#rafael caro

[boatboys]

A whole variety of things that have not managed to get posted, of varying significance, completion, symbolism and and canon...nicity. Canonness. Canonitude.

[tenoch-hq]

I’m a guy with a lot of knowledge, I’m a people person, that’s my way of being, Being a leader, I learned it from my father, He said “I want to see you ready for anything.” Tenoch Huerta talks about his Father in Voices Rising: The Music from Wakanda Forever | Episode 2

[aolechan]

[namorslutfanfiction]

Ok so I’ve not seen narcos Mexico which is basically a sin at this point but I am obsessed with Rafa!!! So he’s obviously such a soft sweet lil baby boy so I was thinking what if he met a woman who was strong and sassy and also into *cough cough* gardening *cough* and he just melts for her but she’s a hard to get maybe cos they’re rivals and she has a reputation to uphold being a strong independent woman ??? Maybe some smut with them giving into the attraction ??? Idk I’m just excited I want to keep requesting stuff cos I love your writing. Also I think the power dynamic would be such a twist cos tenoch/namor just scream daddy to me but Rafa screams soft sub baby with a big old praise kink amongst other kinks 😂

Oh rafa is our baby and definitely wants to be used.

Summary: Rafa loved women. Rafa loved weed. Now he found a woman who loves weed just like he does. And he is immediately down bad

disclaimer: I smoke, I have no idea how it's grown. so I'm making shit up.

drug use, fluff, smut.

"Comportarse," Felix shot at Rafa as the door to his office opened. Rafa smirked at him and lit his blunt. Felix had said he was meeting with a supplier who insisted on being seen. Rafa was certain who ever this pendejo was, that their weed couldn't hold a candle to his, but he had shown up because Felix had asked. But if the guy said the wrong thing then he'd shoot him, but Felix didn't need to know that.

When the first man walked through the door, Felix stood to shake his hand but he refused, "Yo no soy el que estás esperando. Es ella."

The henchman stepped aside as the real guest arrived. Rafa and Felix watched you walk in the door. Felix schooled his surprise and greeted you cordially. Rafa on the other hand was instantaneously smitten. You weren't dressed to the nines like Sofia and her like. Instead you wore jeans that hugged your curves, worn in boots, and a loose button down that had the sleeves rolled up. You hair was braided back but had little bits of frizz from the humidity. You were beautiful.

Rafa didn't hear a word as you and Felix talked. He was wondering why Felix hadn't introduced him. He was wondering why you were ignoring him, you hadn't even spared him a glance. The narco heard the words "Es una nueva variedad de marihuana."

That wasn't possible, no one had made a new strain except him, at least there in Mexico. Felix looked angry, not used to a woman being so frank and aggressive with him. You slammed a paper on the table, pointing out numbers that Rafa didn't care to understand.

"The system you built is a monopoly! You ruined the livelihood of my field, pendejo. No one will work with me because you supposedly have the best in the market. But mine is better," You screeched at the slick leader.

"You're pretty confident for such an insolent witch," Felix shot back, he pointed at Rafa, "His work is better than anyone's and I bet my life and this entire business on that. You can't compete so don't try."

Rafa's eyes were wide when you turned and glared at him. You whipped your head back to Felix, "What this joto? I'm supposed to believe he has any smarts in that rat's nest of hair?"

For some reason that set Felix off and he stood and raised his hand to slap her. Rafa moved on instinct, pointing his gun and cocking it at Felix. Felix was stunned out of his anger, "Qué chingados?"

Realizing what he had just done he pointed the gun at you, "Vete a la chingada."

You smirked at him then turned to Felix, "You've got some real idiots working for you."

"Pinche pendejo," Felix growled at Rafa then sat back down in his seat. Rafa followed, trying to hide his embarrassment. He focused on the blunt that he had let burn down half way without taking enough hits. He resigned himself to getting higher and examining your curves and the confident smirk on your face. When you got up and left the room, Felix turned around and smacked Rafa hard against the side of his head.

"What the hell is wrong with you cabron? She was talking shit and you pull a gun on me?" Felix looked incredulous.

"Who was that, Felix? How come you didn't introduce me? When is she coming back?" Rafa rattled off, jumping up from his seat on the couch.

"No mames, guey. Already? She didn't even look at you," Felix shook his head, of course Rafa the lover boy was thinking with his dick.

Before Felix could stop him, Rafa ran out of the office and tried to beat you to the lobby. But when he got there he was just barely able to see you being driven off in a pick up truck.

...

"The only reason you're here is because I want to knock her down a peg or two. She's arrogant and needs us to show her that. Other cartels would not be so nice after she came in here acting like a maldita bruja," Felix explained as he paced with a cigarette in his mouth.

"There's no way she has anything worth anything, but I'd like to make sure she knows that," Rafa said, feigning interest in the business side of things.

"Don't fuck around, Rafa," Felix grasped him by the back of his neck, "She's young, but she's smart. We can use her later so don't scare her off."

The doors opened and you were once more preceded by your henchman. Once again you were dressed casually, and you took a seat across from Felix. You noticed Rafa standing behind Felix, but didn't greet him. "You want to make a deal or not?"

"I don't need your weed. But I might need those ideas you have. I had Rafa look over them and he thinks they are promising but so far unproven," Felix explained, gesturing to the narco behind him. You noticed the hungry look from Rafa, and smirked. He was an easy book to read.

"I can prove them, just give me time and financial support. There will be a more potent strain ready for the market in a year," You replied confidently.

"We will see. You will go with Rafa to our field. For security you have to be blind folded once you get to a certain point. Rafa will be able to tell me if you're the real deal or not. If you're not then I suggest you back out of this business before you get killed. If you are then we may have use for you. This is your only chance, chiquita. Make use of it," Felix finished with such a sense of foreboding that you weren't sure how to reply. He stood and buttoned his suit jacket, "If you'll excuse me I have a comandante to talk to. Rafa, take care of her."

Then the lead narco was out the door to deal with supposedly more important duties. You eyed Rafa, taking in his open shirt, flamboyant fashion sense, and fluffy hair. He was kind of cute in an arrogant idiot kind of way. You reached your hand out to him to properly introduce yourself. He smiled at you and kissed your hand, "Hola, Rafael Caro Quintero. La princesa me puede llamar Rafa."

His smile was unbelievably charming and you couldn't help but laugh at how obviously attracted he was to you, "Well Rafa, take me to this so called 'best of the best' marijuana."

...

Rafa personally drove you to the field. On the way there he was explaining his process and asking you questions about your own. The chemistry was palpable as you finished each others sentences. You talked about similar experiments and different ideas you both had to create different strains and up the potency.

It was hot and the both of you were laughing and sweating. You had to admit, the man knew his weed. His dark skin looked delicious in the bright sun and the trickle of sweat down his neck was distracting. You noticed him pull the car off the side of the road then reach into the back for a strip of thick cloth.

"It's time then?" You asked, knowing that secrecy was important.

"Turn around, princesa, I'll put it on for you," Rafa said, looking apologetic. The already long drive had allowed you to bond over your shared interest.

"Don't tie it too tight," You requested as you turned your back to him.

"I'll be gentle," Rafa whispered, making a shiver run down your neck. His hands were warm as he moved your hair out of the way and gently placed the cloth over your eyes and knotted it behind your head. His hands rested for a moment on your shoulders and all you could hear was him taking a deep breath. "You can turn around now."

You did just that, reaching out blindly to face the front of the car again. Rafa took your wrist, making you jerk. "Calmate, I just want to show you where the middle is so you know where you're facing."

Rafa placed your hand at the edge of your seat, touching the middle console. It took you a moment to get comfortable with the loss of sight as the narco started the car and continued the journey to the fields.

After a moment of silence you spoke, "Don't kill me in the middle of the desert, please. At least not before I come up with that strain I told you about."

That made Rafa laugh. The sound was warm and infectious. You felt him take your hand, "No, hermosa, no one will touch you. It's been a long time since I've met someone who knew weed the way I do."

You were surprised at the affection, and even more surprised that you welcomed it. But you felt the same. Especially as a woman, you had never felt understood by anyone about your affinity for the plant, until now. This flashy narco was matching you move for move, and it was exciting.

...

Rafa told you to keep the blindfold on as he guided you to the actual field after he had parked the car. It didn't escape you that this felt more like a romantic surprise rather than a test of skills. You could hear the sounds of workers, and from the breeze you were definitely on flat lands. The smell of the fresh plant was in the air, and to the side you could tell there were kilos of it drying for transport.

Rafa guided you gently and then placed your hands on what you immediately knew to be a large marijuana plant. You immediately stepped forward and pushed your noise into the buds. There was silence as you took it in, already coming up with information at a mile a minute.

"What can you tell me?" Rafa asked. Then you were off, talking about the notes, the potency, the maturity and when it would be ready to harvest. There was silence and you hesitated.

"Rafa," You worried about bruising his ego, but reminded yourself this was a test, "There's something wrong with this one. Everything is fine except there's a weird syrup smell at the end. Something too sweet. It would smell awful once you burn it."

You felt him approach you and you immediately went into a defensive stance.

"I'm not going to hurt you, princesa. I'm just going to untie the blindfold," Rafa's voice was amused.

When you opened your eyes it was too bright to see. You shielded your eyes waiting for them to adjust. Eventually you could make out Rafa's smiling face. "So how did I do?"

"Eres brillante!" Rafa exclaimed, "I test all my men this way. All of them and you were the only one to catch the mistake. I purposely have those three plants that are no good. No one has caught it yet, but you."

You fought the urge to smile, "Well of course. I told you. I know what I'm doing."

You glanced behind him, taking in the watch tower and different sheds. The irrigation system and the people working and roaming. You realized that the field must be behind you.

"You can look, princesa, I think you'll like what you see," Rafa said as he guided you to turn around.

You felt your eyes grow wide as you took in the sheer size. You stepped back as you tried to take in the full scope. But it went off in all directions, as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful.

"Rafa," You turned to the man smiling at you, "This is insane. Incredible. How many acres? How many plants? What's the yield? Do you have then maturing progressively or all at once? How many kilos are you putting out?"

"Slow down, princesa. Would you like to see more of it?" Rafa asked. You nodded, unable to hide your glee. You didn't care about appearing tough or strong. This was your 'kid in a candy store' moment. Rafa took your hand and led you into the fields.

