#the ashtray - interaction asks

[honeycollectswhump]

i want to hit ashtray in the face with a hammer. on the cheekbone. i want to break his little cheekbone

[masterlist]

CW: hammer-shaped violence

Ashtray sees you coming towards him, hammer in hand. Something about the way you look at him makes him shiver in sick anticipation, yet he can’t think of a single use for an Ashtray and a hammer. Only when you raise it, a gleeful smile on your face, he realises, leaving only a second of horrible understanding before the hard metal connects with his cheekbone. 

Screaming.

His face snaps to the side, bones breaking into splinters digging into his flesh. His entire body crumbles into a loose heap, legs twitching and kicking against pain too great to comprehend. 

Ashtray screams with his garbled voice, rough and breaking immediately, his mangled vocal chords’ protest going unnoticed. He writhes on the ground, dizzy and gone with fear, drowning in agony and the blood collecting in his mouth, dripping between his lips, mixing with big, fat teardrops rolling down his face. 

It doesn’t take long for his voice to give out, for his pathetic screams to die, leaving only a breathy croaking only you and him know was once a screech. He can only look up in fear at you with round blue eyes, pupils like pin pricks. A hand moves towards his destroyed cheek, as if uncomprehending of the damage you did. As soon as he touches the impact wound, he rips his hand away again, flinching so hard his head hits the ground. There is nothing left in him, nothing he can do except stare at you, holding up shaking hands in a voiceless plea not to hurt him again. 

He can’t break apart any more. Please no. 

Please.

[leyavo]

Wife/girlfriend series, I wanted to do some more for the other TF 141 guys after doing Ghost’s, Gaz & Soap. John Price is much older than the others and a bit set his ways….

[masterlist] [Wife/Gf masterlist]

Price is on his third wife, you.

The last one bled him dry in the divorce, but that still didn’t put him off marriage.

His family not bothered to get to know you as much as the first and second wife. As if they know you’ll get fed up with him and his ways.

You can tell why he hasn’t had any luck with women. The man is terrible at doing laundry, grumbles to himself instead of talking and smokes like a chimney. Set in his ways, he finds it hard to break away from it.

“Breath of fresh air, darling,” he says to you as you chuck his dirty laundry at him.

“Clean your own crap, I’m not your maid or your mother!” You snapped, taking the cigar from his lips and smushing the end into the ashtray.

John Price just kept pushing and pushing, liking that you set boundaries with him and unintentionally made him get his shit together. He loves it when you tell him what to do.

You never wanted him to change, just wanted him to get a grip on his life.

“I have a career too, I might not be a bloody captain, but what I do matters too.” You work for a social impact company, helping young kids and teens going through poverty in your county. The same kindness John loves as he watches you interact with the people around you.

You were once that kid, struggling to get by and caring for your mother. The one thing you didn’t want, was for everything to fall on you like it did as a kid. You’re firm with it, telling John exactly how it felt. How his actions made you feel.

Well you did break up briefly, only for him to come crawling back. He still has his moments, a little mopey and lazy whenever he’s back from a long mission, but that’s normal.

He likes that you understand his vulnerability, likes the way you whisper that he is safe and protected whenever a nightmare tears him awake. It’s small quiet moments where he loves you most. The brush of your fingers over his knuckles or you palm over his chest as he tries to catch his breath. The way you giggle as his beard and moustache tickle your neck as he kisses you there.

And John gives you a home, security. One thing no one else has. The reassurance that there’s always food stocked up in the fridge and a set schedule for the heating to come on when the temperature drops. That if you can’t do something he’ll help you do it. So nothing has to be on just your shoulders.

Helps you down at the soup kitchen now and again when he’s back home, cleaning all the dishes so that your hands don’t get a rash from the washing up gloves. Little things that make your heart swell.

How he learnt how to knit during the autumn, so he can help you make hats for the homeless. It helps him distress, sometimes even does it in his room back at base to wind down. Currently knitting you some socks too.

Even in charge of the laundry when he comes home, loves the scent of detergent that he grumbles when it’s discontinued and he has to get used to another.

“Bloody found it.” The first thing John says to you as he unpacks his gear. Accidentally letting slip where he was stationed and how he got the discontinued detergent in another country.

And when you ask why he can’t just let it go. “Smells like you, darling.” He’s liked it since the first time you did his washing. Reminds him of home when he puts his civilian clothes back on, always a set put to the side for him to wear home.

When you meet the guys you’re surprised about the dynamic. How John easily gets them to listen and lay down the rules before they enter the house. Shoes come off straight away etc. no smoking indoors but on the patio outside. Watch out for the two chihuahuas running about the house and check underneath the blankets before you sit on the sofa.

One particular chihuahua not moving from Simon’s lap, that he stays in the armchair for ages till the dog wakes up. Johnny and Kyle telling you the most embarrassing stories of the captain, that one time his trousers split in an important briefing and no one told him, but everyone noticed. John doesn’t mind though as he likes the sound of your laugh.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[yuujispinkhair]

College Boy!Sukuna accidentally knocking you up

A while ago, I saw a post that asked which of our faves accidentally knocks us up, and I answered it with "CollegeBoy!Sukuna." So here is the fic about that ;)

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. College AU. Light angst with a happy end. 2k words. Pregnancy, mentions of Sukuna smoking a cigarette. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider@/plutism + dollsciples

"Damn, princess, how long does that shitty thing need?"

Sukuna has dropped his usual act of aloofness. For once, there is no teasing comment coming out of his mouth, no arrogant smirk, no flirty wink, and no charming look out of those beautiful maroon eyes. Your usually so arrogant and tough bad boy is scared shitless.

For the last few minutes, he has been playing with his tongue-piercing continuously, driving you almost insane with the constant noise of the metal barbell connecting with Sukuna's teeth. But you can't blame him. You are even more nervous than Sukuna.

You lean closer to the old couch table again, looking at the pregnancy test that's lying there, and your stomach twists painfully. There's a change now. A second line has appeared on the little test strip. You feel your heart drop.

The alarm on your phone goes off right at that moment, making you jump as you grab the test with shaky fingers. Holding the sheet with the instructions in the other hand, you read them feverishly as if you haven't already learned them by heart. As if you don't already know what the two lines mean!

Sukuna leans across the table, too,

"What does it say?"

But you only hear his voice muffled as if you are underwater. You stare at the two lines on the pregnancy test, feeling your head spin. Sukuna's large hand darts out and wraps around your trembling wrist, pulling your hand and the test towards him while repeating his question more urgently this time.

But you can't say anything and just throw the test in Sukuna's lap. He grabs it and stares at it, his maroon eyes going wide as comprehension dawns on his beautiful, tattooed face.

"Fuck."

That's all he says, and then he looks at you with wide eyes, shock and fear written all over his face. He looks younger somehow, like a scared little boy. His lips open, but no words come out. He closes them again and gulps hard.

And then Sukuna gets up from the couch and practically bolts from the small living room, walking so fast that he has reached the apartment door before you even realize what he's doing.

His large hand is already on the door handle, pushing it open when your mind finally catches up with what is going on, and you feel like tumbling into darkness.

Sukuna is going to run, isn't he? Of course, he's going to leave! Of course, a guy like him is only interested in having fun but no responsibility! Of course, he will always stay the bad boy who just likes to party and fuck and do whatever the hell he wants! And a pregnant girlfriend is the last thing he needs!

Your hands ball into fists. You're about to scream at him or cry or break down.

But before you can do any of that, Sukuna stops in the doorway.

He is standing there with his back to you, so tall that his hair is almost brushing against the doorframe. You watch him fumble ungracefully with his cigarettes in a way that is completely untypical for him, nearly dropping the pack and needing several tries to light a cigarette before he brings it to his lips with a shaky hand and takes a deep drag.

You let out a slow breath, slumping back against the couch.

He didn't leave.

Sukuna turns his head slowly to look at you over his broad shoulder. Suddenly, his eyes widen, and he bangs the door shut and quickly strides back to the small living area, bending down to hastily stub his cigarette out in the ashtray on the couch table.

"Shit, I forgot that I shouldn't smoke when you are...," he stops mid-sentence, and his eyes wander to your belly, "when you are... ah fuck..."

Sukuna runs a trembling, tattooed hand through his pink hair. You both stare at each other for a long moment, both unable to say the words out loud. But your mind screams them at you:

Pregnant. You are pregnant with Sukuna's baby!

You have no idea how it even happened. Were Sukuna and you not careful enough? Maybe too horny and too drunk after one of the various parties you went to? Did a condom rip, and you didn't realize it? Maybe if it was any other month, things would have gone differently, but you had exams and were in a constant state of stress. You simply didn't have the mind to worry about anything else but studying and then fucking like bunnies for stress relief!

You feel so stupid. You were always so sure that something like this would never happen to you. An accidental pregnancy was something that only happened to those girls in those trashy reality TV shows!

Well, now look at you.

Pregnant from your college sweetheart, the bad boy with the face tattoos. The guy you are head over heels in love with but who you didn't even dare bring home to your parents yet because they took one look at a picture of the two of you, saw Sukuna's tattooed face and his pink hair, and deemed him a troublemaker who will only drag their sweet daughter into the gutter with him. And now he even managed to accidentally knock you up, and it will just be the cherry on top!

Finally, the tears spill over, and a sob escapes your trembling lips. Instinctively, you hug yourself, but your arms get pushed away just a second later, when Sukuna is pulling you to your feet and into his strong, tattooed arms, pulling you against him, holding you so tight you find it hard to breathe.

His lips press against your forehead, leaving little kisses and murmuring against your skin,

"I am sorry for almost running out that door like a fucking coward. I'm sorry, baby."

"It's ok, Kuna. You stopped and came back. That's what counts. But... I... I am so scared."

