#and it's going to be a pain in the fucking ass to try to get a 'script for it.

[almostfoxglove]

ALI FAKHSDJGKH okay it's taken me 100 years to reblog this but I WANTED TO QUOTE SO MANY PARTS IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO NARROW THEM DOWN. holy shit. this was??? EVERYTHING. like, this is the canon I needed - redemption for what could have been with Helena and fulfillment of every delusion I've ever had about this man. it felt so true to the world of the show and to javi I'm actually announcing this as Canon. sorry folks!! I don't make the rules!!

gonna pop some favorite bits under the cut :,) AH

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

lord help me I would not survive this I am NOT god's strongest warrior I am a puddle on the FLOOR this is him holding the secretary's finger and complimenting her nail polish all over again DSDKFHJK

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

this is SO HEARTBREAKING ALI like what the FUCK oh my god. I feel like I can hear her and see her scared face and I'm going to cRY ABOUT IT

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys. “Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

sdhkfjhaskjhgfa

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

OHHHHH, to take javier pena apart with a massage!! HOW I YEAAARRRN

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

I love them so much. she's so charming and brings out the CRINKLY EYES and I would die for them both ok ANY DAY ANY TIME

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately.

this is so !!!!! JAVI. saying it without saying it, ya know? that he sees her. I'm gonna cry brb

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently. “There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

MY HEART POUNDED SO HARD AT THIS PART I DONT THINK YOU UNDERSTAND

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely. Tell me where he touched you.

*screams heard in the distance* *more wailing* *barking* *hollering*

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

THE URGENT IN THE MOMENT NOT THINKING "BABY"??? MY PERSONAL KRYPTONITE?? ALI THIS WAS AN ATTEMPT ON MY LIFE

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

oh my god the pain of this realization fucking SLAPPED ME I just!! was there!! feeling her fear!! my chest is so TIGHT the angst is so GOOD

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special. A code, a message. A lifeline.

this was such a perfect ending. hopeful and soft but also still so javi!! and I'm obsessed with it. I've read this three times, oops. AND WILL DO IT AGAIN <3 all the ways you wove in the moodboard (THEIR LITTLE CODE PHRASE AHHHHH) are so fucking perfect and seamless. ugh. so good. thank you soso much for joining the challenge and sharing this fucking masterpiece with us, WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED. you are a talent and a gem and I adore you <3

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 | Javier Pena x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Javier's a creature of habit, a man of opportunity, and you were unlucky enough to find him when he's at his most desperate.

author's note | written for @almostfoxglove angst challenge, i really hope i did this moodboard justice ghjfkd. thank you @amanitacowboy for reassuring me while writing this behemoth + translations are at the end.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, informant!reader, set through beginning of season 3 narcos to end, angst, smut, involvement with the cali cartel, paying for info and sex, javier's a gentleman i swear, gratuitous smut, jealous!javi, protected/unprotected piv, creampies, oral (f receiving), some vague violence toward the end, happy ending

word count — 10k

The new influx of customers has been an adjustment, used to the elder regulars with orders that never changed and people who were grabbing a bite after a late night shift, it left you flustered as you reached for the pen and paper shoved into your apron, smoothing out the cloth as you approach the group of men, carrying on their conversation without a care.

“El envío llega el domingo,” It was Friday, which meant whatever was coming in would be here in a couple days—they never said what, but it was always something.

And their eyes always eat you up, hair pulled back loosely as you greet them with a smile, taking down their order as they keep their sights locked on you and commenting on the swing of your hips and the curve of your ass as you depart. 

Like rabid dogs, feral and hungry.

You’ve learned to catalog their conversation, catching onto a regular pattern of when things were coming in and out, knowing that whatever nefarious business they are involved in couldn’t be good—but they tipped well and that wasn’t lost on you.

It was almost a month of daily interaction when a new customer pops in, nearing midnight as he settles into his booth quietly, thin button-up stretching over his shoulders as he removed his jacket and tossed it into the space beside him, yellow tinted sunglasses tucked into his shirt, catching the ashtray with a single finger and lighting the cigarette already settled between his lips.

You attempt to greet him, lips parting before he interrupts you, barely acknowledging your presence as he spits out the order for a coffee, black. Dickhead, you think. The pen and paper is shoved away in your pocket and you swing your hips around the counter to fulfill his order with a side of spitefulness.

When you approached again, it was with a nauseatingly sweet smile.

“Can I get you anything else?” You ask, catching his eyes briefly as they flicker up before he shakes his head, a roar of laughter and slaps coming from the booth a few feet away, perking your eyes up at the subtle information they were sharing, scooting out of the both as they slapped a bill on the table, passing by with a vicious smirk that had your blood running cold, the graze of fingertips brushing against your ass that had you biting down on the inside of your cheek to steady yourself, nearly falling into the table as they pushed by.

The stranger perks up at that, his eyes trailing over your body with the same robotic motion as them, but with an air of curiosity, like he was examining you and your reaction. 

“No—no, just the coffee,” He assures you, both of you watch as the group of men climb into their shared truck, “those your regulars?”

“Unfortunately,” You let slip without thinking, “I’m sure their boss would hate to hear how loud they talk about all transfers and shipments—can’t imagine it’s anything good.”

His eyes drag to your breasts, more pointedly toward the nametag pinned in your shirt. 

He speaks your name before introducing himself, “Javier,” He addresses, turning to dig into his jacket before he pulls out a leather wallet, opening it to flash off his credentials, “DEA.”

“Oh–I’m…I’m not…involved with them, if that’s what you think…” You don’t know why the revelation has your nerves shot, but the fingers that wrap around your wrist ground you.

Javier has spent weeks—not a single lead or piece of evidence to follow. You were his saving grace, a goddamn miracle. He tugs lightly, pulling your attention to him.

“How often do they come in here?”

“Uh,” You blink rapidly, trying to think, “Um—three or four times a week, usually every other day.”

He speaks your name gently, his demeanor changing as he releases his hold on your wrist before he motions for you to sit, looking around briefly to assess how busy the restaurant was.

At this hour, it was only you and him.

You slide into the booth and place your palms against the table, fiddling nervously with your fingers, watching as he puffed at the cigarette a few times before placing it in the ashtray, followed by a generous sip of his coffee. 

“Everything they’ve told you,” Javier begins, pointing his finger vaguely in your direction before he points down, fingertip pressing against the table, “tell me—not a detail spared.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as your mouth opens, tongue dragging against your bottom lip as you try to access the memory stored in the back of your brain before you remember the small, mostly indecipherable notes you had been taking.

You rip the wrinkled paper from your notepad and pass it over, his brow furrowing as he attempts to decipher the information and to your surprise, he does.

Unknowingly, you had captured a loose schedule they seemed to follow when they shipped things in and out, the day trading off as weeks passed, constantly changing to throw off suspicion, but eventually things overlapped and repeated.

Quietly, Javier pulls his wallet from his pocket and tosses over a wad of bills in your direction.

You stare at it blankly, eyes dragging up to his face as he nods toward the money.

“Should cover the coffee—and a tip.”

You reach for the money, pulling it apart to count, suspicious of the amount.

Prying the bills apart you count, eyes widening as the number rises.

“Sir—uh, Javier. This is…too much.”

“Not for the information,” He clarifies, peering cautiously over his shoulder, “If I come back every week can you promise more?”

You scoff lightly, pocketing the money regardless, “I can’t promise anything—besides, it’s always the same stuff. Just when things are coming and going, nothing more.”

“Can you get more?” Javier asks curiously, an eyebrow raising as he taps the ash off the cigarette and brings it to his lips, “Like, names—anything?”

“I can try, but—”

“I’ll pay.”

Unfortunately, waitressing was a shitty job.

And you were more than willing to allow Javier to turn you into his little informant.

You nod quietly.

-

His order changes depending on his mood.

He never orders food, usually coffee or whiskey.

Nothing less, nothing more.

And you do dig deeper, giving in to the absurd attempts at flirting and playing it up, allowing the occasional touches that make your skin crawl, returning them with fervor. Luckily, you had a strong stomach and handled it with ease, catching the names of the four that frequented the restaurant often, curiously asking about work and life, giving them vague or fake answers for your own when they pried.

“Three are single,” You tell Javier as you slide him a glass of whiskey neat, “desperately.”

Surprisingly, he chuckles at that. You’ve never heard it before.

It’s a nice sound.

“One is married, two kids.” 

You pass him a piece of paper with names and information, trading off for the cash he transfers in return, pocketing it inconspicuously. He’s never there at the same time as them, so the weight on your shoulders is lifted, but the creeping feeling of being watched stays put.

“You switched your hair up today,” Javier notes one night, sipping his coffee and flicking off the ash of his cigarette, his eyes following the way your hair is pulled up loosely and framing your face, “looks good—good, I like it.”

“They like it down,” You retort with a forced smile as a customer passes by with a nod, “so—up it is.”

Conversation was always easy with Javier, his charisma oozes out without even trying. It was natural for him, casually taking your hand into his during a slow shift, examining the lack of jewelry.

“Could get you a fake one, if it would help,” Javier suggests.

Unless you already had one, of course. His eyes flick up in a silent question.

“I don’t think it would matter,” You admit, “If they want something, they’re going to get it.”

The routine continues like this for a while, until eventually, it doesn’t.

A new group of men come in one Friday, the other, and another, throwing you off kilter.

They started rotating them, keeping you on edge as the information is becoming harder to obtain despite your attempts to dig and frustrations arise in Javier, but never with you.

Sometimes they don’t even speak at all, hushed tones at the table unless you’re needed—but, occasionally they get messy. It’s usually the younger guys, inexperienced, fresh-faced, eager to please the big boss but riding on an uncapped power high.

One of the men gets particularly ostentatious, always coming in on a drunken stupor and slurred words, eyeing you like a piece of meat that he was eager to sink his teeth into. He slips you his number more than once, ignores your polite attempts at a subject change when the rest of the men are hyping him up, and rarely takes your refusal into consideration. 

Eventually the fear that has built in you overflows, suspicion arising when you leave work a night after Javier had long departed, a night of very little information exchange outside of casual talk—and even that was forced, understanding how frustrated Javier had become. 

One of the men had stuck around, only a brief crossover as Javier had stepped into the restaurant, his eyes tracking you the entire way out before you’re pulled in by Javier’s voice ordering his drink of the night, squeezing his shoulder gently in response.

You should have known better, you should have spoken up.

Javier would’ve done something then, but instead, you convince yourself to forget about that uncomfortable feeling that crept in. You knew what would help, biding your time until Javier left for the night, ignoring how he seemed to eye you too, but with a glazed over expression of worry.

There was a car you barely noticed, swallowed up by shadows and turning on as you drove down the road when you finally clocked out, the minutes dragging before you pulled into the parking lot of the chapel you had sped towards with a weight on your chest and a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You couldn’t recall that last time you had visited, but you were desperate now more than ever.

You needed solace.

