking good. I'm pumping my fist in the air

Or is that how you rolled back in Colombia? You and your search bloc. -> my eyes are fucking MASSIVE!!!!!!!!!!! I'm going to rupture a fucking cornea!!!! Carrillo's gonna rupture one of the veins in his forehead!!!! None of us are safe!!!!!

It seems, despite her due diligence, Ms. Nuñez must not be that great a journalist because she doesn’t know how to take ‘no comment’ for an answer. -> my lord this man is SUCH a prick but god the way i can FUCKING HEAR HIMMMM!!!! this bastard man is rattling around in my brain!!!!!!! Andrea should swing on him. Just once. Sometimes violence really should be the answer :pasevil:

The other nearly tripped over his chair on the way out, seemingly unable resist the temptation to observe them with wonder like a couple of zoo animals. -> chismoso 😂😂 but i can't pretend that i would've been any better sksksk

Her eyes narrowed. What the fuck was he playing at paying her a compliment like that. -> she's so right for this because i, too, would be off-put if Carrillo said anything vaguely complimentary to me 😂😂

Oh, she was positively— she wanted— but no, she couldn’t— oh, but she fucking could though. She would if she could— she really could actually fucking punch him. -> she way I can just absolutely FEEL this entire paragraph. Like. I've had this exact train of thoughts in my head before I swear. I love it so much. Also she should DEFINITELY punch him 😂

“Do it,” he said again quietly, eyes virtually unreadable. “If that’s what you really want. Hit me.” -> DON'T LOOK A GIFT HORSE IN THE MOUTH, ANDREA!!!! JUST!!!! DO IT!!!!!

On reflex, she scrunched her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and yanked back so hard, he hissed. -> Carrillo getting his hair pulled is a song that slaps EVERY fucking time. Thank you can I have another. It just. It doesn't get old ever.

“Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking I need you. I’ll never need you. And that’s why you love this.” -> WHAT A FIIIIIIIRE FUCKIN WAY TO CLOSE OUT THE FIC!!!!! MY GOD!!!!!!

The fact that these two mever got to share the screen is a CRIME. I need a bonus Narcos or NMX episode where they meet and they fuck and it gets horrid and messy!!!!!!!!

| OUR MAN IN MEXICO |

Pairing: Andrea Nuñez x Horacio Carrillo

For @narcosfandomdiscord Summer of Smut Alphabet: July 1 - [A] Angry sex

Word count: ≈ 2.5K

TWs: smut, biting, slapping, hair pulling andrea being her bestest, most cuntiest self

⁂

“Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking I need you.”

⁂

“Señorita! N— no puedes entrar ahí, por favor! He’s in a meeting. I can’t— If you don’t have an appointment, I can’t let you back there!”

Andrea walked over to the door of the embassy office without a word and barged through, tearing down the hall. The secretary scrambled from behind the desk like a spooked rabbit, little kitten heels click-clacking on the tiled floor as she struggled to keep up with Andrea’s long, steadfast strides. And this, ladies, is why it pays to wear sensible footwear. The poor woman was just doing her job but her frantic puttering and cries of, “Señorita! You can’t be back here!” only served to build the rage in Andrea’s chest more.

She stopped so cold and turned around so fast, the woman’s forehead nearly slammed right into her own.

Andrea crossed her arms. “Mira, vieja. You haven’t even called security, so unless you’re going to tackle me to the ground and throw me out yourself, and—“ she glanced down at the woman’s heels, eyebrow cocked smugly, “—you could try but I don’t think you’d get far in those— I’m getting into that goddamn office one way or another.”

The woman sputtered something unintelligible. Andrea couldn’t be bothered to let her piece a proper sentence together before cutting her off with a curt, “ya eso es lo que pensaba.”

She turned back and kept on tearing down the hallway, closer and closer to the door marked, ‘Colonel Horacio Carrillo’ in block letters that were just as uppity and patronizing as he was. Or maybe it was just because it was his office, the arrogant prick.

Sure, he was a legend back in Colombia. Sure, he helped take down the biggest, baddest drug trafficker the world had ever seen. But if this asshole thought a gag order was gonna fly in the wake of Rebollo’s mess — which, oh by the way, she helped to expose — he was deader than General Jesus Gutiérrez Rebollo’s reputation. She refused to be cowed by the AFO goons who followed her to her car on late nights after work. She certainly wasn’t going to be intimidated by this Colombian haircut. He wasn’t even threatening to slash her tires. So, what was a bit of healthy confrontation between friendly colleagues? Making an appointment would’ve just spoiled the mood.

As her hand landed on the door handle, she smirked at the sound of muffled voices inside. Huh. So, he really was conducting business. In Mexico, “he’s in a meeting,” was usually code for he’s actually chain smoking at his desk, on the phone chatting away with his mistress on company time. But no, it seemed Carrillo hadn’t been dodging the press. Maybe just her calls.

For a split second and against her own will, the image of him sitting at the bar flashed in her mind. The night she met him. Well, not him, him. Not as she knew him now, no more than a stranger, dressed like a dad, but in well-tailored khakis and a grey polo that fit far too smartly for him to actually be anyone’s dad. She’d come to find out he was divorced, no kids, so a dad he certainly wasn’t which, if the rumors she’d heard about Search Bloc were true, made more sense and still wasn’t comforting in the slightest. But she didn’t know about any of that yet.

Around here, strangers in dimly lit bars were seldom safe and fewer troubled themselves to even establish a pretense of safety. But he was a different, safer kind of stranger. She didn't know how she knew but she didn't. He must’ve been anyway, since she didn’t usually make it a habit of taking strangers back to her car after some pleasant, cheap conversation and a few shots of even cheaper bourbon.

And yet, that’s where he ended up. The back seat of her stationwagon, his firm lips encased against hers, breath deliciously hot and sticky on her neck, fingers ruthlessly digging into the flesh of her hips as she ground them down onto his, car windows all smudged with insistent palm prints that said something along the lines of, ‘mmm, that’s right. Yes, just a little closer.’ A couple of months later and those stupid smudges were still there. She noticed them crossly when she’d parked outside, moments before accosting the man’s poor secretary. She'd wondered aimlessly if he’d even know what they were if he saw them. Would she want him to? Maybe that’s why she was in such a foul mood. She didn’t know.

Shaking her head, the indecent image dissolved noncommittally into thick, black ink behind her eyelids, like answers disappearing in a magic eight ball. Outlook not so good, ask again later. Oh whatever, fuck off. I don’t even have enough sense to regret the whole thing. So just fuck off.

The momentum of the door swinging open fueled her ire again, and she breathed it in, soaking it up., letting it fuel her. When the handle smacked against the wall, three heads whipped around to stare at her in shock. It looked so rehearsed, she couldn’t resist the urge to crack a sly smile. Carrillo’s nostrils flared. Yeah, that’s right. Fuck off. She strode between the two suits seated at each corner of his desk, to face him across it. He barely moved an inch, elbows propped up on the armrests of that big, obnoxious executive chair he sat in behind the desk.

Leaning forward, knuckles pressed flat on the papers strewn across like all of it was hers, she said cooly, “Sorry to interrupt, Colonel. But you’ve been dodging my calls, so thought it best to pay you a visit. Call it professional due diligence.”

He was fuming, dark eyes lit with indignation and what else was it? Maybe panic. But all that Boy-Scout-School-of-the-Americas training must’ve kicked in because he didn’t miss a beat. “Mm. Due diligence? About what, exactly?

“To ask you a simple but very important question.”

He waited.

“To ask how— after only a few months, just how is it that you think you already own the journalists in this city? I thought the point of bringing in an outsider was to avoid corruption, not perpetuate it by silencing the people’s right to free press. Or is that how you rolled back in Colombia? You and your Search Bloc.”

He knit his brows and, as if he just remembered they were there, glanced at the two men still seated, who watched them with a combination of confusion and the voyeuristic enthusiasm of a housewife watching her favorite novela.

“Gentlemen,” Carrillo cleared his throat and motioned to the door, “we’ll have to pick this up later.” His jaw hardened, eyes moving from the door to Andrea, going from resigned to livid in mere seconds. “It seems, despite her due diligence, Ms. Nuñez must not be that great a journalist because she doesn’t know how to take ‘no comment’ for an answer.”

That was a low fucking blow and he knew it. Well, what the man lacked for in hospitality, he more than made up for in emotional range. One of the men tipped his hat as he stood up and gave a sheepish shrug before heading to the door. The other nearly tripped over his chair on the way out, seemingly unable resist the temptation to observe them with wonder like a couple of zoo animals. Two fingers to her forehead, Andrea gave them a tiny salute filled to the brim with disdain.

Once the door closed, she rolled her head back around to face Carrillo, who looked like he could throttle her right there.

“If I were a man, you’d hit me right now, wouldn’t you?” she said like it was a dare. Ignoring the blaze of shock all over his face, she continued to press, still leaning over the desk. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Carrillo opened a drawer and rifled around for something. He came out with a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, lit it, and then leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh.

“Well?”

He took an infuriatingly long drag, and exhaled the smoke in her face, so that an opaque cloud now filled the space between them. On purpose. Naturally. This wasn’t his first rodeo with angry reporters. But this was his first rodeo with her. She straightened upright, waiting for him to speak.

“Well, before I can answer that, I have a follow-up question.”

She crossed her arms, swinging one hip out to the side, “O, sí?” inviting him to continue treading on dangerous conversational ground.

Nodding, “Sí, sí,” he flashed a cynical smirk that dissolved into a glare as he looked up at her and gave a perfunctory tap of his cigarette into the ashtray on his desk. “Just who the fuck do you think you are, barging into my office like this?”

“Just who the fuck do you think you are, putting a gag order on all press inquiries relating to Rebollo’s trial?” she shot back.

He dragged long and deep from his cigarette again like it was an oxygen mask, then said dismissively, “It’s a big case. A lot of moving parts. You know the judge makes that call, not me.”

“Wow, you really must believe I am that bad at my job if you think I’m naive enough to buy that bullshit. As if you have no sway with Mexican judges who can be bought for less than a few pesos.” She laughed bitter as battery acid, “Venga ya pues. No me shingües con esas mamadas, cabrón.”

There was a beat of silence before he stood up, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray, saying through gritted teeth, “No. I don’t think you’re bad at your job.” He rolled his eyes, grumbling, “That’s the entire problem. Cierto? Sí porque eres una cachorra con un pinche hueso entre tus dientes.”

Her eyes narrowed. What the fuck was he playing at paying her a compliment like that.

“What? What am I supposed to say? Thank you?”

A tacit desperation crept under his glare now, an equal measure of anger and pleading for her to understand.

Oh, no. That’s when she put it together. Oh, hell no. Her face fell and she dropped her arms to her sides. No. No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t dare.

“No. No me digas que t—“

His glare melted, eyes full of nothing but pleading now as he stepped around the desk to join her on the other side.

“Okay, yes I talked to the judge. But Andrea, I only sugges—“

“No.” She backed away, dropping her bag on the ground. “Don’t do that. You don’t get to say my name like you know me well enough to patronize me this way.”

“You have to underst—“

“Understand?? What do I need to understand??? Hmm? What? That I might get hurt? That my job is dangerous? That journalists in this town have a short fucking shelf life? Or oh, that you what? You care now? You’re what? Trying to protect me?”

“Look, Andrea.” She wished he’d stop saying her name. “I know you're tough. You can take care of yourself. But this is bigger than you and you're not bulletproof. The pockets this Rebollo had his hands in? They’re more dangerous than some thugs following you to work or harassing you in the street. They’ll ruin your reputation, your livelihood, take anything you have, maybe even have you killed.”

“That’s never stopped me before.”

Carrillo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Andrea. After you’re gone, they’ll come after your colleagues, friends, family.” She could tell he was growing more defensive by the way he strained to keep his voice level. “Corruption on this scale does more than just ruffle feathers. The more you uncover, the further you dig, the easier it is to bury you and anyone you care for. And that’d be too hard to bear for anyone who might be starting t— well, maybe— who does care for you.”

Her chest burned. She was roiling with indignant fury, practically breathing fire, nostrils flared, hands balled into fists at her side. Este pinshe pendejo. They’d been working together for weeks now, and not once did it step outside the confines of professional conduct with the exception of the— well, it was just the one time. She’d assumed they were moving on because of course they were. What was one night in the backseat of her car when they were nothing to each other? Nothing. But now this, all of a sudden, out of the blue. Why? Because. Because he cared. Well, he’d neglected to fill her in on the feelings and the caring before taking it upon himself to violate a boundary, meddling in her work ostensibly on her behalf.

Oh, she was positively— she wanted— but no, she couldn’t— oh, but she fucking could though. She would if she could— she really could actually fucking punch him.

As she stood there, vibrating, ready to go nuclear, he stepped closer. “Now who’s the one who wants to hit someone?”

Barely beyond strangers, and yet, he understood her implicitly. It only made the whole thing all the more aggravating. He stepped closer again, until they were nearly chin to chin.

“Do it.”

She looked up, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“Do it,” he said again quietly, eyes virtually unreadable. “If that’s what you really want. Hit me.”

He was inscrutable. There was no more pleading. No humor. No anger either. Something else. Something baser. She thought about those smudges on her car window.

Her hand moved so quickly, he didn’t even have time to flinch. She slapped him. Hard. Hard enough to send him back a couple of steps. The blood rushed to his cheek, angry and red, as he turned back to face her with an expression of something like dazed admiration. He began to speak but before he got a word out, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to bury him in a kiss so deep, the force of it nearly hurt her teeth. She inhaled the rumble that escaped from the back of his throat like it was a breath of life, before breaking away and shoving him back to sit on the desk.

Hooking his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans, he yanked her close, positioning her between his knees. She felt a tug at her hair as he pulled out her hair band. Catching his hand on its way down her shoulder, she brought it around her waist, sinking into another brutal kiss that had them both gasping for air. As one of her hands slid up the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair and the other traveled down to palm the bulge in his pants, his hips bucked against hers and she felt a sharp sting as he bit her bottom lip. On reflex, she scrunched her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and pulled so hard, he hissed.

Oh yeah, that felt good. She’d liked how it sounded and how he looked, head back like that, chin up, throat exposed. Getting lost in those deep, dark brown eyes, she kept him pinned in that position, regarding him for a moment. She suddenly found herself thinking about those nature documentaries on the Discovery Channel, ones where the lions take down gazelles, sharp canines puncturing their throats right there. His skin tasted salty as she tongued his neck in that very spot. If she were a wild animal, he’d be bleeding out on the floor for what he’d done. Trying to save the poor damsel-in-distress reporter from her own recklessness because oh, she can’t possibly know what’s good for her. That wasn't what it was until he made it that way. Co;onel Horacio Carrillo, our man in Mexico, nothing but a mouse in her trap.

Then she said, sincere but grave, “Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking I need you. I’ll never need you.” To soothe the wounded expression on his face, she planted a soft kiss on his mouth and trailed a few more along his jaw, mumbling as her lips made their way back down to his throat, “And that’s exactly why you love this.”