You sniffle and press yourself against Sukuna's tall, muscular body, seeking the comfort of his broad chest and his strong arms, which feel like home, letting your tears soak Sukuna's t-shirt that smells like him, like cigarette smoke and cherry blossoms and his typical sexy cologne.

Sukuna's arms tighten around you, and he makes a choked-up sound that you have never heard from him before. You feel him gulp hard, and then he speaks up in that low, velvety voice that sounds so much more serious than ever before,

"I promise I won't run. We're in this together. I got scared, too, because I am not the dad type of guy. I don't even have any idea how a dad is supposed to be because I've never had one. I mean, fuck! I am a mess! I don't even know what I want apart from living in the moment, having fun, being with you, and spending time with my brother. But you're my girl, and I'll be damned if I leave you alone with this! I won't run, princess, I promise."

You hear a strange noise, only to realize that it is coming from your own mouth, a strangled sob. You snuggle closer against Sukuna's chest, hiding your face in his t-shirt, clinging desperately to him, overwhelmed with the situation. But he is there for you. He rests his chin on top of your head and holds you, swaying you slightly from side to side.

His low voice is calm when he asks,

"Do you want to keep it?"

"I... I didn't even have the right mind to think about it yet."

Sukuna nods, and his arms tighten around you,

"It's ok. Take your time. If you want to get rid of it, then I will drive you to the hospital and take care of you afterward. And if you decide to have the baby... then I will be a dad. I never imagined myself with a kid, but this is different. This is our baby. And I know what it's like to grow up without parents. I don't want that for my child. My grandpa did a pretty good job with Yuuji and me before he became sick, but it's not the same as having a mom and a dad, I think. I won't let that happen to our kid."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a huge weight leave your shoulders at Sukuna's reassurance. You can see things a bit clearer now. And maybe it's not as hopeless as you thought.

Technically, you are old enough to be a mom, and you could just pause your studies for a semester or two and then return to your classes. Of course, things won't be as carefree anymore, and you will have a huge responsibility. On top of that, you really have no idea what life with a baby will be like. But you know now that you won't be alone with it.

You will have the boy you love by your side. No, you correct yourself, not the boy you love, but the man you love. Because the way Sukuna reacted so maturely and responsibly showed you that he isn't a boy anymore. He is a man. Your man. And you are even beginning to be able to imagine him as a dad. He is doing a pretty decent job as Yuuji's brother, too, after all, isn't he? Sure, Yuuji is the same age as Sukuna, but Sukuna still always acts like the big brother. So protective and caring, in a grumpy way, but sweet nonetheless.

Suddenly, the thought of a miniature version of Sukuna running around doesn't seem so scary anymore. You catch yourself wondering what your baby would look like if you decide to have it. Will it have Sukuna's eyes?

You lift your head to look up at him, and Sukuna's gaze meets yours. He looks deeply into your eyes, almost making you nervous with how intense those beautiful maroon eyes look at you,

"If you want to keep it, I will make damn sure you and the kid have it good. I promise you, princess. I am not going to run like some loser. I will learn everything about taking care of a child and how to be a dad and get my shit together. I will even stop smoking. I just... I love you, and this will be our little family, and I will fucking protect it with my life! We will make this work. We can move in together. We can ask Yuuji to babysit, and I can take the little gremlin to classes with me. I had someone do that in my history class, you know? Had his ugly little brat in a baby carrier. I could do that, too. Only difference is that our baby will be super pretty, of course."

You chuckle softly despite the shock, a mix of a sob and a laugh, feeling lighter now that you know your boyfriend will be there for you.

"I love you too, Sukuna. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We will get through this together, no matter what you decide."

You snuggle against Sukuna's tall, muscular body and smile shakily up at him, sure that your pupils must have transformed into little hearts from the way your chest feels as if it's overflowing with love for your boyfriend. Your arrogant, rude, bad boy of a boyfriend, who, deep down, is such a good guy for the people he loves.

You smile and get on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Sukuna's tattooed jaw, a tender lingering touch, before you tell him softly,

"Let's sleep over it for a night or two, and then we'll decide what to do. But either way, I want you to know that you sound like you would be an amazing dad. I guess having your baby would be quite nice."

You can see Sukuna's gaze soften, and then he smirks that attractive smirk at you and pulls you even closer against him, leaning down so his lips brush over yours when he says,

"Let's see if you will still say that when the little brat turns out to be anything like me. I wasn't an easy child."

And you laugh and reach up to ruffle Sukuna's pink hair affectionately, tangling your fingers in the soft, pink strands,

"Well, how lucky that I have you by my side to look after Sukuna Number 2 then."

You feel Sukuna grin against your lips, and then he kisses you, slow and tender, and you practically melt against him.

You are still nervous but not as scared anymore. Sukuna is right: You are going to do this together. No matter what, you have Sukuna by your side. And, even though he doesn't look like it, your bad boy is actually a good man.

And maybe your decision is already made because the mental image of Sukuna going to class with a baby carrier strapped to his broad chest just won't leave your mind anymore.

SIGHHHHHH I think I would want his baby 😭

Thank you so much for reading! I love the mess that CollegeBoy!Sukuna is. He is very dear to me 💗 I am so proud of him for being so mature about this!! A good man and a good soon-to-be daddy.

In my head, I was singing "Papa, don't preach" the whole time while writing this ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

Update: Part 2 Option A (Reader has an abortion) Part 2 Option B (Reader decides to have the baby)

[highdramas]

ring of fire | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

warnings: language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), power imbalance (reader is a resident and jack is her attending), drug use (they smoke weed bc they deserve it), references to sex but no explicit content

word count: 1.7k

summary: you like your little rituals with your attending.

notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. this was born out of the fact that i want to smoke weed with jack abbot. that's all! not proofread so apologies for any errors <3

johnny cash plays on his speaker system and you sit, cross legged on the floor, an ashtray burning on his coffee table. he’s sat on the couch, legs spread, his head leaned back. you can tell that he aches, today– you could see it in his gait as you left work together, elbows brushing. you don’t know at what point it became ritual to smoke weed with your attending at 7am when you got off. you don’t know when it became typical to expect that you would fall asleep in his bed more nights than not. you don’t know when it became normal to brush your teeth alongside him, making eye contact in the mirror.

for what it’s worth, you haven’t found a reason to complain yet.

you turn jack’s zippo over in your hand while he settles, his prosthetic set to the side. you slide a joint out of your pack and place it between your lips. your thumb rubs at the engraved service dates on the lighter as you admire the owner. he catches the look as you finally spark and inhale– and it feels like you are just a bit lighter. you take another quick puff before jack says, “don’t hog it.” he tsks. “greedy.”

blowing the smoke in his direction, you shrug your shoulders innocently. “i’ve waited for this all day,” you say before passing it along to him.

the second smoke is passing from his lips, he lets out a long, satisfied groan, that you feel in every atom of your body. “yeah. me too.” passing it back to you, he continues to rub at the end of his leg, sore from supporting his body weight for far too many hours.

you smoke together in comfortable quiet until your eyelids feel heavier and the worries of the day feel far away. you slink from your spot on his plush carpet to beside him on the couch. his hand goes to your thigh. your head rests against his. you each close your eyes and enjoy the moment. “you tired?” he asks, painting stars into your skin with the pad of his finger. when you shake your head– you’re rarely ready to go to bed immediately upon getting home– he gets that knowing smirk. “you hungry?”

“i could eat a horse.”

“mmm– that’s my girl.” he fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens up doordash, sliding it into your hand. “my usual, please.”

you place your order to your favorite breakfast burrito spot– charged to his card, obviously. you recline and stretch your legs out across his lap. he rubs your foot with one hand. there’s nothing exceptional or different about the moment, but the easy domesticity is something that you still haven’t quite gotten adjusted to yet.

your partnership was born out of the fact that, on many levels, you two were the same. reclusive tendencies, a disposition to unhealthy coping habits, a therapist who tells them that they need to spend more time with people, not just patients– and, technically, your therapist didn’t say that you couldn’t find companionship with someone from work. it was born sitting out at the park across the street from the hospital. it always ended with everyone leaving, except the two of you– finding reasons to sit out there for hours before you accepted that you needed to get home. it was his idea for you to come over that first night– drink a beer, watch a little tv, before you would make the short walk to your place. one night became two, walking back to your place become crashing on his couch. he struck gold when he looked at you with a little coy grin and asked, “you like to smoke?”

“like, cigarettes?” you had asked, incredulous.

“nah, not my brand of death wish. weed.”

“of course i do.”

abbot liked to say that he smoked to help the pain, and while you knew that was true… you could see it wash over him, relax him after a day that deregulated his nervous system.

then, smoking became long stares amidst the smoke. at some point, you had crossed his living room and slid up next to him and bit your lip and he couldn’t take it anymore, and he kissed you– his resident.

definitely wasn’t above board. but, assessing the risk… you spent every day making the most stressful, important decisions that a person can make. to choose to spend your hazy mornings with abbot is the easiest one that you make in a day.

and, what are they gonna do, really? you don’t know. hell– you don’t know if you care. you know abbot doesn’t care, because when you first voiced the concern, you got an actual laugh out of him. “don’t– you’re gonna make my stomach hurt,” he had said. “i give two shits what gloria has to say.”

“you hurting?” you ask carefully. your hand plays with the curls at the back of his neck. your eyes carefully drink him in.

“not now.” there’s a playfulness in his eyes– even if he was hurting, he has the perfect poker face. you’ve learned how to identify the cracks in it, though, the small tells that he has. the slight wince or the rubbing of his calf tell you everything that you need to know. but you can tell, right now, that he’s being earnest with you. “i feel fan-fucking-tastic.” his eyes follow where his hand goes on your leg. he massages circles into your thigh, up near the juncture of your hip. then, he brings it back down to your calf, then your foot once more. “how do you feel?”