Prayer comes naturally, dedicated to begging for protection over yourself, allowing the silence of the space to consume you as soft footsteps of other patrons walked by, just raising your chin as a hand clasps over your shoulder, nearly falling to your ass as you turn to connect the owner of the hand to a body. 

“Javier?” You ask quizzically, “Did you follow me?”

“No?” He looks confused, answering with full honesty.

That twisting feeling in your gut sinks further, looking around briefly.

“I can provide protection,” Javier tells you, “if you need it.”

You stay quiet, chewing gently at your bottom lip, scanning the room for familiar faces.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it? I could sense it, back at the diner.”

There was only Javier, still mostly a stranger.

“Are you really DEA?” You ask, his expression urging you to lower your volume as he takes a seat beside you, “Is that a lie?”

“I spent a long time trying to take down Escobar, I find that kind of insulting, chiquita.”

He’s met with silence, understanding your need for reassurance. 

“Yes, I am,” He tells you, his gaze unwavering, “I should’ve offered a protection detail to you from the jump, but I figured me being around often enough would work—did someone follow you here?”

“I don’t know, I kinda lost sight of them.”

You fall silent, staring at a crease in the denim of his jeans as you speak. 

“Should I be worried?” You ask quietly, turning your body toward him, “Like—are they going to kill me?”

“They’re getting uneasy,” Javier responds vaguely, before assuring, “Not because of you.”

“I should…I should tell you,” You take a breath, “One of them invited me to a party, I have his number. I told him I would have to work some things out, but I never…”

“Was it this weekend?” Javier asks suddenly, the lines in his forehead creasing at the mention.

“Yeah—yeah, why—”

“Say yes,” Javier urges, “I’ll keep you safe.”

It was a big promise, but Javier’s pleading eyes worked like a spell.

“This is gonna cost, Javier.”

“Name your price, hermosa.”

–

Javier’s touch is white-hot, cigarette tucked between his lips as he brushes your hair behind your ear and presses the in-ear monitor inside, hiding it behind the gaudy jewelry attached to your ear and adjusts your hair back over, stepping back and raking his eyes over your frame casually, pinching the cigarette from his lips with his thumb and pointer finger as he blows the smoke out.

“It’s small enough they won’t notice but try and keep it covered,” He tells you, his free hand shoved into his front pocket as his presence fills your apartment, moving around sheepishly under his gaze, “I’ll be a few minutes away, if anything goes south I’ll get you out.”

You stumble slightly slipping on your heels, caught by his tight grip as he steadies you. 

“Sorry—I’m freaking out,” You admit, looking away nervously as his grip loosens but doesn’t leave, firm around your bicep as you sleep your other foot inside the hell, “Th—thank you.”

“You smoke?” Javier asks causally as you stand.

“Not really,” You respond, “Occasionally, I guess. It’s probably more social, if I’m being honest.”

He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and offers it to you, placing it between your lips as you take a small puff without thinking or being told, an effective way to calm your nerves as you focused on the action as he points toward the cigarette, “Don’t drink or smoke anything they give you tonight,” Javier warns, “communication works both ways, I need you coherent.”

He pulls the cigarette away and places it between his own lips again.

The nicotine stings your throat and chest, giving you a noticeable distraction that calms your mind. “How do I look?” You force a tight smile, twirling on your feet as the dress clung to your curves, a soft, velvet red, “Fuckable, I hope. Otherwise I’m not getting anything out of them.”

Javier snorts at that, brow creasing at your crudeness.

“I don’t think you want my opinion,” He answers vaguely, swiping the counter for his keys.

“Just admit it,” You tease him with the words tossed over your shoulder as you grab for your jacket, “It’s fuckable.”

“Yeah, sure,” He mumbles around the cigarette between his lips, “fuckable.”

The way the word rolls of his tongue is visceral, ignoring the pulse between your legs at the vibrato in his voice and the chuckle that follows—regardless, it helped ease your nerves. 

–

It’s loud, sweaty, and overwhelming.

You thought they would choose something less…obvious.

But, it was becoming more and more clear how much of the town was under the Cali Cartel’s payroll, learning more and more information as Javier shared it with you in bits and pieces, your curiosity getting the better of you.

The idea was to mingle, drifting far enough away from your date that you might happen upon one of Javier’s more meaningful targets, not going as far as to infiltrate the heads, but someone damaging if you sunk your teeth in. 

You quickly come upon the realization that most of the men are confusing you with entertainment, rather than being a guest, quickly side-stepping the hands that reach for you as you squeeze your way toward the bar, sliding into an empty seat with a breath of relief.

“They are animals,” The voice beside you speaks—belonging to a man who was scientifically handsome; oddly perfect, hair perfectly coiffed and mused into place, a perfect set of teeth hidden behind plush lips and piercing green eyes—you had memorized the face in the picture Javier had shown you, “¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?”

You almost forget he’s talking to you for a moment, staring up at him distractedly before Javier’s voice speaks softly in your ear, “Answer him, chiquita. He’ll get suspicious.”

“Oh, yes,” You answer quickly, moving in closer to converse over the roar of music and the heavy buzz of strobe lights flashing overhead, “I seem to have lost my date, though.”

“Don’t worry,” He smirks, “I will keep you company.”

It does take a few drinks and you nursing your own, but you play into the act of being a mere accessory on the mysterious man’s arm, allowing him to drag you around the club with no real path to follow, eventually ending up with a smaller group of men huddled away in a corner, standing dutiful and quiet as the men talk amongst themselves in obscure words, almost like a code. 

“I can’t—I can’t hear them,” Javier’s speech is garbled, drown out by the music as you squint at the pain of the feedback in your ear, “can’t—hurry—”

Eventually, you find an opening to excuse yourself.

“Hermosa,” The voice freezes you in place, but the touch is gentle, surprisingly, “I would like to see you again, outside of here—”

You quickly ramble off the name of the diner, attempting to pull away, but not before a kiss is pressed against the front of your hand, feeling the heat burn through your skin like a brand before you’re slipping through the crowd, unable to take a deep breath until you’re outside.

You walk the distance to where Javier had parked originally, finding him buried deep in a conversation with someone who had pulled up in another car, hands curled around the driver’s side window, his head turning as he heard the distinct click of your heels.

“Fuck,” He curses, approaching you with his hands hovering around you—not touch or prodding, almost hesitant to cross that boundary unless it was absolutely needed, “are you alright?”

“Yeah,” You answer confused, nose scrunching up as you peered around him at the unknown agent, his window rolling up before he drove off, “what’s that about?”

“We think someone might have jammed the comms—there’s no way to know, it could have been the club itself, one of the agents is going to look into it—”

“Can you drive me home?” You interrupt suddenly, rubbing at the spot on your hand that the man had kissed, feeling dirty, “I’m full up on being felt up tonight and I want to change.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Javier replies after a moment of hesitation, “let’s go.”

You rip the device from your ear the moment the passenger door closes.

–

Javier places your heels against the floor as you walk barefoot into your apartment, a simple but kind gesture as your belongings scattered against your kitchen counter, fingers dragging through the front of your hair and back as you smeared your makeup in the process.

“Oh, the uh—the code,” You remember suddenly, “something about a bridge, as the sun rises…something with water. The guy, the picture you showed me. He approached the four you told me were important. I don’t think they liked me being there, but I also think they assumed I was too ignorant to remember a few words.”

Javier pauses, hands digging into his hips as he paces near your door.

“Do you want a beer?” You ask curiously, the furrow in his brow sinking deep as he attempts to decipher the code, he nods silently.

You figured with the information bestowed he would leave, but instead he stays, sipping at his beer for over an hour as you watch him move, his brain working things out in real time.

He’s beside you know, hands pressed into the counter as he pushed his body away, staring down at his feet as he repeated the words aloud, but quietly, like a murmur. 

“Are you sure they aren’t distributing right under your nose?”

Javier’s head tilts to the side as he looks at you, confused by your analogy.

You stare out your window for a moment, curtains pushed open, the gray luminescence of the moon illuminating the inky night sky, “I mean, they’re obviously paying people off, always partying at clubs—wait, the bridge and water,” A thought pops into your head, grabbing Javier by the hand before you’re pulling him to your apartment window, “what if they’re meeting on boats? I mean, not to say that’s how it’s getting it in, but—”

“That…makes sense,” Javier says, void of any distinct emotion as he takes a long chug of his beer before placing it on the ledge of the window, rubbing at the shoulder of his opposite arm.

“Annoyed you didn’t think about it first?” You tease, turning to tilt your head at him like he had earlier.

“Hadn’t gotten that far yet, we’re still trying to put the pieces together,” He grimaces at the tightened muscles, rolling his neck as his hands settle back against his hips, “that’ll help, though.”

“Sit down,” You urge him, pointing toward your couch and Javier looks at you with dull amusement before you’re urging him again with your insistent finger, eventually he relents.

Immediately, you round the back of the couch and allow your fingers to dig into his shoulder, working out the soreness with deft fingers, “Shit—you don’t have to,” Javier begins to protest before your hand is curling around the back of his head and pushing it forward, molding him to how you needed him positioned as your fingers dig in deep, “that’s, fuck, that’s…shit, right there.”

His voice is pure erotica, but it makes your lips curl in amusement. It was that pathetic desperation you heard so often from the men you served daily—that slight pitch to their tone as they tried to grab your attention, but with Javier, he’s completely detached.

His hands were tucked between his legs, head resting forward as you dug in with a strong, pointed touch, his groan reverberating down his spine. 

“Mierda, your fucking hands—” He doesn’t even mean it in a sexual context, but the pressure you apply is perfect, pinpoint even, knuckles rolling against the base of his neck as his mouth opens, an embarrassing sound slipping beyond his lips as you chuckle softly, watching as he lifted his head in shame, “okay—okay, you’re done.”

“Oh, come on,” You tease, “I was just getting started.”

Javier shakes his head and stifles the laughter in his chest, resting against your couch as his hands circle the beer in his grasp, looking up at your face, tilted down toward his own as your fingers curl around the back of the couch, straps slipping down your shoulders in your relaxed state.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Javier checks, given you’ve had a proper amount of time to wind down from the adrenaline of being inside the club surrounded by dealers and potential kingpins.

He’s worried. He barely knows you and he’s still worried.

“It’s a rush,” You admit candidly, “But, I’m pretty resilient, Javier. Work is work. I’ve dealt with worse assholes on the job, I’m good at putting on a face when I need to.”

“What about now?” Javier asks curiously, eyes exploring your morphing expression of amusement to bashfulness, the way he’s staring at you outright, words unspoken.

“Yeah, pretty difficult,” You jest at his expense, his smile lines creasing as he grinned slightly, “I have this asshole in my apartment—annoyingly cocky, hates massages. God, the worst—”

He doesn’t like the way this job winds him up, the tension taught in his spine and unrelenting, staring up at you with a tinge of a buzz from the alcohol and the sight of your sloping breasts spilling out of your dress.