Hours went by as you walked the fields, ignoring the heat or the fact that you were walking around with someone who should be a rival. Instead you were having the time of your life. His system was pretty self sustaining but you were able to make suggested that made his eyes light up and his laugh explode. Rafa was growing on you like a literally weed.

...

The next day Rafa reported back to Felix, singing your praises.

"You should have seen it, cabron! She knew exactly what was wrong with it. She figured out the irrigation issue I had for months. I have never met anyone who could understand the nuances and delicacy of those plants," Rafa was giddy and Felix was amused.

"So I should back her?" Felix asked, although he figured he knew the answer.

"No," Rafa said, a smirk on his face. "No, whatever she comes up with won't work without the space and work I have already done. She's mine. Buy her out and she will work on the fields with me. Give her whatever she asks, but make sure she works with me, and no one else."

The possessiveness didn't surprise Felix, it was to be expected of the narco who fell fast and hard to the point of lunacy. "She's not going to like that, Rafa. You ready for her to fight you on that?"

"She'll come to me. Remember Felix, as long as her people are taken care of, then all she'll want to do is work on the weed," Rafa said, taking a long draw from his blunt.

"Tomorrow, I'll buy her out. But I want that new strain in 10 months not a year, Rafa. I need it before anyone else comes up with something better," Felix reminded him.

"No one has ever come up with anything better than me. But this, if we work together. This will be our masterpiece," Rafa had a faraway look on his smug face making Felix shake his head.

"Just make sure it's on the market by my deadline. I don't care if you fuck her with it. Make it happen," Felix dismissed Rafa.

...

"You're an ass," You immediately punched Rafa as hard as you could in the stomach. You had been dropped off at his mansion with the orders to stick to him like glue or be killed by Felix himself. "I would have been fine working with you but having that bastard leash me to you is not an attractive arrangement, pendejo."

Rafa waved off Chapo and Cuco who were ready to shoot you for attacking their boss. The narco in question was dressed as usual and laughing. "Your family is taken care of right? That was the most important thing, now the next important thing is working on that strain."

He came up to you and grabbed your jaw, "Together, we can do that. Together, we can do a lot of things."

You hated that you were turned on, "You shouldn't have forced me, Rafa. I don't like being forced."

"Then you can leave if you want. We can work on it together but you don't need to stay, I won't force you," Rafa challenged, his voice soft as he spoke close to you. The smoke from his mouth surrounding you was heady. He released your jaw, "Chapo, take her back."

Rafa turned but you called out, "Rafa. Shut up, pendejo, you know I'm going to stay."

You grabbed your bag and brushed past him into the sprawling mansion. You heard him laugh as he rushed to catch up to you and show you your room. You found it difficult to keep your surly attitude in the face of his excited ramblings.

...

It took 6 months to get the strain perfected and by the end of the 10 month deadline it was debuted. The mansion was partying and high as a kite. Debauchery was everywhere and the handles of liquor and packs of cocaine that Felix had sent as congratulations were being parsed out to the party goers.

You had no interest in partying with the boys and their sluts. You were up on your balcony, watching the pool from above. The band was loud and the people louder. There were people swimming naked in the pool, the area stank of weed, and you could see Neto and Cuco snorting lines through a window.

You didn't like coke, didn't like how fast it made your heart beat and your mind move. You preferred the mellow relaxation that the right strain of weed gave you. You crossed that with tequila and you were floating in your own little world, with a smile on your face.

The last 10 months had been invigorating. Working with Rafa was like working with a ball of pure energy. He was far more intelligent than he let on, reserving it for his treasured plants. You had met your match in that field. Someone you could genuinely bounce ideas off of and experiment with. He was charming, funny, and caring to a fault.

You were surprised he hadn't made a move, but you suspected that Felix had something to do with that. Maybe a threat about the deadline and not fucking around. It was disappointing and frustrating.

Rafa was fucking around, just with some rich chick named Sofia who rubbed you the wrong way and made you want to shoot her through the eyes. But she hadn't been around in the last few months, and Rafa had been ranting about how much of a spoiled bitch she was. You hadn't seen her at the party and were more than thankful that you didn't have to fight the urge to vomit if she had arrived.

There was a knock at your bedroom door and you called for them to come in. It was Rafa. He stood in the middle of your room apprehensive. In his hands he held a handle of tequila and two glasses. "Ay guey. I was going to invite you to share a drink with me."

You looked at the soft expression and could tell he hadn't had any coke. He hadn't since Sofia had left. At most he was high from his own plant and looking to get crossed like you. You looked at him, all of him. Rafa's hair was perfectly fluffy, jewelry draped on his dark skin, and wearing a silk shirt that was open too low. You felt heat pool between your legs.

For months you had been touching yourself to the thought of him. You had laid jealous in your bed when you knew he was with Sofia. And now here he was looking pathetic and ready to be eaten. He'd made you wait long enough.

"Rafa, is Sofia gone for good?" You asked as you walked back into the room and closed the balcony doors. You held your own handle of unfinished tequila and swung it lazily in your hand.

Rafa scoffed at the question, "That bitch is dead to me. Has been for months."

You could see him watching you. His eyes roved your body and there was a hungry look in them. You were wearing a silk robe, a gift from him a few months ago on your birthday. There was nothing underneath it.

"Is that why you wanted to have a drink with me? Because she's not around anymore?" You asked, taking a swig from your handle.

"What? No. I don't care about her. This celebration is for us. We did what we planned and now we are going to be richer and so far above any competitor that they will never reach us. This is all thanks to you," Rafa said, looking actually offended that you suggested otherwise.

You smiled at him then. The high was making you reckless, and the alcohol was making you hot. But the way Rafa looked at you was making you wet. You took another swig from our handle and approached Rafa. You locked eyes with him and put your hand on his chest.

His breathing quickened as you pushed him to sit on the end of your bed. You gripped his jaw, ran your thumb across his bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open. With one more glance at him, you spit the tequila into his mouth slowly, and he drank it. You locked eyes as he took the last drop and then you grabbed his hair and kissed him roughly.

Rafa whimpered into the kiss as you wrapped a hand around his throat and devoured him. His kisses were as intoxicating as the tequila. Months of unanswered desire came flooding out as he pulled you to him and thrust his tongue into your mouth. He tasted of the weed you had both spent months working on together.

The hours and days spent together had left you wanting more from him. But at every turn, at every lingering touch, and held glance he pulled away from you. He had always hesitated but in the end would put space between you. Your frustration at the memory got the better of you and you found his jaw again and pushed him away.

"You're such an idiot you know that? You could have had me naked in your bed for months. You could have had me on my knees or across your lap, but you kept pulling away, like you hadn't thought about it since the day I walked into Felix's office and you lost the ability to breathe," You blurted out. You regretted it, not wanting him to know just how desperate you had been.

But Rafa's gaze softened, his grip around your waist tightened, "Felix told me not to fuck around with you. Not until the strain was ready. The only reason I was with Sofia again was because I needed a release because I couldn't have you. Sofia left me because I called out your name the last time we fucked."

It took you a moment to take in what he said, then you laughed. Laughter fueled by your high and the alcohol. "You brat, you called out my name while you fucked her? No wonder she was so mad."

"It's the only way I could get off. I had to think about you, imagine I was inside your wet pussy," His vulgar admission was met with another desperate kiss from you. You pulled moans from him as your hand travelled downward and palmed his hard on. When you were satisfied that he was as needy as you felt you pulled away.

"Get naked, Rafa. Let's see if all that fucking I heard was as good as it sounded, or if that Sofia bitch was just a good actor," You jabbed, as you untied the robe and dropped it to the floor.

Rafa stopped for a moment with his shirt in his hands as he finally laid eyes on your naked form. He completely lost any comeback he had in mind as he took in the sight of your supple skin and curves. "Te ves deliciosa."

You got impatient and placed a palm on his chest. You pushed him on to the bed then went to work at removing his boots and jeans. When his cock was out and weeping you fought the urge to take it into your mouth. That was for another time. This was about you getting yours. You looked at Rafa as you lay next to him, stroking his cock playfully.

"Rafa, you need to make up for leaving me so wet all the time," You purred into his ear before sucking on his earlobe. He moaned softly and nodded. "How are you gonna do that, baby boy?"

He didn't even react to the name, just looked at you with eyes that begged to be bossed around, "Whatever you want, princesa?"

"Are you going to make me ride you or are you going to fuck me into this bed until I cum onto your cock a few times?" You asked, tracing circled along his chest, leaving his weeping cock unattended. You were fighting the urge to straddle him and slide him inside you.

"Yes, princesa," He replied, as a whimper escaped his lips as you tongued his nipple impulsively. You'd been dying to do that since the first time you had seen him with his shirt hanging open.

"Fuck me, Rafa. Be a good boy and make me cum," You moaned softly as you guided his hand to your wet cunt.

Rafa let out a feral noise once he felt just how wet you were. In a swift move you were beneath him, hands pinned above your head, and his cock pushing into your pussy. You arched against him, "Yes, baby, just like that."

He thrust into your center, hard and deep. You knew he was going to be thick but you were surprised by how deeply he thrust into you. You saw stars after months of pining. This man was a drug of his own and you knew you were going to become addicted. His lips found yours again and he allowed you to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Rafa angled your hips, wrapping your legs around him as he pounded into you.

Your first orgasm came so fast you couldn't even warn him. Your nerve endings were exploding with pleasure as he kissed and fucked and sucked every part of you. Your hands found his hair and pulled at it, making him moan into your lips. You kept your foreheads together as you encouraged him, "Yes, Rafa. You're fucking me so good. You like how my pussy feels don't you? Is this what you were imagining when you fucked that bitch? I bet you never fucked her like this."

The adoration in Rafa's eyes only grew with each word you spoke. Something about your words spurred him on. He leaned back and rubbed your clit with his thumb as he continued thrusting into your dripping wet pussy. Even his grunts sounded soft and needy. You reached forward and tweaked your own nipples. The sight made him throw his head back in ecstasy.

"Princesa, eres tan perfecta," Rafa moaned as you clenched down on him with your second orgasm. This time you felt yourself squirt a little and he did to. He fucked you even faster as you came.