“fan-fucking-tastic,” you echo with a lazy smile. “like i could smoke another.”

this gets a laugh from him and he grabs your joint box from the coffee table. “don’t gotta tell this old man twice.” he pops it between his lips. “gimme a light.”

grabbing his zippo, you push yourself up onto your knees. the flame from the lighter reflects back at you in his eyes as you ignite the end of his joint, watching him inhale. smoke envelopes you like a warm hug, and with it still pinched between his two fingers, he pulls you in to kiss.

it makes you laugh. thinking about your coworkers seeing the two of you like this. you think you’ve put on a pretty good front, all things considered– you don’t avoid each other during shift, but your interactions would never lead one to believe that this is what you’re doing in your spare time. in fact, there’s been a few moments of vocal sparring about the course of treatment for a patient. you loved those moments. you loved challenging and being challenged by abbot. you wouldn’t give any of it up, if you didn’t have to.

sighing into his mouth, your back arches until your chest presses against his. he extends his arm as not to accidentally light your hair on fire– you’ve seen that once or twice in the ER– but still pulls you closer with the free hand. he has this casual confidence about him when he touches you. he touches you like he knows how to play your body like an instrument– to his credit, he sort of does. you’re not overly experienced when it comes to love or sex, but one thing you know for sure is that it’s never felt like this. you don’t know if it could feel like this with anyone but jack.

he’s guiding the joint back to your mouth when there’s a knock on the door, signalling the arrival of your food. you move to stand up but he shakes his head, adjusting himself back into his prosthetic. “sit your ass down,” he says with that playful smile, sauntering to the door shirtless and beautiful.

you finish the second joint and then dig in. he says something that makes you laugh so hard, a piece of bacon goes flying from your mouth. that makes him laugh so hard he nearly keels over. by the end, the wrappers are tucked away in the take-out bag and you’re a giggling heap on the sofa.

it dissipates, and you lay on the couch with your back to his front. you’re both too tired for sex, tonight– and emotions aren’t running quite that high, either. that’s usually reserved for those particularly hard days, where the only way to break through is to pile into the shower with the steam and let him have his way with you– in his dedicated, steady, perfect way. today was a good day. long, but good.

love is a burning thing, johnny cash croons as the two of you lay there. you look at the ashtray, with the smoldering remains of the two joints, and you smirk to yourself. jack must feel you shift, because his hand travels up from your hip to your waist. “we should get to the bed,” he says into your neck. “don’t got black out curtains out here, and i know how cranky you get.”

“i do not,” you pout, but you really do get cranky.

the two of you push yourself up, the exhaustion starting to settle into your bones. you grab at your favorite throw blanket of his and sling it over your shoulder. he looks you up and down and his hand lands on your ass as the two of you make your way into his room. it’s all navy and cream, mementos from his life and his service, coloring in the picture of him. you yelp and smack his chest, which makes him grin and catch your hand, pressing a long kiss to your palm.

you brush your teeth, side by side. he tugs your hair back for you while you get ready to wash your face. you lean before him and help him out of his prosthetic, putting it in its designated spot in his room. when the two of you finally hit the mattress– after you drew the black out curtains, of course– he only has time to sling a heavy arm across your waist and tug you in before you’re both dead to the world.

[realcube]

SMOKE SHOW pairing.. ukai x reader

desc.. how buying cigarettes from a corner shop becomes a passionate customer-with-benefits relationship.

tws / tags.. nsfw. smoking, mentions of addiction, f!reader, vaginal, slight anal, oral (f receiving), degredation, praise, daddy kink, squirting, implied virgin reader, risky sex, exhibitionism, breeding kink.

there's a small chime of the bell as you hesitantly pad into the store, holding the heavy door open and briefly surveying the interior before you commit to entering.

it's a quaint little convenience store just off the road near your apartment. you've never been inside before because you usually buy all your essentials from the supermarket, but while on walk, you decided to pop in quickly to buy an energy drink, as you had already finished the one you brought with you from home.

despite never visiting this shop before, from just a cursory glance you are immediately able to locate the fridge section, and pounce in that direction.

lined up on the cooled shelves was an extensive selection of different novelty drinks, but you decided to keep it classic and pick up the cheapest one without so much as a second thought.

holding the chilly drink in one hand, you make your way over the front of the store to pay for it.

that's where you see, sat behind the counter, an older blonde man, who you assume is the store manager. your throat dries at out at the mere sight of him. sat on a stool, he's lazily hunched over a newspaper, which his narrow eyes are fixated on. while one hand holds the paper, the other balances a lit cigarette between his fingers, resting it his fist near the grey ashtray on the counter. with a gentle tap, the excess falls into the dish and the pulls up the remnants to his lips for a long draw. all the while, his sharp stare is still focused on the headlines in front of him.

from the bleating silence in the store — the only noise your able to hear being the constant droning of the fridge — you suspect the two of you are alone in the establishment. which makes you all the more nervous for the interaction you are about to have with this mysterious stranger.

unfortunately for you though, before you are given any time to mentally prepare, he notices your presense out of the corner of his eye and straightens up, placing his paper to the side and using his newly free hand to beckon you over to the counter.

your whole body stiffens at first, but your legs then move automatically underneath you and stagger worried-self to his register. without thinking much about it, you place your item down in front of him and insantly digging through your purse in search of your card.

"is that all?" he asks in a low voice, and you nod silently, pulling out your bank card to pay.

his expression turns sour at the sight, "sorry, doll. card machine's broken. you got cash?"

the charming feeling of this alluring stranger calling you 'doll' caused an unexpected heat to befall your cheeks and neck, but you didn't have much time to relish in it as you urgently began rummaging through your purse for cash.

thankfully, you were able to find a 5000 yen note stuck to your lipgloss cap.

as he watched, he placed his cigarette between his lips, which caused the intoxicating scent to waft over towards you, and fill your senses with brewing agitation and unrest — which you quickly shrugged off as nicotine cravings.

as he picked up the note as was about to ring up your purchase, you spoke up in a mousey voice, "uh, could i also get a pack of marlboro reds, please?"

the man quirked a brow at you, which caused a shiver to race down your spine, but nonetheless, he moved to open the glass cabinet behind the counter, and pull out a pack for you. however, when he placed it down beside your drink, you noticed that he had brought out golds.

while he was tapping the prices into the register, you piped up, a bit louder this time as he must have misheard you due to your timidness last time, "uh- sorry, i actually asked for reds."

"stick to golds, kid." he scoffed with a smirk, taking another puff of his.

meanwhile the cloud of his second-hand smoke grew thicker, and it stung your eyes, making them increasingly red and damp. "uh, okay." you murmur under your breath, averting eye-contact. you weren't going to beef with the corner store owner on a tuesday.

the tills makes a clashing noise as he rings up your purchase, and swiftly hands you your receipt. and as you are collecting your items, you notice that your total printed on the receipt had come to ¥5,060. 600 for the drink, 4000 for the cigarettes and 10% on top for sales tax.

you froze in your tracks, and from the way you were glaring at the receipt with such a puzzled look, ukai automatically recognised what your issue was, and said unprompted, "i'm not going to give you a hard time over 60 yen. i'm not some tight-arsed, miserable old guy, yet." he muses, tapping off the excess ash from his cigarette once again, gaze fixed on the ashtray as he does so.

"well," you roll your lips together in a pleased habit as your mouth spreads into a big smile, "thank you, sir."

"don't mention it, kid."

----------

not even a week had past before you found yourself back in his store. despite having no authentic reason to go in this time, you fabricated yourself a reason to go in again. just to see him. there was something about him you just couldn't shake. you knew it sounded strange but you just couldn't get this guy out of your head.

regardless, on your walk, you decided to nip into his store again to pick up another energy drink — despite the fact you had plenty at home.

you picked it up, the cheapest one he had on offer, and scuttled up to the counter. placing it down in front of him, you gazed up at him with dewy eyes and asked in your token sickeningly sweet manner, "this and a pack of marlboro reds, please?"

like last time, he was sat on his stool, with his blonde hair pushed out of his chiselled face, and his lips cradling a lit cigarette as he read the newspaper. it was almost picturesque and stunningly identical to the way you saw him last time.

when you approached though, he exhaled a deep, guttural sigh as he stood up from his stool, and slipped his cigarette out of his mouth and between his fingers. but that didn't stop the thick smell from drifting over to you from across the counter. the blunt tobacco scent mixed with his classic, musky cologne. it was hypnotic. a part of you wanted to dive across the counter and get a proper taste.

"you again?" he spat, in teasing accusation.

"mhm."

"already buying more cigarettes? what happened to that twenty pack of golds i sold you not even a week ago." he folded his arms over his chest, looking down at you for an explanation.

your pleasantly surprised he remembers you, and you stutter out, "i- uh, well, i finished it. so i'm buying more."

"finished it? that's twenty cigarettes in six days."

"hmph, maybe i would have gone through less if you had sold me the reds like i asked." you shrugged, and he can't help but smirk, amused at such blatant attitude coming from a previously dulcet girl.

"uhuh. and just for that, you're not getting any." he sighs, relaxing back onto his stool and picking up his paper once more. pretending to read it as though he doesn't clearly see you losing your mind out of the corner of his eye.

"huh? you can't just do that!"

"my store, my rules." he muses, eyes fixated on the folded paper in his hands, not sparing you a glance, "you need to get this habit of yours under control, kid."

"you're literally smoking right now!" you whine, pointing out the lit cigarette nosied between his two fingers, which he idly taps against the edge of his ashtray.

at this point, he finally looked up at you from his paper, but only to shrug in your direction and say, "yeah but i'm grouchy and old, so i can do what i want to take the edge off. young, cute girls shouldn't be smoking. what have you even got to worry about? boba prices? what shoes you should wear with your new dress?"

"i have very real things to stress about, i'll have you know." you argue, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff.

"yeah, whatever. i'm just telling you now that you'll regret it later." he takes another puff of his own, wafting the smoke in your direction to rub it in.