He’s used to driving miles and miles for peace of mind and a nice body to sink into, but you’re here, you’re smiling at him and he’d be damned to refuse the opportunity you’re presenting to him, leaning down as his hand comes up without thinking, twisting in your hair as his head turns to meet yours at the same angle, placing his beer down in the same instance.

“The fucking worst,” He echoes, his hands crawling up the edge of your dress as you climb over the couch with his guidance, speaking through rushed exchanges of lips, his hot, beer-tainted breath against your skin as he situates the dress up at your hips, straddling him without a second thought, “you were right about the dress—”

“Fuckable,” You both agree in unison, sighing audibly at the kiss he places to your chin, neck, shoving his face between the valley of your breasts as you work silently at his jeans, the clang of his buckle, metal against metal as you loosen it enough to free his straining cock, his breath catching as you wrap your fingers around the velvety skin of his shaft.

“M-My wallet,” He chokes out, muffled as your tongue dips into his mouth, stop briefly to savor the touch as his hands cups your face, eventually drifting into your hair in a similar manner to earlier but then he’s tugging, “got—got a condom.”

“Of course you do,” You snort in merriment, “is that—is that what we’re doing?”

Javier nods eagerly, never separating more than a millimeter from your lips as you stare at him, his eyes staring right back, searching your expression for any minute twitch of deception.

When Javier fits himself inside of you it is with a broken grunt, a curse under his breath, and a hand squeezing tight at your hip, fingers digging into the bunched up cloth as he wraps his opposite arm around your back, pulling you toward him with a sharp snap of his hips.

You gasp, falling over the back of the couch as your hands grasped at the surface in desperation, the start of a quick but all consuming pace of his hips, his lips mouthing at your skin; arms, fingers, even over your ribs, biting gently through the velvety fabric of your dress, stifling his shaky moans, attempting to avoid the glaringly obvious fact that he hasn’t been able to release his stress like this in weeks.

A willing participant, a body, convenience. 

Deep down, you know. 

But, you found yourself in the same mix of issues.

Regardless, you both ignore it.

–

Javier is gone by morning—or, what is left of it. 

The exhaustion of the night and the sex catching up to you, coming undone on his cock as he gripped your ass, feeling the bruises he’d left in the process and remembering the soft, filthy words of encouragement he had whispered against your skin as you came.

He even locked your apartment and slipped the key under the crack in the door, stumbling toward the glinting gold piece on the ground and the folded up note on the ground, eyebrow creasing at the sight as you kneel to the ground, adjusting your dress hastily. You squint to read the hastily written note.

Got a lead. Money is for last night.

You peel the paper open and spot the money inside, eyes widening as you slowly realize that this was far more than he’s given you before, nearly double the first time, slowly you fold the paper back over and check the back, inspecting the item as a whole before you notice the writing on the back.

We should do it again sometime, chiquita. 

You look up at the door slowly, at the cash, before peering over your shoulder at the couch, still indented with sleep and a blanket strewn carelessly over the cushions.

He paid you for sex. He’d made it transactional. 

There’s a brief moment where you’re stricken with offense, half the mind to track him down and chew him out, but you remember how your exchange started and ultimately how it would end.

Plus, it was half your rent paid for from the result of the type of sex you haven’t allowed yourself to have in far too long, disconnected from feeling and fully freeing. 

Besides, it must be a regular thing for Javier and you couldn’t even blame him.

He was only doing his job.

–

A protection detail does work for a brief time, at least, it eases some of your worry.

It was a younger agent, Javier had told you, little to no responsibility outside of keeping his eyes on you and reporting back when necessary. As some of the leads start to blossom, Javier appears less and less, but still follows through on his payments when you have information to exchange, even if it’s only a name or time of day for something.

You do find the boldness to ask him about the money he’d forked over for sex, flowing lightly into conversation as he gives you a recount of his time with Escobar after a night of curiosity and lacking customers drags you into the booth beside him.

Always taking careful note of any personal tidbits he would offer. You knew he wasn’t married or that, at the very least, he was an expert at hiding it. No kids, no spouse, no baggage.

“Is it hush money?” You ask bravely, counting through your tips for the night as he sips gingerly at the glass half full of whiskey, “Because if so, I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyways.”

His brow creases, confused for a brief second before you mouth the words.

My couch, the sex.

“Didn’t want things getting confusing,” Javier admits, “If it’s any consolation, the sex was good.”

“You’re too complicated for me anyways,” You snort softly, separating the bills accordingly as you glance over at him briefly, a soft hum in his throat as his lips wrap around the edge of his glass as he downs the rest of the liquor, “Was it a one time thing?”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Javier admits, “figured I should draw the line early—you aren’t offended are you? Because if you need me to remind you how good it—”

As you finish, dragging the money into one pile, you shrug, “I’m off in thirty.”

The sway of your hips as you exit the booth and head toward the back of the restaurant is enough to have Javier suffering half-hard in his jeans, legs widening as he inconspicuously rubs his palm over the denim to adjust himself, awaiting the small nod of your head around the corner that comes half an hour later. 

–

Javier is efficient, you learn.

What first starts off as a casual trade turns into pure, unrestrained stress relief. 

It bleeds into work for both of you, finding time to drag him off into the back office when you knew it was available, fucking over the desk with any empty kitchen and diner as the hours waned into the early morning and everyone was either on break or asleep.

You never offer up much about yourself, very little about your life before moving to Colombia or why you’ve stuck around for so long—but he does know you’re disconnected from your family almost entirely, completely alone.

He has a huge family back in Laredo, people that clearly care about him, catching him on the phone with his father one night as they bickered lightheartedly, something about Javier needing to find time to vacation sooner rather than later.

When you have sex at your apartment, he always smokes afterwards, whether in your bed or by the open window in your living room, always careful about the barrier of clothing that remains, never entirely naked in front of one another.

He doesn’t look at you either, won’t kiss you further than something quick—a wet, sloppy exchange of tongues as he fucks into you from behind, pulled back tight to his chest as his hand strains and squeezes around your neck to turn your head toward him.

And he never stays, doesn’t stay hung up on goodbyes. 

He waits until you’re asleep, places the money at your bedside, and leaves.

But, there is a moment when you hear the tone in his voice switch, almost offended.

You’re both naked from the waist down and he’s thrusting into you lazily as his lips latch onto the section where your neck meets your shoulder, recounting the details that you’ve learned today, easily killing two birds with one stone.

He mentioned something earlier that night about a bust gone wrong, chewing frustratedly at his bottom lip as he spoke more with his eyes than his words before you had dragged him toward the back.

“Benny offered to take me on a date,” You address lightly, voice hitched as Javier used his palm against the inside of your thigh to spread it wider before it curls around the back of your knee and pulls up high over his lip, “he bought me an outfit and everything.”

He racks through the catalog of names in his brain.

Benny. Benny…Benito?

He wasn’t aware he’d spoked the name out loud until you’re responding with a soft acknowledgement as the desk bangs against the wall, your hand flattening out behind you for support, “Yes—same thing. I’m sure it’s for the—”

“The gala, yeah.”

He had spent the past few weeks trying to approach a way to get inside, knowing that this would be an opportunity to track the ever-expanding tree of sellers and suppliers, a front for the obvious drug trade that was happening, as you phrased it, right under his nose. 

The boat lead had only gotten them so far, knowing that there was much more nefarious shit going on that he was grasping at straws to collect off of, using you as his main source of information.

He knows it’s dangerous, but damn were you good at it.

“When did that c—come up?” Javier asks, grunting into your neck as his orgasm creeped in, his fingers drifting expertly over your clit as they had a dozen times before.

“Couple weeks ago,” You reply casually, both you falling into your eventual orgasms and only hearing him speak as he’s already disposed of his condom and was buttoning his jeans up.

“When were you gonna tell me that?”

It feels like a heavy weight on your chest, the clear betrayal in his voice coming from absolutely nowhere, immediately forcing you into defense mode as you sneer at him, adjusting your top back into your jeans as you tie your apron around your waist.

“I’m telling you now,” You retort, “I wasn’t even sure he dropped the clothes off here yesterday.”

It couldn’t have been that crucial of a detail, given that the gala wasn’t happening for another week according to the information that had been figured out.

Javier looks stiff suddenly, shoving his wallet into his back pocket before your hand is twisting around his bicep and shoving him back until he faces you.

“Is there something you need to say?” Your eyebrows raise slightly, expectant of the harsh words that were bound to be slung your way.

“I’m paying for information—honesty, too.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also paying to have sex with me.”

Javier isn’t sure why he feels it—it isn’t jealousy, necessarily. Just betrayal, that over the last few months you didn’t feel comfortable enough to share the information with him immediately, weary of the temptations of the cartel and the idea that they could pull you in, flip you against him.

He worries for your safety and well-being, knowing that he would be the one living with that guilt if anything happened to you. You were a friend at the very least, something few and far between for Javier after Steve had left. If he wasn’t at work or his own apartment, he was with you.

Javier forces a breath through his nose and huffs, eyes flicking toward you intensely. 

“It’s important to know this shit, so we can prepare.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, alright? It’s not like I’m keeping secrets. I’m sure you could do your research on me if you wanted, if you haven’t already. I have nothing to hide and nothing to gain, Javier.”

His shoulders relax slightly, widening as he puffs his chest out and takes a breath, “Yeah, but they have plenty to gain from you—we have to stay ahead.”

Always one step ahead.

–

The gala comes and goes without much preamble—and you know you’re serving as mostly arm candy, dressed scantily as you hand on the arm of a man you barely know, paraded around as a prize he’s won and showing off to his friends, but he’s surprisingly respectful.

Or, biding his time. You couldn’t tell. 

You don’t force off his small advances, a gentle touch or something too close for comfort as he lips pressing against the shell of your ear, whispering something you don’t pay much attention to as you survey the event, spotting a flurry of faces familiar and unfamiliar, picking up on names and information as it arises.

Javier could still hear everything on his end with the small, nearly invisible communication device shoved into your ear, hidden underneath your hair similar to last time, careful of which side you allowed Benny on.

“My boss is sending us on vacation soon,” You didn’t pay much attention, but Javier was, “could be fun, if you wanted to go—I could talk to him, he’d like you.”

Perfect. Useful. You can already hear the words that would float around if the opportunity arises. You prayed it would never get that far.

“Change the subject,” Javier says tensely, knowing you were traversing into dangerous territory.

“I’m sure your boss won’t mind, I’ll talk to him, too,” You can feel the smirk over your shoulder before you turn, wondering if he had ever met the owner of the diner or he was purely assuming, regardless, you laugh it off quietly.

“I have to stick around and keep things going, they wouldn’t survive without me,” You switch gears easily, “I don’t see you often, just your friends—why don’t you come around more?”

He’s only appeared a couple times and both were brief, first to ask you to the gala and then to give you the dress, almost like he’d rather avoid the place entirely. You were careful of giving him any personal information outside of where you worked, knowing that it wasn’t already accessible information.

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t think it’s about what I want, is it?” You retort playfully, a smirk growing on his face as his thumb slides over your chin, careful how deep of a jab you make, “It’s up to you.”