You were panting now, sure that Rafa was close. But he proved you wrong and flipped you over onto your stomach. The narco gripped your hips and thrust into you, impossibly deeper than before. You grabbed at the bed sheets as the room filled with the loud slap of his hips against your round ass. "Fuck, Rafa. You're so deep, you're gonna make me cum again aren't you? You really want to please me don't you?"

Between grunts of exertion he replied, "Yes, princesa, I'll make you cum again."

He sucked and licked your shoulder and neck before biting down and lifting your hips higher so he could thrust at a different angle. Rafa didn't let up as he continued his pounding rhythm. His arm came around to put you in a loose headlock. "Cum for me, Princesa. Milk me dry."

You sobbed as you came, the pleasure so overwhelming you would have thought you blacked out but you still felt the stuttering of Rafa's hips as he filled your pussy with his cum. Both of you were out of breath, the room smelled of sex and weed, and you both started giggling.

Rafa broke down next to you, giggling as he pulled you into his side, placing fluttering kisses all over your face between breaths. You also giggled, high on pleasure, weed, and Rafa.

"You're mine now, Rafa," You spoke against his lips.

"I've always been yours," He answered back.

....

Okay, I love rafa so much wtf.

reblog, review, reply, my chiquitins.

[writers-vlogx]

Hi can I request a Rafa x reader? Where reader was kidnap by Rafa because he loves her in he's own twisted way and reader was able to escape but got in an accident where they hit their pretty hard and when reader wakes up reader doesn't remember anything in their life like amnesia and Rafa taking advantage of it in the end.

He had tried so hard to get you to love him, tried to make you understand and even after all that you didn't want him

Why? Please tell him why? Can't you see he's trying so hard to show you he's perfect for you, with him you would never wish for anything again.

So imagine the panic that set within him when he found the window to your room wide open and you no where to be found.

You didn't know how long you had been there, but it was definitely long enough to make your legs weak. You weren't used to running this far, especially when you didn't even know in what direction to go or where the hell you were at. Thankfully the adrenaline helped you stay alert and on your feet. There was no clear sign that showed you where you were and anywhere you looked everything looked the same. Trees everywhere, it was no use trying to find a difference so you turned in the first direction you faced and just kept running straight ahead

Meanwhile, Rafael was running out of the house, and anyone within a meter of him could tell he was fuming, angry, and yelling at the sky. He had grabbed his keys on the way out and started the car, rafa knew you were weak, he knew you couldn't have gotten very far and even if you did there was nothing for miles except a long road that was rarely used. In the worst-case scenario he could just shoot anyone that tried to help you and take you back.

You kept running and just a few minutes later you came onto a road, looking around you realized just how secluded this place was, there was a single road and no one in sight, but for whatever reason God must have felt pity on your poor mortal soul because not even a minute later you could hear a car approaching and as you ran towards it, the driver may not have been paying as much attention as he should because he hit the brakes too late. All you saw was black

When Rafael found you his anger shifted from you to the poor idiot who decided to hurt his love, everything he lived for. One bullet served enough and that was that.

...

Now we all know he has money and resources, so let's not fool ourselves. Would he be scared? Yes absolutely but would he bring over the best doctors in the country if he needed to? Also yes. And that exactly what he did, he brought the best doctors gave them the money and told them to shut up.

They fixed you in no time, you would be walking soon enough, after all they were the best.

And nothing like a gun pointed at your head to give you some good motivation.

So when he heard there was bad news he was about as ready as he'd ever been to shoot the doctor on the spot. But Felix held him back from it, that's right Felix knew about this little obsession of rafa and the only reason he had helped him continue his...hobby, is because he produced a good worker and it seemed like when you were around, Rafa had less time to get up to "Estupideces" and "Mamadas" as Felix liked to call it.

Either way, the doctors informed rafa that you would suffer from partial memory loss, how much? They were unsure but they would know once you woke up. And so Rafa's only hope at finally being loved by you was this.

When you eventually woke up, just as the doctors said, you didn't remember running away or the accident, instead blank spaces were where those memories should have been.

Rafael had been nervous all morning when he was informed that you had woken up, he was not ready to face you if you remembered but the curiosity was eating away at him, so he slowly made his way to your room and opened the door.

When he came in he wasn't met with that cold gaze you always gave him, the lifeless eyes you had like a bird in a cage. Instead, he was met with big bright eyes full of questions, and it was true you had questions because your memories were recollections of better times, times when you worked alongside Felix and Rafael in the business, times of the first few time Rafael tried to court you. But nothing else, no rejection, no struggles, and least of all, the lovesick man you had come to meet in your months of captivity.

You asked what happened, asked how you got hurt, aksed if he was hurt.

You were worried for him, worried for your partner, for your dear friend. He answered, he also asked what you remembered, did you know who he was? Of course, you did, you spent the evening answering every single doubt he could have had.

He didn't show it but he was happy, this meant he would paint the perfect picture for you, so he lied he told you of the life he had always dreamed to have with you, the life he had tried to make for you, the life he would make for you and you believed it.

You didn't feel this love he talked about but the way he described it sounded magical, and so you promised to try to remember, try to love, he promised to make you fall in love all over again to make you see just what exactly you had before all of this.

Let's just hope he doesn't fuck it up this time right?

Authors note- I'm sorry loves but I'm trying my best to be okay, a good thing is I'm finally getting to watch the show again, and let me tell you FELIX CONTENT IS COMMING SOON AND MAYBE POSSIBLY YOU GUYS CAN ASK FOR SMUT. I'll try my best to not fuck it up since I've never written it but even if I do, I worked hard on that meal and you will eat it 😌❤️ LOVE YOU GUYS AND I WILL SEE YOU WHENEVER I FIND A GOOD FELIX IDEA BYEEEE

[ramonashess]

Yo otra vez :) siempre quise hacer esto.

[feasibilities]

Se acabó la clase ⚒︎

Warnings: Angry!Rafa, Oral S3x, Spanking, Degradation, Teasing, etc.

Author's Note: My first Rafa fic after watching Narcos: Mexico over and over. Enjoy! ⚒︎

The monotonous lecture of your professor was interrupted by Rafa & his comrades bursting in. You were shocked to see him as you broke it off with him last week—over the phone. He pursued you heavily until you finally relented. He had become too unruly for your liking, so you wanted out before you got in serious trouble. This obviously didn't sit well with him. 

"Se acabó la clase." Rafa announced to the class. Everyone looked around confused. You saw fire in his eyes when they landed on you. You looked down & acted like you were taking notes. 

"Fuera, ahora!" Rafa's comrade yelled, pulling out a gun. Everyone gathered their things & walked out in an orderly fashion. The professor was escorted out with a gun pressed to his back. Following his orders, you tried to escape in the organized chaos. Rafa suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you back. You huffed in defeat and sat your bookbag on the desk. He slammed the door behind you, making you flinch. 

“You didn’t even have the courage to end this in person.” He hissed. 

“I know, Rafa. I just can’t risk it. You live such a dangerous life and-“ You confessed.

“You didn’t have a problem with my lifestyle when we were fucking or when I was buying you jewelry.” He interrupted, pulling you closer. 

You finally realized why he was so upset—his ego was hurt. He thought he got played by some rich college girl. You had him wrapped around your finger & he hated it so much. However, it was a thrill for you compared to the mundane life of a politician’s daughter.

“Let me make it up to you…” You cooed, feigning innocence. You kissed the corner of his lips gently. You then started to unbutton your blouse. He had no choice but to surrender to your seductions.

You watched him intently as you knelt in front of him. You undid his belt & unzipped his jeans at a painstakingly slow speed. You kissed up & down his shaft.

“Don’t tease, perra.” He warned.

Ignoring his demands, you gently slapped his manhood on your tongue. You made sure to stare into his eyes to rile him up even more. You watched his anger transform into pure desperation. You took his length in your mouth & bobbed your head slowly. The obscene noises you made his eyes roll back.

Feeling him throb, you sped up your movements and held his thighs tightly. Saliva  dripped down your chin & neck. Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to breathe. Rafa uttered a multitude of obscenities at you in Spanish, but his eyes were full of love. He took a handful of your hair & thrusted into your mouth as he came. 

“Traga cada gota, amor.” He purred. 

You followed his orders & sat back to catch your breath. He thought you were so beautiful like this—mascara running, hair messy, blouse unbuttoned. He wished he brought his camera so he could add this moment to the filthy polaroids he had of you.

“So beautiful…” He whispered, running his thumb across your moist lips. You smiled and kissed his thumb. He pulled you up on your feet and bent you over the professor’s desk. You pulled up your skirt to reveal that you didn’t have on panties. You couldn’t see Rafa, but you felt his lustful gaze on you. 

After a few hard spanks, you felt him slide into you & hold your shoulders tightly. You moaned in response. His thrusts were so merciless and reached your deepest depths. Your eyes teared up at the sting his actions left. The sounds of skin hitting skin filled the lecture room. Rafa couldn’t care less if any unsuspecting students heard you two from the hallway.

Your mind went blank as you orgasmed. You convulsed and screamed in pleasure. Rafa held you up & watched as arousal spewed out of you. A perverse smile came across his face. He reveled in the thought that no one could fuck you like him.

[syrma-sensei]

Tenoch Huerta kisses like a slut

[417michelle]

same energy

[narcolini]

five and one

rafa x gn!reader, 7598 words, canon typical drug use, hurt/comfort/angst, no happy ending(!!!)

the five times you were his friend, and the one time you weren’t 

a/n: this has been in my docs waiting to be finished for sososo long omg finally the rafito despair is here. enjoy!

taglist: @ashlingiswriting​ @drabbles-mc​ @cositapreciosa​ @hausofmamadas​ @cherixrosa​ @purplesong1028​ @mandaloria314​ @dashavau​ @yeetintomadness @thesandbeneathmytoes​ (as per i have forgotten who wants tagging and who doesnt sorry!)

1

Rafa’s been asking you for weeks. Come smoke, carnale, come on. I have something to show you.

Soon, you told him. I’m busy with school, work, I have to pick my Abuela up from church—I’m the only one who can drive her, remember?

They weren’t made up excuses, even if he thought they might’ve been. You didn’t like it either, having no time for him, but it’s how it went. How it is. He dropped out of school, never made it to college. You did. It gives you different markers now, different structures to shape the friendship around. When you were classmates it was easy, natural: before class, in class, after class. Simple. There you were, there he was. Now, you have to pencil him in like any other obligation.

He isn’t an obligation. You try not to let him feel like one.