═

taglist: @drabbles-mc @narcolini @ashlingnarcos @cositapreciosa @narcosfandomdiscord

[drabbles-mc]

Bad Guy Treatment

Steve Murphy x F!Reader

For Day 18 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Alphabet: role reversal

Warnings: 18+, smut, language, handcuffs

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Coming out of my 3-day-long meltdown to become absolutely fucking unwell about Steve Murphy 😂 I think it's good for him! Make the man beg a little! Is it edited? No. Is it beta'd? No. But i am who i am what can we do about it? 😂

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

“Oh, come on,” you goaded as you knelt on the foot of the bed, hands rested in your lap as the mattress cushioned your knees, “it’ll be fun!”

Steve shook his head as he stood in front of you, looking down at you. “I doubt that.”

“Please?” you laid it on thick, the tone you only ever used with him when you were really trying to get something from him. You didn’t have to use it often.

“No,” he said as he shook his head. “No fuckin’ way.” He looked at you, the way you were batting your eyelashes at him. He could feel the waver in his resolve, but he knew that if he buckled on this he would absolutely never hear the end of it from you.

Reaching out, you pulled him closer to you by the beltloops of his jeans. His legs pressed against the edge of the mattress as you asked, “You’re telling me that you’ve never even thought about it?”

He gently cupped your chin, tilting it so that you were looking up at him. He brushed the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, eyes dragging slowly over every feature of your face. You felt a tingle of hopefulness before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the dead center of your forehead and said, “Not even once.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. You lifted your chin so that it was no longer being cupped by his hand. “I doubt it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at you. “Whatever you say.”

You stayed put at the end of the bed. It’d been long enough now that you felt like you knew Steve pretty well. The two of you had always been able to get a good read on each other even when you’d first gotten together, and since then you’d only honed the skill. He could try to lie about his curiosity, but you could still see it in his eyes anyway.

He started undoing the buttons on his shirt, eyes fixed on his own hands now instead of on you. Leaning, you placed one palm to the mattress, leveraging yourself so that you could get your legs out from underneath you. Within a few moments, you were sitting, legs hanging off the edge of the bed. You had one on either side of Steve, who had noticed the way you were resituating yourself but didn’t say anything about it one way or another.

Peeling his shirt off, he tossed it into the hamper. He was about to start undoing the buckle of his belt when he felt your heels press against the backs of his legs. He let out a quiet laugh, looking at you and the amused smirk on your face. Leaning in, he kissed you on the lips. He went to pull away but you followed, not letting him get enough distance. He caught the hint enough, bringing his hands to either side of your face as he kissed you with a little more heat behind the action. You put your hands on his hips, fingers crawling their way along his belt. They grazed over where his badge rested on one side, empty holster for his gun on the other. The feeling of your lips against his had him blind to everything else, including the way you deftly lifted the handcuffs from the back pocket of his jeans without him noticing.

What you’d done didn’t register with him until he heard the clinking of metal as you brought the cuffs back to you. Once he recognized the sound, his eyes instantly popped open and he pulled out of the kiss. Instantly, he was grabbing for them, not nearly as amused by your pickpocketing skills as you were as you scrambled back farther on the bed, doing whatever you could to stay out of his reach. You were laughing as you tried to move quick enough for him to not be able to snatch them back out of your hand.

“Give those back,” he told you as he crawled up the bed to you.

Still laughing as you got your back pinned flat against the headboard, you shook your head. “No can do.”

“I’m serious.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing by the look in his eyes that he really wasn’t that serious. He was more annoyed that you were able to pull one over on him than the actual situation itself. “Come on, Agent Murphy,” there was just enough sarcasm layered on the way you addressed him to get him riled up more. “You can’t possibly tell me that you’ve never wanted to know—”

Your sentence got cut short as Steve placed one hand on each of your thighs, pulling you down so that you were flat on your back on the mattress, your legs still on either side of him. He had one hand planted next to the side of your head, keeping him propped so that he could look down at you, his other hand gripping lightly onto your hip.

“I’ve worked real hard to make sure I never end up on the other end of those cuffs.” His thumb traced back and forth against your hip as he said it, applying just enough pressure to wake up every nerve ending in your body.

The hand with the cuffs was tucked safely behind your back, like you were a few teenagers bickering on the schoolyard and you were holding his lunch money just out of reach. Using your other hand, you dragged your fingertips down his chest. Your nails didn’t dig enough to leave a mark, but you still felt the way his heart sped up in his chest at the contact.

“It’s just me,” you said as innocently as you could manage. “You trust me, right?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not with those.”

“Why not?”

The nearly-genuine surprise in your voice had Steve fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “You know why.”

Your mouth formed into a knowing smirk as you finally gave in with a shrug. “I guess.”

“So?” He leaned in, lips close enough to yours that they brushed as he spoke. “Can I have ‘em back?”

Despite the excitement that was coursing through you with him so close, you weren’t so distracted that you didn’t notice the feeling of his hand slipping behind your back. He’d have to work harder to get you off-kilter enough for that—you weren’t quite as easy as him.

You brushed your nose against his, slowly pulling your hand out of the reach of his. “No.”

You heard the way he mumbled your name under his breath, along with a couple curses as he tried to use his long reach to take the cuffs back from you. The fact that you were so incessantly amused by it all only made it more frustrating for him. It became much more about the principle of you giving him a hard time rather than whether or not he wanted anything to do with being handcuffed to the headboard.

He grabbed for them once more. “Will you just—”

He heard it before he felt it. The unmissable clicking sound cuffs made when they were being tightened around someone’s wrist. His eyes drifted up to see where you’d clamped it around his wrist. It wasn’t uncomfortably tight, but the fact that it was latched around him at all was his issue.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, the tiniest bit of amusement in his voice underneath his frustration.

You smiled. “See? Not so bad, right?”

He shook his head, putting himself in a kneeling position so that he could reach into his other back pocket. “Hate to break it to you, baby, but—” He stopped short, patting all the pockets of his jeans before looking back at you again, disbelief on his face. “Did you…?”

You burst out laughing as you held the key to the handcuffs up, a triumphant smile on your face. “You should keep better track of your things, Agent Murphy.”

His head dropped, chin tucking in towards his chest. “Guess I thought I’d be safe with my girlfriend but I guess not.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Should’ve known better.”

There was a pause as the two of you looked at each other. Steve was shaking his head at you but he was still smiling. He couldn’t believe how proud of yourself you looked for the shenanigans you were performing. Gun to his head, he’d have to admit that he was a little impressed too.

“You’re not gonna give that key back to me, are you?”

“I might…”

He chuckled. “You’re somethin’ else.”

“C’mon,” you hooked your legs around him and pulled him back to you, “be the bad guy for once. And I’ll, you know,” you twirled the key between your fingers, “I’ll bring you in for questioning.”

He laughed at that, shaking his head but not fighting to pull away from you. “’Cause you know what that’s all about?”

“Give me your other wrist and you’ll find out,” you replied, not missing a beat.

His eyebrows shot up at that. The look in your eyes as you toyed with the key in your hand had him giving into you, his curiosity taking precedent over everything else. He took a deep breath, giving a small shake of his head as he sat back and looked at you.

“Alright.”

Your entire face lit up. “Yea?”

He chuckled at your excitement. “Yea.

Wasting no time, you moved so that Steve could lay down where you’d just been. Once his back hit the mattress, you quickly threw one leg over him so that you were straddling him. You felt him laughing beneath you before you heard it. Glancing down, you saw the way he was looking at you and you couldn’t help but to smile.

“Can I have your other hand?” you asked, one eyebrow raised.

He took a deep breath, but nodded as he stretched both arms above his head, wrists close enough so that you could loop the short chain over the bar of the headboard and clamp the second cuff around his other wrist. You carefully tightened each of them, running your fingertips along the insides of his wrists before looking back down at him again.

“You good?”

He nodded, his breathing, the look in his eyes, already shifting. “I’m good.”

You set the handcuff key off to the side where you could both see it. “I know I like giving you a hard time,” leaning down, you cupped the side of his face with your hand and traced your thumb along his cheekbone, “but if at any point you don’t wanna do this, just tell me, okay?”

Steve nodded, squirming beneath you with anticipation. “Okay.”

You kissed him lightly on the lips. “I love you.”

He relaxed a little more at that, nodding as he said, “I love you too.”

You brought your lips back to his, kissing him as you raked your hands back through his hair. You heard the moan that built in the base of his throat, soon followed by the clinking of the handcuffs being pulled on against the headboard. You laughed as you kissed him, the kiss only breaking when Steve dropped his head back to the pillow with an exasperated laugh.

“I already don’t like this,” he said with a chuckle.

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Looks like I don’t even have to give you the bad guy treatment.”

He lifted his head so he could get a better look at you. “Not being able to touch you is the bad guy treatment.”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t fight the smile on your face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yea,” he tugged against the restraints, “I see that now.”

Still smiling, you pressed your lips to his in another kiss, one that he didn’t break quite so quickly. You had one hand on his chest, the other cupping his face and keeping him close. You could feel the shift in the muscles in his chest and shoulders as he went to move his arms, like he’d already forgotten what had happened only a few moments before.

Your tongue slid to meet his and you felt the way his muscles eased, his body becoming pliant beneath yours as he reveled in the taste of you. It wasn’t until you started to grind your hips against his that you heard the clanging of metal on metal. Even through your shorts and his jeans, you could feel him getting harder. He tugged against the cuffs once, twice more before resigning himself to them again. You had the feeling it was going to be an ongoing fight, and it was one that you were looking forward to.

Pulling your lips off of his, you left a trail of kisses along his jaw, down the column of his neck, trailed across his chest. You heard the sound of his head against the pillow, the way he dropped it in resignation as he breathed out a quiet, “Fuck.”

Your lips curled into a smile against his skin as you continued to move your hips. You felt the way that he tried to get enough leverage, be able to move himself against you, but you had the upper hand here in every possible way. Separating your hips from his, you heard the short huff of frustration he let out.

It was impossible not to let your hands roam. All the real estate in the world and no one to stop you from exploring every inch of it. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you as you drank him in. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed was hypnotic, your teeth dragging along your bottom lip at the sight of him now when you’d barely gotten started. You could only imagine how he was going to look when you were done with him.

Locking your eyes onto his, you dragged your hand over the bulge of his jeans, fingers running along his length even through the denim. He took a slow, calculated breath in, hands steadily pulling against the cuffs.

“Something you want?” you asked, feigned innocence in your tone.

He laughed. He was shaking his head at you until your face was suddenly directly over his again. You cupped his face by the chin the way he’d done to you so many times in the past. Being on the other end of it, along with the slick grin on your face, sent a jolt down his spine, any smug remarks he’d been thinking of making stuck in the back of his throat.

Finally, he got himself together enough to say, “You’re killin’ me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Help me out,” he said, pulling against the cuffs for a moment like it might be the time they magically came undone.

“You know how this works,” you said as you sat back, hips moving just slightly against his as your hands rested against his stomach. “You want me to do something for you? You gotta do something for me.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. Fuckin’ bad guy treatment. “Like what?”

Your fingers began to toy with his belt, almost going through the motions of undoing it and then you stopped. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

For a moment the thought crossed his mind that he never should’ve given you so much power. But then he felt you move just slightly against him, saw the hungry look in your eyes, and suddenly all he could think about was making you look at him that way forever.

“I wanna be inside you,” he said, quieter and more breathless than he intended.

A smile curled the ends of your lips as you finally undid the buckle of his belt. “That’s a start.” Your fingers landed on the button of his jeans, eyes traveling back up to his as you paused. “Would it kill you to say please, though?”

He huffed out what he could manage of a laugh. Shaking his head, all he could think about for a moment was how differently this would all be playing out if he just had the use of his fucking hands.

He was snapped out of his obstinate thoughts by the feeling of you cupping his face again, forcing him to look at you. “Hey,” you leaned in, lips nearly touching his as you spoke, “you wanna know what you have to do for me so I’ll do something for you?” Your nails bit into his skin just slightly. “You gotta beg a little, baby.” You brushed your lips against his, hardly enough to constitute a kiss, but more than enough to leave him wanting more. “That’s what you can do for me.”

For a brief moment, he thought that he was going to melt right into the mattress. All he could feel was you—your hand on his face, your breath on his skin, the warmth radiating off your body seeping into his. He was about to disappear into it all, and willingly at that.

“Please,” the word came out in the closest thing to a whine you’d ever gotten out of him, “please fuck me.” He turned, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm. “I wanna be inside you so bad.”

His words went straight to your core. Pressing a quick, hard kiss to his lips you pulled away so that you could finish what you’d started, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans. He lifted his hips off the bed just enough for you to be able to pull his jeans and boxers off all in one swoop before tossing them onto the floor beside your bed.

Steve was vaguely aware of how exposed he was in that moment, how vulnerable. He expected to find himself second-guessing it all, shying away from it. But all he could focus on, all he could think about, was the way that you were looking at him. You were kneeling between his legs, eyes roaming over him like you were about to dive in and devour him whole. He would’ve let you.

He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt your hand wrap around him, not caring about the noise that came from him fighting against the cuffs around his wrists. Each stroke of your hand had him pulling against the restraints, and you were loving it.

Resituating yourself just slightly, you leaned down, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock. His head dropped back, and you heard him muttering out, “Fuck,” and a string of other curses as you started to move, tongue running up and down his length as you did. Using your hand and mouth in tandem, it wasn’t long before you had Steve repeating nothing but your name and the word please over and over again.

When you pulled your mouth off him, you could feel the way his breath caught in his throat. Lifting his head, he looked down at you, almost like he was worried that you’d changed your mind. You smiled, tongue darting out along your bottom lip as you quickly slipped your shorts off. The groan that Steve let out when he realized that you hadn’t been wearing underwear the entire time was sinful, and it brought a smile to your face.

You straddled him once more, so close that Steve was pulling hard enough against the cuffs that for a moment you thought they might actually snap. “Still want me to fuck you?” you asked, like the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious.

You were rewarded with the clanging of metal on metal, followed by Steve’s breathless, “Please, baby.”

Giving right in was just as much for your own benefit as it was for Steve’s. You both moaned as he slid into you. Leaning in, you slowly started moving your hips as you kissed Steve on the lips. He kissed you back fiercely, hungry for whatever you would give him.

“You feel so good,” he murmured against your lips between kisses. “All that for me?”

You smiled into your kiss for a moment before pulling away. Reaching up, your fingers danced along his hands and wrists. “Guess I kinda like you like this.”

He chuckled, letting out a breathless, “Fuck me,” at the realization that he’d been right all along—you weren’t ever going to let this go.

He didn’t have too much time to think on it as you began to move your hips quicker, falling into a rhythm that was going to send you both over the edge soon. Steve’s eyes were glued to you as he watched you slide your hand down your body until your fingers reached the small bundle of nerves at your core. The moan you let out as your fingers teased, the way your walls clenched around him while you did, had him doing whatever he could to buck up into you, chasing his high the way you were chasing yours.