"the only thing i regret is coming to this stupid shop.." you grumble to yourself. "are you at least going to ring up my drink?"

his eyes flicker rapidly between your petulant figure standing afore him and your chilled sugar free energy impact on the counter, and eventually he sighs and heaves himself off his stool to stand by the counter and scan your beverage, muttering as he facilitates the transaction, "you know these energy drinks are bad for you too. filled with a load of nasty chemicals and bull piss. kids your age are dying from these things every day."

you roll your eyes as he speaks, and this doesn't go unnoticed by him, though he chooses not to comment. as he slips your change into your hands, he meets your gaze and asks you, hoarsely, "you like the sweet flavour though, don't you?"

"i guess." you grumble with a shrug, pulling your change from his round palm.

"why don't i make you a deal? you can have your shitty energy drink for free, unless you buy a pack of cigs. then, you got to pay for both. how does that sound?"

you quirk an eyebrow; not sure why this random grocer is so invested in your smoking habits. but you'd be lying if you said the offer wasn't tempting. but you can get the drink for pretty cheap in-bulk at the supermarket, so you pried into the scope of his offer, "any energy drink, or just this brand?"

"any."

woah, that changes things. there's some flavours you've always wanted to try but never had because you couldn't bring yourself to pay ¥1000 for one 500ml can. but any energy drink? just for the sole prerequisite of not buying cigarettes from his store. sold.

you nod, cracking open your drink with a hushed fizz and a smile, "alright, then. we'll see about that."

"i'm a man of my word." he rasps solemnly.

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

ding.

the chime of the interior bell rings as you push open the door to the shop and step inside. from routine, making a b-line to the fridge section and picking up an nice, chilled beverage. different brand this time; you didn't plan on buying any cigs so you could treat yourself to a bigger, more expensive can — instead of that cheap energy impact crap — since you weren't going to be the one paying.

you assessed your options, and picked up a cute pinkish can that called to you. surveying the exterior, ultra watermelon, it read. though unsure about what made this watermelon flavour so 'ultra', you were keen to find out. hence, you firmed your clutch on the item and made your way to the register, where a familiar face awaited.

as usual, there was nobody else in the store — bar the manager and yourself — so there was no need to wait in any pesky queue, and instead you swaggered right up to his counter and placed your new can down.

however, his concentation remained stuck to his newpaper that was draped over his hand, as he scanned over the front page with burning insensity in his eyes. his brows knitted together, and he said, "look here."

he stands up and walks to the counter, then leans of it slightly, with a lit cig tucked between his two fingers on his spare hand — no surprise there — and the other holding the paper up to show you the article he was reading, directing your attention to the headline with his thumb.

"ashes of ambition: how workplace stress is fueling rising nicotine addiction." You read the title aloud, then stop right there to quirk a brow at him. "don't tell me you actually believe this garbage."

paying no mind to your comment at all, he flaps the paper to straighten it out and pulls it away from your view, to further examine it himself as he speaks, "says here that nicotine addiction in young people has gone up 263% in the last three years." he clicks his tongue, drawing another breath from his own lit cig.

you roll your eyes, "sounds like a made-up number."

once again completely disregarding your remark, he continues his own thought-spiral, "they're sayin' it's cos of stress, but your generation ain't got nothing real to stress about."

"oh, here we go."

"nah. want to know what's really causing it? it's those e-cigarettes. you heard of 'em?" he coughs, punching his chest to clear his airway of all the thick smoke, and you grimance as his action only cause the smell of tobacco to flood your senses further.

"like vapes? of course i've heard of them."

"you e-smoke?"

you can't help but stifle a laugh at his entirely made-up but understandably derived language, "no. i don't 'e-smoke'."

"hmph, that's a shocker." he huffs with a sarcastic smile playing on his lips, as he crossed his arms over his buff chest, keep the rolled up paper in his fist, "they're all the rage with the kids your age,"

you subconciously roll your eyes. you can't tell if he's being purposefully complimentary or if he genuinely thinks you are that young — because in actual fact, you're likely not much younger than him. depending on how old he is.

he continues his spiel, but in a more frustrated tone, "but they are even worse than cigs. filled with oils that clog your lungs. but people love 'em 'cos they taste like fruit punch. it's a load of shit."

"if they are so popular, maybe you should get some vapes in stock. then maybe this place wouldn't be so dead all the time." you motion to the surrounding emptiness, and he simply scoffs in unamusement and narrows his eyes at you as he spits:

"you're a brat. get out of my store." the metallic bottom of the can scrapes against the surface as he pushed it towards you, before he falls back onto his stool, "and take your shitty drink with you. free of charge."

you giggle to yourself, and pick up the drink, "thanks." you hum, before skipping out of his store, as he ordered.

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

you continued to uphold your end of the little arrangement for a while; you'd come in every week, fight the intense urge to buy a box of cigs, and walk out with a free energy drink each time.

albeit, you know energy drinks aren't much better for you — but hey, battling one addiction at a time. plus, unlike cigarettes, energy drinks have different and sweet flavours. and they come in pretty cans, opposed to packing displaying various tobacco-related aberrations.

also, you were aware that you could succumb to your desire if you wanted to, without him knowing, if you just bought the cigarettes from the counter at your local supermarket. but that would be deception, and for some reason, you know you'd feel massively guilty if you were to do that. so you don't.

and it seemed to be working. the number of smokes you would have per day significantly reduced, and around a week ago, you ran out entirely, and you've not bought more since. it's been hard and you definitely experience cravings, but it's progress.

after a couple months of your ritualistic visits to his convenience store, you began to learn more about the owner. you even got his name — which, granted, you probably should've asked about earlier, though you didn't realise then that you would be seeing him so routinely.

keishin ukai. apparently he's a volleyball coach at the local high school, as well as managing and owning the corner shop.

visiting him at the store would sometimes be the highlight of your week. even though he could be abrasive and acts disinterested at times, your interactions were always sweet and would fill you with butterflies. for some strange reason.

and this encounter was no different.

as per usual, you approach his front desk with your chilled fridge item in your hand, a banana, and a stupid wide grin on your face. you had began selecting a single fruit to buy along with your drink, so it didn't feel like you were robbing him whenever you went into the shop — support small business, and whatnot.

he was sat mulling over the newspaper's crossword, with a lit cig hanging from between his lips. when he notices you from out of the corner of his eye, he takes a deep breath in through his nose and sets his pencil and paper aside, and takes ahold of your banana to process it.

it's like every time you see him, he's smoking. baring in mind, you do come at a similar time — around eight pm — on most occasions where you visit his store. so perhaps he just happens to schedule his smoke breaks for that time. still, for the first time, you inquire further:

"ukai, how come whenever i visit, you're always smoking?" you ask with an innocent tilt of your head, "i mean, you want me to quit so bad, but your habit is worse than mine."

"i'm old so i can do what i want." he grunts to himself, with a slight smile playing on his lips as he types the price of your banana into the card machine.

"you're not old; you're, like, in your thirties. you're just lazy." you scoff, tapping your card when he slides the machine over to you.

he shrugs, removing the cig from between his lips and allowing clouds of smoke to spill from his mouth, "right. i'm in too deep to quit now."

"that's not true," you whine defensively, clutching your drink close to your chest, "i mean, that's what i thought too. but do you want to know a tip?"

his hooded eyes gazed upon you fondly, with a warmness that was concealed by a thin fog of smoke. it pleased him to hear you care about his health in such away, and he found the way you spoke with such excitement and kindness to be so endearing.

"tell me." he states.

you lean in, cupping the side of your mouth and lowering your voice as though you were telling him top secret information, "you just gotta replace one addiction with another, slightly less harmful one. like what i did with caffiene." you pull away with a giddy grin on your face, pleased to have imparted such efficacious knowledge upon your dear friend in need.

eager to see his reaction, you are disappointed when you notice his face is stuck in a contemplative scowl. so you prompt, "do have any ideas? how about gambling, do you enjoy that?"

"do like a game of poker with friends.." his notion begins, but he abruptly shuts it down with, "but i'm way too broke to afford that."

you nod understandingly, "right, well, you don't have to think of one right now. but give it some more consideration." you explain, collecting your banana from his counter as well, "and let me know if there's anything i can do to help. see you later, ukai!" you chirp, ready to turn on your heels and head for the door, until he calls outs:

"actually, there is something you could do."

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

sex addiciton.

that's what he chose, and you were more than happy to be of serivce. in fact, he didn't even manage to fully articulate his proposal before you were already tugging him into the back room.

although he was pleased by your enthusiasm, he had a different arrangement in mind, he sat his cigarette aside in the ashtray, and dashed over the front of the shop and locked the door, as well as flipping the sign to display 'we're closed!' to any passersby.

he rushed back to the counter were you stood, and you immediately dropped your items on the floor in favour of tossing your arms up and allowing yourself to be engulfed in his strong embrace. his lips came crashed down on yours, and he had you locked in a fiery, sloppy kiss. you could feel his stubble scaping against your chin and your jaws rocked in unison and it was delightfully harsh, like scratching an itch you didn't know you had.

meanwhile, his roaming hands groped at the meaty flesh of you ass and he lifted you up, to sit you down on the countertop. hands still grabbing at your ass, while this new position allowed you to wrap your legs around his waist and pull him impossibly close. you could feel his growing erection make contact with your clothed pussy.

you were wearing just a skirt and panties on your bottom half, hence with your legs spread apart, it was easy enough for him — even while still engaged in a fierce kiss with you — to slip his rough hand down your thigh and harshly tug the fabric of your panties to the side, exposing your wet folds to the chilly air of his store.

you whined into the kiss at his actions, but it was shortly broken when he pulled away to admire your newly revealed pussy. his thick thumb dipped gently between your lips, gathering all the slick and sending a chill down your spine when he grazed your needy clit.