Benito’s hand rubs over the back of your dress and down, fingers modeling against the loose wrinkles in the fabric as he moves over the curve of your ass and squeezes, a small squeak escaping your lips as you bite down at the inside of your cheek, ignoring the knee-jerk reaction to elbow him in the stomach.

“Not much longer, chiquita,” Javier reminds, seeming to hear your discomfort immediately. 

The next hour drags painstakingly slowly, but eventually Benito drops you off at the diner at your insistent request, despite his pressuring you to invite him back to your apartment.

When you step into the threshold of your living room, Javier is already opening up the dinner had ordered at your subtle request earlier that evening, a smug smile on his face as you shake your head in exhaustion, sleeping over you hills in and instant and half-way stripping out of your dress before you even make it to your bedroom.

Javier grins in amusement as you thrust the device that you rip out of your ear into his chest, quietly tucking it away on the table as he prepares the food.

You’re dressed for comfort when you return, a shirt reaching beyond your thighs as you settle the bare skin against the barstool, underwear peeking out as you sit, immediately shoveling the food into your mouth.

You ramble out the names you caught onto, watching as Javier scribbled them down, rubbing at your temples to soothe the growing headache as you finish up your food and shove it aside, eventually slumping against the counter as you groan weakly.

You can feel Javier’s hand graze your knee, squeezing gently at your thigh, a silent invitation.

“I’m so tired, Javi,” You admit, “You can keep your cash, don’t worry. The whole thing was a bust, anyways.”

The chair creaks as Javier leans toward you, whispering against your ear, “Ven aqui,” He beckons as he pulls at your arm, guiding you silently to your room, half-expecting him to tuck you into bed and leave, but then he’s guiding you backwards toward the mattress and spreading out between your legs on the duvet as he removes your underwear, your lips forming into a subtle pout until he’s splitting you open with his tongue, a gasp escaping at the sudden sensation, fingers twisting into his hair roughly.

“Javi, what are you doing?” You inquire—it was new, a careful line drawn between you both earlier on that it was strictly sex, disconnection, but now he was trying to leave the impression of his tongue against your cunt as he devoured you all at once, squeezing at your thighs to spread them open further, a sated expression on his face that had to be a mix of his own exhaustion, delirious with want.

“Where did he touch you?” Javier asks casually, eyes closed as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh, pushing your shirt up higher as you guided his hand over your hip and down toward your ass and squeezing gently.

“There,” You admit before guiding his hand further up, alongside your ribs and around your back, another gentle squeeze before guiding his hand around and over your breasts, “and there—here,” You squeeze down tightly as your eyes fall shut, his mouth sucking over your clit as your back arches off the bed.

You come faster than you expect and had you known his mouth was so talented, you would have suggested this earlier, but through the waning of your orgasm you feel his tongue drifting over your skin in the wake of his previous touches, lapping at the salty skin before his tongue eventually finds the way toward your breast, swirling around the sensitive skin as your nipple hardens against his mouth, innately curious of his actions but not voicing them.

There was never any predicting with Javier, figuring that maybe he needed a little more distraction tonight, but as your orgasm dissipates and the hand in his hair stays, he never moves, only a low rumble to his breathing as you attempt to catch your own breath before you’re slowly leaning up and realizing his eyes were shut and he had fallen asleep.

Whatever was ailing him had finally taken hold, able to squirm away through his heavy sleep before you’re draping a blanket over his frame, still dressed from the day.

You can’t find the courage inside yourself to disturb him as he took up half of your bed, opting for the couch in the off-chance he woke up in the middle of the night to you beside him, stirring up another list of issues you didn’t feel like dealing with.

–

Surprisingly, you wake before him. The sky barely fading out of night as you stir, rising from the couch as the bulky phone on the counter—it was Javier’s, you knew that.

But still, you answer it. It couldn’t hurt, just tell them to leave a message.

Instead, as you hear the familiar voice on the other end, you find yourself pulled into an unsuspecting conversation with his father that drags into the morning hours as the sun rises, meandering over breakfast before you here him stirring in the other room, trying to ignore how pleasant but telling the conversation with Javier’s father was as you place the phone down on the counter and begin cooking breakfast, silently, still half-dressed in the clothes from the night prior, minus your underwear strewn somewhere on your bedroom floor.

He’d asked how Javier was doing when you told him your name, surprised that he was familiar with you, learning that Javier had spoken about you to him, though briefly.

Probably in passing, maybe. You try not to dwell on it.

“He seems fine,” You told him, “Busy, though.”

He’s always busy, he tells you. Cuidar a mi hijo.

He was worried, rightfully so. But, Javier was an adult, his own person. 

He wasn’t your responsibility and you weren’t his.

And you try to ignore the strange sensation in your chest at the immediate elation from his father hearing your name, like an old family friend hearing from you for the first time in years, even though you knew very little of his father.

You’ve learned enough about Javier, at least. His likes and dislikes, vague interests that he commented on, the grimace in his face that would grow deeper the harder he got stuck on something, a thought or idea.

Javier clears his throat as he enters the kitchen, avoiding your gaze as you slide the meat and eggs onto two separate plates before passing it to him.

“You could have woke me up,” He said, looking up at you briefly with mused hair, his shirt wrinkled from sleep.

“Your father called,” You ignored his comment, “you should call him back.”

“You talked to him?” Javier asks blankly, no distinct emotion shining through.

“For, like, half a second,” You lie, “I just told him you were asleep.”

He didn’t need to know his father’s worry or how much he’d given away about what he knew of you, secrets that were obviously meant to be kept between them, but as Javier chews with thought, eager to break the lingering silence, he asks.

“He mentioned it, didn’t he?”

You shrug your shoulders cluelessly, “I think you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“That I’ve talked about you, or at least, he knows who you are.”

“It’s none of my business, really.”

“He hears you, at the diner—he’s nosey. I’ve mentioned you in passing. I just…I know how he gets, I don’t want you thinking anything is going on,”

“I’m not paid to think, Javier,” You tell him.

It’s disparaging, his nose scrunching up slightly at your words and the emptiness with which you throw them. This is where he always seemed to fuck up, distinguishing work from his life but somehow maintaining the balance of peace and humanity.

Do you want to explain last night? You mind screamed, but instead you offer him his coffee, the usual black with minimal or no sugar, giving him the option as you slide the mug and container in his direction. He fishes blindly for his wallet but your hand stops him.

You sigh, “That’s not—I wasn’t implying you need to now. I—I just think we should maybe reframe what we’re doing, given that things have…progressed,” The word lingers on your tongue while you bite at your bottom lip. “I’m worried they might find out where I live or about you—or the fact that I’m literally helping the DEA catch them and praying can only do so much and I’m here alone—”

“Hermosa, slow down,” Javier urges, shoving his wallet back into his pocket at your guidance and avoiding the obvious domesticity of having slept overnight in your apartment and ate the breakfast you cooked him. 

It was in his nature to care, to a degree. It was his downfall sometimes, to a devastating fault. He striked while you were vulnerable and roped you into his own mess, now paying for it with guilt that had seeped into his personal life, spending the entire night prior picturing how Benito was handling you, how he could step in—how it could have been him instead.

“She doesn’t sound like work,” His father had told him a week ago, returning a flirtatious quip as you had passed him his usual coffee and offered him a light for his cigarette after his hadn’t worked, that sort of boyish tone in his voice that his father picked up on in a second.

The lines had blurred with Helena after a while, a similar circumstance that he continued to find himself in—paying for info, paying for sex, attempting to make it impersonal. But, here you were, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, and he didn’t know how to fix the mess he had made. 

He couldn’t see you hurt or send you into danger like he had with Helena, the helpness he’d felt as he discovered her near lifeless body, covered in blood and bruises after she had been beaten and traded around—it couldn’t happen, it wouldn’t.

–

Javier returns with a phone later that day, similar to his with his number attached to a piece of paper he shoves into your hand as he directs you to pack a bag in the case of an actual emergency, something quick to grab that you wouldn’t have to second guess about. 

“You’re making it seem like I should be leaving now,” You tell him, taking the items he passes into your hand as you fold a stack of clothes and toiletries into the bag.

Javier shakes his head, “It’s better be safe,” He explains, “I…doubt—I don’t think they would be. We have someone listening around the clock, people on the inside, there haven't been any red flags.”

“What if something does? What if I can’t reach you?”

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” He tells you simply, your face contorting in confusion. “It’s a code—a phrase only you and I know. If you use that, it means danger. Through a note, or that phone. I just have to hear it.”

You zip the bag up in silence, feeling the weight of the web you had tangled yourself in finally settling, curious if you would be back at square one, fleeing to a different country to escape your problems.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Javier promises, suddenly closer than you’ve ever known him to allow himself outside of sex, his finger drags along your chin and forces it up, looking at him, “¿Entiendes?”

You nod, a subtle motion but Javier sees it.

“Javier, we should talk,” You echo once more, though with different meaning, “about last night.”

“I’ll still pay, hermosa—that isn’t a problem.”

You could handle the way it was eating at you.

“No, I mean—I mean why did last night happen? Why is your dad telling me to keep you safe?”

His face hardens at the mention of his father.

It’s just sex, you can hear the words before they roll off his tongue, ignoring your second question entirely.

Tell me where he touched you.

“You started this, you know?” You remind him, “You made this transactional.”

Was he scared of you?

Eerily silent he remains, you speak for him.

“I’m not a whore either, so if that is how you view me—I really don’t want your help at all.”

The keys in hand are gripped tight as you chance a glance toward the floor, his body entirely unmoving, his eyes downturned and staring in a similar direction, almost like he couldn’t find the words.

I”m not asking you to give a shit about me, but—”

His answer is a kiss, searing and intense, keys tossed to your bed as his fingers dive into your hair, curling around your head as you make a sound of surprise, steadying yourself as you grip his biceps and stumble backwards, tripping over the dress you had stripped yourself of last night.

You still hadn’t dressed from earlier, his hands flattening against your hips as he molds the soft flesh under his grip, his teething biting into your bottom lip as he murmurs, “Belt, get my belt,” without question, your fingers go to work, ripping the leather away in a practiced motion as you continue to unbutton his jeans, “—think I don’t give a shit, are you fucking insane?”

“A little,” You jest, “I mean—I’m helping you, aren’t I?”

This felt strangely vulnerable, his fingers pulling at your shirt with a deliberate endgame.

Naked in the natural lighting of your room, his fingers reaching for his own shirt as you work his jeans down his hips, appreciating his tanned skin as it shines with a thin layer of sweat. Despite the sticky heat that permeated throughout your apartment, his touch is cooling, comforting even.

“Another freebie?” You tease him further, hearing him snort as he reaches for his wallet and crowded you on the mattress, opening the tight leather before he grabs a wad of cash and shoves it into the sheets before tossing his wallet aside and diving between your breasts.

“Making me a poor man,” Javier retorts, peeking up through your tits as he squeezed them in his grip, mouthing delicately along the skin, “shit—but this, s’fuckin’ priceless.”