‘Finally,’ is how he greets you, when you see him at last.

He’s come to you this time, to the place in the city that you’re sharing with your cousin, and another student on your course. He doesn’t comment on the mess, the mismatched furniture, the dishes, the piles of books and paints across the dining table. He just walks in, bag over his shoulder, then drops into the couch to unpack.

Something to show you, he’d said. Here it is. You’re sitting in the chair opposite, with a weed cutting in your palms, before he’s even bothered to ask about your day.

‘Looks like marijuana,’ you say, lifting the bud to your nose, ‘smells like marijuana.’

‘No, mira.’ He leans forward and reaches to put his fingers over yours, separating the green in front of your eyes. It splits, looks healthy. ‘No seeds,’ he informs.

Your brow arches. ‘None?’

‘None,’ he repeats, ‘never.’

‘It worked?’

‘It worked.’ He grins, all teeth. His hair bounces over his forehead. ‘I’m a genius, no?’

‘Dios mio,’ you laugh, ‘you actually did it, Rafi.’

The pride drips off him, pours over the coffee table between you and lulls at your knees like the tide. ‘Come on,’ he says, ‘you knew I would.’

You did, you’re smiling with him. It doesn’t stop you from teasing him about it, though. ‘I thought you’d smoke too many of the samples and forget what you were doing, tonto.’ You pass the cutting back to him. ‘Have you dried any of it yet? How’s it taste?’

‘Ah,’ he sighs, leaning back again, ‘that’s what you’re interested in? You don’t want to know how I got it to work?’

You give a half-shake, no. ‘You’ll tell me even if I don’t.’

He’s explained the idea enough times already, but it never sticks, it doesn’t connect in you, the way it does for him. It’s in one ear, out the other. He’s always been for it, science, statistics, experiments and the answers beneath; you’re one for art. Subjectivity.

Your foot finds his sneaker under the table and gives it a kick. ‘Puedo probarlo, o no?’

His free hand goes into his jean pocket, retrieving the tin that’s never far from his person. It’s made of a rusty, scratched copper, held together with a loose elastic band. He hands it to you without comment.

‘Is this from the first plant?’ you ask, watching him.

He shakes his head, brows pulling together briefly. ‘I wanted to perfect it before I showed you. Primo’s greenhouse is full now. Fifteen plants, como esto.’

The cutting you’d been examining goes down, onto the table, and then he brings another up. He’s brought a complete collection, kept them wrapped in newspaper and cradled until now, when he can finally show them off to you.

‘This was from one of the outside plants,’ he says. ‘I think the pinche güeys next door have their own. They must’ve pollenated my shit, look.’

You hum, acknowledging without really listening, and flip open his tin. A single, pre-rolled joint sits inside.

You flick your eyes across to him. ‘This is it?’

He nods.

‘You’ve already some today, haven’t you?’ You’re smirking as you ask, knowing the answer already.

Rafa laughs, pinching the sound short by biting into his lip. Then he shrugs. ‘What? I had to. I still brought you some, didn’t I?’

‘You’re gonna smoke it all before you make any money off it, Rafa.’

He’s going to get sick of it before anyone else can even try.

‘No, no, Miguel Angel knows what to do, how to take us to the next step.’ He says it confidently, hopefully. His eyes gleam at the thought. A purpose, he must think, direction at last. ‘My job,’ he says proudly, ‘is to make sure the product is good.’

You smile, infected by him, by the excitement glowing off of him. ‘You’re aiming high, then?’ You hum, nodding over the cuttings on the table. ‘The two of you?’

The newspaper crinkles as he rewraps, his eyes down like he’s suddenly humble, shy of it. Scared to admit the dream aloud. ‘Si, es solo el comienzo, sabes?’

Yeah, and it’s long overdue for him. The start and the end, because he’ll never have to invent another thing in the world, if this all goes to plan.

You put the joint between your lips and hold out a hand. ‘Pues,’ you prompt, ‘give me a light. Let me see the future.’

2

He sounds like he’s crying. It could be the line, it could be the fact it’s past three in the morning and you’re tired, barely awake, and he’s tired, barely understandable. It could be that he knows you wouldn’t judge him if he was. But it sounds like he’s crying.

No, he is crying, definitely. He sniffs, loud and wet, then draws in another gasping breath afterwards. Says something else about soil, earth, plants and lying scientists, fucking lying scientists. You blink against the dark, push the heel of your free palm into your eye sockets. Wake up, come on, wake up.

‘Have you tried digging elsewhere?’ you ask, hating that it comes out through a yawn, but you can’t help it. You only fell asleep a couple of hours ago yourself. ‘It has to be there somewhere,’ you add.

‘Yes,’ he rasps, ‘it should be there, the guy, pinche pendejo, he said, he, we have the maps—’

‘Rafa,’ you cut him off, ‘breathe.’ It isn’t a suggestion; he ignores it anyway. Rattles on about hard soil and sore hands still.

You sit upright, phone-cord stretching out of its coil, and hope that it’ll rouse you some more. He isn’t there to look at, but you pretend that he is. Imagine him sitting at the end of your bed, head in his hands, tears streaking down his cheeks. If he was, you’d reach a hand out. Run it along the ridge of his spine and watch him decompress. It’s easier to know what to say to him when you have him there, like that. Even just in your head.

You speak over him again, awake enough to put some force into the question this time. ‘Have you told Miguel?’ They’re partners, brothers. This is what he’s there for. ‘Can’t he help?’ you say, because you can’t, you’re miles away.

‘If I fuck this up,’ Rafa whines, ‘they’ll kill us.’

‘Who will?’

The line crackles. You hear a thunk in you ear like he’s struck the handset against the nearest wall. He has, no doubt, but it holds. The call stays connected and buzzing in your palm.

‘Easy, Rafi.’

You wish he was there, at your feet. You wish you could lean forward and shake his shoulders until he listened to you.

‘The plants are dying,’ he says, once he’s back on his end. ‘If we don’t find it soon.’

He cuts himself off with a groan of frustration, then another thick, ugly sniff, snotty and unpleasant even through the phone. You’ve seen him cry like this before. Once when he left school, once when his mum died.

‘And you’ve tried everything?’ you ask, just to keep him talking, just to distract him. ‘No water at all?’

‘We dug deep.’ He takes another heaving breath and then, on the exhale, when he speaks, he sounds more annoyed than upset. It feels like progress. ‘It’s like pinche steel,’ he says, ‘my arms…I can’t get through anymore. The workers are tired.’

You sigh. He’s sounding like he’s given up. He never gives up.

‘I can’t do it.’

‘You can,’ you insist. ‘You’ve just forgotten to use your brain.’

‘Ay,’ he sucks a hiss through his teeth, ‘el desierto, lo ha matado.’

The Rafa on the end of your bed is pacing now, stood up and tracing lines into your floorboards. Moving helps him think, it always has, the motion forces the idea to catch and roar into life, like starting an engine. You close your eyes and picture it. Another method, you decide, another method, another result.

‘Have you tried blowing it up?’ you ask plainly, still watching the false image of him behind your eyelids.

‘What?’ He laughs without meaning it. ‘Estás loco o qué?’

‘How do they make quarries, Rafa? How do they break through rock?’

You can hear it connect, weirdly, in the silence that follows. Hear the gears click, the brain turn. He takes a breath that stills his lungs properly this time, rather than stuffing them with desperate, needed air, then says your name like you’re a genius. Like you’re him.

‘I haven’t tried that, no.’ His voice lifts, he’s on the edge of smiling. ‘It can’t hurt, right? Una pequeña grenada?’

Now, it’s your turn to relax. He’s not crying anymore, he’s thinking, trying. It’s three in the morning and he’s back to himself again. You fall into the pillows with a sigh.

‘Don’t kill yourself, tonto.’

Don’t blow yourself to pieces for the sake of water, for the sake of Miguel and his precious sinsemilla.

He laughs down the line. ‘I’m dead either way, friend. Better I go with a bang.’

3

You’re a stranger now, as much as he tries to fight it. You don’t fit into the world he’s made for himself, or the one Miguel’s made for him, rather. You walk through his home like a guest, not a friend. You merge with the walls the way the staff does. Another set of footsteps in the mansion, another hand trailed up the banister in wonder.

He sends a car for you, because he can, when he has something to show you these days. Or something to ask, if it strikes him as important. Picks you up with just a warning phone call and a rush of, it’s fine, it won’t take all day. What do you need to go to work for, anyway? I’ve told you already.

He could find a job for you, he says. You could sit by his pool and earn money like it grows, right there, in the flowerbeds. You could live like he does, if you wanted.

No, Rafi, I like what’s mine. I like the quiet.

‘You brought me all this way,’ you say, once you’re standing in his bedroom, ‘to pick an outfit?’

You look at him, then back to the bed—four-poster, ridiculous, like something out of a movie. He’s got three suits laid over it, all matching, all expensive: white and red, blue with stripes, purple. Bright purple. You touch the fabric just to feel it. You’d never own anything this smooth, this well made.

‘I trust you,’ he says, ‘your opinion.’ He fidgets, digs a fingernail into the carved detailing of the bed frame. There’s white under his nostrils, you haven’t missed that, but you haven’t commented on it, either. At least he smells of smoke as well. At least he’s balancing it out.

‘What’s it for?’ you ask, like that’ll help you decide.

‘A girl.’

Your head twitches back to face him, quicker than you’d have liked it to—but, a girl? He’s not mentioned dating since he got fixated on weed, not in any serious way. Not to you.

He’s frowning as you look at him, his own gaze on the suits, like he’s tormented by the choice. Like they’re an equation to unwind. He hasn’t even noticed your reaction yet. ‘She didn’t take me seriously,’ he says, ‘last time. She made fun of my clothes.’

You let him continue. Your brain is still trying to scramble to the point where any of this makes sense.

‘Her father is el Secretario de Educacion.’ He sighs. His hands go to his hips. ‘I want to impress her.’

A new project, you realise, that’s what he’s found. Something he can’t have, something impossible. Something to solve. A drug lord with the daughter of a politician, Dios mio, he picks them well. This will be harder than growing plants with no seed, as dangerous as following Miguel into the dark.

You can’t get away with anymore silence, you have to act invested now, helpful still. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Sofia.’

He’s smiling and he expects you to returns it. You look back to the suits.