"what a pretty cunt. where've you been hidin' this."

you choke back a giggle by biting your lip, gazing at him while his stare is clearly fixated unwaveringly between your legs. his thumb idly dips in and out of your hole, very shallowly and with little energy. it's not enough stimulation to make you moan, but certainly enough to help build your arousal — which was his intention.

"tight girl.." he muses, able to feel your homey walls from just his initial assessment with his thumb, "pass me condom, doll. behind the counter." he groans, utterly enthralled and visibly turned on by the way your glossy pussy takes just his thumb. it requires every ounce of self-discipline in his body to hold himself back from getting knuckles-deep into you.

"i'm on the pill." you reassure; somewhat muffled by the hand that had moved to your face to conceal the lewd expressions.

"fuck.. that's perfect. you're perfect, baby."

his thumb finally parts from your hole, only so he can hurriedly yank down his joggers and his briefs to reveal his length, which he taps lightly against your cunt, coating his buldging reddened tip with your wetness.

eager for his cock to experience the snugness promised by your hole, he slips into you with a stifled groan of pleasure. his teeth grind together and eyes wrinkle shut, while his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. the way your supple walls cling to his girth entirely knocks the wind out him.

"shit, angel. you're— I'm— ngh, so fuckin' good." he grits.

an amused smile stretches across your glossy lips. it was entertaining to see a man you knew to be so firm and intimidating, come completely undone and spiral into a blubbering mess upon inserting himself into your welcoming pussy. it's like you cast a spell on him.

your not able to admire his new-found loserdom for long, as a sharp surge of pleasure strikes into you as he begins thrusting. with the help of your own sticky arousal, his fat cock slips past the defenses of your contracting walls and finds itself deep into your cunt, his tip almost kissing your cervix.

the way his girth overwhelmed your insides made it so you could see the outline of his dick on your lower stomach slightly, and it would even pulse in tandem with his movements. every jagged thrust into your sopping hole would reflect on the imprint on your abdomen, which he found so hot — entirely mesmerised by it.

"heh, pretty little pussy can't handle it, eh?" he huffed out a broken chuckle.

lips pursed, you timidly shook your head. but that didn't make him stop. no, if anything your hushed pleas and constricting pussy only fueled and energised him. seeing you all weak and desperate laying out bare on his counter, it ignited a hunger within him.

he wanted — no, he needed — to see you impaled on his fat cock, to see you submit to his ruthless control over your cunt. see that sweet girl who would always come into his store for a little drink, get fucked senseless on the older store owner's cock. he longed for it.

and he wasn't going to let your snug walls stop him; he'd bully his way through your narrow insides, just to kiss your cervix with his bulbous tip.

"must be a virgin— ngh-" he spat, brows furrowed and he continously rocks his hips into yours, "yeah, baby? never been stuffed with dick befor— fore, huh?"

your head is tossed back now that your neck has essentially gone limp, and your mouth hangs slightly agape as you allow all sorts of mindless babbling to pour out amidst your erotic chorus of mewls. in attempt to cope with the endless waves of pleasure ukai sends wracking through your body, by ploughing into your poor, soppy hoppy repeatedly.

he smirks and mistakenly interprets your senseless garble as agreement, despite the fact you were too fucked-out to even aknowledge his question about you being a virgin. "mmh, doll, a virgin, yeah? makes sense. this— ngh— this pussy explains it." he laughs to himself, stroking your tired little clit with the rough pads of his fingers as he grumbles, "don't worry, baby. daddy's gonna take care of you, 'kay?"

and as clichė or corny as it may have sounded, he was being honest.

within a few minutes you already felt yourself fast-approaching your orgasm, from the way he was stimulating your clit to the satisfaction of his cock destroying your aching pussy, it all felt too much and your legs were shaking as you were ready to burst on his countertop.

an experienced man like ukai could recognise all the tell-tale signs of your impending climax: your staggered breathing, high-pitched moans and (most enjoyably) your twitching pussy. oh, and also the fact you were screaming it loudly for the whole empty room to hear.

" 'm close!" your whiny voice echoes through the store.

and ukai, ever the gentleman, is entirely ready to put his own pleasure aside for a moment to help serivce you through — what he believes is — your first ever orgasm.

his feverish pace slows down slightly, to just the right pace so that you are still getting the satisfaction you need, but your also able to focus on deep he goes inside you. the way the head of his cock brushes against that spongy spot on your walls — it's euphoric, like stratching an itch you didn't know you had. also this reduced rate alllowed him to focus more attention on your clit, poking and rubbing it, watching intently on your face for what patterns and movements would make you squirm.

while one hand was glued to your cunt, he placed the other on your shoulder and pulled you close, gently tracing his fingertips up your spine and whispering into your neck. "c'monn, doll, you're so close. finish up for daddy."

"ngh.. i-" you start, melting into his touch and allowing your head to fall onto his (surprisingly) buff shoulder. your hips subconciously roll against his while the knot in your stomach buldges and pulses.

"don't need to say anything, darling." he rasps hoarsely, "just got'ta feel me in ya. let me make you feel good. you're almost there."

and just like that, your pussy is spasming and gushing around his cock. this sudden jolt of bliss that strikes through you is enough to cause your body to tense and for you to fall backwards onto the counter, or at least you would've, if it not for this open hand on your spine supporting you, and keep your shivering body pressed close to his while you let your climax overcome you.

lewd noises of all sorts are flying out of mouth, while the walls of your cunt clamp down on him, and the crystalline liquid squirting out of you — of which you are blissfully unaware — drenches his trousers and the lower portion of his shirt.

"ukai!" you squeal.

"fuck yeah, just like that, squirt on my cock, messy bitch— oh yeah.."

but despite your sweet moans and tight pussy gripping onto his throbbing cock, he keeps an intimate hold on you, and strokes your back as you struggle through your intense high. he even tries to fuck you through it but it's a challenge due to your steal grip on his length. "ah, that's it, perfect girl. keep going. just relax."

although he wanted to appear calm, cool and collected for you, it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself more than you, judging by his trembling voice and breathless words. "oh, good girl. make a mess on my cock. so fu— huh—ckin' hot."

but who could blame him? when you were whining the most beautiful, erotic noises right into his flushed ear, and your pussy was fluttering around his dick like you were trying to wring him dry.

and it just about worked. as soon as you came down from your high, or at least, your cunt relented it's lethal grip on him, he pulled out and bottomed out all over your glistening folds. painting your puffy lips and inner thighs white with his milky cum.

his orgasm was short-lived compared to yours since he pulled out, but still, one of the best ones he's ever had. it took him a moment to come done even when the high had subsided and everything his dick had to offer had been left either on your flesh or dripping onto the shop floor.

you gaze up at him, with your legs still spread and your chest rising and dropping quickly, as you heaved, "you know, you were okay to cum inside. i'm on the pill." you chuckle breathlessly, recalling telling him this earlier, but perhaps he didn't process it fully due to the racing hormones.

"yeah, but." he pants, just as puffed as you are, if not more, "wanted to play it safe for your first time.. sorry 'bout the mess." he looks down dejectedly at your cum-stained thighs and pussy. "i'll get you a warm rag."

after fixing his trousers, he lurches into the backroom, and you hear the tap running for a few moments. soon, he comes back in with a wet microfiber cloth like he promised.

"i'm impressed. you have pretty good stamina for a chain-smoker." you titter to yourself as he walks towards you, but he simply rolls his eyes in response. though you can tell he is charmed by the discreet smile playing on his lips.

as he stands between your legs, you offer your hand out to take the cloth, but he shakes his head, "nah, let me, kid." he grumbles, back to his harsh old-man persona.

you gulp slightly at his certainty, and mumble, "kay, be gentle?"

" ' course." he utters plainly, immediately getting to work. tenderly wiping away the excess cum on your skin, until only a sticky sheen remained.

"i can get the rest at home. thanks." you insisted, hopping off the counter, with the intention of pulling your skirt back on, but unprepared for how jelly your legs would be. thankfully, ukai fully anticipated it, and his strong arm was right there to steady you until you could find your feed.

"woah there, careful." he chides, keeping an arm securely around your waist even while you put your panties and skirt back on. he only dared to let you go when you slowly began walking away. even then, he inquired, "need me to walk you home? it's dark out."

"i'll be alright, thanks though." you smile warmly at his offer.

"no worries." he mutters, shfiting awkwardly in place, "see ya later then, (y/n)."

"see you later, keishin." you blow him a kiss on your way out.

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

after that heated encounter, things became a little different when you would visit ukai's store.

sex was a regular thing during your interactions now; it's like you couldn't escape his store without his dick stuffed into one of your orifices first. not that you were complaining, he was attractive and so expert at making you feel good. but your relationship quickly descended into something entirely physical and indecent extremely fast.

your hole was getting used by him on a weekly basis. and he didn't care to uphold the gentlemanly facade he put on the first time — no, all that stuff he said about 'playing it safe' went straight out the window after that occassion. that instance was the first and last time he'd ever pull out. from then on, he was depositing his load straight inside your creamy walls whenever you'd have vaginal sex. you were basically his talking cumdump.

at first, he would be polite about it and would help you gently slip your panties back on, careful as to not dirty your damp folds with his cum that was seeping out of your hole still. he'd hold your hand or crandle your figure as you put your skirt back on and would assist you in walking to the door if your legs were too numb — he'd even offer you a cup of tea if you looked thirsty! overall, the would treat you like a precious vessel; an irreplaceable container for his hot seed.

but even after a few months, that 'baby doll' treatment vanished too.

he'd bury several rounds of his load into your worn pussy, and once he had decided he was done, he'd tug himself out and search for your discarded panties. when he found them, instead of tenderly helping you to slip them back on, he'd ball them up in his palms and shove it right up your soaking hole. like a uncomfortable, make-shift plug to keep all his cum inside you. then he'd send you on your way with nothing but a wave of his hand and a slap on your ass.

at least he was smoking less, though?

another typical day, you came skipping into the shop looking for the same thing: a free energy drink and some dick. you picked the can of your choosing and approached the counter enthusiastically. however, you notice something different about ukai today; the air around him was off. he wore a suspicious look on his face and couldn't look you directly in the eye, he kept gazing away at the far corner of his shop. "hey, keishin." you hum, "what's up?"