“I’m—fuck, I’m kidding, Javier. I don’t want your money. Never wanted it.”

It had always been about convenience, never expecting things to end up like this.

It was a mess, both of you were.

He’s seeing all of you, for once, and you him. 

And you know he needs, wants, without saying.

He fucks you slow, legs hitched around his hips as buries his head into the space beside yours, only rising as your noises grow with intensity, the bluntness of your nails digging into his skin.

“Inside,” You beg, “inside of me, Javi.”

He moans pathetically, lips squished against your cheek as his hips falter.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Can I?”

You giggle airly at his question, nodding fervently.

“Mierda,” He curses brokenly, groaning softly into your skin as he pumps himself inside of you, the warmth of his cum filling you to the brim, oozing out as his hips slow, his hands kneading into your skin as he rests, breathing rapidly against your chest.

“We should—should talk, Javier.” You tell him again, after a moment of silence. “Like, really talk—you know?”

Javier hums in acknowledgment, “Tonight—give me until tonight, okay?”

Tonight was good enough, for now.

–

The first thing you feel when you rouse from sleep is pain.

White-hot and persistent, restrained by your hand as they’re tucked behind your back. You feel more hands, the sound of stiff leather and the smell, overwhelming as it invades your senses.

“I see why he keeps you around,” The voice comes from behind, eyes bleary as you blink before the hand in your hair grips tight, only catching the fist coming at you from your peripheral before your world goes dark.

When you wake again, you’re upright and in a chair, head slung back uncomfortable as you attempt to stretch, feeling heavy and groggy as you move, remembering the moment from earlier you become alert within seconds, eyes searching around frantically as you spot two men.

They were strangers, faces covered, but obviously sent here for a reason.

“Benny thought he could get it out of you,” The man says dismissively, “you foreigners—stupid, messy, predictable.” He grabs the fabric of your dress and plucks the small, miniscule device from the fabric that you missed, squinting to see it before the man breaks it between two fingers and tosses the dirtied fabric aside.

“We got her to ourselves, plenty of time to—”

“No,” The other man replies sternly to the obvious subservient man, “her boss—that’s what we came here for.”

“My boss?” You croak eventually, “At the diner? What do you want with—”

The gun he pulls from his back silences you in an instant. He reaches for the phone on the counter, the yellow sticky note still attached, “That him?”

“It’s mine,” You reply with ease, “I’m forgetful and—”

Your throat swells as he ignores you, dialing the number.

You hadn’t let the reality of the situation settle until you heard Javier’s voice on the other end, careful to not give anything away as his voice comes across more energetic than usual. They didn’t seem upset at the lie, but the finger on the trigger squeezed slightly as his voice came through, a silent order to play along.

“Hola, chiquita,” Javier greets smoothly, “¿Todo bien?”

You laugh softly, “Yes—yeah.”

You know what they want, what they need.

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.” You beg, voice unwavering as you stare the two men down, both of them seeming satisfied by your ploy to get Javier to the apartment without much argument.

The line falls dead without a response, the phone tosses aside to the floor as it shatters into pieces. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t going to get it easily.

–

You wished you could warn him.

One wrong move and the blade at your throat, the gun to your head—they would be your undoing.

You stared blankly at the broken lock and hinge of your door, footsteps approaching as you whimpered, the sharpness of the knife pressing against your skin as Javier whips around the corner and into the apartment.

The white-hot pain returns as you’re met with the butt of the gun, slumping from the chair as chaos whirls around you, curled up on the floor and crawling desperately away from danger as someone screams, gargling as it sounds, probably on their own blood. 

You couldn’t look back, breathing panickedly as you hid behind the couch and huddled in on yourself, a gun going off unexpectedly as your ears ring, gasping as you hear the sound of a blade puncturing skin once, twice, before it clamers to the floor.

You wait a moment, although it feels like eternity, expecting the cold press of a gun against the back of your skull, but instead it was a hand and eventually another, the faint smell of a familiar cologne that brought you comfort and warmth.

“Baby, we have to go,” Javier urges, “I have to get you out.”

Out?

You look up, his eyes wild but lacking any indicators of violence.

“It isn’t safe here.” He reiterates, “Can you walk?”

You nod weakly, feeling his hand wrap around your waist as he assists you in rising to your feet, still discombobulated and wobbly, he sticks by your side as you grab your things, silent as he eventually, alongside the crowd of presumably agents and police that pass by, invading your apartment, Javier is a guiding light of reassurance before you’re barricaded in the safety of his car.

“It was a tracker,” You mumble eventually, “when he was feeling me up that night—it was because he was trying—well, he—he did, he put a—”

You blink, feeling the sting of tears as you look up at Javier.

“Things are getting worse. It isn’t safe for you here, not anymore.”

“Here? What—what do you mean?”

–

Here meant Colombia.

Which is how you ended up in Texas two weeks later. Laredo to be specific. 

Javier had a place close to home. His family.

And you had talked extensively, it was the only thing that kept the panic from consuming you that night as he drove you to the embassy, tying up some loose ends before he drove you to the airport without any explanation until he was shoving the ticket into your hand.

His father had been waiting for you, as somber in expression as his son. 

They were so similar it made your heart swell, an unfamiliar feeling. 

Javier couldn’t explain what he was feeling for you and you could accept that, but he was careful and adamant in the idea that you would spend your time at his home, already setting you up with a similar job in town, a seamless transition that felt strange, but oddly easy to settle into.

“What if I just left?” You tease him one night, hearing his desk creek as he head slumps into his unoccupied hand, “Would that be easier for you?”

“No,” Javier says sternly, “I’m—this…I think I might be done. Feels like I’m fighting a battle that I’ll never win, feelings fucking pointless.”

It had been months now, curled up on his couch as you stared out the window and toward the empty road, wondering if the chill of fall was creeping in as the cool breeze hit your skin, “No more waitresses to help you out down there, huh?”

Javier snickers at that, though it was quiet.

“Stop that,” He chastises, “It’s not funny.”

You giggle in return, “I know, I know—just remember who’s keeping your bed warm every night, yeah? Oh—and your dad, he keeps asking when you’re gonna call.”

You hear him huff at that, clearing his throat awkwardly as he mumbles an apology to someone on the other end, the faint hum of the office around him feeding through the receiver. 

“I hope you’re okay, please come home.”

It wasn’t a cry for help this time, but still a phrase that was special.

A code, a message. A lifeline.

Javier was barely surviving amongst the cartel as tensions had pulled taut and drug trade seemed at an all-time high, nearly unstoppable anymore. 

It was beyond him, out of his control.

And for the first time in a long time, he has a reason, a want, to come home.

“Soon, chiquita. Soon.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and it worried you immensely. 

“Don’t let it consume you, Javi. You’ve done enough.”

On the other end, his brow furrows. Disgruntled and annoyed at how right you were, echoing the similar sentiment his dad had told him a thousand times. 

He was done, he wanted out.

-

"El envío llega el domingo." / The shipment arrives on Sunday.

"¿Cómo te va? ¿Lo estás pasando bien?” / How are you doing? Are you having a good time?

"Cuidar a mi hijo." / Take care of my son.

[thegreatstoryteller]

The Great Shift: Awkward Tales - Vignette 3: The Perfect Girlfriend

Vignette 1: The Nervous Flirt

Vignette 2: Athletics Run in the Family

“FUCK YEAH! That’s a 10 player Kill Streak! LET’S GOOOOOO!” Came the deep manly voice next to Salvatore.

“Hey uh… Samantha? Samantha….? Sam!? Can you keep it down a bit. Game is still going. I’m trying to focus..” Salvatore murmured as he tried to get his girlfriend to settle down. 

“Sorry bro. I was too busy being locked in and carrying this match!” Sam joked back punching his arm.

Sal moaned in pain. He really wasn’t expecting this. Before the great shift he and his girlfriend had never seen eye to eye. Though their friends knew them as Sal and Samantha the iconic couple, behind closed doors they were always fighting. No matter how others idolized their seemingly perfect relationship, Sam never understood why Sal would spend so much time working out with his former frat bros or gaming online so much. She complained about him burping at meals and clogging the shower drain with his body hair! Sal even said that it was a guy thing and that she’d never understand!

But he could not have been more wrong.

Salvatore was one of the few people unaffected by the great shift. Internally he was happy about that. As a 6’1 Latino stud, he wouldn’t want to be in any other body but his own. Samantha on the other hand was part of the majority who had swapped.

Sam had found herself inside a fitness influencer known for being quite huge and hairy! When she’d texted Sal that she was a man and that they could still be together, he was a bit skeptical. He’d only ever told Sam about his bisexuality in confidence. He wasn’t even out to their friends! She even assured Sal that nothing between them had to change. However, that was proven wrong on the day she finally made it back to their apartment. She knocked so hard the door fell off its hinges. That’s when Sal came face to pecs with his new 6’7 gorilla of a boyfriend. She kicked off her size 17 shoes as she went to embrace her man! Needless to say Sal’s size 11s didn’t look very manly beside them. 

From there lots of things began to change. Sam’s normally demure and organized attitude began to fade as soon as she was in this body. She was more laid back, more casual, and more open minded to Sal’s activities. Turns out her body was a natural at working out as she began to lift far more weights at the gym than Sal had ever dreamed! Sam also got into gaming, as she started to game with Sal and his friends, all of who loved the newest bro addition to their group! She even started to get into more drinking any alcohol she could get her hands on. Before long their shared fridge was filled with beers and protein shakes!

Sal also began to change, despite not having a new body. He began to realize his girlfriend was outdoing him in all his old activities! All of his bros even mentioned how awesome Sam was! They even started hanging out with Sam without Sal on the weekends! It was now Sal that was reminding Sam to clear out the shower drain, with his much hairier body! Now Sal was the one complaining about the late night’s Sam came back. This became a new normal. 

Overtime Sal knew he had to do something to salvage his relationship with Sam before everything changed. That’s when he decided there was one part of their life as a couple they haven’t explored yet. Eventually Sal became more comfortable with his sexuality and began to experiment with Sam. Neither really knew what to do at first, with their limited experience, but it quickly became apparent that Sam would be taking control. Before Sam was a much more passive and supportive sexual partner… and now… she took charge! Every night after that Sal awoke with a sore ass and a tired body. Sal would never admit it, but he loved it! The only problem was… he couldn’t keep up with Sam. She was insatiable and could blow load after load into Sal, while Sal took hours to recover.

This awoke something in Sam though. Her new body loved to dominate! In the gym. In any game played. Even in the bedroom! And this wasn’t just reserved to Sal. Sam had suggested a few months in, that the two of them go to a bar and pick up women!

“I know you miss it Sal! Think about it. You and I. Find a hot ass woman! Take her home and then we take turns fucking her. I mean. You did say you always wanted a threesome.” Sam offered one night after gaming.

Sal was surprised! But the offer seemed nice. He had missed Sam’s more feminine form. And perhaps this was a way he could be a stud and sleep with multiple women while his girlfriend joined in! 