‘Sofia,’ you mutter, partnering it with a sigh. ‘Lucky Sofia.’

It’s something he would never do for you. Before today, you wouldn’t have imagined him doing it for anyone. He’s always worn what he liked, always put himself to the world exactly as he is, no apology, no polish. Just him, wild as he came. None of these suits feel like the Rafa you know. Or knew. They’re all the man you haven’t quite caught up to yet. The owner of this absurd pinche mansion.

‘Is she worth all this?’ You point at them lazily. ‘How much did this cost you, tonto?’

‘You sound jealous,’ he says, smiling, trying to pass it off as a joke.  

You shrug. ‘You’re putting a lot of pressure onto one suit.’

If this goes wrong for him, you’ll be back in the car to his house, talking him through the downfall, as always, as he wants, as you oblige. If she laughs at him still, you’ll have to think of something to throw down and bring him back up to Earth.

You pick up the sleeve closest and toy with the cuff of it. ‘I’m trying to stop you from embarrassing yourself,’ you tell him.  

‘Not what is seems like.’

Maybe not, but where’s the issue? You’re worried about the aftermath, the risk of more headaches down the line and, yeah, maybe you’re jealous too. Unlikely as you are to admit it aloud. You’re jealous of him, his success. His house, the clothes, the suits. The money that pours off him. The money he pours onto you in turn. Take it, he says, let me. It’s nothing. It’s nothing, have it. I want you to have it. Why can’t we both enjoy it now that we’re here?

Because it’s not yours, it’s his. He doesn’t get that.

And you’re jealous of Sofia, too. You wish you weren’t but you are. It creeps up to you, the longer you stand here, it crawls up your trouser legs, into your ears along with her name. She caught his eyes, his heart. You got the brain and everything else, but she has a part of him that he never shared with you. Never tried to.

It’s not yours, it’s his. It’s hers.

You’ve always been jealous of concretes, of things without leeway. You never took to it the way he did. Can’t keep yourself in one direction, can’t reach a conclusion and relish in it. He finds his track and runs it, right to the end.

‘You really think she’s special?’ you ask, redirecting him and yourself alike. It does nothing to think about it. What you could’ve had, what you never will. All that matters, is what there is, what you can hold.

‘There’s no-one like her,’ he answers, leaning his shoulder against the bed-post, ‘in all of the world.’

That’s how he is. Passionate. He fixates, he works, he wins. Loves with a tunnel vision that you’ll never understand.

‘The white, then,’ you decide. ‘It suits you.’

His eyes light up, his smile broadens. ‘Yeah? You think she’ll recognise it? Scarface?’

‘She won’t care, Rafa. Eres guapo. Te ves rico.’ And that’s what they like, girls like her. That’s what matters. ‘You be good to her, okay? Treat her right. She’s not someone you should mess around.’

He laughs, then puts his head to the wood. He’s looking at you fondly, through the thick of his lashes, and it itches, makes you drop the sleeve and step back from the bed.

‘You talk like you know her,’ he says.

‘I know you, Rafi. That’s enough.’

4

You didn’t know how bad it had gotten, until he tried to pull himself out of it. You should’ve realised really, or predicted it, should have taken more notice at his parties, should’ve seen the way his logic and rationality had sped up and burnt itself out. How his life had become a cyclone of Sofia, Sofia and drugs and Miguel. Round and round. How little it became about himself, or what he wanted. How close he’d stumbled to the edge without you waiting a step behind.

You heard from him less and didn’t challenge it. You didn’t ask, he didn’t tell, so you lived through the whispers of him. Maybe it’s time, you thought, maybe he’s outgrown you at last. Maybe this is the part where you don’t play catch up.

And then he’d stopped all together. Run out of track and hit the wall behind.

You weren’t there when it happened, you don’t know the details, only that he’d broken up with Sofia, and Miguel had broken up with him, in a way. Snipped ties worse than you had, ones with actual weight. Purpose. Structure that couldn’t afford to be pulled from under him. He lost his fields, you found out, lost his life’s work. Watched the dream collapse in front of him, at the hands of his closest friend.

Like he always did, Rafa saw it as a problem to fix, a cause with a solution that was within his grasp—always within his grasp. So now he was off the coke, too. Cold turkey and rotting from it.

It was Cuco that told you how unwell he was; on a clear day, blue and unfitting of the message, he asked you to come over. Ayudame, he said, I don’t know what else to do.

Tomorrow, you told him, it’s the soonest I can.

Today, when you get there, he looks scared; pale and tired and damp with old sweat.

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ you say, and you regret it immediately, because he nods. He agrees. He’s the only one Rafa will let into the room.

‘It’s bad, man,’ he says. ‘Hallucinating and shit.’ He rubs at his neck, inches from the door like he’d been waiting for the excuse to. ‘I only called you because he started saying your name.’

‘Mine?’

‘Yours and Sofia’s,’ he corrects, ‘but he told me…’ He sighs, then shrugs. ‘I’m not allowed to call her.’

‘Entiendo.’ You don’t want more of an explanation. ‘Can I?’ You gesture to the closed door in front of you. They’ve shut him in like a beast, oiled mahogany set firmly between them and him, him and you.

Cuco nods and waves you forward. You can see a warning on his tongue, in the pinch of his brows. When he decides against it, shaking his head instead, you leave him in the hall behind.  

‘Rafa?’

You push the door open, shut it again behind you. The room’s dim despite the light from the high sun, drawn into shade with thin, orange curtains. One of the doors to the balcony is open, its partnering drape curls into the room on the breeze behind. Everything done in an attempt to make the space feel relaxing, unconfined and airy and easy on the eyes, everything done without reward, because Rafa’s not here.  

You scan the room again. The covers are twisted from the bed, half off the mattress and onto the tiled floor beneath. You follow the disarray. Photo frames knocked down and smashed, discarded bowls of untouched food, ash trays that haven’t been emptied. Clothes that have been torn off and left where they fell. It’s a den, a cage. Distress that’s been played out and abandoned afterwards.

The bathroom door’s open, the trail of clothes leading right to it.

‘Rafa?’ you call again, but the shower’s on; he won’t hear you over the water.

You pause a step in from the doorway. The mirrors are fogged, the tiles are wet with condensation. It’s been running long enough to make the room uncomfortable, damp and warm, more of a wet room than the stylised bathroom it was designed to be. Like walking into the overused swamp of a public swimming pool.

Rafa’s stood with his back to you, head under the stream. He’s naked, hair flat and dripping, with his hands against the wall in front. The water’s so hot, that it’s managed to anger the skin over his shoulder blades. The stretch marks up his back, from that growth spurt he had at fifteen, are angry looking, like they’re complaining too.

‘It’s me,’ you say, louder now.

His head lifts weakly. ‘Sofia?’

No, not her, only you.

You take off your coat, your shoes, your socks. Pile them all up on the dry floor behind. For a moment, you consider taking the rest off too, but you’ll try this way first. The shower won’t saturate you completely, if just for a minute.

‘Rafa, you should come out now.’ You’re standing on the edge of the shower basin, a towel from the side clutched in your hands. When he doesn’t move, you put it over your shoulder and reach in for him. ‘No quieres saludarme, amigo?’

He flinches at first, at your palm to his shoulder, then he comes to, peels away from the wall and toward you with ease. Slow, then all at once.

‘Easy,’ you coo, ‘easy.’

You put the towel around him as he turns, lift the edges to dry his face once he finally shows it to you.  

It’s bad, it is. You don’t know enough about withdrawals to know if it’s normal. If he’s supposed to look like this, if it’s part of the process. You don’t know if it’s even the drugs at all, but you know him, and you know this is bad for him. Lights off in the fucking dark.

What if this is him now? What if this is what happened while you were away, and it’s set too deep to be undone?

He looks scared, more than anything. Tired and sickly, yes, but his eyes are wide, and lost, and then welling up as your name falls from his tongue. The recognition at last, the return of the friend you’re used to.

‘You have to help me,’ he says, ‘I can’t do it, I can’t.’

‘I know. I know.’ You step back with him, holding the ends of the towel close under his chin. ‘Let’s get you dry, hm? Get you dressed, get something to eat.’ That first, that for now.

‘I miss her,’ he rushes, urgent like you had to hear it. ‘Sofia, I have to see her.’

‘Okay,’ you tell him. ‘Okay, we’ll call her.’

It might be a lie, a false promise. You haven’t decided what’s right yet. What’ll help and what’ll make it worse. You just have to get him out of this foggy room, out of the towel and into something comfortable and warm.

‘I miss you,’ he says, in the same way. Desperate, quick, like he’s only got a few words left to give. ‘You know that, right? I miss you, too.’

You pause. Nod. If he was his usual self, he’d see right through the gesture, know that you were lying; saying yes just to say yes. But his teeth are chattering now. His eyes focus—in and out—on you, desperately. His hands layer over yours and the corners of the towel.

‘You won’t leave again?’ he asks, shaking the two of you. ‘You’ll stay until I’m better?’

‘Yeah,’ you tell him, because it’s true for now, even if his better is worse than he’s ever been before. ‘Yeah, I’ll stay as long as you need me, Rafi.’

5

He never comes to your house. He never comes to your house. So why is he here now? Pounding on your door and peppering the button until the bell can’t complete a full ring anymore. It just spits out one shrill note, over and over. You’re there within the first couple minutes of his assault, and he’s acting like you’re late still, like you’ve kept him waiting. He doesn’t even let you say hello first, but pushes past you into the hall instead, like there’s a dog going for his heels. Nipping the tendons.

‘Jesus, Rafa,’ you scold, shutting the door behind him. ‘You forget your manners, cabrón?’

When you turn, he’s wild looking, eyes big and pupils swollen. High, you assume. He grabs your hands before you can comment on it. Both of them together, pinned into his damp palms.

‘What are you…’

‘I need you to trust me,’ he says. ‘No questions, okay?’

You take him in again. He’s erratic, fidgety, his shirt is done incorrectly—one button left at the bottom, one side longer than the other. So, he’s dressed in a hurry, driven in a hurry. Rushed to your door with an urgency you can’t grasp onto yet; it slips through your fingers, like him, like what you had. Scatters in the hallway like dropped ball-bearings. You can’t catch him like you used to.

‘Did something happen?’ you ask, bringing your gaze back to his face. ‘Are you in danger?’