" just the usual, kid." he glanced down at the drink you had sat afore him. with a hushed voice, he said, "there's someone else in the store. we can't get started until they leave."

you quirk a brow, "somebody else? that's a first." you titter, but ukai doesn't seem so amused.

"just take your drink and come round here." he spat, motioning for you to come round the back of the register, and you did as he said. shuffling your way around until you were standing right beside him, and you placed your drink on one of the little shelves he had.

you stare up at him placidly, while he looks down at you. he even snakes an arm behind you to stroke your lower back. he's got a very satisfying face; defined in all the right places. and so effortlessly alluring with his thick tuffs of blonde hair hang in front of his face. you are about to lean in for a kiss until the other customer in the store approaches the register, and ukai suddenly turns to serve them.

the customer is some random guy that you do not recognise. dark hair, dark eyes, nothing particularly spectacular about him. although he did appear close to you in age. either way, on the desk he placed down a few items for ukai to process: some instant noodles, a cereal bar and a carton of milk. run-of-the-mill stuff, really.

even as ukai served the customer and input the prices into the card machine, he didn't take his other hand off of you. in fact, as he worked, it creeped down slowly from the small of your back, to the fat of your perky ass. that's where you thought his descent would end, but no. after he gave your ass a rough squeeze, he slides down even further.

then you freeze, as his risque fingers find themselves against your clothed pussy, and rub against your growing damp patch.

"need a bag?" ukai asks casually to the customer, not even paying any regard to his hand on your sopping heat. the guy responds with muted nod.

while he procures a plastic bag for the customer, and one-handedly puts everything into the bag, his fingers on his other hand hook over the fabric of your panties and skillfully yank it aside. then, without wasting any time, he haughtily pokes one finger right up your pretty pussy. and your expected to stand there and not make a peep, lest you off-put the customer and they become aware of the dangerously inappropriate situation concealed behind the counter.

his finger curls inside your spongy walls and virgously squirms around, and you literally need to bite your tongue in order to keep quiet. admittedly, his lone finger was nothing compared to his cock but it was expert at hitting all the spots on your walls that have been in dire need of stimulation.

and while you are fighting for your life to keep silently — honestly becoming light-headed — ukai is moving aggravatingly slowly, just to tease you. it takes him double the time it should to put three items away, before he finally hands it to the customer. they smile politely and nod, then turn to walk away. and you see out of the corner of your eye ukai is glaring daggers at you, as if to warn you about the consequences of making noise before the customer fully leaves the store.

it takes longer than it should, but when you finally hear the tell-tale noise of the store's door chime, you take it as a signal to let out the brimming moans you've been keeping in. "ngh— keishin, right there! keep going."

ukai rolls his eyes but he knows the inescapable smile gracing his lips always gives him away. he thrusts into your drenched hole even faster, adding an extra digit in too. "what a needy girl, huh. lettin' me finger you while a customer's in the shop. this pussy's got no shame, eh?" he tuts, less focussed on the words falling from his lips, and moreso on his hand's virgous pumping into your hole, and the way your legs begin to quiver in response.

"mmph, no.." you mewl, bracing yourself by resting your arms on the counter and shamelessly arching into hands, so he can get them right knuckles-deep inside you, and hit that delicious spot you were trying to reach with your own fingers all of last night, but to no avail.

"there she is. my slutty doll face." he idles, staring agape at the pornographic expressions you were making while he continued to fingerblast you against the register; your pink tongue poking out of your pretty mouth every so slightly, and your plump cheeks hot with lust.

"you know what i want to do with this tight little body today?" he drones, checking you out from head to toe, "want to make this pussy squirt like it did before. the first time we had sex." he explains, but around mid-way through his sentence, he extends his thumb out to your clit to provide a bit of extra stimulation, and it's around that time where you entirely black out and his chatter falls on deaf ears as you ride out your golden high on his digits.

"nggh! right th— ah, keishin, please." you scream into the vast emptiness of the store, and ukai simply smirks down at you in your newly dishevelled state.

"hmph, only on your first orgasm and i've already got you babbling like a dumb slut." he muses, keeping the power up while slamming into your sopping cunt, without a care for the juices that were splashing around the shop with each harsh impact on your slick-lined folds. "almost there, (y/n). c'mon. 'n let's hear that pretty voice of yours. scream f'me."

perhaps he was the one babbling now, as he had a hand hooked under your chest to idly pinch at your erect nipple, while the other worked virgorously at your hole and clit. and before long, your pussy walls were spasming around his digits, a sensation he had grown plenty used to by now. and he knew not to take it as a sign to cease, but instead, to persevere and fuck you even harder through your climax.

"aghh— keishin!" you screamed, heeding his command of being loud and plenty noisy. you opened your mouth and let your abused pussy yell on your behalf.

"(y/n)." he rasps with his jaw clenched. eyes zeroed in on your dirty hole; despite the fact he could feel your walls convulsing crazily, and could thus tell you had a nice climax, he was disappointed when there wasn't any splashback to accompany it. he was anticipating getting his shoes and clothes soaked again; maybe even his face this time!

but alas, no squirt. so he'll just have to try again.

"this pussy needing dick today?" he asks lowly, slowly leaning forward until his lips are inches away from the shell of your ear, while his hand makes sloppy circles on your labia.

you only mewl quietly in response, burying your face in your arms from embarrassment. at which he chuckles. "fuck's sake, doll. talk to me. don't say i've fucked you stupid already?" he retracts himself from your ear, only so he can kiss down your back, up the curve of your ass and along your inner thigh. until his lips are directly up against your drenched core, and he utters, right between your sticky lips, "or how 'bout eaten? that what she needs?"

"mmh, maybe." you whimper timidly, a slight moan droning at the bottom of your throat from the way his words vibrate against your pussy.

ukai interprets that as an affirmitive, which prompts him to slide his tongue right past your glistening enterence and into your needy hole. it would worm around in there, soaking up all your juices while his lips would massage your supple folds. like the world's horniest french kiss, it was slow and wildly intimate; and he's grasp your thighs as though he was cupping the face of a lover, silently pleading with them not to pull away.

not that you were going anywhere. in fact, you'd only sway your hips in delight and grind back against his face when you were in desperate need of more attention to the hollow parts inside you — urging his tongue even further up and eliciting a deep, erotic moan from your dry throat.

"mmph, tasty pus— fuck!" he grunts against your cunt, not even parting from it to speak, "—so fuckin' good.. tight too.." and there was something about him, where whenever he would dive into your cunt, he just could not shut the fuck up. he's coming out with nonsensical garble every ten seconds, about how delicious you are or how pretty your cunt is. or at least you think that's what he's saying, you can't even make out most of it because he says it while his tongue is engulfed by your hole. not that you are complaining, the vibrations from his mouth when he speaks feels good against your pussy.

occassionally when he became a bit more exicted, he'd yank his tongue out of your warm hole to start feverishly lapping at your slick-coated pussy like a starving pup. "mm, such a perfect cunt. look at that tight little hole. shit." he wanted every last inch of your sweet nectar on his tongue, and he'd glide his tongue over your cunt however many times required until the only thing your skin gleamed with was his own spit.

he was like a monster devouring your pussy. he wasn't the fastest at first — no, he focused more on the intimacy of the kiss — but he built up speed as he went and the entire time, his tongue would work like an expert inside you, knowing exactly what sides to rub and what buttons to press.

that already that the pulsing damn in your abdomen ready to fall, but intertwined with the way one of his hands edges up from groping your ass, to thumbing and teasing your pert asshole — you didn't stand a chance. next thing you knew, your dam had collapsed and your tired cunny was unleashing a crystalline liquid all over ukai's face.

spurts of fluid gushed from your pussy, making a wet mess all around you: the floor, the shelves, your clothes, his clothes. and lest we forget his face, who was right in the splash zone when you reached your second orgasm. his tongue was buried in your cunt, as he was innocently trying to fuck you through your high, but the sheer force pushed him and left him soaked.

not that he minded. in fact, that had been his aim this entire time. so he happily sat back and watched as your pussy clenched around nothing and squirted in front of him.

meanwhile, you were trying desperately to cope with the absurdly strong waves of pleasure that were crashing through you, but it was all too much. even with your toes curled and your whole body tensed, it was still such an overwhelming euphoria that truly rocked you to your core. all you could do was ride it out.

"keishin!!—nghhh, fuck, i--" you shrieked, but ukai hardly paid any mind, he was all too caught up in admiring the obscene sight afore him.

it took you a a minute or so before you properly started to come down, and ukai could tell by your increasingly labored breathes and the way your legs eventually gave out from under you, and you landed on the floor with him, in a shallow pool of your own juices.

"what a messy girl." he tuts, wiping your slick arousal from his chin, "your going t'have to clean this up, y'know."

[pedgito]

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 | Javier Pena x reader

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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.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[aasouthteranoswife]

When you ask them to take you to bed

Warning(s): Suggestive

Word count: 1144

Summary: you boldly ask Tokyo Revengers characters to take you to bed

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Reblog’s and feedback are appreciated

South Terano ❤️

The city buzzed with life outside the window, but South’s apartment was silent, except for the distant hum of traffic. He stood leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips, his sharp eyes scanning you like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You don’t usually hang around dangerous men like me,” he murmured, his voice deep and velvety, laced with that ever-present edge of danger.

You stepped closer, your heart racing but your voice steady. “Maybe I’ve been waiting for the right one.”