You braced one hand against his chest, hips stuttering in their rhythm as you came. The only sound in the room for a moment was the sound of you repeating Steve’s name over and over again. The sight of you like that sending him over the edge right with you, the clinking of the cuffs against the headboard reminding you that all he wanted in that moment was to touch you, pull you as close as he could.

You melted against him, sinking down so that you were resting your forehead against his, hands on either side of you doing what they could to keep you just the slightest bit upright. You were both fighting to catch your breath, still stealing kisses from each other despite that as you kept him inside you..

“You okay?” you asked, still breathless.

He let out a small chuckle as he nodded. “I’m good.” He kissed you. “You good?”

You laughed. “Yea, I’m, I’m good. Here,” you leaned over and grabbed the key from the nightstand, carefully undoing his cuffs before tossing it all safely off to the side. You gently ran your hands over his wrists, pressing kisses along the insides of them where they’d taken the brunt of his pulling. “You sure you’re okay?”

He nodded, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you tight to him because he finally could. “I’m good.” He kissed the edge of your forehead. “Next time, though?”

You tilted your head up so you could look at him. “Next time?”

He rolled the both of you so that you were lying on your back beneath him. “Next time,” he laughed as he kissed you, “you’re the one getting cuffed to the bed.”

[drabbles-mc]

Stay a Little Longer

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

For Day 23 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Challenge: "We probably shouldn't do this."

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, smut

Words: 1.5k

A/N: Two smut fics in one day??? Who is she?? I don't know her.

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

“We probably shouldn’t do this.”

That was what you’d said to Carrillo two weeks ago in his office. It was late. Everyone else had gone home. It’d been another day full of fruitless endeavors. Leads that ended up leading nowhere. Everyone’s nerves were shot by the end of the day, people taking off as soon as they were able because they just couldn’t bear to sit and stew in all of it anymore.

Except you and the Colonel.

For most of the evening, you’d been in your respective spaces. You had your desk, part of the cluster with Steve and Javi, and Carrillo had his office. You had headphones on, straining to listen to the recordings that had been dropped off towards the end of the day. Javi had tried to convince you to leave them for the next day, to take the few hours you all got in the evening to unwind and feel a little less shitty about it all. But you couldn’t turn your back on it.

You assumed that Carrillo had whatever his version of that was going on in his office, which was why he also didn’t take off when his shift ended. You watched all the other officers trickle out of the base when the time came, but not him. He didn’t try to stop any of them either, didn’t try to make them put in the extra hours. Maybe he, like you, knew that these efforts weren’t going to yield much more than the rest of the day had. But just in case.

You had made yourself listen to the tapes over and over until the words began to blend together. You didn’t even want to look at the time when you finally decided you needed to leave. Standing up from your desk, you made your way towards Carrillo’s office instead of the door that would take you out of the building. If staying late wasn’t the first mistake, that definitely was.

You knocked as you entered, something that Carrillo had reminded you time and time again negated the entire purpose of knocking. He didn’t say anything about it this time. Instead, he just looked up from the papers that were spread across his desk in front of him.

Walking deeper into his office, you landed yourself on the opposite side of his desk. Leaning forward, you braced yourself against it, fingers wrapping around the edge of it. “It’s late.”

He huffed out a laugh that didn’t have a trace of humor to it. “I’m aware.”

“I’m going home,” you said, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. “You should too.”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because you’re going to get so much more done in the next, what, hour? Maybe two?”

“If our roles were reversed right now what would—”

“If our roles were reversed you wouldn’t stop and say anything to me before leaving for the day,” you cut him off with a quiet laugh.

He frowned at you for a moment before his face went back to neutral. You figured that was the closest thing to a smile that you were going to get given the day you’d all had. He leaned back in his chair, tossing his pen onto the top of his desk as he did. He pushed his chair back, and you thought that you’d won the exchange. It would’ve been the quickest, and one of the only, wins that you’d ever had against him. You’d gladly take it, though. However, instead of standing up, he reached and pulled open one of the bottom drawers of his desk. He pulled out two glasses first, followed by a bottle.

He didn’t ask if you wanted a drink. Instead, he just filled both glasses and set one closer to you. You contemplated it for a moment, but it wasn’t as though you had anything better to do in the moment. Standing upright, up swiped the glass off the desk and took a long sip. Not enough to down it all in one go, but close. Carrillo’s eyes studied you the entire time. He drank all his in one shot.

The two of you repeated that process a few times over while you talked shop. The conversation fluctuated back and forth between talking about work, and the two of you giving each other a hard time about one thing or another. You knew precious little about the Colonel’s life outside of work, the same way he didn’t know much about yours. But you both had your assumptions about each other. You were both in the ballpark on most things, even if you’d never admit it out loud.

He picked up the bottle, ready to empty the last of it into your glasses. It felt silly to stop now, but you were also keenly aware of the fact that sometimes all it took was one more drink to put you over the edge into doing something stupid.

“I think I’m gonna get going.” You wanted to sound certain, but you knew that you didn’t.

“You already stayed this long,” he said, the same decisiveness to his tone that he always had.

“Which is why,” you responded as you stood up from the chair you were sitting in, “I definitely need to leave now.”

You set the glass on his desk. You gave him one last nod and a quick goodnight before turning and starting towards the door. Even as you did it, it felt anticlimactic. But anticlimactic was better than stupid, so you kept going.

Then you heard the sound of his chair scraping against the floor. You sucked in a deep breath, but you still took another step towards the doorway of his office. You heard his footsteps, heavy in his boots, closing the gap between you. You hesitated just long enough for him to catch up to you. His hand wrapped around your arm just above your elbow, grip tight enough to show he wanted you, not so tight that you couldn’t break away if you didn’t want him.

You let him turn you around to face him. He was closer to you in that moment than he had ever been before. “We probably shouldn’t do this.”

His nod turned into a shrug as he turned the words over in his mind. Carrillo only ever worked in absolutes, and apparently probably wasn’t close enough to definitely in terms of what the two of you shouldn’t do. And if it wasn’t enough to be a definite no, in his book that made it a definite yes.

He leaned in and kissed you, harsh but brief. When he pulled back, his hold on your arm loosened as well. He was offering you the keys to a getaway car if you wanted out. You should’ve wanted out. But instead you brought your lips right back to his.

The papers and glasses scattered across his desk never stood a chance.

And now here you were with him, two weeks later. Still in his office, still staying later than anyone in their right mind ever would. You were perched on the edge of his desk with him standing between your legs. The only difference between now and then was the fact that neither of you had a drop of alcohol in your system. The only thing you could blame the fallout on was yourselves. As his teeth grazed along the side of your neck, you figured that you could live with the blame if it came to that.

His movements were intense, almost hasty. You couldn’t blame him—it wasn’t as though you were moving with a whole lot of finesse either. You weren’t looking for soft touches and the lingering feelings of romance. If that’s what you’d been looking for, you wouldn’t have gone to the Colonel in the first place. You’d said it yourself that this was a bad idea. Neither of you were looking to linger in that.

You helped him get your pants down, leveraging yourself against his shoulders so that he could pull them down and off of you. The second they were down you went to work on his belt, fumbling with the buckle as he brought his lips back to yours, but you still managed to get it undone. You pushed them midway down his thighs, his fatigues and his underwear. Just low enough so that when he pulled you to the very edge of the desk, he could easily and comfortably slide right into you.

The tips of his fingers dug into your hips while you gripped tightly onto his shoulders. If there hadn’t been the fabric between you, your nails would’ve dug right into the meat of his muscles. You briefly wondered if you would ever know the feeling.

But you could still feel him. His breath hot against your neck, his brutal pace driving you to and clean over the edge. His lips against the shell of your ear saying things to you that you briefly wondered if he’d ever said to anyone else.

You probably shouldn’t do it, but as his teeth sank into your bottom lip, you knew that you would. Over and over again.

[drabbles-mc]

Lost Time

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

For Day 25 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Alphabet: yearning

Warnings: 18+, smut, language, light angst

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: Horacio Carrillo and his messy relationships, my beloveds 😌

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

You’d lost track of the last time the two of you had spoken. The last phone call between you felt like it had happened lifetimes ago. The last face-to-face conversation? Even longer than that. You both had the feeling that it was coming. Inevitable was too strong of a word, but it was much more than probable.

It would only be so long before he really started holding it against you. You knew that was coming, too. No one got to leave him and let it be a clean break. There always had to be a little bit of a mess. He was practically hardwired for it.

Which was why you didn’t know how shocked you really were when you walked through the airport and saw him standing there waiting for you.

“Horacio?” you said, adjusting the bag on your shoulder.

“I heard you were coming home,” he said, his tone painfully neutral. “I wanted to see it for myself.”

His tone was controlled but you could see it in his eyes that there was more he wanted to say. There was more that he wanted to get into. He wouldn’t do that here, though, not in front of so many people. The look in his eyes almost made you want to remind him that Colombia might’ve been home for him, but it wasn’t home for you. Especially not once he stopped calling.

“Well,” you shrugged, “here I am.”

Your assumption was that the person getting you from the airport was going to be Steve or Javi. Someone from your team. Someone that you figured might still actually want to see you. It crossed your mind that maybe Carrillo had missed you more than his lack of letters and phone calls led you to believe. That, or he just wanted to give you a bit of a hard time and a cold shoulder about the whole ordeal. One of those felt a little more likely than the other.

He at least helped you with your bags. You had the backpack on your shoulders, pulling one rolling suitcase with you while he had the other. It was amazing to you that you’d learned to parse your life down to three bags. If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be able to do that, and that you wouldn’t feel like you were missing parts of yourself in doing so, you would’ve told them that they were insane.

He loaded everything into the back of the CNP vehicle. You made your way to the passenger seat. Just as you were going to buckle yourself in, Carrillo pulled the driver’s door open. And, just for a moment, it felt like you’d never left. There was that strange air of routine to it all. The problem was that everything else about the two of you felt different, strained in a way it never used to be.

“I was just going to head home,” you said as he put the key in the ignition, “unless they really need me there today.”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Tomorrow is fine.”

“Alright.”

“Same building, right?”

You nodded, watching as his hand maneuvered the gear-shift and put the car in drive. “Yea. Same building. Couple floors up from where I was before.” You paused, trying to cut through whatever weird lingering tension was still in the air between you. “Peña and Murphy will have to put in a little work now if they wanna come up and see me.”

You were ready for him to make a comment about that. Some remark about how you’d still have your same place, the little shoebox of an apartment that had a balcony with a view that made up for all the rest of it, if you just hadn’t up and left. You could see the comments practically dancing on the tip of his tongue. There was a slight shift in his jaw as he bit them back, and you almost wished that he’d let them fly. Him being angry with you would make the previous weeks and weeks of silence a little more understandable. Maybe even palatable.

Whatever snide remarks he’d come up with, he stored away for another time. Anger that he would take out on someone else at a later date, you were sure. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he forced out a simple, “Okay.”

When he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment building, you were ready for him to help you get your bags out, and then just leave the rest of it to you. It wasn’t as though you expected him to come up and help you unpack. Part of you was still surprised that he’d been the one to come and get you. You couldn’t tell what his angle was. You’d seen enough of his anger to know what that was like, and this wasn’t it. But it didn’t feel the same way that it used to between you either.

“I can get it from here,” you told him when he set your bags on the ground.

He shook his head. “I’ll help.”

“Horacio—”

“It’s fine.”

Of all the arguments that the two of you were practically destined to get into in the coming weeks, you weren’t going to let this be one of them. Grabbing one suitcase, you left the other for him. “Thank you.”

Slipping the key into the lock on the door, you let yourself in. You walked in first, Carrillo following close behind. You looked around the apartment as you stepped into it. It was nice enough, the way that most of the housing agents were put up in tended to be. It wasn’t luxury, but it was comfortable. That was really all you needed. You’d only be there to sleep anyway, and it wasn’t as though any of you did enough of that.

“I’d offer you a drink or something,” you told him, chuckling quietly as you dropped your backpack to the floor, “but I’m pretty sure I’ve got nothing to offer.”

“It’s alright.”

The two of you stood there in the space between your new living room and kitchen, the one patch of apartment that had nothing furnishing it. You waited for him to leave, or say something. It still felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. You watched him as he looked around, like your government-furnished apartment was suddenly the most interesting thing he’d ever seen before.

“I didn’t think that you’d be the one to come get me,” you told him honestly, cutting through the silence since he clearly had no intention to.

“Why not?”

You laughed, more out of shock than amusement. Carrillo was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. Stubborn, yes, but not stupid. There was no way that he didn’t understand what you meant, why you said it. “You didn’t even want to make a phone call, Horacio.” You shook your head. “Going out of your way to play chauffer didn’t seem like it was going to be in the cards.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to.” His response was quick, his words quiet. You were expecting an edge to his voice but found none.

“No?” you asked, still not believing him.

“I didn’t think that you were ever coming back. So,” he looked down at the floor, shaking his head, “what was the point?”

“The point?” You stepped in closer to him. “I care about you. That was the point. I figured you cared about me too. Maybe that could’ve been the point.”

“Of course I cared.” He caught himself. “Care.”

You frowned. “Cutting me out without telling me why was a weird way to show that.”

“I couldn’t keep listening to you knowing that I wasn’t ever going to see you again. Talking to you, hearing about your day,” he shook his head, “when I wasn’t part—”

“You were part of it, though,” you countered, practically chest-to-chest with him now. “That’s why I spent so much time fucking calling you, writing you. That was you being part of my day. Me being part of yours.” Tears began to sting at the edges of your eyes, emotions you hadn’t had the time to feel in months bubbling back to the surface. “Then you gave it up.”

“You left first,” he argued, but his voice was still quiet.

“But you stopped trying first.”

He wanted to tell you the truth. He wanted to be able to say it all, but words had never been his strong suit. He wanted to tell you that every night he’d get off the phone and for as much as he loved hearing your voice on the other end of the line, it felt like someone dropped a weight on his chest each time he put the phone back down on the receiver. For as much as he loved reading every letter from you, studying all the intricacies of your handwriting, having to see a return address that was so far from where he was stung. He wasn’t enough to make you stay, and the ache of missing you was one type of pain he didn’t know how to stomach.

There was only a shred of distance left between the two of you, but you erased it anyway. Resting your hand on his shoulder, you squeezed lightly. “I missed you.”

His eyes went to your hand, traveling up your arm until they finally reached your face. “I missed you too.” He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax slightly as he leaned in and let his forehead rest against yours. “It’s why I stopped picking up.”

Your eyes shut, and you could feel the tears that were clinging to your eyelashes. “You should’ve said that.”

He couldn’t go back and fix what had already happened, change the things that he did or didn’t say. But he could tell you now, at least. “I stopped because it hurt, because you weren’t coming back. It felt foolish, like I was holding out hope for something that wasn’t going to—”

“But it did,” you said, cutting him off. “And we could’ve had all that time.”