‘No,’ he answers, too quick, all breath. His head shakes. ‘No, no, we just have to go away for a while.’ A smile. White teeth and false promise. ‘Okay?’

Not in danger yet, he means. Not if he’s fast enough.

‘We?’ You take a step back, pulling your hands free with a struggle, and he follows; you turn, head into the living room, and he tracks behind you still. ‘Rafa, I don’t know what the fuck you’ve done, but—’

‘Me and Sofia will go first,’ he says over you, ‘then I want you to come. Okay? Te necesito demasiado para—’

And now you cut him off, turning back to him quickly. ‘Me? Me come with you?’

He nods, hair bouncing.

‘Come on, Rafi.’

‘Why not? Only for a while.’

‘Do you even realise what you’re asking?’ you ask, pointing a finger to his chest, pad to the stitching across his shirt. Spirals over the collarbone. ‘Have you actually stopped to think? I have a job, Rafa, a life. I’m not involved in your,’ your search for the word, the title of all his erratic decisions: adventures, war, ‘bullshit.’ Yeah, that fits.

‘Why?’ he asks, as he always does. Why won’t you let me help you? Why can’t I share this with you? ‘This isn’t like the other times,’ he adds. ‘It’s. It’s.’

‘Life or death?’

He scoffs, too dramatic to be natural, or innocent, then turns away to hide from the fact. Trying to compose himself, no doubt. Plan another lie. He thinks you don’t see the warning signs, the flaming lights behind his eyes. ‘No, just,’ he winds back to you, ‘please. You can’t trust me?’

You puff a hot breath out of your nose and allow the moment to still before trying again.

‘Have you planned any part of this, or did you do too much coke and come here on a whim?’ you ask evenly. You’re not judging him, but you have to know. Fear or drugs. It’s one of the two. You stare at him afterwards, waiting for an answer.

Then he looks down, and you look down, and you see that he’s brought a set of tickets from somewhere, clutched in his hand now, and is waiting to present them to you.

‘No mames, Rafi.’ You laugh flatly, head shaking as you take a step back, like the space will make your message clearer. ‘You thought you could show up with tickets and I’d leave? Just like that? Leave everything and follow you to,’ you pull his wrist up to read, ‘Costa Rica?’

He hesitates, chews the words into his bottom lip before admitting, ‘Well, yeah. It’s all paid for, carnale.’

You scoff.

‘You only have to get on the plane.’

Just get in the car, just come to the house, just pick up the phone. You roll your eyes and push the tickets back into his stomach. It’s too much, this time. This is something he can fix for himself. Whatever it is doesn’t have to involve you for once. ‘I’m not going,’ you tell him.

He catches your arm before you can turn. ‘Okay, okay,’ he says, and the break in his voice is enough to make you wait. ‘It’s important. Serious. I have to leave for a bit.’

‘Why?’

His chin twitches. You don’t need to know.

‘And Sofia…?’

‘She wants to come with me,’ he answers. ‘And I want you to come too, once it’s safe.’

You eye him. He’s smart still, it’s always in there, under all the shit, so there must be a logic to it. There must be some formula he’s got in mind, right? You just aren’t seeing it. You aren’t built the way he is. ‘For how long?’ you ask.

He laughs, shrugging. ‘As long as you want. About time you had a vacation, no?’

But that’s not the point, is it, primo?

‘I don’t like this, Rafa. This, this shit.’ You shake your head, force a deep breath. You can’t be considering this, you can’t. ‘It’s not me,’ you argue, it’s not you. ‘This is too far.’

‘I know, I know.’ His hands come up again, fussing. The tickets bend as he takes you by the shoulders. ‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

But what are you even agreeing to? What does he need you for, when he’d have Sofia with him already? Why would you go if he was going to—

‘You aren’t coming back, are you?’ It comes out as you realise it. He wants you to follow him there, because he might never come back, he might not be able to. ‘Is that it?’

You watch his gaze drop, his chin lower. His stomach pouches slightly as he slackens with the confession. No hiding now, Rafi.

‘Yeah,’ he admits, before pushing a palm into the front of his hair, fingers scraping, ‘maybe. I don’t know how it will go.’

And now the dread’s setting in. Rooting in your heels, the back of your neck. Things have never been this way before, not even close. ‘You know I can’t follow you, right?’ you say quietly. ‘Even if I come, for a little while, I can’t run with you forever.’

He nods, slight enough that you almost miss it. ‘I know.’

‘And if I do come, you can’t ask me again. To follow you. You can’t expect it of me.’

‘Yes.’ A step toward you. ‘Of course, entiendo.’

You’re losing the fight to deny him. He said two weeks until you go, más o menos, so you have time to sort something with work, if you want to. And what’s two weeks in Costa Rica after that, even if it is a goodbye? There are worse places for this to meet its end. One final time, you could show out for him just one final time, and then put it to bed. No more friendship, no more relying on you to pile up the bricks again. If he can’t come home afterwards, then you will, alone, and he’ll be free to take on the world. All by himself. Just as he wanted to.

‘Promise you’ll pick up if I ring?’ he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes. He’s sincere, pleading almost. He needs it, he needs you.

You nod.

‘And that you’ll meet me there.’ He taps the tickets you still haven’t taken from him. ‘Two weeks from now. We’ll meet you at the airport, okay?’

‘What if they find out where you are?’

A laugh you don’t like twitches out of him; he isn’t taking it seriously. He doesn’t realise how easy it is to fall yet, how close he is to the sun. ‘They won’t,’ he says. ‘Why would they? I’m nobody out there.’

He’s never been nobody anywhere. Even before all this shit.

‘They’ll think we’re on our honeymoon,’ he goes on, ‘and then me and you, and Sofia, we’ll go somewhere else. Somewhere new.’

‘And then I’ll come home,’ you add. He’s already talking like he’s forgotten, like he thinks you’ll follow him across the globe, one step behind as always. ‘And you will too, if you can,’ you prompt.

He nods, quick and unconvincing. ‘Por supuesto. Just as you say.’

You don’t believe him any more than he believes it himself.

6

‘Your pockets,’ the man instructs, without even looking at you. He’s looking over you, past your shoulder. Waiting for you to empty what’s in your jacket without so much of a hint that he’s talking to you in the first place. ‘Into the tray.’

You scoop out your car keys, your lighter. The cinema ticket from a couple weeks ago. Put them all into the plastic tray on the low counter beside you, obliging because there’s no choice. When you stand straight again, he mimes for you to put your arms up and out, so you do, and then begins to pat you down, all without really looking at you still. Eyes always elsewhere, head always titled slightly away, like he’s bored. Kind of like he hates to even be near you. He pats along your arms, then under them, over your chest and down your sides, over the jeans, your thighs—

‘Clear.’

You wait. Arms out still. He steps back.

‘Can I…?’

His head bobs up and down, a forced nod, as he grabs the tray of your things and pushes it toward you. You just about catch it before he lets go and steps around to face the person waiting behind you. His next unfortunate victim, good luck to them.

Why you agreed to this, you don’t know. Well, of course you fucking do, because that’s how it goes every time, isn’t it? Rafa calls, you come. Rafa needs help, you save the day. Rafa gets himself fucking arrested, and here you are, going through security in the mangiest looking prison you’ve ever seen, and never thought you’d step into, getting patted down for entry by a guard who looks like he’d spray you down with bleach if he wasn’t on camera. Just because you’re here, and someone you love is in there, waiting behind the bars. The association alone is more than enough for him to judge you.

And maybe he’s right to. Maybe everyone worth something would be smart enough to say no to this.

You never made it to Costa Rica, he got caught before he even had the chance to ring and give the all clear. The tickets are on your bedside still. Not that you’d even decided to use them; you were waiting for the call, to see what your gut would say once the exact moment of it came, and then it never did. And you watched the arrest on the news until your gut said to turn it off, so you listened then, instead.

They got Sofia too, and she sold him out like the criminal he is, without hesitation, confirmed his name without even weighing the options—you know, because that’s what he told you on that first call he was allowed. No hi, no apology. He spoke for two minutes before you even opened your mouth.

I’d have done the same, you said to him. Lying would’ve made it worse.

Not for him, of course. He’d reached the end of that rope. It would’ve made things worse for her, tagged her into the downfall alongside him, so it’s good that she avoided it. She stands a better chance of a future having done it.

She probably told them where I was in the first place, he said, though he didn’t mean it. It was all anger. Hurt. Liquid regret pouring through the handset. No-one knew we were there, carnale. Fucking no-one.

But it could only ever have been him that got himself into something like this. It was, every time, it was. He made every decision that led him to this moment, to this place. To this dingy visitors room with indoor picnic tables, and steel hoops for cuffs to be attached in the centre of them.

I’ll come see you, you said and you left it at that. The rest has to be done in person. You at least owe him that mercy, after everything. You’ll look him in the eye to say it.

In the doorway, you’re greeted by a less indifferent guard. He sits his clipboard on his curving stomach and asks for the prisoners name, looking at you, then your name, still looking at you, then ticks you both off and nods for you to continue into the room. He even smiles as he does, just a bit. It’s in the corners of his mouth as a gesture of goodwill.

You thought that maybe you’d have to search for him, but it mustn’t be a busy day for visitors. There’s a full table to your right, father, mother, kids. Food unwrapped and shared over the top of it. A couple are huddled over another in the far corner, as close to kissing as you assume they’re allowed, hands locked, noses tip to tip.

And then there’s Rafa, right in the middle.

He’s looking at you already, facing the door, expectant. He’s smiling so big that you catch onto it immediately, unintentionally. You shoot your own smile back at him before remembering why you’re here in the first place. It wasn’t the plan to come in like this was any other, normal reunion, like you’re seeing him after an impromptu vacation. The plan, was to be a friend to yourself, for once. You set your mouth back into the line firm you’d practiced with.

‘You look well,’ you admit, as you sit across from him. ‘Was expecting you to look like shit, Rafi.’

He laughs, unfazed, and goes with rattling wrists to hold your hands briefly. ‘I’ve been counting down the hours, carnale.’

You watch his hands over yours. The cuffs on his wrists, the chain between them and the hoop on the table that they’re welded to. This is the first time ever, really, that he’s been pinned down in one place, trapped with nowhere to go. The first problem he’s faced that he can’t think his way out of. It’s as unbecoming of him as you’d expect it to be.