South exhaled a puff of smoke, smirking as he flicked the cigarette into an ashtray. “The right one, huh? You think you can handle someone like me?” His large frame towered over you as he closed the distance. “Be careful what you wish for. Men like me don’t do soft or gentle.”

You tilted your chin up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t want soft or gentle. I want you.”

For a moment, his piercing eyes studied your face, and then his lips curled into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. “Bold,” he rumbled, his voice dropping an octave. He traced a finger along your jawline, his touch light but electrifying. “Alright. Let’s see if you’re as fearless as you act.” He scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you toward the dimly lit bedroom.

Draken ❤️

The garage was warm, the air thick with the familiar scent of motor oil and grease. Draken stood by his workbench, his broad shoulders hunched over a disassembled engine. He glanced up as you approached, his sharp eyes locking onto yours.

“You’ve been hanging around here an awful lot,” he teased, wiping his hands on a rag. “Got something on your mind?”

You leaned casually against the wall, but your voice betrayed your intent. “Maybe. What if I asked you to take me to bed?”

Draken froze for a second, his eyebrows shooting up. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. “That’s not the kind of thing I hear every day. You sure you know what you’re asking for?” He dropped the rag and took a step toward you, the playful glint in his eyes darkening into something more intense.

“I know exactly what I want,” you said, your confidence unwavering.

He smirked, his towering frame closing the gap between you two. “Alright, then.” His calloused hands brushed against your arm as he leaned down, his voice a low whisper. “But don’t think I’m gonna be gentle just because you asked nicely.”

With that, he tugged you by the wrist, pulling you toward the back door. “Shop’s closed for the night. Let’s see if you can handle me.”

Mikey Sano ❤️

The roar of engines echoed in the distance as Mikey parked his sleek black car under the neon lights of the city. He stepped out, his signature grin plastered on his face, but his dark eyes held a flicker of curiosity as he watched you approach.

“You looked good out there,” you said, your voice laced with admiration.

He smirked, leaning casually against the car. “I always look good. But thanks.”

You took a step closer, feeling a rush of nerves and excitement. “How about you show me if you’re just as fast off the track?”

Mikey blinked, his grin faltering for just a moment before it returned, sharper this time. “Wait, are you—” He cut himself off, studying your face for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he chuckled, low and rich.

“You’ve got guts asking me something like that,” he said, stepping into your space. His hand lifted to brush a stray hair from your face, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “But are you sure you can handle me? I don’t slow down for anyone.”

“Then don’t,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mikey’s grin widened as he opened the passenger door of his car. “Get in. I’ll take you somewhere special.”

Taiju Shiba ❤️

The warm, golden glow of the restaurant surrounded you as Taiju moved effortlessly through the space, commanding attention even as he carried a tray of plates. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his muscular arms, and his yellow eyes flicked toward you, softening for just a moment before returning to their usual intensity.

As the last customer left, you stayed seated, watching him lock the doors and begin cleaning up. “You’re still here?” he asked, his voice low and gruff as he approached your table.

You stood up, stepping into his space. “I wanted to ask you for something.”

Taiju raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “What is it?”

“Take me to bed,” you said boldly, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint sound of the wind outside. Then, Taiju chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made your skin tingle. “You don’t hold back, do you?” he said, his tone teasing but laced with heat.

He reached out, his large hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you closer until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “You think you can handle me? I’m not exactly known for being gentle.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be,” you replied, your voice steady.

His grin widened, dark and dangerous. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He tugged his apron off and tossed it onto the counter before lifting you effortlessly into his arms. “Let’s go.”

Ran Haitani ❤️

The pulsating beat of the music vibrated through the dimly lit VIP lounge of Ran’s club. He leaned casually against the plush leather couch, his signature grin playing on his lips as he swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand. His lavender hair fell perfectly into place, even under the dim glow of the neon lights.

“You’ve been eyeing me all night,” he teased, his voice smooth and inviting as he motioned for you to come closer. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

You stepped forward, emboldened by the atmosphere. “I was wondering if the owner of this place would take me to bed.”

Ran’s grin widened, his violet eyes lighting up with amusement and intrigue. “Straight to the point, huh? I like that.” He set his drink down and stood, towering over you with an air of lazy confidence.

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” he murmured, his finger tracing along your jawline. “I don’t do things halfway.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” you replied, meeting his gaze without flinching.

Ran chuckled, the sound low and teasing. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Alright, let’s see if you can keep up.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he whispered in your ear. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Taglist 🏷️

🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Dividers by saradika-graphics

PART TWO HERE

aasouthteranoswife © 2024-2025 All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[grandline-fics]

hi! could i request for mihawk and anyone else of your choice reacting to their usually modest s/o wearing something scandalous and getting a lot of attention and they feel jealous or try to hide them away from prying eyes? thanks love you

DESCRIPTION: You’re normally modest and get a lot of attention from others when you wear something scandalous

WARNINGS: a little suggestive but nothing explicit at the end

CHARACTERS: Mihawk

WORDS: 1,285

A/N: Thank you for this request! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoy what I came up with for it

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

“Another gala, Crocodile?” Mihawk asked dryly looking at the small decorated piece of paper in his hand. “Is my presence truly necessary for this?” His golden eyes looked at the information blankly and held back the glare to see it would be taking place on the island they were at. Any other time these events were held, Mihawk would refuse to travel so far for a measly party or would take up a bounty mission that would take him in the opposite direction so he couldn’t attend. 

“Oh humour me for once, Mihawk.” Crocodile urged, frowning around his cigar. “I can’t keep bringing that liability of a figurehead. If we want to convince those nobles and backers of our legitimacy I need someone who can actually manoeuvre in these circles. If we want to see Cross Guild succeed and be profitable you’re going. You’re not getting out of it this time.” You bit back a smile to see your lover’s eye twitch. He hated going to these kinds of things. Quickly you acted, stepping behind his seat to place a hand on his shoulder and offer him a smile. “Oh come on, might actually be fun. At least this time you’re not going under Marine orders, it’ll be different. I can go with you if that makes things easier?”

At that Crocodile let out a small scoff, making you and Mihawk look at him in annoyance. The gala invitation was an open one so he couldn’t say you weren’t allowed to go but it was clear you going had irked him in some way which was odd seeing as you and the other founder of Cross Guild were on relatively good terms. You would’t say we was a close friend but he wasn’t someone you loathed. You remained silent as Crocodile stubbed out his cigar into the ashtray on the table and slowly looked you over, his scrutinising stare showing his critical assessment. “No offence, but you’d be more out of place than the clown. Like I said, we need to make a positive impression with these people.”

Your fingers flexed against Mihawk’s shoulder in a silent way of telling him not to react to Crocodile’s remarks. You were more than aware that your appearance was vastly different from his rich fabrics and perfectly tailored style. You’d always preferred simplistic and comfortable over anything else you wore. This wasn’t the first time someone pointed out your modest and almost drab fashion and it never bothered you. At least not until you felt you’d be letting Mihawk down. You knew how important Cross Guild was to him. Quickly you placed a kiss against Mihawk’s cheek and smiled at Crocodile as you left the room, if it was a positive impression he wanted, then that’s what he’d get. “I’ll meet you both at the gala.”

————

Mihawk hated having to interact with people he thought nothing of, he hated having to practically parade himself around in front of rich people like something to be gawked at in order to fulfil their own boring curiosities. He would much rather be in his own quarters with you, enjoying each others company and peace. Sharply he glared at Crocodile for what felt like the hundredth time today as he stepped into the banquet hall of the mansion the gala was being held in. While you’d shown no hint of annoyance for his earlier disrespect, Mihawk was still pissed and no amount of expensive wine was going to change that. 

As he took the glass of wine offered to him, he cast his gaze across the filled room in search of you. Though it was hard to search each face properly especially with the group that had already congregated near the centre of the room, fawning voices spilling from their mouths in a strange chorus. Mihawk and Crocodile shared a look of confusion, as far as they were both aware Cross Guild were the main attraction. While Mihawk was more than happy for someone else to take the attention, Crocodile was less than impressed. Then a familiar laugh sounded from the middle of the group making both men freeze.  

The pair watched as one person moved slightly and it gave them a window to clearly see you talking to the group, allowing the host of the gala lift your hand to press an adoring kiss against your knuckles. Mihawk remained the outward image of calm but inside he was a mess, looking you over intensely. Gone were your usual clothes of comfortable layers of soft and understated fabrics, in their place was the richest material adorning your form like a second skin coloured a deep wine red. Your outfit highlighted your body’s attributes that were usually hidden and accentuated the allure and attractiveness that previous only he was worthy of seeing. 

“Well…”Crocodile managed out with a firm clearing of his throat, even he was caught by your makeover. “Seems I was very wrong.” Mihawk snapped his head away from your direction to throw the fiercest glare yet at his business partner. Oh how he wished he had Yoru with him to slash all of your admirers in one go. Moving briskly he wove himself through the sea of pests buzzing around you and snaked an arm around your waist smoothly in greeting. Upon seeing who you were attending the gala with and felt the murderous aura rolling from his frame, those that had been desperately vying for your attention in the hopes of getting more, promptly became stuttering messes as they made hurried goodbyes and dispersed, scurrying away like the rats Mihawk knew them to be. 

“Hello, love.” You greeted with a pleasant smile. “Something wrong?”

“I despise seeing lesser beings try to sully works of art.”

“Aww, as sweet as that is just say you’re jealous.” You laughed softly, smiling up at him as you let him direct you smoothly away from the centre of the room and away from the appreciative stares you were still getting. “So, have I made a positive enough impression?”

“You know you have. You could wear anything and would be the most attractive person in the room.” Mihawk told you smoothly and you smirked. 