It was an argument that the two of you easily could’ve kept taking in circles. He could keep saying you kicked it all off by leaving, and you could keep saying that he put the final nail in the coffin because he stopped answering your calls. You were both right, and it wasn’t getting either of you anywhere.

“And now?” he asked.

You brought your hand from his shoulder to the side of his face, thumb grazing along his cheek. “I still miss you.”

He felt the way your thumb stopped moving, the way the tips of your fingers pressed into his skin just slightly. You were almost pulling him towards you, but you stopped yourself. Like you heard the words but were still deciding what they meant, how much weight was really behind them. So instead of saying anything more, Carrillo decided that he would just show you instead.

Lifting his chin, he moved just enough to bring his lips to yours. A gesture that was supposed to be soft, a gentle punctuation to prove that he meant what he’d said to you. But the moment that he felt the soft warmth of your lips against his, all of that went out the window. The second he could feel the quick breath that you sucked in when you realized what was happening, all he could do was desperately try to pour himself into you.

His arms snaked around you, pulling himself tight to you. His lips slotted against yours, desperate and bruising. Desperate to put all those nights filled with longing and missing you into something that would actually do one of you some sort of good. He didn’t know who was getting more out of it at that point. He didn’t really care.

He was everything you remembered, all hunger and need, traces of cigarette smoke still lingering on his tongue. A filthy habit you had been on him to quit but in that moment it tasted like coming home. Your fingers curled into the stiff material of his fatigues, needing to find purchase in something to make sure it was all real, that it wasn’t just part of a cruel trick he was playing.

He stopped kissing you for a moment, but his lips were still brushing against yours as he spoke. “I missed you,” he repeated.

In all the late night and early morning calls, the letters that went back and forth, he never really said it like that. Not so concisely, so directly. Like saying it as such would’ve given it too much power, made the distance between you and the yearning that filled it a little too real and too heavy. But now you were in front of him. You were here and he was kissing you, holding you. And he could say it. It was safe to say it now because he already had you back.

You were going to tell him the same, let him know that he wasn’t alone in all of this. He never had been. But he didn’t give you the chance. His lips crashed against yours once more, none of the calculated finesse that was such a staple with the Colonel in any other capacity. It nearly knocked the wind out of you, made your knees buckle, but it didn’t matter because he was holding you tightly enough to keep you from crumbling anyway.

Suddenly he had you falling back onto the sofa. He moved you through the apartment with the ease of someone who had been spending time there with you for weeks already. You didn’t fight him on it, letting your back hit the cushions, his body pinning to yours as he followed you down. You were pulling at his shirt, untucking it from the pants of his fatigues. His hands were already working at your button and zipper, each of you trying to peel the layers off each other as quickly and as clumsily as possible.

It'd gone differently in his head, all the nights when his mind wandered and conjured up what it would be like if he got to see you again, have you again like he used to. It was never quite like this when he pictured it. He’d given himself too much credit, thinking that he would be able to hold back at all, control himself. He couldn’t. From the second he felt the warmth of your skin against his, the tickle of your breath against his jaw, there was no moderation to be found.

Next time, he thought to himself as he yanked your jeans down your legs, next time he would drag it out. He’d take his time with you. But this had all been dragged out long enough. He wouldn’t have even taken the time to bother with his shirt if you hadn’t started with it first, but that was one thing he could easily do for you. He didn’t have it in him to take his time, but he could at least give you that. It hit the floor right before the rest of his clothes.

The groan that he let out as he pushed into you set every inch of you on fire. Your nails dug into his back, raking along skin that you hadn’t been able to touch in far too long. His lips moved away from yours, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck right before his teeth sank into it. Your body drew itself to his, wanting every bit of contact you could get.

He settled inside you for a moment, hips pressed tightly to yours. For a moment all of your thoughts about Colombia not being home couldn’t have felt further from the truth. You were fighting to catch your breath and the two of you had hardly gotten started. Your eyes fluttered shut, focused on how he felt against you, hips against yours, his face in the crook of your neck. You tried to pull him tighter to you, unsure if it was even possible to do so.

The second he started to move his hips, all you had it in you to do was let his name tumble from your lips. You could feel what it did to him, the way his movements became a little more desperate. Every thrust, each press of his lips to your skin, all just trying to pull that sound from you over and over again. Trying to make up for lost nights, all the times when he wanted to hear that same breathless tone from you but couldn’t, wanted to feel the warmth of you against him but you weren’t there. It was a lot to ask when you’d only been back in Colombia for a couple of hours, but it wouldn’t be the first time the Colonel was being unfair. You didn’t mind it this time, though, as his hands slid up your thighs, moving your legs so he could push deeper into you. His lips dragged along your jaw and all the thoughts, the memories, the weight of the last few months, all of it disappeared. It was just the two of you again, finally, for however long it lasted this time.

[narcosfandomdiscord]

What a ROLLERCOASTER oh my god 🥺😭❤

Superman (4)

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Warnings: All my fics are 18+. Smut, cursing, angst, drinking.

Word Count: 5k (its porn with PLOT, okaaaayyy)

Summary: 5 times Character A (Javi) helped Character B (Reader), and one time Character B (Reader) helped character A (Javi).  Javi helps you at a work event. ALSO using this prompt for the letter Y: "You look good like this" from the @narcosfandomdiscord Smut Alphabet Challenge. <3 <3

A/N: This is part 4 of 6 of this mini series I’ve had on the back burner for months!!! Just a little childhood friends to lovers. <3 

Narcos Taglist: @drabbles-mc @narcolini​ @justreblogginfics​

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3​

The invitation had been staring at you for weeks. It was something that sat in the back of your head from the moment you received it. 6 weeks, you had 6 weeks to find a date for the Annual Charity Gala that was held by the county government office you worked in. At the time it seemed like a long while but you were a day away with no prospect in sight. You weren’t exactly sure what you were thinking, you hadn’t been seeing anyone let alone gone on a date in months. If someone were to ask why, you would have blamed work for the lack of time and trying and while there was some truth in that, you weren’t exactly ready to put yourself out there. It was easier in college, things never felt real or serious, but now there was little room to avoid that. 

When you got the job as a travel critical care nurse… you weren’t exactly sure what to expect. The first few months were all trainings and meetings, running through proper operations of things, basically an onboarding process. Now, you were still on a probation period, you weren’t able to leave until you put 400 hours in locally. Your time these days was spent at the Kingsville clinic and ER and then finishing up any trainings and learnings back at the government building. 

That’s where you were now, back in your tiny office finishing up some paperwork. There was a knock at your office door that you were expecting to be Javi. Both of you had a ritual of meeting Thursday evenings for an after work beer whenever possible. Looking up from your desk, your smile faded as you were met with someone who was very much not Javi. Now, just because you had no interest in dating, didn’t mean the sea of fish around you didn’t try and bite. Duffy stood there with a grin on his face, and it was one that always made you cringe. The guy had douche written all over him and he also never took a hint. 

“Hey sweetheart, it’s closing time, you wanna get out of here?” 

Sweetheart. The name of endearment had never sounded so awful. 

“I have plans, Duffy.” You focused back on the stack of papers in front of you, hoping maybe for the first time ever he would get a hint. 

You felt his presence still at the door and you peered up to catch him looking at the invitation. 

“You still need a date for the charity thing tomorrow?” 

Still. He must have heard you talking to your mom on the phone a few weeks ago. Fucking paper thin walls here. But then the last word in his sentence sat with you, tomorrow. Fuck. How had it already come up so quickly? 

Now, for the record, going to the gala without a date would have been perfectly acceptable and your plan originally. But then, Duffy happened. From the first time you rejected him, it became a game to him, you were sure he didn’t even really like you he just took the refusal as a challenge. You knew going solo to the gala was a guarantee that he would bother you all night unless he managed to drag someone else which was highly unlikely. 

“No Duffy.” 

“No you don’t need a date or no you don’t want to go with me?” The humor in his voice was irritating to you, like it was impossible for someone to not want to go out with him. 

“I have a date.” You stood up, if you didn’t leave now he would have kept you there all night. Picking up your jacket, bag, and invitation, you were walking past him in seconds with no additional words even though he had not shut up since you had gotten up. 

Within minutes you were outside Javi’s office and making your way in, throwing your jacket on the chair across from his desk and the invitation on his desk in front of his eyes. 

He looked up immediately, his eyes went to yours and then immediately to the clock. 

“Fuck, what time is it? Am I late?” He scrambled. 

“You are, and guess who was on time at my office?” 

Javi was back to looking at you and about to respond when you cut him off. “It’s okay, I’ll tell you. Duffy. No worries though because you know what you’re going to do to make it up to me?” Your voice was affirmative, speaking like there was no way he would say no. “You’re going to be my date to the gala tomorrow.” Your hand raised to point to the invite you had just thrown on his desk. 

Javi’s facial expression didn’t change, he just looked down at the invite and back towards you. 

“Yea, I’ll go with you.” He agreed with a shrug. 

Even though you said it with certainty, you honestly didn’t know what his reaction was. Javi wasn’t the type to go to these events. An unspoken rule around the agency though was that your first year was heavily recommended you go, to network, make a name for yourself. Javi had gone when he started but not since, so hearing him agree was shocking. 

“Oh, okay.” 

“What did that asshole want?” Javi was changing the subject as he gathered his things. 

You were still a little taken back but shook your head and looked at him. “Huh?” 

“Duffy. He bother you?” Javi got more tense, not picking up on your confusion. 

“Oh, no, just his usual shit. Told him I had plans. Wait, why were you late, what were you working on?”

Classified was a word used for people outside this building for the most part. With the items Javi and you were working on, they were able to be discussed internally and you too had pretty frequently. 

“Nothing just got caught up writing a report on that local raid. We’re still getting a drink, right?” Javi now had a cigarette in his mouth and his jacket on. 

“Please, I’m coming off a 10 hour shift at the clinic and another 4 hour training.” You let your breath out with a chuckle. 

“First rounds on me.” His arm wrapped around your shoulder and he led you out of the office. 

______________

Three dresses. It seemed like a small number but with how your room had looked, 3 was starting to look like 300. You finally settled on one that was emerald green and satin. A little bit of elegance while not standing out too much. While networking was the goal, you wanted to make connections, not extravagant first impressions. 

Taking the bottle of tequila out of your freezer was your attempt to ease the nerves. Working in an ER all day? Easy. Assisting with patients who were bleeding out or researching symptoms to save someone's life? Your heart didn’t skip a beat in those moments. But this? The idea of talking to people and chatting yourself up? Your heart was racing.

“You gonna pour me one?” Javi’s voice made you jump. 

“Holy Shit.” You inhaled. 

Looking up your eyes met and he froze for a second looking you up and down. The last time he had seen you all dressed up like this was prom, and that was the 70’s, in this moment he was really starting to thank the years passed for changed styles. 

Javi realized he was staring and brought his eyes back up to yours, “You, uh, look great.” HIs head went back and forth like he was shaking a thought out of his head. “Oh, I brought you this. Figured it’s what dates do.” He lifted the corsage box and placed it on the table next to the tequila bottle. 

“Is it too much?” Your shot of tequila was still on the table so the nerves were still alive and well. 

“Not at all, it’s,” Javi paused, looking for the right word as you placed the corsage on and took a step back. Truthfully he wanted to tell you that you looked fuckin’ perfect. It wasn’t the first time Javi had this thought. Over the course of your friendship there had been many moments where he thought about crossing that line, but it never felt worth putting the friendship at risk. In the beginning, he chalked it up to teenage hormones. Then he blamed all the time you spent together. But lately, he knew it was more whether he admitted it to himself or not. “It’s perfect.” Javi said with a soft tone. 

“I need this shot.” Oblivious to Javi’s own nerves and solely focused on your own, you ignored Javi’s request for a shot and took this one solo. The tequila went down quick and smooth, and before the heat settled in your throat you were pouring another one. 

Javi said your name and reached for your hand on the counter. 

“Why are you so nervous?” Javi was confused, you had been doing an amazing job so far, it was why he had no problem putting in the referral for you, he knew you would kill it. 

“What if people don’t like me?” Your eyes moved from where he was holding your hand up to his eyes. 

A smile grew on his face. The look alone made you whip your hand out from under his. “Javi, don’t.” 

“What?” His voice still had a touch of humor to it. “I’m sorry.” He moved to follow you as you turned around. “I’m sorry.” His hand caught your shoulder and his light tug at it was enough to turn you around. Now, with both hands on your shoulders he lowered himself at the knees slightly to look at you at eye level. 

“Everyone is going to love you. You’re smart, you know your shit but you’re not cocky. Pretty sure you’re more than halfway done with your probation period which is more than the majority of your onboarding group, you’re the only person I know who can apply a tourniquet, correctly in under 10 seconds, so I think everyone is going to love you. They’d be stupid not to. And if they are, I’ll take you to fuckin’ Burger Chef or somethin’ and we can hang at the ranch.” 

Your eyes felt heavy, tears were starting to form but you did a good job at blinking them away. Almost immediately your arms were moving around Javi’s neck and bringing him in for a tight hug. 

Javi froze before wrapping his arms around you and sinking into the hug, really taking the time to soak it in. 

“I don’t tell you this enough but I love you. You’re always saving me, Peña.” Your voice was soft as you whispered into his ear while you embraced. 

“Love you too.” Javi squeezed a little harder, closing his eyes for a brief moment before forcing himself to pull away. “Alright, come on. One more shot and we’re out of here. It should be enough to ease your nerves.” 

The two of you downed the shot and walked out the door. 

“You’re kidding me right?” The black town car was sitting in front of your place, you saw the driver waiting patiently and you looked up at Javi who had his hands in his pocket looking down. 

“It ain’t a limo or nothin’” Javi said, kicking his right foot against the pavement. “I just figured it’d be nice to have the freedom to drink and shit.” His shoulders shrugged up and he looked over at you. 

“Ahh, Javi the romantic.” You joked and mimicked his words in a singsong voice. “Drink and shit.” 

“Hey, now.” Javi’s texan drawl came out for a minute. 

“I’m kidding, it’s amazing, Javi. Thanks for thinking of it.” 

The ride over was normal, talking with Javi made your anxiety almost non-existent. As the car pulled up to the hall, you reached over and rested your right hand on Javi’s knee and gave it a little squeeze. His head turned, his face had a look of concern on it as he looked at you. Offering him a soft smile, you leaned closer to him and whispered. “I forgot to tell you that you look great too.” 

Despite Javi being what some described as a player, a girl’s guy, a heartthrob, in this moment he felt his heart beating a mile a minute. The heat rose to his face for a short minute before he was shaking his head with a smile. “Come on, let’s go build up your networking roster.” Javi stepped out of the car and walked over to your side to open the door. When you looked up at him, he saw the worry in your face. His reached out his hand to help you out. “We’ll get a drink first, I promise.” His voice was at a whisper so only you could hear it. 