That was sort of how the idea went. It turns out flirting with women was another thing that Sam was better at than Sal. Her ample experience and attention to emotion she’d had as a women, never faded. This made her the most thoughtful and handsome man when it came to talking to women anywhere they went. Every night Sam came home with dozens of numbers, while women always asked Sal if they could talk to his bigger “friend”.

When the two of them finally settled on a woman they both liked, that night turned out to be very different from how Sal imagined his first threesome. It was clear that the hot redhead they’d brought home was far more interested in Sam than Sal. All of her kisses, strokes, and sexual advances were received by an over eager Sam! Not that Sam minded. There was enough of him to go around! It didn’t take long for Sam and the redhead to be fucking like rabbits, while Sal was in the corner jerking off to the hot sight of his girlfriend with another woman!

Which brings us to the present!

“Fuck yeah! MVP! I rule at this game. Hey Sal! Grab me another beer.” Sam ordered as Sal nodded and retrieved the drink. “I got a few lucky ladies coming over tonight Sal. Hope you’re ready to see my fuck their brains out. Can you try not to make too much noise when you blow your load one minute in? Last set of girls had to pause after laughing so much.  I know it’s fucking hot seeing me plow these babes, but try to hold on a little longer man.” 

Sal blushed as Sam gave him a hefty pat on the back. He never had that issue with the old Samantha, but he couldn’t deny it. Seeing Sam dominate a new girl every night was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. He could only hope that he lasted a little longer this time.

[whitefeathers]

thanos & nam gyu as mean doms [continuation of this blurb]

i really think i got their characters completely wrong before and want to have a do over...

tags: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. dead dove do not eat. implied non con, bullying, mean!nam-gyu, mean!thanos, dacryphilia, humiliation, clit slapping, throat fucking, nipple biting

w/c: 532 words

Thanos is naturally the kinder of the two. We see this with how he addresses women. He's still treating girls like conquests, sure, but he's doing it in such a way that it shows he isn't a neglectful lover, and genuinely thinks you're a pretty girl. He's full of compliments, showering you in praise and dumb raps that are as cringe as they are sweet; when sober, he's trying you get you to like him. It's endearing, and you'd fall for it.

Once he takes a pill, he's more neglectful. Ruder. Will tell you to shut up if you're giggling and it's grating, but he's not sadistic for the sake of pain - it's simply the drugs wearing down his social skills, leaving him saying whatever he feels, and doing whatever he feels.

When he fucks you, this trait translates seamlessly.

He slaps your ass without consideration for how much it hurts, simply because the jiggle of the pudgy flesh makes him hard, and in his drug-addled brain the sight is funny. He shoves his cock down your throat and fucks it like a pussy, just because it feels good, and you really do look beautiful choking and crying, fat tears rolling down your full cheeks and onto the mess of saliva and snot on his balls. He fucks your cervix because it feels interesting kissing the spongy tip of his cock compared to the gooey softness of your walls.

He's still mean, but not ill spirited - Thanos is, in one word, selfish.

Nam-gyu in one word, however, is sadistic.

There are tells when you first meet him. He distills his misogyny down into snarky comments when Thanos isn't properly listening. Nam-gyu calls you a bitch and argues with Thanos about you joining his team, but ultimately backs down with an eye roll and a scoff when Thanos doesn't budge.

He steals your food, just like Thanos does, but he doesn't do it just because he's hungry; that's where they differ. Nam-gyu does it because he likes to watch you suffer. He likes the glassy, hopeless look in your eyes when you realise your rice is half the size it was before you left it.

You're so easy to hurt and so transparent about being in pain, and Nam-gyu obsesses over you for that exact reason. You're inferior - a pushover, a weak girl.

Nam-gyu tells you this - spits it at you like it fucking hurts him to keep the words inside - as he fucks you.

He pinches your nose shut as his cock fucks into mouth because it makes him feel powerful to watch your eyes go wide and your weak girl body thrash to get him off you. It's better than any of the shit he shot up at Club Pentagon. He slaps your clit until its red raw, shoves four thick, ringed fingers into your pussy to watch you clench around them and try to push him out, bites down on your nipple to watch you wail.

Nam-gyu and Thanos are cruel in different ways, but both of them come together for one goal - to use you for their own pleasure. It just so happens it will always come at the cost of yours.

[sugurouge]

and we're still lost together. blade x f!reader

sfw‐soulmate au (physical sensations + emotions). ༚༅༚˳ . ♱ . ˳༚༅༚ cursing, foul language, mean! blade, he calls you belittling names (brat, my curse, my headache, little masochist, fool, "sweetheart"), height difference, somewhat clumsy reader 1.1k words

Soulmate Blade who hates your guts. Hates how he is suddenly responsible for more than his own miserable, immortal self. In all his years of living, he never stumbled upon this liability. Never encountered the phenomenon called soulmate.

Soulmate? More like another curse, a burden, there are many words he'd rather call you.

But now you're here and he has to keep you safe because of this awful god-forsaken tie between you two that makes him feel everything you experience, from pain to pleasure. And he has to stay focused, can't get distracted by your silly feelings. But oh, you're a clumsy one. Always tripping over or bumping into something. It grinds his gears.

But the worst of it all? How you look at him. He hates how you look at him; like you know he won't hurt you, like he is your prince charming, your destined partner. Of course he can't hurt you. This awful tie makes it impossible to hurt you. In the end he will only be punished for the consequences of his own actions while experiencing all these annoying emotions you constantly struggle with.

So what other choice does he have but to spit harsh words in your face to toughen you up? To tug you close and keep you at his side at all times just to make sure you don't hurt yourself and impact him in return?

Don't you dare point out that he is starting to behave overprotective.

You're following a few feet behind him as he walks through a crowd of people. Elegant like a feline he weaved his way around the bystanders until you just have to start talking again.

"You really hate me?" Blade hears you ask after he expected you to finally stay quiet. Did he not make himself clear that you were to keep your mouth shut while walking through the city?

Blade stops in his tracks.

It gives you enough time to catch up to him, to notice that he seems lost in thoughts. It's too tempting to lift your finger and poke his cheek.

A second later you remember why you shouldn't ever poke Blade's cheek. He turns to look at you, his eyes narrowing as he glares down at your innocent face.

Blade reaches up and grabs your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it tightly as he pulls your hand away from his face.

"Yes, I hate you," he growls, his voice low and rough. "You're a constant headache, a stubborn little brat who never does as she's told. You're a liability, a fucking curse that I can't shake no matter how hard I try."

He leans in closer, his face mere inches from yours to stare into your eyes with a burning intensity. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to keep you safe, you fool. That doesn't mean I don't feel the fucking urge to protect you from every single threat out there."

Your eyes widen in awe at his confession, at the way he practically seethes because of you. How he leans in to come eye-to-eye with you, how his eyes narrow as the hatred reigns over his emotions, and the venom that drips from his words...

He's hot.

And close. He's so close to you now you can feel his breath on your skin, can see the way his eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "So yes, I hate you. I hate you with every fiber of my being. But I also... I also can't let anything happen to you."

You nod to his confession, seem to agree with him over how annoying you can be. You're aware of the pain in the ass that you are. But maybe, maybe, you always want to be just that. Just for him.

His brat, his headache, his liability, because nothing seems as attractive as Blade when he hates you.

He knows he should let go of your hand, should push you away and tell you to run as far as you can. But he can't. He's trapped, trapped by this fucking curse and his own damn feelings.

But then you just have to do it. Have to add another layer of your charm to make this damn soulmate bond act up.

"Can you hate me forever?" You mumble as you take just a tiny step closer, staring into his pretty crimson eyes like he just confessed his love to you.

He can see how flustered you are, notices how your eyes are shining with a fucked-up sort of adoration. Despite his better judgement, he leans, until your lips are barely a hair's breadth apart.

"Forever's a long time, you little masochist," he murmurs, his voice but a low rumble. "You sure you want to sign up for that? Being my hate, my curse, my nightmare for eternity?"

He reaches out and grabs your chin, his fingers digging into your jaw as he tilts your head back.

Fuck, but you're into this, into him hating you.

"Fine," he caves. "I'll hate you forever. I'll hate you until the day I finally die, and even then, I'll probably still hate you."

"Promise?" You mumble while searching his eyes for some sort of messed up reassurance. "Promise you won't grow weak and lovesick?"

He scoffs, a harsh, bitter sound that echoes through the narrow alley. "Lovesick? You really are a naive little thing, aren't you?" He shakes his head, a wry, humorless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not going to grow weak or go soft on you."

His grip tightens, his nails digging into your skin hard enough to make you wince. "I hated you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, and I'll hate you long after you're nothing more than a distant memory. I'll hate you forever, just like I promised."

He releases you abruptly, pushing you away from him as he turns and continues down the alley. "Hurry up now, would you?"

But you stand there a little dumbfounded. Feeling the race of your heartbeat and wonder if he experiences the same inside his own chest. Until you realise he might actually leave you behind.

The panic in your voice sends shivers down Blade's spine in the worst way possible.

"Wait, hold my hand," you plea before you resume to catch up. "You always hold my hand when we go out!"

Blade can feel your eyes on his back, can hear the almost frantic tone in your voice. He knows he should just keep walking, should leave you to stumble along behind him like the clumsy fool you are. But he can't. He's trapped, ensnared by this bond and his own goddamn weakness.

"Fuck's sake, you're spoiled," he mutters, his voice rough and strained. But even as he says it, he's turning back to face you, his hand already reaching out to grab yours. His fingers close around your hand, gripping it tightly as he pulls you to his side.

"There, happy now?" he growls, his eyes narrowing the moment they meet yours. "Don't get used to it. I'm only doing this because you're a menace without someone to hold your hand."

He's already pulling you along. He knows he's walking too fast for you, knows you're probably struggling to keep up. But he can't slow down, can't risk stopping again. If he does, he might just lose his composure entirely.

"Keep up, brat," Blade snarls over his shoulder. "And watch your step. I'm not carrying your ass if you face-plant in the dirt."

He would carry you in a heartbeat if you were to hurt yourself. He could never reject you, not with the way you're burrowing under his skin, into his bones. Into his god damn soul.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[quilly72]

Pam snapped her phone camera on as soon as she walked into her house. Walking into her basement as she booted up her blog. "Hey guys welcome to the blog"

"so as some of you may know I was going to get some radiation treatment to me today." She pulled the camera back a bit to show off her larger body. "So the growth radiation worked really well according to the doctor." Although I do wish they provided me more clothes than just this tank top cause none of my stuff fits me anymore and as you can see this barely fits now."

Pam turned for the camera as she set her phone down. Showing off her sideboob. Although she made certain nothing of risque was caught in the cam.

"anyway doc said I'm like a g cup or something now. Plus I'm like 6 inches taller so that's a plus. I guess"

"I'm just supposed to take some bedrest while my body stabilizes or something after all they did say It was pretty experimental after .... All.? "

Pam stared down at her cleavage as her body twitched. "What the..."