‘I can’t stay long,’ you tell him.  

‘It’s okay, I don’t mind.’ He’s smiling still, shaking his head likes it’s nothing. ‘I’ve been going fucking crazy in here,’ he says, ‘not even Neto wants to talk to me.’

‘Neto’s here too?’

You’ve met him before, of course. He isn’t a character you can forget easily.

Rafa nods. ‘They’ve separated us now.’

‘Why?’

‘Ahh…’ he sucks a breath through his teeth, winds his head away then back again, ‘es basura, he hates me, or something. Told the guards I’d kill him in his sleep.’

You raise a brow, a would you? brow. He just laughs.

‘Pinche viejo is paranoid,’ he explains. ‘Wants this place to be his kingdom.’

‘And you can’t have a kingdom with two kings, right?’

When he laughs this time, you join him, and again, for a minute, you forget what you’re here for. You let it stand. Just us, for a moment longer, Rafi. Peace before the storm.

He sighs on the come down, lifting his hands until the chain is taut. ‘Pues, qué clase de rey es esto, hm? Si Mama pudiera verme ahora.’

You nudge him under the table, your sneaker against his prison-issued pants. ‘She’d tell the guards they aren’t feeding you enough, flaco.’

A smile, another in return. Time to get it over with. He doesn’t know it—or maybe he does, maybe he’s always known—but he’s sanding back your conviction, as usual, one grin at a time.

‘Mira, I should tell you, Rafi.’ You cough, then look down to fiddle with the already scratched skin by your nail-bed. Say it. Say it. ‘I won’t come again.’ There.

‘What?’

‘After today…’

Your throat dries. You’d rehearsed it in the mirror; it wasn’t the same as speaking over the table in front of you. Honestly, you’d hoped you would at least have some glass between, you were counting on it, even. Something for his reaction to bounce off. Instead, it strikes you directly now, clear and targeted, hurt from his face right onto yours.

‘I won’t visit you,’ you manage. ‘Anymore.’

The tourists in the cantina, the university professor. The fucking DEA agent. How did you overlook all of that? The cocaine, Sofia, fleeing to Costa Rica. He’s been souring since he’d swapped you for Miguel, himself for the business. Been gone before you’d even realised. You’ve spent all this time trying to stitch him back together, keep the body whole, keep the motor running, and he was already a ghost. Gone through the fucking cracks. You were just too sentimental to see it, too loyal to the kid you’d met at the end of the street.

‘You won’t see me after this,’ you reiterate. ‘I should have done it a long time ago, but this is it, Rafi, this is where I get off.’

No more phone calls, no more cars sent for you. No more advice on things you had no right to be speaking on in the first place. This, is where you draw the line. You can’t put everything on hold and wait for him now. There’s a life for you outside of him. Outside of this.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What?’ he says again, as dumbstruck as the first time. ‘Why?’ He leans forward and there’s a lingering smile behind his voice, an edge of disbelief. ‘It’s over now, I’m done.’ He thinks he’s invincible still, even at the end.

‘It’s always been about you, Rafa,’ you push, looking at the table instead of his hope, ‘every time, it’s all about you. I can’t do it anymore. I have to…’

He goes for your hands but you pull away. It doesn’t deter him. ‘You finally have me back,’ he says. ‘After I’m out, we do whatever you want, okay? No more shit.’

You shake your head. ‘I won’t wait, Rafa.’

He laughs, a hollow, limp sound. ‘It’s not like I’m asking you sit around doing nothing, carnale. Come on, you can’t spare a few hours a week to see your oldest friend?’

The silence can answer him this time. You let it work through the gaps, dowsing the humour he’s clinging to.

‘What?’ he continues, sounding anxious now. ‘You want to get married and move away, or something?’

‘Rafa…'

It’s starting to sink in. You can’t look at him, can’t watch it turn over in his head. The corners of his mouth dropping, the pinch of his brows. You can’t look. False woodgrain in the plastic table. His shoulders. His eyes. The chains between his wrists clatter as his arms go slack.

‘You won’t even call?’ he asks.

‘No.’

Maybe. Maybe on birthdays.

‘I shouldn’t,’ you tell him. ‘It’s better this way.’

He scoffs. It’s a sour enough sound to make you wince. ‘For who?’ he asks. ‘I need you in here, I’ll go crazy, I’ll—’

‘For me, Rafa.’ That’s the point, the whole point, and still he doesn’t get it. ‘It’s better for me, and I have to do it.’

And he has to let you. He said he wouldn’t ask again, wouldn’t expect you to follow him everywhere he went. Just because he’s stuck in one place now, doest mean you have to be too. One of you deserves a win, right? You won’t serve time on his behalf.

‘I’m sorry.’ You say it to the side of his face because he isn’t looking at you, won’t look at you. ‘Maybe something will…’ No, you stop yourself, put the wheel straight again. ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve said something earlier. Long ago. I shouldn’t have waited until now.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You never let me—’

‘Well, if it’s my fault,’ he shrugs, ‘what else is there to talk about.’ He spares a moment to flick his eyes in your direction—and they betray him. Show the child behind the face. ‘Go,’ he says to the wall again, ‘you don’t want to be here.’

You don’t, and if this is how he wants to be, then fine, conversation over. Cloth cut from the body at last.

When you stand, he’s looking away still, with his forearms crossed over the table—awkward, but it’s what the cuffs allow—and you won’t say goodbye to the cheek of him, so you don’t say anything else at all.

You’ve found your track, now it’s time to run it, right to the end. Just like he would.

[boatboys]

color/lighting studies trying to push myself a little. some of them are based on photos of real people but the rich one is just color-picked from a picture of a fancy butcher block

[tenoch-hq]

Tenoch Huerta Mejía as Rafael Caro Quintero in NARCOS: MEXICO | 01 x 03 - El Padrino

[ethereal-am]

HELP

[aolechan]

Tenoch Huerta as Rafael Caro Quintero in NARCOS: MEXICO | 01 x 01 - Camelot

[namorslutfanfiction]

Hi it’s me again! You asked me to send multiple asks so here I am! So how about a couple blurbs for Rafa? One with #4 and another with #30 from the prompt list? Thank you friend 💜💜

Hey hey. So this first one turned into a whole mammoth. So I'm going to post #4 as it's own fic. And will post #30 as a separate post. It will just be easier to add to my Masterlist.

Summary: It's your birthday and Rafa has a gift for you, after months of the two of you fighting like cats.

You could practically feel Rafa losing his mind across the crowded club. For months the both of you had been at each others throats. In private you would find yourselves down each others throats in angry hook ups. Your disdain and attraction was palpable to everyone who had to watch you fight like neighborhood cats over the weed that Miguel had you both cultivating. Outside of your tenuous relationship with Rafa, the rest of the boys respected you. To the rest of the men you were one of the boys, except tonight. Tonight you had let Sofia and her girls dress you up as an apology gift. And while you hated the rich bitch's guts, she had taste and an eye for slutty clothing. Impressive considering she didn't have the curves to fill them out, but you did.

The tight, low-cut, and back baring dress fit you like a glove and left little to the imagination. This was a stark contrast to your normal outfits of jeans, boots, and flannels. It wasn't that you couldn't dress up, it was that it was pointless in your field. You however knew that you cleaned up well, and from the wolf whistles that had filled the club from your fellow narcos, they knew it too. You were in the middle of the dancefloor being fed drinks and dancing with everyone who took your hand. With the work you did and the men you surrounded yourself with it was rare for you to immerse yourself in your feminine wiles. But today was your birthday and it was time to party.

You glanced across the room as you danced with Chapo who was being as protective as an older brother. You locked eyes with Rafa who was deftly ignoring Sofia who was perched on the couch next to him, failing to grab his attention. It had been easy to pull Rafa in your direction after Sofia's betrayal. It made you scoff in disgust when she came back begging for the curly haired man's forgiveness. But he treated her like a whore now, instead of some goddess.

When Amado took your hand and stole you away from Chapo you followed. You disliked Amado but you knew it would get a rise out of the other narco. Rafa was always his sexiest when he was angry. He was such a cocky, self absorbed bastard but he was great in bed and had gotten you hooked on his chaotic nature after that first explosive hook up.

It had happened after weeks of tension, bickering, and threatening to kill each other. A late night when you couldn't sleep so you had been in the field, smoking a blunt, and basking in the cold desert night.

"Brujita, what are you doing out here? It's dangerous for a woman to be out here at night," Rafa circled you, his gold glinting in the light of the moon. You scoffed and blew smoke at him. He was more calm than he usually was in your presence as he stepped up close to you, his chest nearly touching yours, "There are coyotes out here you know."

"Don't pretend like you care whether or not I get eaten by coyotes. If I did you'd probably throw a party," You smirked at the dark man, annoyed that your eyes were drawn to his lips. The heady smell of weed was thick now that you had nearly burnt your blunt to a nub. You took one more long drag before tossing the butt to the ground and grinding it into the dirt with your boot heel. "I'll leave your precious little field now, cabron. But remember it wouldn't have grown this fast or this quickly without me."

You turned, walking down the aisle of plants. You expected him to shout some insult at you but instead he came up behind you and wrapped his hand around your throat, pointing a gun to your temple. Rafa's back was pressed to your front as he dug the tip of the handgun into the side of your head, "Pinche perra. I should have killed you when you came looking for your traitor brother. We don't need you anymore. We have everything and the crop is bigger than anything you could have ever done on your own you arrogant whore."

You knew you surprised him when you laughed. Rafa's hand may have been at your throat but he wasn't restricting your air way. "Do it then, puto. Like I give a fuck."

Rafa pushed you away and you turned to face him. The high making you reckless. The memories of your brother on what would have been his birthday making you hysterical. You grabbed the gun's nozzle and pointed it at your chest, pressing it up against your skin. "Come on, Quintero. Pull the trigger. I'll say 'hi' to my brother for you."

Rafa raised an eyebrow, "You're crazy."

You were sweating and getting more frustrated by the second. He looked so fuckable with that stupid ass look on his face. You unbuttoned the last few buttons of your flannel and tossed it on the ground, leaving you in your bra and jeans. You didn't miss the way that Rafa looked at your full chest. His gun was lowered toward the ground now but you took the barrel once more and brought it up to your face. Looking him in the eye, you opened your mouth and licked the tip of the gun seductively. Rafa's irises blew out to the edges of his pupil.