“It better be a strong one.” You said at the same volume while gripping his arm. And with that, your night began. 

An hour had passed and you had already met over 20 people. You didn’t remember many of their names, you weren’t even sure what each conversation you had was about but you knew they all went extremely well. Having Javi next to you most of the time not only eased your apprehension but it brought more people over to you. He was popular in the office and by association, now you as well. 

As much as you weren’t proud of it, you ended up getting a little drunk. It wasn’t out of control, but it was the confidence booster you needed to block out all the negative thoughts. You might have argued that it worked too well. After a few of the awards and charity announcements, you had made your way to the bathroom. That was when you realized just how much the flow of drinks had affected you. You felt fucking good. And you looked it too. To be honest, you were thinking maybe it was time to call it a night, take Javi up on his offer to enjoy Burger Chef and a night on the ranch. 

As you stepped out of the bathroom, you ran into someone. Losing your footing, you grabbed onto the person for balance and then sincerely apologized. 

“I’m so sorry, I–” that’s when you looked up and saw who it was and let out a laugh. 

“No please, go on, I’d love to hear what excuse you were going to offer up.” He chuckled letting his own grip on you go. 

It was at that moment that you realized you wanted nothing more than Javi’s hands on you. You stared at him for a few seconds, admiring the smile on his face, the way his jaw had chiseled out more since when you were teenagers, his desperate need for a haircut but still managing to pull off the look. 

“I–” You paused for the shortest second before that liquid courage streak kicked in again and you leaned forward. Your lips landed on his, they were surprisingly soft, and despite the kiss being spontaneous, it felt inviting. The taste of tequila was on his mouth, not enough to make you think he had been wasted, but just a hint of it that it almost made you crave for more. You melted into Javi losing yourself in the moment before reality hit you and you realized you were kissing your best friend. Pulling away your eyes got wide and you looked at him, out of instinct your hand raised to your mouth to really make clear in your head that you did just kiss Javier Peña and also to hide your shock from him. 

His body language hadn’t changed one bit. Which was enough to make you nervous, you had thought the kiss was inviting but maybe you had imagined it. 

“My kind of apology.” Peña joked and you took it as his way of trying to make light of what happened and not make it awkward. 

“Oh my god, okay, I’m sorry, I’m just gonna—“ You tried to move past him but he rested his hands back on you, and the feeling came back. That feeling that nothing could ever beat being held by Javi. Wrong. He leaned down and kissed you, hard. That was a feeling that could never be beat. Your body gave into it so easily that you had fallen against the bathroom door, pushing it open for both of you two to escape into. Javi’s hands moved up from your arms to your neck and instinctually cupped your jaw to bring your mouth closer to his, as if that was even possible. But in this moment, close wasn’t close enough. 

Javi used his other hand to open the largest bathroom stall and lock you both in there, offering up some privacy in case anyone walked in. He pulled away from the kiss for a moment which is when you let out a soft moan, the sound causing the bulge in his pants to throb. He looked at your mouth and brought his eyes up to yours. 

“You’re fuckin’ perfect.” The sentence he wanted to say to you earlier slipped out of his mouth at a whisper but you heard it like he was screaming it from the rooftops. "You look good like this."

His lips brushed against yours and there was a soft moment between the both of you.

“Like what? Pushed up against a bathroom door?” Your voice was breathy as you looked up to him, your chest rising and falling as you caught your breath, the straps of your dress falling off your shoulder. You quickly moved one hand across your chest to pick it up so it was resting on your shoulder again. 

Javi smirked and his eyes glanced down at the strap, his hand moved in slow motion and his finger lightly touched your skin, goosebumps began to shiver down your arm as he pulled the strap back in its loose position so effortlessly off your shoulder. 

“Exactly.” A chuckle left his mouth and made its way to yours. He kissed you again.  

 You felt as light as a feather, like you were floating. The only thought in your head was that you didn’t want this moment to ever end. So you said it. 

“I want to stay in this moment forever.” 

“So let’s.” Javi answered quickly, trembling at your lips. 

“No.” You said almost immediately. That caught Javi’s attention, his heart was beating fast but in this moment it completely stopped. This was exactly what Javi was worried about, why he never crossed the line. But he was a grown man and would accept whatever was to come from this. 

You felt him start to pull away and you gripped him closer, repeating yourself “No.” This time an order to stop him from leaving your proximity. “I meant, I want more. More of this moment.” You hoped he understood what you were intending by that but by his lack of movement you knew you were gonna have to spell it out for him. 

“Javi for fucks sake, I want you to fuck me.” 

His breath hitched a little bit hearing those words come out of your mouth. Nothing would have ever prepared him for it, no amount of one night stands, girlfriends, none of it. 

With that, he was pushing the straps of your dress fully down now, exposing your cleavage to him. His hand crept up your dress, spreading your legs apart with one light touch. your head moved back along with your eyes as you let out a moan. Luckily no one else was in the bathroom because it would have been obvious what was happening with the way that groan slipped out. 

Javi took the showing of your neck as an invitation to kiss it. His mustache left a tickle in his trail down to your chest. Soon enough his fingers were moving across your underwear, just above your folds. The sensation alone was enough to bring chills to your body but with the mix of him caressing and kissing you, you started to get wetter. 

“Stop teasing me.” You managed to get out between breaths. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for years, can you just let me enjoy the build up?” His voice was frustration mixed with desperation, which made a smile grow on your face. 

“Years, huh?” You said and his finger slipped under your lingerie, his hand grazing over your bare skin made you tremble, but his grip on you kept you steady. 

Javi didn’t answer, he just took your lips into yours and kissed you. This time it was different, there was purpose in this kiss, like he was trying to tell you something without saying anything at all. 

His hand was warm as it came into contact with you again, this time he slid one finger inside you. Once he felt you, you saw his eyes close and he rested his head against yours and murmured. “Fuck.” 

He couldn't wait any longer, he undid his pants and brushed himself across your heated naked skin before slipping himself inside you. Your one leg had moved up and around him to easier fit him inside you.

You gasped at the feeling and began to grind your body on him. His desperation took over and he pushed you up against the bathroom wall, wanting to use it as leverage to pump himself inside you. The only issue with that was the way your head had fallen back in a groan from the euphoric feeling of him entering you, it banged against the tile hard enough to cause you to let out a rather loud cry of pain. 

“Ow!” Your hand raised to cup the crown of your head. Javi moved his hand immediately to your head, and studied your face in worry. 

“Shit, you alright?”

A giggle left your mouth, a real genuine laugh as you looked at Javi. His face of worry slowly diminishing as he looked at yours, a face full of joy. He let out a laugh, still cupping your head and brought it down so your forehead rested against his mouth. A warm kiss is what he left there, as if he was making the pain disappear with one intimate action. His eyes were back on you as you both laughed at the scenario. It was something that would have been horrifying if it was a first date, or honestly anyone else but him. He was still pulsating inside you and yet you could still share this moment together. 

“God, I love you.” You said as your hands wrapped back around his neck. For a brief second you were shocked that the words left your mouth, it wasn’t nearly the first time you had said them to him but they felt different now, in this moment. 

“I love you.” He said as he closed the space between you and kissed you, starting to grind himself against you again. 

_______

Drunk on love. That was the best way to describe how you felt. After cleaning yourselves up, Javi left the bathroom to give you a minute. Taking the time to resituate your dress, and remove any trace of what had just happened before heading back out to the gala. 

Walking was finding itself to be a hard task, and you knew Javi was going to eat up any opportunity to tease you and bask in the glory of it. As you left the bathroom, your eyes scanned for him, he was right outside the door waiting. He kicked off the wall the minute he heard the door open. 

“I feel like I can’t even walk straight.” You whispered to him, if you could have kept it to yourself you would have but you knew you were going to need him for support. He laughed and brought you under his arm. 

“And that wasn’t even my best work, just wait ‘till I get you in a bed.” He looked down at you and used his other hand to fix a hair that was out of place. The way he was looking at you was like he hadn’t just been with you, his eyes were full of lust, full of desire. “Or the couch depending on how far we make it.” A smile grew on his face. 

“Bold of you to think I can fuck when I can barely walk.” You teased him. His head snapped towards yours, still not used to hearing you talk so boldly and let out a laugh. 

“Come on, let’s dance.” 

Shock filled your face, the man was crazy. “Did you not hear me?” 

“Trust me, when the word fuck comes out of your mouth, I’m listening. Come on, I’ll lead. Just one song.”

You felt like the world was upside down, you just had sex with your best friend and now he was asking you to dance? 

“I am not responsible for any injuries.” You pointed your finger at him as his arm went from around you to swaying your hand to the floor. 

The music was loud as you entered the middle of the gala where the DJ was set up. There was a good amount of people moving around you but all you could do is focus on Javi. His smile was huge as he moved you around, both of your hips moving. If you hadn’t just had sex with Javi, a part of you would have been shocked by how well his hips moved let alone how they moved to the beat. He twirled you around time after time, your laughs filling the air with joy. The song was upbeat which made it impossible to stop moving, despite your body protesting every move by shaking. It was unnoticed by everyone, Javi kept you in his arms at all times, even as he spun you around and moved you around the dance floor, his hands never left you. 

As the song came to its end, you wrapped your arms around Javi’s neck, wanting to just collapse into him but knowing this wasn’t the time or place. “I need water and 5 minutes to collect myself.” 

He let out a breathy laugh and nodded, moving you over to the bar as the next song began playing and people slowed down their dancing to stay with the rhythm. 

“We couldn’t have come out for this song?” You teased as you turned to the bar and ordered two glasses of water. 

“We can go back now if you’re so eager?” He smirked knowing your response already and that your face was going to be filled with a ‘you’re kidding me’ look. 

“You two look like you’re having fun.” Duffy’s voice caused you to turn around, Javi now behind you. 

“Tons of it.” You smiled and turned back to the bar to grab your glasses of water, handing one to Javi before chugging down yours. 

“That’s great, it’s a good way to spend your last night in the states, Javi.” He said to both of you before ordering a drink. 

Your face fell into a frown as what he said processed with you. Your eyes looked over at Duffy, expecting him to explain further but when you noticed he was ordering a drink your gaze moved to Javi. You said nothing, just stared at him waiting for some type of reply but his face said it all. 

“You took the Escobar case.” The realization came tumbling down on you like a pile of bricks. “You didn’t tell me.” It didn’t help that your heart was already beating a mile a minute from the dancing and the sex. Your eyes moved up like daggers to his. “You’re fucking kidding me.” You were placing your glass down on the bar before turning to exit the venue. 

“I thought it was common knowledge, my bad.” Duffy spoke up seeing how upset you got. 

“Go fuck yourself, Duffy.” Javi was quick to chase after you. 

He followed you all the way outside. Truthfully you weren’t exactly sure where you were going, you just felt like you needed to get away from him. Process what you just found out. He lied to you. He told you he didn’t make the cut. He said he wanted to stay home. You two talked about it. Travelling and staying in other places was a part of both of your jobs, it wasn’t that fact that was bothering you it was the lies.  Then there was the matter of fact that he was leaving, despite knowing this was a possibility for either of you it didn’t make the concept of saying goodbye any harder to process. It was a lot to digest and all of it together was overwhelming to say the least. 

“Let me explain.” Javi’s voice cut off all your internal thoughts. You turned to him. 

“Explain how you slept with me the night before you leave? Explain to me that you lied to me about Colombia? Explain to me what a fucking idiot I am for all of this. I don’t need you to explain, Javi, it’s fucking clear as day to me.” 

He went to grab you. It was funny how the same action just minutes before would have sent you into a daydream, would have sent goosebumps down your spine, the dirtiest thoughts through your mind, but now it repulsed you. You pulled your hand back immediately and began walking down the steps, planning to call a cab or hell, honestly walk for miles if you needed to. Before you finished down the stairs you turned around and faced him, wiping a tear that was falling down your cheek. Unsure if it was a cry of frustration, anger, sadness, or combination of all 3. Although maybe it was a completely new one that you had never felt with Javi before. 

Heartbreak. 

As you turned to look at him, you spoke one last sentence to him. Maybe you said it because you truly meant it, maybe you said it because you wanted to hurt him like he hurt you, but either way you said it loud to make sure no word was misheard. 

“I hope Colombia is worth it, and everything you want it to be and more.”

[drabbles-mc]

Unbroken Rules

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

For Day 6 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Challenge: friends with benefits

Warnings: 18+, language, smut, oral (f!receiving), light angst?

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: As per usual this is unedited and unbeta'd. It was also written on three hours of sleep. But we out here! They're, you know, they're smutting! 😂

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

It was surprising to you in a way that maybe it shouldn’t have been that things with you and Carrillo were working as well as they had been. Out of all the men in Colombia you thought you would find yourself casually hooking up with, he certainly hadn’t been anywhere near the top of the list. He really hadn’t made your list at all.

You couldn’t even really remember how it all came up in the first place. A bunch of you had been out after a grueling week, drinking away the stress of it all. In between rounds everyone was catching up on gossip, all the little things that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of it all but were the perfect topics of conversation when the grand scheme had been so exhausting for you all. And there was no shortage of things to talk about. Messy breakups, dates gone wrong, new and not-so-secret relationships abound. Still waters run deep, after all.

At some point you’d all descended into talking about one of the officer’s friends with benefits relationship gone wrong. No one really had any sympathy for him, of course, but it fueled jokes and banter for the next five minutes of conversation. In the aftermath of that, Carrillo had made a comment under his breath about not understanding how you all managed to have time for all of that with everything else that was going on.

“Yea,” you said, just as quietly with a laugh, “I get that friends with benefits probably seems like a weird concept for someone who doesn’t seem all that interested in even having friends without benefits.”

If you hadn’t had so much liquid courage in you at that point, the look on Carrillo’s face would’ve stunned you into silence, maybe even into squaring up your tab altogether.

But as it stood, you weren’t fazed. Instead, you doubled down. “What?” There was extra safety in the fact that everyone else had diverted off into their own conversations—no one was listening to the two of you. “Am I wrong?”

“I have friends,” he said, unable to believe that he was entertaining the conversation with you, letting it be anything resembling an argument.

You arched one eyebrow. “Okay, sure. Let’s,” you took a sip of your drink, “let’s say that’s true.”

He shook his head at you. “You think that because I’m not sleeping with any of them that—”

“I didn’t say that,” you cut him off. “I didn’t even say that you don’t have friends. I’m saying that you don’t seem all that interested in having friends. Which, you know,” you shrugged, “whatever.”

He could see that there was something else on the tip of your tongue. He was logical enough to know that he should let it lie, but he was too stubborn to go on without asking. “What?”

“I just…” you shrugged, suddenly trying to pick your words carefully now that you realized the deep water you’d landed yourself in. “With everything you’ve had going on I’m just not exactly surprised that you’re not keen on people right now.”