Before she could finish she shot up. Her head shooting up as her body elongated. Her boobs piling forward all at once. Her camera caught it all as she wobbled. Her head popping out of frame. She shrieked as she flung around. Her body twitching and jerking every direction as she adjusted to her new height. She gave a nervous chuckle"woah I guess my body isn't done yet. I guess I still had some leftover JUiiceE. She shot up again as she screamed. Her hips rising into the camera as her shirt pushed forward. Her straps turning her shoulders red as her tits bulged over the hem. Her shirt raised up exposing her stomach as her sweatpants dug into her hips.

"im too big I wasn't supposed to be this big. I just wanted bigger boobs... Aaaaaah. "

Pam groaned as she spurted again. Her straps popping off her shoulders as her tanktop slipped off her chest. Pam was quick to try and cover as she pressed her arm Into her tits. Her boobs swelling over as she tried to push them back. Her boobs at the top of the frame as her hips filled more and more of the camera. Her sweatpants busting in the back as she yelped. Her calves denting out of her short pants as they dug in further.

"someone needs to get me help something's seriously wrong I mean I can touch the ceiling nothing about this is natural. SHHHIIIIT"

Pam shot up again her head bumping the ceiling as she bent forward. Her legs taking a step forward as her tits dragged her towards the wall. She caught herself as her sweatpants busted off her thighs. Her jiggle knocking the sink as her phone fell to the floor. The camera pointing straight up into her body as Her audience stared up as she stood over her phone. Either leg to either side of the camera.

"DONT LOOK" she covered with a hand as she tried to wobble backwards. Her ass jiggling with every breath. " SOMEONE GET ME HELP. I THINK THE DOCTORS MESSED UP IM NOT SUPPOSED TO GROWING STIIIIIEEEEEKKK"

Pam shrieked again. She fell to her knees as her body doubled over. Her boobs cascaded forward. As her audience stared at her massive body. Her head ran into the ceiling again she raised her head to the roof as the ground creaked above her. The ceiling bending upwards. She winced as her head cocked to the side. Her body groaning and twitching as she felt another spurt. "They messed up I was never supposed to be this big I wasn't even supposed to get taller at AAAAHLLL."

Her head shot out of the room as Her thighs swelled out over the room. Her thighs crunched her sink and bath under her legs. Her butt and body filling the room below as her cleavage slowly forced their way through the floor. Her giant head flung side to side as she stared at her bedroom. Her head filling a quarter of the room as she twitched higher up into it.

"fuck too big. I'm gonna crush my house. I gotta stop. WHY CANT I STOOOAAAAHHHHP"

Her head hit the ceiling again as she bent it forward. Wincing and rubbing the pain away. Her boobs grew forward smashing her furniture as her arms clung to either wall supporting her weight. Terror filled her face as she whimpered. Her legs flailed underneath as they ran out of room below her.

"no no no too big please stop not my house not my HooUuuAaaaHHhh."

Her body shot out all at once. Her legs ruptured into the dining room as her table cracked and brushed to the side. Her kitchen appliances clanking around as a giant foot smashed into them. Her thighs swelling over the floorplan as her feet found walls to brace against. Her legs spasming as she contorted into her shrinking prison. Her bedroom suffering a similar fate as her head punched into the attic. The framework snapping apart as her head filled the void.

Her chest pushing forward. Her bed creaked before it snapped and splintered apart. Her wardrobe crunching against the wall as her arm shoved into it. Her hand bending the floor down as she braced against it. The walls croak as her shoulders planted against the roof and her arms against the exterior walls.

Her body tensed again as pam braced for impact. Her body contorting as she struggled to fit in the confines of her house. Her face stretched and pulled as it crammed into the roof. "FUUUUCK FUUCK NOOOOOO" Her body exploding out as she screamed. Her neck slammed into the roof as the shingles rattled. Her head tearing away the frame as suddenly her body ruptured outside. Her foot slammed against the front door. Her knee bending before the wood gave out. Her foot slid out across the entry as her two arms busted out windows and walls alike. Her house groaned as the structure started to fail. Another foot shattered out into her lawn as it slammed into her car. The alarm blaring as she grimaced. Pam screamed out as her body ruptured with growth again. Her leg crushing and sliding over her small Honda.

Her house tipped and groaned as her shoulders burst out the roof. Her roof split as she grew through it. Her upper body flailed forward as it crashed into the lawn. Her hips bursting the final walls down as her body groaned over her yard and wreckage.

She clawed Into the dirt. Her fingers scraping into the lawn as pam struggled to stand up. Rising to her knees and elbows as she spurted again. "Too big I'm way to fucking big."

Her knees scraped backwards asher legs piledrived backwards. Her head shaking over her neighbors driveway as she took a shaky breath. Her chest heaving forward into the street as she lurched. Her chest heaving like wrecking balls as they slammed through the house. Her legs scrambled backwards as she struggled to stand. Pam struggled to lift her body as she spurted again and again. Her hips bending a house to the ground. Her foot sliding a car into a brick wall. Her boobs cascading towards the floor. Her head rising further up with every breath. Her body settled after 500 feet of growth.

Looking around as she dominated over her neighborhood. Her body hanging over the rubble and wreckage. She took a breath of air as she felt her nerves die down. "Okay maybe they can fix this"

[be-xkyy]

I couldn't help but write this, I feel inspired after watching a police movie.

Tw: yandere, violence, abuse of power, dirty talk, unprotected sex, age differences, infidelity, alcohol, dubcon.

Yandere Corrupt Cop who has been a cop for almost ten years without getting a fucking promotion and having to deal with his crazy wife who only knows how to complain and claim him when she's at home. She's a bitch.

So it's normal that he's upset and frustrated. He has to be in the patrol car all day and all night scouring the streets looking for assholes who can't follow the fucking rules. They deserve a good beating before taking them to the police station.

But what he fucking hates the most are weekend nights, having to deal with drunk and drugged teenagers in their fancy cars who think they're a lot because they have rich daddies. fuck them. He drives on the empty roads except for the occasional car, quiet night. Until he sees a car that passes quickly on the avenue clearly exceeding the fucking speed limit. Bastard.

He accelerates and turns on the siren following the car that doesn't slow down for a few more blocks, his hands grip the steering wheel tightly and he feels his blood boil. Whoever it is is screwed. Finally after what seems like an eternity the car slows down stopping on the side of the road.

He decides parking right behind, he turns off the siren and only the red and blue lights flash in the night, he gets out of the car annoyed adjusting his seatbelt before slamming the door, he walks towards the car approaching the tinted window that slowly rolls down revealing the typical rich kid but his eyes are fixed on his passenger a sexy little thing, his girlfriend maybe? He's not sure but what he is sure of is that he loves you.

"Officer, we may have exceeded the speed limit a little but if you want you can give me a ticket—" the boy begins slurring his words clearly drunk but before he can finish he interrupts with a firm voice.

"Get out of the fucking car now, both of you. And face the hood, quick."

He watches angrily as they hesitate until finally the boy opens the door and staggers out. You follow his example, both of you standing in front of the car. He approaches and grabs the boy hard, giving him an unexpected blow to the stomach that knocks the wind out of him. You let out a shriek and the boy doubles over in pain. When you try to get closer, he puts his hand on his gun holster, looking at you and you freeze.

"Weren't you taught that you should automatically stop when a law enforcement officer orders it? Why are you trying to be smart, huh?"

He says as he flips the boy over, folding his hands behind his back. He grabs the cuffs from his belt and locks them on his wrists. He then stands up, looking at you standing there like a scared servant. Sexy girl. A sly smile slides onto his lips and he nods towards the hood of the car in front of you.

“Bend over the hood, quick.” He watches as your clouded eyes widen in disbelief at his words almost as if you can’t believe what’s happening. You shake your head as you say in an alcohol slurred voice “No. You can’t-”

“I can. And you can bend over the good way or I can bend you over the bad way, but I advise you to be good for your boyfriend’s sake.”

You bite your lip hard looking at your boyfriend on the ground in handcuffs, small tears pricking your eyes as you lean over the cold hood your cheek and palms flat against the metal, he reaches over his hands quickly grabbing a handful of your covered ass, squeezing the globes tightly before pulling up your skirt revealing your ass and lace panties.

"Looks like you were going to have fun huh? Did I ruin your moment? Don't worry I'll make it up to you at least baby"

He says in a teasing coo as he raises his hand and brings it down on your ass. Smack, smack, smack. You gasp at the spanking that leaves your skin red and stinging painfully. You close your eyes when you hear the sound of his zipper opening, he brings his fingers up to your mouth hitting your lips.

"Spit."

You reluctantly comply letting your saliva drip onto his fingers and he uses it to lube up his fat member pumping a few times before pulling your panties to the side revealing your puckered hole and glistening pussy he guides his cock into your folds sliding in as far as he can until he bottoms out, you bite your lip to keep from whimpering at the feeling of being so full.

He growls at the feeling of your walls throbbing around his cock as you try to accommodate him. Your nails dig into his head as he begins to thrust into you hard, the head of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again making you dizzy, he places his hands on your hips using them to move you back each time he thrusts into you sending currents of undue pleasure through your body.

"Fuck– you're tight, huh! You don't get fucked enough huh baby? Poor pussy"

He says in an amused voice, when you don't respond he grabs you by the hair lifting you up and bringing your back to his chest, you feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your arched spine.

"You know I wanted you from the second I saw you, I don't usually do this with women but I wanted you, I wanted you, very romantic huh, darling?"

He laughs against your ear as if it were very funny and you hold back so as not to insult him, you don't answer him and he rolls his eyes, without stopping thrusting into you he lowers the hand that is on your hip towards your pussy pinching your clit hard between his fingers and you can't contain your moans any longer, his movements become erratic at the same time that the knot in your belly tightens you try not to cum but it is difficult with all his attentions you reach the breaking point when he passes his wet tongue over your ear.

You can't help but cum, letting out a moan of pleasure as your vaginal walls contract around his cock. You can feel it throbbing inside you with a few final thrusts. He stops, letting out a guttural growl, filling you with his warm seed. You collapse onto the hood. He pulls out of you as his cock softens, sliding into his pants. He examines your open hole and watches as his cum slides out, so he uses two fingers to push his cum inside before adjusting your panties as he says in a threatening tone.

"I trust this will stay between the three of us, won't you? I'd hate to have to arrest you or worse."

[virtueofsanityx]

ross isn't quite sure what this is. if maksim were literally any other man on the god damned planet, he would call it flirting, because it feels like it. banter, casual and playful, tiptoeing into sexual and then dipping back out again, testing waters and making guesses at how easy it would be to jump into them. but this is maksim and it's not flirting, and ross has never felt as uncomfortable and unsure as he does when messages pop up across his screen and that stupid fucking goofy grin spreads across his face, impossible to stop from happening.

for a bit, he lets the messages lay, moves around the kitchen to start making himself something for dinner, leftovers from the night before, some rice and a fresh batch of chicken, quick and easy, trying and failing to compose the perfect message in his head. it doesn't have to be perfect, and he knows that. he's still thoroughly convinced himself that he's not trying to impress this guy. but when his phone buzzes again, and he looks at the new messages, and that same goofy grin appears, he's back to fretting over the perfect thing to say again.

[ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] i used to go hiking a lot back home with my sister and cousins. camping trips and all that. there's a place near my hometown called barrow falls, if you're ever in the mood to see different gorgeous waterfalls, i can't recommend it enough. [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] was gonna take the ex there and pop the question before... well, you know that story, anyway. [ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] i don't, by the way. feel that way. i don't think it's ever the right move to dull your own shine to help someone elses stand out. this will be the last time i ever say anything nice to you, so savor it while it lasts, but i think you're a great guy, maksim, and having high standards is a testament to that. you want someone who meets you where you are, and there's nothing wrong with that.

his heart is hammering in his chest again, hard and fast. he's worried that sincerity is only going to get him mocked, and on that same vein, he's worried that that sincerity won't be taken sincerely. because he's not exactly been anything besides a pain in the ass to maksim before. a few moments of nice don't really change that, and if the other man thinks he's just putting on some show of it, something about the idea of that makes him sick to his stomach, too.

he blows out a breath, and then grabs the phone again, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip. worrying it enough that he can feel that little dent in it, the place where he bites at it a lot, the little divot where he's broken skin more than once.

[ Big Guy ⟶ ✉︎ ] i mean that, by the way. i'm not just saying it to say it. what time on saturday?

because it's much easier to pivot an awkward conversation than to try and pick it up and run with it even further. maksim will believe him or he won't.

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] I guess I sense them cuz they're usually being standoffish with me. When they start off that way or turn into a cold asshole after they realize I don't have a single submissive bone in my body, that's when I know it's another Dom. Have you seen those nature videos of two apex predators just staring tensely at each other until one finally leaves? It's just like that. 💀 [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Don't worry, I've played wingman before. They won't run from you just cuz I'm there.

He's surprised to read how sorry Ross is that his date didn't work out, though Maksim doesn't really dwell over it. He isn't so annoyed to just become jaded about romantic outcomes; maybe for him it wasn't that serious because he already did have a family, and thanks to his amazing parents, he knew what type of love could exist out there. He was brought up to have a healthy, high self-esteem in that he already knew he was great, and that the right partner would only highlight that greatness. There would be time for other dates and other Omegas to come along and dazzle him (though, one thing that doesn't really make sense is him rejecting easy sex for a night of naked texting alone in bed. He's grateful Ross won't ever become aware of the full details, won't ever be able to call him out on that uncharacteristic shift in behavior.)

What inevitably trips Maksim up is Ross calling him out on something else, his dark twin brows knitting together in response. He delays texting back then, lips pressing into a firm line as a heavier pulse stirs in his cock, subtly shifting the crimson fabric draped inadequately over his groin. He’s grown accustomed to Ross's bold, sexual remarks, but he’s damned lucky they’re not face-to-face right now. The tiny human has no idea about the twisted hedonism brewing in the darkening swirl of his blue irises. Slowly, the pad of his tongue drags along his bottom lip, clearly hungry for something, and only after wrestling his unruly thoughts into submission does he finally reply, his composure carefully pieced back together.

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Depends. I'd have to see you wearing it first, yeah? So I know exactly what to think about when I'm fucking them. [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Yeah fucking right. You wish.

Whew. That was a close one. Nice fucking save.

He’s not completely insane------- yet. But it’s becoming abundantly more transparent that Ross wouldn’t mind taking him there. Maksim’s starting to suspect this human thinks he can play with him, like some sorta game. He seems to want a reaction out of Maksim, probably hoping to get under his skin the way he might have with one of his stupid fucking exes. But Maksim isn’t about to be wrapped around the finger of some arrogant, annoying human. It's not happening. It's not. Hell, he’d tear open the throat of another subby boy right in front of Ross if that’s what it took to make his point. Sure, it’s a massive risk... one that could entirely dismantle his carefully maintained secret. But clearly, Maksim's not thinking straight, not when his cock is throbbing painfully hard because of who's currently texting him.

Then, a photo rolls in. Something to pull his attention away, if only for the moment.

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] I think you should wear the smaller one. You want the cock to do most of the stretching, don't you? [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] We're helping each other out. You said you needed it, and I'm kinda goin stir crazy here without something new to bite into. 😈 [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] And there's not much to talk about? It was fun cuz we hiked around one of my favorite waterfalls, but nothing exciting. Just one of those dates where you don't really feel anything. He was a sweet boy just not my sweet boy, ya know? [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] I could be too picky, though. You ever feel like that? Like maybe settling down and lowering expectations is the better option?

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[rainbowpufflez]

“If I could go back, one thing I would do / Try to unravel, cut down, and unscrew / The first double helix that links me to you”

Wow, get a load of these guys. What’s wrong with them?

Also song inspo if anyone would like it! It’s where the top quote is from!

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Lucifer kept it to himself how enticing it sounded for Adam being his pretty little housewife.

Lucifer: No, because you'll be doing other things. Just because you're not an active soldier doesn't mean you can't use the gym or training grounds to stay in shape.

That was good at least, though Adam knew he wouldn't be doing anything being laid up in bed for a few months with his leg like this.

Adam: Yeah...... It's not the same.

Lucifer: I know, but you can use this time to find hobbies you enjoy again.

Adam hummed, it had been a while since he's played his guitar.....

Adam: I'll try but I'm 1000% sure I'll go crazy.

Lucifer: You'll make a lovely housewife.~

Adam: Pfft, you ass.

Lucifer: Would you be mad if I already got you an apron?

Adam: ....... Depends on how fucking girly it is.

Bel came in and smiled at them, she helped Lucifer get Adam into a special wheelchair to take him up to the apartment where they got him situated in the comfortable bed.

Adam: Thank you doctor.

Bel: You're welcome lieutenant. Should you need anything or your pain gets worse just send me a message.

Adam: Will do.

She left and Lucifer got into bed with him and fluffed his pillows making sure Adam was comfortable.

Lucifer: How's that?

Adam: Good, nice and puffy. I imagine you have to go back to work?

Lucifer kissed his cheek: No, it's late and starting tomorrow I'm going to work from home in the mornings.

Future Evesworld Au @fanofstuff01

Why Adam actually went into retirement way early.

Alastor shot him in the hip and knee, but he also kidnapped him. Even though he didn't know that Adam and Lucifer were married he knew that Adam was his lieutenant and best soldier.

So he, kind of stupidly, takes Adam back to the base to be locked in the basement.

-

Adam's right side hurt so fucking much, his hip and knee throbbed with pain and bled soiling his pants.

Alastor chained Adam to the wall, luckily though, Adams visor was recording so even if all that was found was his body, Lucifer would see where their base was.

Adam: He'll fucking kill you for this.

Alastor: Hmm, he'll kill me anyway.

He kicked Adam in the stomach before turning away.

Alastor: Maybe I'll rip that visor from your face and send it back to him. Should really send a message to him.

Adam glared, he couldn't wait to see that fucker get shot between his fucking beedy eyes. Once he was gone Adam did the one thing that he thought he would never do. He wouldn't have done it but he was hurt badly and who knows how close to death he is.

He turned on the visors tracking monitor so that his husband could find him.

Adam hopes it's soon, he feels lightheaded........

[californiaquail]

missed the bus by one minute because of my piece of shit job fuck my stupid baka life etc

[dramas-vs-novels]

Hey Fort? It's hot out here, right?

"Yes, it's Thailand, so-?"

Yeah... just a second, can you hold this with your face a moment?

*sticks a strip of Gaff tape right between his eyes.*

Just, like, for 15 seconds.

*waits while it gets hot*

Perfect.

*rips the gaff tape- and his unibrow- off*

[mejomonster]

Hahahahhaha i would like to stop needing to go to the doctorrrrrrr hahahahahha i may have an ulcer (no idea why) cause im probably internally bleeding (aaaaaaaahahahhaa also no idea why) anyway i wish my body would pull itself togetherrrrrrrrrr and stop making me go through more stufffffff

[ozfi]

readmores open on this theme without text above

i still love king trying to work with chalice undead spade and heart still numero uno saikou conbi

and tachibana and hajime having grown so close that hajime trusts her with his back and tachibana calls hajime friend

baying like a wounded animal

it probably is really embarrassing for an undead to see the joker a being of pure destruction and violence to be the one shirking their battle fight duties as if it wasnt eating your face off 10000 years ago

also hajime has gotten REALLY good at taking hits for other people since the show ended. he took a hit for makoto in bladeghost, and (naturally) for amane in zi-o too. wonder who inspired that....

mutsuki being able to feel the weather is a criminally underrated part of her character . do you perhaps have an achy knee of some sort. Though you are so young (i get it)

i want to see hirose programming and doing tech shit shit i miss the undead searcher sounds i want to see what modern BOARD is like and what they get up to when tachibana is in tibet. does hirose go with her? is she in charge on the ground in japan? She could do it anyway even without the official role but im sure she likes working on the technical end more than any stuffy official social nonsense

can you imagine being in the aisle for this i think i would just die

RIPPING OFF THE HOOD TO SCREAM "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HAJIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" LIKE I WONT JUST HAVE A HEART ATTACK AND DIE

"AND WATCH ME WIN WITH THAT 'NONSENSE'"

Girl the ya.

hajime's link to humanity (amane) keeping him from jokerifying and mutsuki's link to the monstrous (hikaru) keeping him from getting his FUCKING ASS BEAT . It's peak. im actually rewriting my post about blade and the monstrous

which is also another reason why i dont mind this at all

"king form is dangerous and painful" my love

king saying "oh? did a normal human think he could use OUR POWER? i have the joker! everything you did was all meaningless!" and weird awkward unloved lonely kenzaki standing up against him saying no, the bonds we formed mattered. protecting one of his allies and comrades (and friends?) WITH the power he has from the undead. and then hajime echoing the sentiment!!

kenzaki standing far away here.......

this shit is so peak.

nvm

why are they staring at each other here (i know why)

they are in sync the WHOLE TIME since the fight STARTS

No matter what, we'll fight until the end!

To protect the people we hold dear!

this is what happened to happyele another blade is getting its ass beat in EVERY POSSIBLE LANGUAGE

Now tell me you believe this plaese

killing myself

the fact this was only possible bc they (and we) still love blade so much. Drives me crazy. not every series is so lucky so i will never take it for granted. i will be thinking of blade forever. squatters rights guarantees a home and i am soooo happy all the actors love it just as much as we do. the spirit of blade lasts forever.... may we all fight fate and win

furiously reminding myself i dont want to translate a 40 minute stage on my own and i only will if someone else needs help . Furiously telling myself things i simply do not listen to

[todayisafridaynight]

cant stress how obsessed i am with yamaguchis shirt

[tariah23]

Noooo…… first it’s Yuuta and Shoko, now they’re yo-yoing back around to Megumi.