You burst out laughing again as you pushed the gun off to the side and grabbed the Narco's gold chain and yanked him close so you could speak into his ear. "Before you kill me maybe we could have some fun. Don't think I haven't noticed how you look at me sometimes. I've thought about it too, hate fucking you after one of our fights. I'd love to choke you while I show you what a good fuck really is, because whatever you were doing with that skank Sophia was pathetic."

Rafa's hand found your throat again and pushed you up against one of the plants. You grinned at him, knowing that her betrayal was still fresh, even if Miguel had gotten him out of it as always. The narco was breathing hard, enraged, and pressed up close to you. You snaked your hand down his other arm, prying his gun from his hand and dropping it to the floor. The thump of it hitting the dirt was the only sound besides your heaving breaths and the rustle of leaves.

You guided Rafa's other hand to your throat, "You're too much of a pussy to fuck me so might as well kill me now and get it over with."

Pulling him even closer by his biceps as his hands wrapped around your throat, you rocked your hips against his, feeling his rage fueled hard on. His eyes flicked down to your lips then met your gaze. "Fucking bitch."

Rafa's whisper was lost as his lips crashed against yours. He caged you up against the plant as he bit and licked and sucked his way to your bra. He shoved it aside and suckled hard on your nipple, nipping at it as his hand undid your jeans. You were impatient. The high and turmoil had turned you on and left your panties wet. As much as you would have loved to make him kneel and eat your cunt you wanted to be filled.

You pushed him off and turned, pushing your jeans to your knees and bending over slightly. Rafa was ready behind you, the sound of his buckle being undone and his pants being pushed down was followed by the feel of him thrusting his cock into your wet pussy. You gasped at the sensation. Fuck he was bigger than you thought.

The tan man fisted your hair and pulled you back against his chest, while the other held your hip. He let out a litany of curses as he fucked you mercilessly. When he bit down on you throat you couldn't help but cry out loudly, clenching down on his cock. Your orgasm hit you like a train and sent you spasming. If he hadn't been holding you up so he could continue fucking you, your legs would have given out.

He lasted awhile longer and you taunted him the whole time. "That's right, pendejo. You may hate me but you like fucking me more don't you."

You reached back and turned, pulling his lips to yours. "Come on, Quintero, fuck me like you want me dead."

You were only able to kiss him for a moment before he pushed you to bend forward, your head in the plant, smelling strongly of weed, as he pounded into you. He held your shoulders as he thrust deep and hard. The angle and the sound of him panting, telling you that you were a bitch but you had a good pussy, sent you over the edge again. With another few thrusts Rafa filled you. When he pulled out you only took a moment to catch your breath before shrugging out of his hold. You dressed without looking at him or speaking a word then walked away.

You shook your head, bringing yourself back to the present. The music was loud and Amado was behind you, holding you too close. Your skin was just beginning to crawl when Rafa appeared before you. Without a word, Rafa wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled you to stand behind him.

Amado laughed and raised his hands in a gesture of appeasement, "I was just having fun man. She didn't seem to mind."

Rafa growled, "Walk away."

Amado glanced at Rafa's hand that was wrapped around his gun, then nodded and made his way to another part of the dance floor.

"You're so jealous. It's like how you say you love me without saying it." You poked fun at the Narco who still had a firm grip on your wrist. Feeling good from the drinks and weed you impulsively pressed your body up against his side and hugged his arm between your bodies.

Rafa looked down at you, expression unreadable. "I'll kill you."

You giggled and then pulled him along, "Then fuck me like you want me dead. You know that's how I like it best."

His lips upturned the slightest bit as you led him to the back of the club and up some stairs. You glanced around and paused at the door, looking over the balcony. "Where's the rich bitch?"

Rafa pushed you up the last step and pushed the door open around you, the warmth of him enveloping your bare back as he whispered in your ear, "I sent her to get drinks. It's the only way I could get away from that witch."

Rafa pushed you gently into the room and kicked the door closed behind you. The floor to ceiling windows of the room were tinted so no one could see inside, but you could see the bustling party down below. It was invigorating knowing how close you were to so many people. Rafa was right behind you, his presence sending a pleasing shiver down your spine. You felt his strong arms wrap around your waist as he started kissing your neck, biting down on the sensitive flesh. You felt his hips moving against your own as he guided you to the couch and then threw you on to it.

His jeans were tented noticeably and you hated how damn good he looked. Menacing and sensual while he took off his shirt and unbuckled his pants. He set his gun down on the coffee table as he knelt down over you. "It's annoying how horny I've been since you came in looking like this. Who knew you could look so fuckable?"

Rafa's hands travelled down your body. First pushing your hair out of the way and over your shoulder. His dark hand gripped your jaw to kiss you slowly and with tongue. Then he held you down by your neck with one hand while the other travelled down the deep v of your dress. His finger tips gliding down your sternum between your breasts. Before he pushed the fabric aside and exposed them to the cool air of the private room. He intentionally pinched your nipples hard before finding the short hem of your dress and pushing it up to your waist.

"Easy access, I thought it would be convenient," You moaned out, as he fondled your bare pussy, not a string of an undergarment in sight.

"Consider this your birthday present," Rafa whispered as he teased your clit. His lips found yours for a moment before he kissed down your neck, chest, belly, then knelt down and made a home between your thighs.

Your fingers immediately gripped his thick curls as his tongue glided through your wetness. You had thought he would fuck you quickly like all the other times but this was different, he was savoring it, savoring you. His tongue delved into your weeping hole and you cried out. Your nerve endings were exploding with pleasure. His grip on your thighs was so hard it was almost painful but you didn't doubt that the way you yanked at his hair was equally as uncomfortable.

You relinquished your tight grip on his hair to sit up and look down at him. His deep dark eyes looking up at you from between your legs, his curls bouncing slightly, and his nose bumping against your clit all while he tongue fucked you was more than you could bare. You came hard, moaning his name like he owned you just as the door burst open.

"Rafa!" Sofia was standing at the doorway, a drink in each hand, and a shocked expression on her face. You didn't care to react, still coming down from your orgasmic high. You turned your head to her direction while Rafa sat back on his heels.

"Put the drinks on the table and leave," Rafa barked at her.

Sofia looked like she might cry but also like she could kill him. She hesitated, making Rafa pick up his gun and point it at her. As he did so he pushed two fingers into your wet cunt making you gasp in surprise and pleasure. "You're interrupting her birthday present. So leave the drinks and get the fuck out of my sight. And don't you dare think about throwing them at her or I'll kill you where you stand, you arrogant bitch."

Sofia stomped forward and deposited the drinks on the table, making them spill slightly with the force at which she slammed them down. Rafa watched her turn and head for the door, all while fingering you and teasing your clit with his other hand. He called after her, "Close the door."

As soon as the door was latched, the narco grabbed one shot and threw it back. He took the other, taking it into his mouth and not swallowing. Rafa hovered over you, still working your pussy with one hand as he kissed your lips and fed you the shot with his mouth. The way he was consuming you, the way he had so viciously gotten rid of Sophia, and even the way he had gotten rid of Amado was overwhelming you. You needed his cock inside of you.

You pulled away from the kiss, breathy and moaning as his fingers played with you, "Gimme your cock, Rafa. I want the rest of my present."

"Fuck you like I want you dead, right?" Rafa grinned deviously. He latched his lips around one of your nipples, making you arch up against him. You heard his boots fall to the ground followed by his jeans. He sat up and swiftly pulled off your strappy heels. You couldn't help but admire his strong torso, tan skin, and his hard cock that he fisted in his hands.

The sight of his swollen tip and the dripping precum made you eager. Sitting up you simultaneously pushed him to sit back on the couch and threw your leg over his lap. Without a moment of hesitation you impaled yourself on his hard cock making the both of you groan in pleasure. Wasting no time you started to ride him, fingers threaded through his hair for leverage. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your rocking as the sounds of your fucking filled the room. The sounds of the club were muffled but the bass of the music was pounding in the walls.

You melted into the sensations. The feel of skin on skin. The wet slap of your hips slamming into his. The depth at which his cock delved inside of you. You captured his lips in a sloppy kiss before he took a turn to suck a mark into your neck, then the tops of your breasts. Your dress was crumpled at your waist, forgotten and useless.

Your orgasm came in a heavy wave of pleasure that had your hips stuttering. But Rafa held you close and rammed his hips upward, fucking you through your peak. He didn't stop when your spasming and clenching ceased. Instead he turned you down onto the couch, your sensitive nipples rubbing up against the fabric as he got on top of you. You bit the couch cushion preparing yourself for when he would stop running his fingers down your back, and cease his kisses on your shoulders. He guided his tip back to your pussy, his chest pressed against your back. Rafa thrust into your pussy from behind, his arms bracing himself above you.

He let out a laugh as he held your hip and then fisted your hair, nipping at your ear he whispered, "You're such a good little bitch when you want to be. Look at you taking me like the whore that you are. Loving it."

You chuckled between moans, turning your head so he could hear you, "Don't pretend you don't love how my pussy feels wrapped around you. Cum for me, Rafa. You said this was your present to me."

His pace quickened, making you cry out as you came again. But Rafa roared as he thrusted hard and deep three more times, spilling inside of you. He stilled, heaving breaths filling the room as he came down. He pulled out and flipped you over gently. Rafa pushed your hair off your sweaty forehead and kissed your cheek. He glanced down as he dipped his fingers between your legs. "You look your best with my cum dripping out of you."

You mewled as he glided a finger into your mess of a cunt and then pulled it out. Rafa brought it to your lips and you obediently took his finger into your mouth and licked it clean. He surprised you by kissing you deeply, tongues dancing against each other as your juices mingled.

When he finally broke the kiss, he pulled you half way on top of him, your leg draped over his and your head on his shoulder. Rafa sighed as you slowly succumb to post coital exhaustion. The tender kiss on your forehead surprised you. The last thing you heard before falling asleep was a soft whisper of "Happy Birthday, preciosa."

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Well that took a life of it's own.

Read, Review, Reply, and Reblog my friends.

[shmaltato]

"Hey There"

A simple Rafa/June piece and I shall dub this as cartel/high school delinquent #Nashuri AU.

I really liked drawing these simpler clothes than Namor's neckpiece and Shuri's suit. Haha. Shows how much I've been drawing them, but I still like to draw them.