He frowned at that. He knew exactly what you were talking about, and as much as he hated that you were bringing it up at all, he was at least thankful that you had enough grace to not blurt it out in obvious terms. If he hadn’t gone to the bar with all of you, he knew that his recent disaster of a breakup would’ve made it onto the gossip wheel. Fair was fair, after all, and it was quite the story for everyone else who was on the outside of it.

He let out a sound that was something between a hum and a grunt of acknowledgment. You were on precariously thin ice as it was but still you took another sip of your drink and forged onward, talking since he apparently wasn’t going to.

“Honestly it’d probably be good for you. It’s been a bit, right? Probably be good for you to blow off some steam if you haven’t already.” You said it so casually despite the fact that the two of you really didn’t have the type of relationship where you were usually offering unsolicited advice about anything, but especially his sex life or lack thereof. Again, if there had been any less liquor in your system, the look on Carrillo’s face would’ve had you melting into the floor.

But somewhere between that conversation and the moment you were in now, with him knocking at your door, the two of you had become friends with benefits. Maybe more benefits than friends, but still, you served a purpose for each other. He wasn’t up for anything serious after a brutal breakup, and realistically he didn’t seem like the most emotionally available man to begin with anyway. And you were too busy letting work take over your life to try and entertain a real relationship. But still, you were only human. He filled a need for you and vice versa.

There were rules to it. Things to keep it from getting messy. Part of you had to think that maybe that was a large part of the appeal for him. Structure was good—he knew how to navigate that. The two of you always met at your place—that was his rule. He never stayed over no matter how late it was—that was your rule. There were a few others you’d each put into place along the way. The big one, the unspoken one, was that if one of you started to feel any kind of off about it, you’d cut the cord on the whole arrangement. The whole purpose of it was to eliminate mess, not make more of one.

The beauty of there being limited friendship built into the actual arrangement was that when he showed up, you always knew why. It wasn’t like he ever turned up on your doorstep just for a drink and a chat.  So when you heard the knocks, you knew exactly what you were going to be in for. He wasn’t one for small talk with anyone, so it wasn’t as though you really had to entertain him very much before the two of you got into things.

There was only a matter of minutes between you unlocking your apartment door for him and the two of you peeling the clothes off of each other on the way to your bedroom. His hands moved quickly, with the same precision he showed in every other area of his life. In record time he had your blouse unbuttoned and on the floor, working the clasp of your bra with the same ease before moving to the buckle of your belt.

His lips moved hungrily against yours. Slow and steady hadn’t ever been the pace with the two of you, but you could feel a different sense of urgency this time. You wondered what happened before he decided to come over. It wouldn’t be the first time either of you took your problems out on each other. Neither of you had ever made any complaints about it.

He undid the button and zipper of your jeans, easily pushing them down past your hips, down just enough for them to pool around your ankles on the floor. Once the backs of your legs met the resistance of your mattress, his hand slid up from your hip, trailing up your stomach until it stopped in the middle of your chest. He pushed with just enough force to get you to fall back onto the bed.

You took his hand in your own, went to pull him down onto the mattress with you, but he didn’t give you the chance. Pulling his hand back, he reached up and peeled his polo off over his head, discarding it somewhere on the floor with the mess of your own clothes. You watched with bated breath as he undid the buckle of his belt with one hand, using the other to run up your calf, over your knee and onto your thigh.

It seemed like your eyes diverted for all of a second, and suddenly he was on you. Climbing up your body, all rough palms and grazing teeth. You felt his lips against your neck and you reached, threading your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. The second his teeth sank into you, your grip on his hair tightened in turn. You heard the hiss he let out, and you felt the smug satisfaction start to settle in.

Then his lips were on yours again, as desperate as he’d ever been he slipped his tongue into your mouth as he ground his hips against yours. you moaned into his mouth, arching into the contact as you slid one hand down between you, wrapping it around his length. He instantly bucked into your hand, the reaction practically involuntary as he pulled his mouth off of yours.

“Fuck,” he cursed, low and quiet, one hand balled into a fist on the pillow beside your head, other hand on the side of your face. The pad of his thumb rested beneath your bottom lip, almost enough to pull at it if he hadn’t been so distracted by your grip on him, the motions you knew would piece him apart.

His hand slid down to the side of your throat, and you felt your heartrate already speeding up. But then he reached and pulled your hand away, separating the two of you. He was already flushed, breathless, and you weren’t much better considering the two of you had hardly gotten started. It wasn’t the time to ask questions, but the look in Carrillo’s eyes had you wondering if maybe you should.

He didn’t give you the chance. Any attempt you were going to make to try and check in was cast aside as he slid back down your body, lips and tongue trailing the whole way down until he hooked your legs over his shoulders and dove directly between your thighs.

It was your turn to let out a curse, a string of them really, as your thighs clamped tighter around his head, fingers weaving into his hair as his tongue worked you over. Your back arched, fingers tugging harder on his hair as he tried to lose himself in you, tried to use you to cure some sort of insatiable hunger inside of him. It was a fool’s errand that you would let him run on forever if it kept him between your legs the way he was. You had no hope in stopping the moan that came out of you when he slid his fingers into you, legs trembling around his head as he pumped them in and out of you.

“Fuck,” you practically whined. “Don’t,” you lifted your head off the bed just enough to look down at him, the sight of him nearly enough to send you over the edge all on its own, “don’t stop.”

Whatever had sent him to your door had him feeling more agreeable than usual, because he did as you said without a moment’s hesitation. Even when the coil inside of you snapped, when you were lying pliant and breathless on the bed with your legs still lazily draped over his shoulders, he didn’t stop.

It wasn’t until you gently raked your fingers through his hair and let out a soft, unsteady, “Horacio,” that he paused long enough to look up at you, to revel in the mess he’d turned you into. The thought crossed his mind as he looked at you, as he carefully brought himself back up to your face, that he was still good for something, for someone. Despite everything pointing to the contrary, he might still be the right thing for someone. Maybe even you.

You were about to say something more when he kissed you, taking away the opportunity. You didn’t fight him, hand cupping the side of his face as you tasted yourself off of his lips. His hips shifted and you could feel him, still ready, still twitching.

When he pulled his lips off of yours, he sat back, kneeling as he grabbed onto your hips and turned you over so that you were lying on your stomach. Hands still holding onto you, he pulled you back towards him, leaving you braced on your forearms as he slotted himself between your legs. Your fingers curled into a thread-tearing grip on your sheets as he pushed into you. He moved slow at first, and you could feel the way he was fighting to show some restraint. But once he heard the tiny whimpered, “Yes,” you let out under your breath, he immediately picked up his pace.

Even with the stars behind your eyes, you could already picture the finger-shaped bruises he was going to leave on your hips. You pushed back against him, spurring him on as he brought one hand up to grip your shoulder, what little nail he had biting into the soft flesh there.

The only things you could hear above the sounds of your own ragged breathing and heartbeat, was the sound of his hips connecting with you, the scattered curses he let out under his breath the closer he got to release.

You felt the stutter in his thrusts as he finished, melting against you as soon as he did. You felt his forehead rest against your back between your shoulder blades, felt each heave of his chest as he fought to try and get his breath back. His hands loosened, acting gentle against you once more as he held you to him—not that you had the desire to move away anyway.

When he finally pulled away from you, he ran his hand up and down your back again. His voice was almost even as he asked, “You’re okay?”

You let out a breathless laugh as you nodded. It took more effort than you wanted to admit just to turn yourself over so that you were lying on your back again. Once you did, you looked over at him, making eye contact before nodding again and saying, “I’m okay.”

For a beat, neither of you moved or said anything. Carrillo didn’t move to get dressed and leave, you didn’t try to ask what had him in such a state when he showed up at your apartment. For a precious two minutes, the two of you existed in a limbo where there was simply nothing else, no life outside the walls of your bedroom.

Finally, he cleared his throat, looking over at you once more. “It’s late.”

Blinking a few times, you turned and looked at the clock on your nightstand. Your eyes widened when you saw the time, not having realized just how long the two of you had been at it. “Shit,” you said as you ran your hands down your face, “it is.”

The silence that followed spoke volumes. You waited for him to get up and start getting his things the way that he usually did, maybe even toss you something to pull on quickly so that you could follow him out and lock the door behind him when he left. But he was still. The longer you looked in his eyes, the more you realized just what he was waiting for. If he wanted to talk about what happened, you’d listen. That wasn’t against the rules. Staying over was, though.

“Something you want to talk about?” you finally asked when he made no move to start the conversation himself.

He was weighing the options, the pitfalls of opening up to you, the downsides of locking himself away. That was his issue, apparently—never quite showing or giving enough. Or so he’d been told.

“I can’t stay?” Another statement turned into a question. It wasn’t what he actually wanted to talk about, but it was the best he could do. Old habits die hard.

You sighed, head dropping back against the pillow behind you. You stared up at the ceiling for a moment, wanting to choose your answer to the question carefully. There was only one right answer, but you didn’t want to say it wrong.

“I don’t know what happened today, but—”

“Nothing happened,” he said, a little harsher than he meant to.

You paused, pressing your lips together in a thin line. “Okay, fine. Nothing happened. I don’t know what didn’t happen today, Horacio, but I think you should go.”

“Why?”

You let out a tired laugh. “Because that’s…that’s what we do. That’s why this works.” You paused. “Unless you don’t think it’s working anymore. Which means we need to be having a very different conversation.”

You could practically see the walls going back up in real time, not quite as effective as they had been before. “You’re right—I should go.”

He got off the bed, gathering his clothes off the floor and dressing himself as he went. While he was busy with that you went and grabbed an old t-shirt for yourself. Neither of you said anything as you walked with him to the door. It felt different this time. It wasn’t as though the two of you were the types to kiss goodbye—you weren’t a couple after all. But there was a tension in the air now that almost made you feel like he was waiting for something to happen.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you said, “Get some safe, yea?”

He nodded. “Yea.”

You couldn’t get a read on his expression, so you asked, “I’ll see you?”

He knew what you meant despite the vague nature of your question. He gave you another nod. “Of course you will.”

[drabbles-mc]

Off the Backburner

Steve Murphy x F!Reader

For Day 22 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Challenge: virginity

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, smut, precanon

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: this fic is a day late and I've rewritten it an absurd amount of times. But it's done. And that's all I have to say about that! 😂

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

It wasn’t something that ever really came up in conversation. With anyone, really, but definitely not with someone like Steve. Truth be told, it wasn’t even something that really crossed your mind very often at all. You were so busy with everything else, especially since you enrolled in the police academy, that you didn’t have time to think about dating, or sex, or the fact that you’d never had sex. There was more important shit taking up your brain-space, and it wasn’t exactly the type of conversation you’d been looking to have with Steve over a couple beers in the time that you’d known him.

Over the last few weeks of suffering together, the two of you had become something resembling friends, but even so, you weren’t the type of friends who had those kinds of conversations. When you’d first met Steve, you didn’t think that the two of you were going to end up being friends at all. His first impression wasn’t the best, not that you expected much from most of the men in your class. Your expectations for boys in their twenties were low, even lower for twenty-something’s who were enrolled in the police academy. It was you and two other women alongside all those men, and it was going about as well as any of you had expected it to.

But you were doing well, doing great even, despite the social stressors of being around a bunch of men who had too much testosterone in their systems for their own good. You and Steve were at the top of your class for your marksman scores—as a matter of fact, you were neck and neck. And despite some of the sharp remarks the two of you had traded in the past, that seemed to be the thing that broke the stalemate. He was still ridiculous, still said things that made you roll your eyes and shake your head. But at least now when you told him to watch his mouth, he would try.

You never had to think about it very often—it wasn’t like anyone’s sex life got brought up while you were all struggling your way through academy together. It’d slipped your mind completely in all the times you were out getting beers with everyone at the end of the day.

But in moments like this it was hard to not be aware of the reality of it. Steve’s hands were slipped into the back pockets of your jeans, keeping you pulled tight against him as he kissed you, tongue running along your bottom lip letting you taste the beers the two of you had just finished in the bar. You had one hand on the side of his face, the other resting against his chest, fingertips pressing into the skin exposed by the few buttons of his shirt that he’d left undone.

You would’ve been more than content to stay like that, pinned up against the side of Steve’s car with his lips on yours, for the rest of the night. The feeling of his body pressed so tightly to yours made your head spin. The entire situation was something that you would’ve thought to be so outlandish only a few weeks before, but here you were.

When the two of you finally came up for air, Steve was immediately digging his car keys out of his pocket, his body still close enough to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. He stole another lingering kiss from your lips before asking, “Wanna come back to my place?”

You hesitated for a moment. Your pause was long enough to make Steve lean back and get a better look at you. You swallowed hard, knowing that this was, in one way or another, going to be a make or break point for the two of you. “Steve, look, I…” you trailed off, not really sure how to end the sentence. You knew how you should end it, but it felt so blunt.

Panic washed across his face for a brief moment, like he was trying to figure out how much damage control he was about to have to do if he’d been misreading the entire situation. “Shit.” He dragged his hand back through his hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—if you don’t wanna—” he paused, trying to get his words together enough to finish at least one sentence. “Sorry if I had this wrong,” he finally said as he made a small gesture between the two of you.

“It’s not that,” you told him, shaking your head. “I just…”

“What? You got a secret boyfriend you forgot to mention before now?” he almost said it like a joke, but you could tell that for a second it was a legitimate concern.

You laughed at the mere thought of it. “No. Jesus. I haven’t had the time for a public boyfriend let alone a secret one.”

“Then, what is it?” It wasn’t that he was upset, per se, more just confused. If it was something that he did, or something that he didn’t do but should’ve, he at least wanted to know.

“I just, um,” you raked your nails back along your scalp as you tried to think it through, your thoughts all still spinning, “I don’t do stuff like that, really. I…I don’t hook up with people I work with,” you paused for a moment, “or cadets that I’m in academy with.”

His lips twitched as he nodded, processing what you were saying to him. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, a small pang of regret going through you as the words left your lips. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him, but you were also keenly aware of all the ways it could get messier than it was worth if the two of you went through with it.

“Don’t be,” he countered, and it sounded genuine, which you hadn’t been expecting.

“Okay,” was all you could think to say. You wished that you could turn back the dial to a few minutes before when he’d been kissing you. Everything was so much better then.

“But if you’re worried it’s gonna be weird,” he continued, “or that I’m gonna, I don’t know, say something to someone, I won’t. And it doesn’t…doesn’t have to be weird.”

“I believe you,” you told him honestly.

He nodded. “Good. Um, alright.” He paused for a moment, like he was trying to figure out if you had more to say or if he should just take his loss on the chin and leave. “I’ll see you Monday, then?”

You nodded, already kicking yourself into the next week over all of this. “Monday, yea.”

He twirled his keys in his hand. “Goodnight.”

You had the stupid urge to kiss him before you walked away but you stopped yourself. “Goodnight.”

You peeled yourself off the side of his car and started to walk away, back towards your own. You waited until you were behind him to drag your hands down your face, silently cursing yourself over everything that had just transpired. You were all set to go home and mull over your regret, but once the sound of him opening the car door hit your ears, your impulses took back over.

Stopping in your tracks, you weren’t thinking about what you were doing as you were doing it. That momentary pause became you turning back around and going back to him. “Steve?” You gave him enough time to turn around and face you before you crashed your lips against his, hands landing on the sides of his neck. You felt the shock go through him, but then he was kissing you back again. Pulling back, you asked, “You meant what you said?”

He nodded, eyes locked onto yours. “Yea. All of it.”

Your heart was palpitating and you just hoped that Steve couldn’t hear it or feel it. “Okay.”

His eyebrows lifted just slightly, but he nodded. “Okay.”

The tension in the car on the drive to his apartment was thick enough to cut with a knife. There were only a few words traded between you on the ride. You thought you were going to feel uncomfortable, but you didn’t, not really. A little anxious, maybe, but more excited than anything. It wasn’t a long drive from the bar to his place, but his hand was rested on your thigh the entire time.

When the two of you were finally in the privacy of his apartment, door closed and locked behind you, Steve was right back on you again. Hands on your sides, lips pressed to yours. You melted into him almost instantly, the feel of his hands creeping underneath the sides of your shirt sending shivers straight down your spine.

He gripped onto your sides, not tight in a way that hurt, but just enough so that he could pull you and guide you along with him. You felt him reach behind you, turning the knob and pushing open the door to what you assumed was his bedroom. Now you were certain that your heart was pounding loud enough for him to hear it.

You knew that if you were going to say something, you needed to say it sooner rather than later. For a moment you wondered if you even really had to say anything at all. You wondered if it would really change anything if he knew. It wasn’t as though you’d never dated anyone, never done a little bit of fooling around, but it had just never gone far enough to the point of crossing that line. Things just never got that serious with anyone, although you were keenly aware that it wasn’t as though they were all that serious with Steve either. But even just kissing him felt different. None of your previous experiences with people had been bad, but they also hadn’t really felt this good either.

Even with your eyes closed as you kissed him, you could tell by his motions that he was toeing off his sneakers, and you moved to do the same with your boots, the precarious balancing act of trying to do that while also letting him guide you farther into the bedroom. You were able to rid yourself of your boots just before you felt the backs of your legs press against the side of his bedframe and mattress.

There was no hesitation in your movements or his as you laid yourself out on the bed, Steve following right behind you. He was hovering over you, one leg slotted between yours as he started to kiss you again. You pulled him closer to you by the collar of his button-down, reveling in the way it felt as he used one hand to cup the side of your face.

You let out a low moan when his tongue pushed between your parted lips, your grip on his shirt tightening as he shifted your positions just slightly, just enough so that your legs were on either side of him. Bringing his hand from your cheek, he trailed it down over your chest and stomach before sliding it back up again, this time underneath your shirt. You gasped as he cupped your breast, his fingers deftly pulling the cup of your bra out of the way to give him more access.

You pulled your lips off of his with a quiet, “Fuck,” as your hands quickly set to work undoing the buttons on his shirt. You heard the breathless chuckle he let out as he let you push it down off his shoulders. He got it off the rest of the way, tossing it somewhere in the room that you couldn’t see and didn’t care to. He kissed you hard on the lips once more before reaching to slide your shirt up and off over your head, casting that aside too. He looked down at you, eyes raking over you as you laid beneath him in just your bra and jeans. Other times when you found yourself in almost this exact same position with other people, you found yourself wanting to hide. That’s when you would turn tail and run—no one who had you feeling like that deserved any more of you.

But even with as slowly as Steve’s eyes were wandering, you didn’t find yourself wanted to pull away. His hand glided up your stomach and over your chest, creeping up until he was cupping the back of your head and leaning in to kiss you again. Your hands started on his shoulders, but only stayed there for a moment until they slid to his back, fingers exploring wherever they could reach.

It wasn’t until you felt his other hand start at the button of your jeans that the thought crossed your mind again that you should say something. It was so easy to get distracted as he kissed you, but you knew that the invite back to his place had a heavier connotation to it than that.

Reaching, you placed your hand over his as you pulled out of the kiss. “Steve.”

His eyes were locked on yours. “Yea?”

“I, um, I know I said I don’t usually do this,” it was hard to get your words together when all you could think about was the feeling of his hips pressed against yours, “which is true. But, I also just, I’ve never done this.”

He nodded, slight traces of confusion on his face. “Okay.”

You knew he didn’t get it. Resting your other hand against his chest, you felt the quickened pace of his heartbeat. “No, I mean,” you pressed your lips into a thin line for a moment, “I’ve never hooked up with anyone I work with. But I also have just never…never hooked up with…anyone at all.”

His eyes widened slightly as it finally clicked with him what you were saying. “Oh.”

“Yea.” You paused, waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to pull away. “We still okay?”

He nodded. “Yea. I, I just…you sure you wanna do this?”

You smiled, nodding. “Yea—I’m sure.”

His voice was softer than it had been when he said, “Okay.” He leaned in, kissing you again before telling you, “Just tell me if you wanna stop, okay?”

You nodded. “I will.”

He looked at you for another moment longer, like he was making sure that you were both really on the same page. When he didn’t see any regret, any hesitancy on your face, he kissed you again. And it was back to that for a little while longer, just the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands caressing wherever they could, holding you tight.

When he went to undo the button and zipper on your jeans again, you didn’t stop him. He paused for a moment, giving you the opportunity to change your mind, but you didn’t. Pulling the denim down your legs and finally off of them completely, he threw them out of the way with everything else. His lips grazed along your leg, hand running up the other. Your breath trembled as he kissed along the inside of your thigh, along your hips, just above the waistband of your panties. Your hands clung to his shoulders involuntarily. He looked up at you, and just the sight of him like that with your legs on either side of him, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them before, made every inch of your body tingle with electricity.

He pressed a kiss over your clothed core, the action making you want to squirm with desire and anticipation. “This okay?” he asked, and when you only nodded, he shook his head, “I gotta hear you say it, sweetheart.”

The husk of his voice when he addressed you like that made all of your bones turn to jello. You nodded again, managing to say, “I’m good,” in a voice that no longer sounded like your own.

He smiled at that, giving the tiniest nod as he pulled your panties off next. You let him hook your legs over his shoulders, humming in approval as he kissed the inside of your thighs. You felt the warmth of his breath against your core and the whine that came out of you was something that was beyond your control. Lifting your head off the pillow beneath you, you couldn’t help but to look down at him.

His eyes were locked onto yours as he kissed you again, only this time there was no barrier between you, his lips connecting right to your core. You sucked in a quick breath at the contact, feeling something akin to relief, but more than that you were just feeling desperate for more. He must’ve seen it in your face, too, because he slowly dragged his tongue along your folds. You gasped, body arching into the contact.

He repeated the action a few times over, lips wrapping around your clit for the briefest moment before he pulled back. His eyes wandered back to your face and he was wearing the most sinful smile as he said, “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

Your jaw dropped open, like you wanted to have something to say to that, but all you could do was look at him. He watched you for a moment before letting out a low, breathy chuckle and diving back between your legs again. Your hands tangled into his hair, wanting to pull him closer but also wanting him to keep doing exactly what he was doing.

He shifted, kissing your thigh before getting your attention. “Hey,” he whispered, breath warm against your skin. He waited for you to look down at him again, and for a second he just admired the way you looked, the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing sped up. “I wanna give you more.” He kissed you again. “That okay?”

You nodded again, catching yourself this time as you said, “Yes, please.”

He dragged his tongue up and down your folds again, and you watched him with bated breath as he put two of his fingers in his mouth. He trailed those along your slit as well, pressure that made you writhe with excitement. He waited for your eyes to meet his again as he slowly started to push them into you. You gasped, not from pain, but from the shift of the sensation. He didn’t move his hand at first, making sure that you were okay. Then he slowly started to move, the slow drag of his fingers in and out of you causing you to utter sounds you’d never made before. He found a slow, steady rhythm before his lips attached to you again, wrapping around the bundle of nerves between your legs. That time you did pull him closer by his hair, whimpering out his name over and over again because your brain couldn’t conjure up anything else to say.

You felt your muscles starting to tense, your excitement bubbling over. There were no coherent thoughts in your head, just stars behind your eyes as you bucked into him, hands dropping so that you were grabbing onto his shoulders. You vaguely registered his moans of approval, the sound barely reaching you over the sound of your own breathing.

You gasped again when he pulled his fingers out of you, legs trembling slightly as he kissed his way up your thighs, to your stomach, to your chest, up your neck until his lips were almost touching yours.

“You okay?” he asked, one hand holding your thigh, the other cupping the side of your face.

“Yes,” you rasped out before pulling his lips to yours in a brief, rough kiss. “Fuck,” you said with a breathless laugh.

He chuckled, the vibration of it going through your chest as well. “You sure?”

You nodded, kissing him again. “I’m sure.”

There was a brief pause, the silence filled with lingering kisses and Steve’s hand wandering from your thigh until it was teasing ever-so lightly between your legs.

“You wanna keep—”

“Yes,” you cut him off, legs pulling him towards you, “please.”

The smile on his face got a quiet laugh out of both of you. You watched him as he pulled away, shedding his jeans and boxers. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him bring himself back to you. He kissed you, and you were extremely aware of how you could feel every part of him against you now, skin to skin. He pulled his lips off of yours, turning so he could open the drawer of his bedside table. You heard the sound of the condom wrapper crinkling. Unable to pry your eyes away, you watched as Steve stroked himself a few times before sliding it on.

He situated himself between your legs again, his face hovering just above yours. You felt the way he was lined up against you, and with your hands on his sides you could feel the way his muscles were taut with anticipation. He wanted you, and it made you want him more.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, alright?” he said, quietly, carefully before brushing his lips against yours. “Whatever it is. And if you feel like you wanna stop, we will.”

You nodded, heart fluttering in your chest for a moment. “Okay.”

He felt your fingertips dig into him as he slowly pushed into you. You whimpered, but you didn’t want him to stop. Once he was fully inside you, he stilled. For a few precious moments it was just the two of you, his hips pinned to yours as he leaned in and kissed you on the lips. Your hands came up to either side of his face pouring all of your desire into the kiss that you could.

“Feels good,” you murmured against his lips, giving him the reassurance that he needed, that you needed too.

He started to move his hips then, slow and controlled. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as you let the sensation wash over you. You kissed his shoulder, his throat, wherever your lips could reach without having to move too much. His hand was gently holding your thigh, holding you steady as he slowly thrust into you.

You felt his breath against your ear for a moment before he said, “Let me look at you.”

Those words hit your bloodstream like fire, your entire body feeling warm as you pulled your face away, head dropping back against the pillow. Steve’s eyes didn’t leave your face, and any thought of being self-conscious was eradicated immediately as he brought his hand up and cupped your chin. He kissed you softly, gentler than you ever would’ve thought him capable of prior to all of this.

“You’re beautiful.”

You let out a quiet moan in response to his words. He could feel your desire in the way your walls fluttered around him. He began to move faster, thrusts becoming more intense. He listened to your breathing, your body, in case you hesitated. But you didn’t. Your whines and whispers of encouragement spurred him on more. Soon enough you were tumbling over the edge again, nails digging into his back as you did. He wasn’t far behind—you felt the stutter of his hips just before he came, just before his body went lax against yours.

Your body was heavy against the pillows and mattress beneath you. Your eyes were shut as you tried to catch your breath. Steve’s chest rose and fell out of sync with yours, your hands resting between his shoulder blades.

“Hey,” he lifted his head up so he could look at you, waited until you opened your eyes before asking, “you okay?”

You smiled, nodding. “More than okay, yea.”

He braced his hands on either side of your head, hoisting himself up a little more. “I didn’t, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You gave a small shake of your head as you moved your hand, thumb grazing his cheek. “No.”

He nodded, letting you pull him into a kiss. “Good.”

Once you’d both caught your breath, Steve grabbed both sets of underwear from the floor, cleaning himself up and giving you a chance to do the same. He didn’t bother asking if you were planning on spending the night, the answer obvious in the way that you immediately fell back into bed beside him.

You were laying with him, head resting against his side as your fingers trailed along the skin of his chest. He was looking at you but you couldn’t see it. His arm draped around your shoulders, his hand lightly holding onto your bicep.

“Steve?” you mumbled, sleep starting to weigh down your voice.

“Mhm?”

“We’re still okay, right? Like you said?”

You felt the way his lips curled into a smile as he pressed them to the side of your head. “We’re okay.”

[ashlingnarcos]

blood on vacation

David Barrón/F!Reader

written for @narcosfandomdiscord's smut alphabet, namely the July 2 prompt blood

tags: fistfight, absolutely unhinged preoccupation with bloody knuckles, fingering, oral sex

warnings: blood, probably unsanitary, reader is an OFC (Sabrina Tanaka), violence, this was not beta read and it kind of sucks ngl

length: 1.8k words

You’ve only been Mexico City for a week, and you’re already all vacationed out. It’s not Marcela’s fault. The two of you make no sense as friends—she, the trust fund kid formerly known as Marcelo who initially met you at your dad’s jiu jitsu academy, currently partying her way across the globe with an increasingly dodgy set of cousins, exes, and assorted other rich vagabonds, and then you, the standoffish sparring tutor forever known as Mr. Tanaka’s kid, with an unhealthy penchant for taking your skills to street wanderings, just to see if you could. She was whimsical and merry, spiritually curious and given to bouts of dangerously committed romantic pining, and you were stolid and practical and highly suspicious of anyone as eager to please as a car salesman, much less a preacher or supposed future lover. The one similarity between the two of you is that you both were born and raised in São Paulo, and could both kick hard enough to break bones. But the rest? Pure opposites attract chemistry. 

She’s been generous on this trip, doing the rich girl thing in splendid style, and footing the bill for your part completely. She translates for you whenever she sees you getting lost—Brazilian Portuguese is similar enough to Mexican Spanish that you can kinda sorta understand what people are saying if they’re saying it slowly and doing overtime with the nonverbal cues—and does it naturally, not like it’s a chore or an opportunity to show off. She introduces you to her club kid friends with excitement, like she’s showing them someone really cool. She’s a sweetheart, Marcela is, and you’re more than happy to wingwoman her into a spot sitting on the lap of some baby narco named Ramón. But the good food aside, you’re still so alienated and bored that when a fistfight breaks out in the club, it come as a welcome change of pace.

There’s broken glass on the ground—Ramón’s older sister smashed a bottle over somebody’s head, good for her—so no ground fighting for you. And there’s too many people around to dedicate yourself to a hold. So you fall back on a motley bag of street fighting tricks, plus what you learned from a misspent summer at a boxing club, mostly just trying to stay upright and get your licks in where you can. It’s all fun and games until one of them slaps you, open palm. A punch would’ve been fine, but this? You hit his nose with the base of your palm, driving up to break it, then follow that up with a jab. Not satisfied yet, you sweep one of his feet out from under him, shove hard, and finally get him on the ground (broken glass be damned) in a hold that has him gasping fruitlessly for oxygen, his neck in the crook of your arm, his body trying to wriggle round and find an angle at which his elbow shots to your ribs will actually mean something. Unfortunately for him, when you’re pissed off, you could take it all the way to fully broken ribs and not care. Fortunately for him, nobody there actually wants anyone to die, so after a bit, several people pull you off him. One of them is Marcela, so you give it up. The fight has died down anyways; both sides are separating into bloodstained, wary-eyed groups. 

Keeping steady eye contact with the man who slapped you, you lift your bloody-knuckled hand to your mouth, part your lips, and lick a long stripe of his blood off your skin. Slow and intentional and savagely self-satisfied. 

As you turn to talk to Marcela, ask her where the bathrooms are so you can clean yourself up a little (Ramón is already yelling about partying the whole night through, and Marcela seems completely unruffled, so you doubt you’re all about to leave now), you catch a glimpse of something. Everyone here is preoccupied with their injuries, or other people’s, or the retreating crowd of interlopers, except for one man who seems to have witnessed your last threat. He’s dressed a little different than the others, in an oversized polo shirt. You remember getting a glimpse of him in the fight, thinking you might need to take him on next and grimly assessing that prospect as a dangerous one before he easily elbowed a guy who was heading for Ramón’s brother. So he’s not useless, and he’s not easily cowed. Just now, he’s looking back at your challenge of a glance with a flat-eyed expression that you can’t quite parse.

Hm.

No language in common and barely any friends, but you wanted a kill and you didn’t get one, and here’s another man. You’ll have to make do with another kind of death.

.

.

.

Inside the club bathroom, he hooks his fingers over the top of your jeans and tugs you forwards a couple inches. Commanding, but not a threat. Not trying to make you stumble, just getting you that much closer.

Regarding him with a curious, almost lazy look, you’re almost inclined to let him have his way, but then, as he goes to unbutton your jeans, his knuckles smear blood along your stomach. You close your hands over his wrists, and he pauses. 

“Go wash your hands,” you say, slow and clear, lave as mãos. And he gets it.

You know he gets it, because he looks down at your hands, your bruised, swollen, bloody hands, and then back up at you in a way that makes his blank expression rather pointed. Oh, does the international man of mystery have a sense of humor after all?

“Do it,” you say, faça isso. That must not be close enough to Spanish, because he frowns a little. You give up. 

You pull his hands out of your jeans, feeling a shiver go through you at the friction, and then you let go of him, walk over to the sink, and turn on the tap. As you lean back against it, the countertop digs into your thighs, suggestive. The dull pulsing thump of the club music outside gives the tiny bathroom a cloistered, cocooned quality. His dark eyes meet yours evenly. 

You don’t move, don’t so much as lift an eyebrow. Silent. Yeah?

Yeah. He takes a couple steps forward and washes his hands, and as he does so he mutters something to himself in yet another language, English, maybe. As he dries his hands, he smiles. It’s a wry, private smile. 

Two can play at that game. In your mediocre, third-generation Japanese, you say, “I have every intention of eating you whole” in exactly the same voice another woman might’ve said something sexy.

As he steps towards you, you could swear he says something that sounds like gostaria, dangerously close to I would like that, almost like he understands you.

You decide: no more talking.

Zero to a hundred. He tastes like beer and you, unfortunately, can’t get enough; your hands cup the back of his head, his neck, fingertips digging in as he finally unbuttons your jeans and shoves them and your panties down your thighs in one impatient motion. You could hop up onto the countertop, but why do that? This way is so much better, his wet hands gripping your ass, the swift coolness of droplets sliding down the back of your thighs, the low grunt he makes when he lifts you. 

“Sorry, was that hard for you?” you say, but he’s two steps ahead of you. Got his palms warm on the inside of your knees, spreading your thighs and catching sight of just how wet you are for him. It’s his turn to be smug, clearly, but you can’t even be mad at it when he wears that smile so well. 

He gets on his knees. 

You should’ve known it’d be like this from the second you caught his eye in the aftermath of the fight. You really should’ve known, but it still punches an unwanted sound out of you, a small sound in the back of your throat, when he gets his face between your thighs in seconds, no hesitation, and starts to lick your cunt like it’s ice cream and he’s starving. 

With the countertop digging into your legs and the mirror hard against the back of your head, your body throbbing with new bruises, you have no right to feel this good, but you do. With your fingers sunk into his hair and your eyes half-lidded, you feel like you could melt and slip right down that drain. For his part, he’s got you just how he wants you, with your legs parted wide to accommodate the width of his shoulders, his right forearm a bar across your belly. You have no fucking idea how or why he’s doing this—men who see you gone full destroyer don’t usually think to themselves, I want to make her feel good, they tend to think along much darker lines. They want to dominate you, and you get what fun you can out of the process of denying them that. But this? He got on his knees like it was his first choice. You do not know what this is, but you’ll take it. He slips a finger inside you, and you’re so wet that it barely burns at all. Two fingers. Fuck. He leans his weight into your stomach, across your thighs, to stop you from bucking up into his mouth, and that’s—that’s fair. It’s all you can do not to whimper, and your heavy panting sounds desperate enough. Three fingers and you do whimper.

He looks up, and you’re already bracing yourself, but no. There’s no sneer in it; there’s something else. All night, this nameless man has been quiet, unnoticeable, and then, once noticed,  mysterious, but now you see him. The first look is caution, but the second? The second is all appreciation, like he could drink the sight. 

That look hits you hard. You close your eyes, because you don’t want to see it, don’t know what the hell to do with it, and choose instead to sink deep into the sensations in your body as he wrings you out. A wave of euphoria hits you as you come, and it’s just the body, you know it’s just the body, but when it’s over and he has his chin propped up on your thigh, both of you looking exhausted, neither of you done, you get the weirdest urge to push his sweat-damp hair off his forehead. Little killer, you want to say. Damn near affectionate. (It’s just the body.)

.

.

.

The cops arrive at the club before you can manage to return the favor, and Marcela hates all interactions with the cops with a flaming passion, so you have to get her out even though in all likelihood Ramón will just have to flash them a medium-size wad of bills. Later, though, when you can, you confess all (most) of the strange encounter to her, and she gets the message out to him. Through which of the tiny terrors, you don’t want to know. Probably Ramón, a thought that does not fill you with confidence. But he gets the message anyway.

The message is: I owe you one.

[drabbles-mc]

No One Like You

Javier Peña x F!Reader

For Day 14 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Alphabet: "No one does it like you"

Warnings: 18+, language, angst, smut, mentions of alcohol/smoking

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Sad boy hours for Javi 😔

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

It didn’t take a detective to figure out that Javi hadn’t shown up on your doorstep to talk. Even he still had himself put together, even if his tie hasn’t halfway undone around his neck, even if his curls weren’t wildly out of place and his eyes hadn’t looked so sad, you would’ve known that he had only showed up for one reason.

You should’ve turned him away off the principal of it. You should’ve shook your head, let him down gently, and shut the door. But he just looked so fucking sad and the longer you looked at him, waiting for him to try and say something to explain why he’d come to you in the first place, you felt your resolve disappearing.

“Come on, then,” you finally said, opening your door a little wider so that he could walk through. You were shaking your head at yourself as you shut and locked the door behind him. Turning around, you looked at him in the full light of your apartment. “What’s going on, Javier?”

He raked his hands back through his hair, making it instantly clear to you why his hair was such a mess to begin with. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You let out a deep sigh. Even though you knew that answer was coming, it didn’t make it any less frustrating. It was a longshot—he hadn’t talked to you about anything that was wrong while you were together, why would he talk to you about it now?

“Then I don’t know what you’re expecting me to do for you,” you told him, even though it was a lie.

He closed the distance between you, standing close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin, smell the liquor on it, but he still wasn’t touching you. Even without laying a finger on you, he could feel the heat radiating off your body, the flimsy material of the nightgown you were wearing doing nothing to mediate it. The tension in his body screamed out that he was fighting the urge, but he needed the go-ahead from you. He was a smart enough man to know that you didn’t owe him anything, no matter what state he was in, but he was desperate enough to show up and ask just in case.

“Please,” he said, just one word, falling heavily from his lips as he stared at you.

You frowned, heart aching not just at the sight of him, but at the thought of everything else, everything that had happened between you. Still, you reached up, gently resting your hand against the side of his face. “Javi…”

He brought his hand up and placed it over yours. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closing as he soaked up the contact, knowing that it could end at any moment. He threaded his fingers through yours as he repeated himself. “Please.”

You weren’t pulling away from him. It wasn’t as though you didn’t miss him, the same way you were sure that there were times that he missed you too. You loved him. Of course you missed him. But that fact didn’t automatically make this a good idea.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, your voice just barely a whisper.

“I know.” He brushed his nose against yours. “But I need you. Please.” He brought his lips so close to yours that you felt them brush together as he spoke. “No one does it like you. No one makes me forget the way that you do.”

You tried to take a deep breath, hating the unsteadiness that took over it because of his words. The whole reason he showed up looking for you was half the reason the two of you could never seem to figure things out, never seemed to know how to make things work. You wanted to work through things, and he wanted to forget them entirely. Irreconcilable positions in the long-term.

But right now he was only asking you for one night.

Hand still pressed to the side of his face, you put your lips to his. The tension in his muscles disappeared instantly, arms wrapping tightly around you hands splaying across your back as he did his best to keep you pinned as tightly to him as he could. Losing you all those months ago, that was all on him. But everything else that the world had taken from him in the interim since had been so far out of his control he couldn’t even stand there and pretend that it was punishment for the things he’d done. He couldn’t get any of those things back, but he could have you, even if it was just for a short burst of time.

The way that his lips moved against yours made you feel like no time had passed at all since the last time you saw him, like he’d just kissed you goodbye that morning before he left for work. It’d been too long, and you could only imagine the women he’d been with in the meantime, but no matter who or how many, he still had you memorized like the back of his hand.

Your hand moved from the side of his face, down the side of his neck and then to his chest. Bringing your other hand up, you made quick work of undoing his tie the rest of the way, slipping the thin strip of fabric off of him and letting it drop to the floor. You started on his shirt next, tackling one button after the other until his shirt fell open and he could shrug it off and let it drop to the ground.

You guided him back, not taking your lips off of his as you brought him to the couch. He took his hands off of you only so he could unbuckle his belt, hastily getting the button and zipper of his slacks before letting them drop and pool at his ankles.

Pressing your hands to his chest, you got him to sit down on the couch. You instantly climbed on top of him, straddling him as you sat in his lap. He leaned in and left a trail of kisses along the column of your throat, his hands finding purchase on your hips. You let out a breathy moan when you felt his teeth graze against the sensitive skin of your neck.

You ground your hips against him, feeling how hard he was through his fitted boxers as your clothed core moved against him. The motion made his hands drop from your hips to your ass, pulling you closer, spurring on your movements. You cupped his jaw roughly in your hand, pulling his lips back to yours. He was putty in your hands, accepting you eagerly as you pushed your tongue into his mouth, tasting the liquor and smoke off of him.

Bringing your other hand down between you, you slipped it underneath his waistband, wrapping your fingers around his length. He pulled out of your kiss with a stuttered moan as you began to move your hand. You felt him trying to squirm, trying to buck up into your hand, always wanting a little bit more than he was getting.

“Javi,” your voice came out quieter than you intended, your lips lingering right next to his ear.

It took him more effort than it should’ve to get the simple word, “Yea?” out as your motions began to quicken.

“You miss me?” you asked as his hands gripped tighter onto you.

“Yes,” he replied with no hesitation. He brought his hands up, wrapping his fingers into either side of the waistband of your underwear, starting to pull them down as he said, “Every day.”

His answer slammed over you like a tidal wave, and all you could do was let it drown you. You lifted yourself, maneuvering just enough for him to get your underwear off before you pulled his down as well. You only got then halfway down his thighs before his impatience got the best of him and he pulled you down onto him.

Neither of you could stifle the moans you let out as he pushed himself into you. Javi’s grip on your hip was airing just on this side of painful, pinning you to him and pushing himself as deep as he would go. You had one hand on the side of his face, the other gripping his shoulder so tightly that your nails were going to leave indents behind. Neither of you seemed bothered by any of it though.

You brought your lips back to his after a moment, the kiss gentler but no less needy than it had been before. You slowly started to move your hips, setting the pace, taking back some of the control. Javi pulled his lips from yours, pressing them to your shoulder instead before resting his forehead there. You felt his breath hot against your skin as you continued to ride him, his hands trailing up your back underneath your nightgown.

 As you continued to move your hips in tandem with his, you felt him getting closer and closer to the edge. He might still have had you memorized, but you still knew him just as well. You felt the way his blunt nails raked harshly across your back, looking for an anchor of some kind as he desperately pulled you closer. His lips were on your neck, your jaw, pants heavy in your ear as he wordlessly asked you to keep going.

He was holding on by a thread, barely keeping it together as it was. But the second he felt you clench around him as you came, the last bit of restraint he had disappeared. Sinking his teeth into the sweet spot where your neck met your shoulder, he thrusted up harshly, spilling into you as he moaned against your skin.

Both of you were trying to catch your breath. Javi’s face was buried in the crook of your neck as you rested the side of your head against his. You draped your arms lazily over his shoulders, fingers toying with the ends of his hair. His hands were gentle on your hips now, thumbs smoothing over where he had been grabbing them so roughly before.

“Javi?” you finally cracked the silence with a whisper. Turning his head slightly, he looked up at you, but he didn’t say anything. You traced your hand along his cheekbone. “I think you should stay.”

There were no words to explain how tempting that offer was. He knew you cared, but he also knew that there was a layer of pity to it. He was too far gone to care—he was the one who’d come knocking on your door after all. He wanted to stay, wanted to have the security of feeling you wrapped up in his arms when he went to sleep, seeing you there still when he woke up in the morning.

But even in the afterglow, he knew that he’d given up the right to get that from you a long time ago.

He kissed your shoulder. “I don’t think I should.”

You didn’t want to argue about it. There was no winning with it, really. If he stayed, the two of you would have this conversation in the morning. Or you could have it now and he would head back to his own apartment. You didn’t know which one would be better for the both of you—it was already such a mess to begin with.

“I don’t think you should be alone,” you countered.

Pulling away from you, he leaned back against the couch instead. His eyes searched your face, and you wished you knew what he was looking for so you could give it to him. Running his hands up and down your thighs, he said, “I’ll be alright.”

It had been a long time since you’d wanted to argue so badly. If you thought that an argument would get him to open up, you would’ve pressed it. But you knew that he was going to lock himself down and away the same way he always did. That was how he operated.

He watched the way your shoulders slumped, body visibly deflating as you accepted the outcome of it all. A pang of guilt went through him but he wasn’t going to go back on it now. “Okay.”

Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to the center of your forehead, lips lingering there for a moment afterwards as he said, “I’m sorry.”

You nodded, not pulling away just yet. “I know.”