“Then why are you trying to hide me with the edge of your coat?” You asked, looking down to see the hand around your waist also held his coat around your body in an improvised shield. Mihawk didn’t answer. He lowered his gaze down to you once more, fully taking in just how much more enticing you were to him. He thought suffering this gala would be torture enough but to be here with you, looking so ravishing and drawing so much attention was unbearable, even for his resilient will. 

Acting quickly he pulled you close for a kiss and bit back the satisfied smirk when you flinched at the sudden feeling of the wine in his other hand spilled against your shoulder. You pulled back to throw him an accusatory stare while he merely set the now half-empty glass down on the tray of a server walking by and stared at you blankly, completely unapologetic. “Oh, how clumsy of me. Looks like we’ll have to go back and change.”

“You really are childish sometimes you know that?” You muttered with a slow roll of your eyes, walking with him towards the exit. 

“We’ll have to be careful.” Mihawk continued, ignoring your comment, his hand releasing his coat so he could drop his hand to your hip and give you a quick squeeze. “With material this expensive we’d have to make sure it’s taken care of properly. Could take all night.”

Well who were you to argue with that?

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa

[justablognothingweirdhere]

I see a lot of Robby/Abbot fics/headcannons where Abbot and Collins don’t interact, and I get that the whole jealousy thing is appealing, but I think it would be better if they both ganged up on Robby instead. Just like…

Abbot: Robby, I love you, I’m not going to kiss you after you’ve been smoking. You taste like an ashtray.

Robby: It’s not that bad.

Collins: Oh no, it is, I remember.

*Robby walks away*

Collins: When he pisses you off, move his lighter. Then, he has to apologize so he can ask if you’ve seen it.

Abbot: I like the way you think.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Crimson Ties ~ 8

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,355ish

Summary: Everyone is ready to increase the safety around you.

Warning(s): panic attack

Notes: Please send in reactions!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Tony sat at the island in the kitchen, a bottle of whiskey sitting in front of him and a cup in hand. His mind was focused on the earlier confrontations with Steve and Rhodey. Both of them were right, you clearly didn’t want this anymore than he did. And it’s not like you had done anything to him in the last while since your wedding. Maybe he could try a little harder to at least be your friend.

Throwing back the rest of his drink, Tony got up and went to his bedroom. Pepper had yet to arrive and he was glad, he wasn’t in the mood. He sent her a quick text, telling her not to come over before clasping onto the bed. How would he begin to fix this? To at least be friends with you? 

There was also the gnawing feeling that Tony had about what you had gone through and, apparently, are still going through. If things were happening that you didn’t want, why didn't you say anything? Though… he guested that was your whole life. You had never had any control over any part of it. Maybe he could start by giving you some more control. How Tony was going to do that, he didn’t know.

~~~

In the morning, you slipped out of your room, grabbed a bunch of snacks, and headed for your studio. You needed to get out of your head. You turned on an instrumental playlist before you got to work. 

Steve heard the music as he headed into the house. He smiled, hopeful that you were doing better today. Before going to Tony, Steve headed to your studio. He knocked before peeking his head in.

“Y/N?” He carefully called.

You looked over from where you were painting and gave him a small smile. “Hey, Steve.”

“I know I’m intruding on your space, but I came to check on you.”

You looked back at the ashtray you were painting, sucking in your lip. “I’m fine.”

Steve stepped into the room and classed the door behind him. He took a few steps closer, not wanting to pressure you. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, not looking at him.

He sighed. “Well, I’m going to keep checking in throughout the day. Okay?”

“You don’t have to. I’m sure you have things to handle with Tony.”

“I have time for you, too. You keep working and I’ll be back later. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

Steve shot your one last smile before leaving your studio and heading across the house to Tony’s office. He entered to see Tony already busy at his desk.

“Good, you’re here,” Tony said. “I need you to send these files over to Rhodey and Natasha to look over.”

“Uh, can I ask what they are looking over these for?” Steve asked, taking the files.

“A bodyguard for Y/N.”

“What? You’re searching for a bodyguard?”

“She needs her own. You have enough on your hands with me. I had some names already listed but I want Rhodey and Natasha to look over them. Then I want the three of you to do the interviews and then I will meet with the final candidate before they are hired.”

“Okay. I can get these sent over. I’ll tell them that they have until the end of the week.”

“They have until the end of tomorrow to give me a name. We’ve pushed this aside long enough.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll have Happy take these over right away.”

~~~

Steve stopped by a few times to check on you until eventually, just after lunch, he ended up sitting down and painting with you.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked again after tying an apron on. 

“I don’t need all these pieces, Steve,” you responded. “Please just choose something and paint it.”

“Okay, okay. Fine, I’ll paint this.” 

Steve picked up one of the bowls sitting on the counter. He came over and sat down across from you. Taking a pencil from the table, Steve began sketching on the bowl. You watched as he seemingly created a pattern with ease.

“Do you draw, Steve?” You questioned.

“Something like that,” he shrugged. 

“What do you like to draw?”

He shook his head. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Peggy. I like to draw Peggy.”

“Oh. Are you two…”

“We… well, we haven’t made anything official, but I guess we’re a couple.”

“You two make a great couple.”

“Thanks. I think I’m going to give this to her, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it is, Steve.”

The two of you fell into an easy silence. You were grateful with how easy Steve was to be around. He never pressured you into anything, never forced himself upon you. It was different and, honestly, hard to believe that a man could do that.

~~~

“Steve!” Tony called, exiting his office. “Steve!” He looked around for his bodyguard, unable to see him. “Rogers!”

His brows furrowed when the sound of laughter hit his ears. It was coming from your studio, the door not completely shut. Tony walked over and peeked in. You and Steve were sitting across from each other, painting, and laughing. Tony realized that that was probably the first time he had ever seen or heard you laugh. You seemed so relaxed and at ease, forcing Tony to notice how often you were tense. You were always so timid, tense, and nervous. Perhaps the others were right to be concerned… something had happened to make you that way.

Tony pushed the door open but remained standing outside the studio. Your head snapped towards the door and you froze, nervous as to what Tony could possibly be doing. Steve noticed your immediate change and looked at the door as well.

“Tony,” Steve greeted. “Need something?”

“Yeah, Natasha called,” Tony said. “They’ve narrowed the potential candidates down and want us over there.”

“Okay.” Steve looked at you. Your head was down and you were focused on your painting. “Sorry, Y/N. I’ll be back to finish this.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled.

“That, uh…” Tony nervously swallowed as he tried to come up with something to say. “That ashtray looks nice.”

You were taken back by the compliment. “It’s for your father.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes focused on finishing up the ashtray. Steve gave Tony a curious look as he joined the man at the door. Tony was acting particularly strange when it came to you today.

“Call us if anything happens,” Steve said, turning to face you. “Other security members will be around. Okay?”

You nodded again.

“Y/N,” Tony’s voice called to you. You timidly looked up at him. “We’re serious. Call if you need anything or if anyone comes over who makes you feel uncomfortable.”

Your breath hitched. Did Tony know what happened? Clearly Steve knew something, so it shouldn’t be that shocking that Tony also knew. 

“We shouldn’t be long,” Tony added, then he walked away. 

Steve followed, leaving you wondering how much everyone knew. And if they knew, when did they know? Immediately after? While Brock was over? Your hands shook as you finished painting. Where they doing something about it? Is that why they wanted to make sure that you knew to call them? What was going on?

~~~

Maria and Natasha were waiting for Tony and Steve outside the large Stark Mansion.

“Please don’t start, mother,” Tony sighed as he walked up to the women. “I know I screwed up.”

“I’m glad to hear you admit it,” Maria commented. “But that still doesn’t make up for it.”

“I’m trying here. I’m getting her a bodyguard.”

“That’s not enough, Anthony. She needs kindness, patience. A safe place. Brock has ruined the chance of her bedroom being a safe place. You better hope that he doesn’t creep into her other rooms.”

“That’s why we are getting Y/N her own bodyguard.”

“We’re had a standstill with that,” Natasha stated as they headed into the house.

“Why?”

“Howard has a favorite and the women have a favorite.” Natasha handed Steve two files. “My sister, Yelena, is one of the candidates left.”

“Us, women, believe that Y/N having a female bodyguard would be beneficial and make her feel safer,” Maria explained.

“Howard picked Clint Barton.”

“Clint’s not a bad pick,” Steve added.

“No, he’s not. He has more experience than Yelena and wouldn’t need much overview of the way the Stark Empire works as we have had him contracted for some time.”

“Then Clint it is,” Tony said.

“It’s not that simple,” said Maria. “We need to think about Y/N’s comfort.”

“I thought this was about her safety. Clint has more experience. I’m with dad on this one.”

“Glad to here that, son,” Howard stepped out into the hallway with a man. “This is Clint Barton. And I just hired him to watch over Y/N.”

“Howard!” Maria protested. 

“Nice to meet you,” Clint said, reaching a hand out to Tony. 

Tony shook the man’s hand. “Have you been updated on the situation?”

“I have.”

“Good. Then you will start immediately.”

“I really think that we should discuss this more,” Maria tried. “Y/N may not feel comfortable with a man as her bodyguard, given the situation.”

“Mrs. Stark, I will make sure that Y/N is as comfortable around me as possible,” Clint promised. 

“I don’t doubt that, but that still may not be possible.”

“Let him try, Maria,” Howard said with an annoyed sigh. “If it’s not working out, we can give Yelena a try.”

Maria stepped in front of Clint. “You cannot let anything more happen to that poor girl. Or it will be me you will have to deal with.”

“Got it, ma’am,” Clint replied with a nod.

Maria spun around to face Tony. “That goes for you as well, Anthony. I will not have Y/N put up with your shit anymore.”

~~~

You sat at the piano, playing it to get your mind off of everything. You were playing it as Tony, Steve, and Clint returned. Upon hearing the door open, you quickly stopped playing and jumped up to your feet.

“Welcome back,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes on your feet.

“Y/N, I would like you to meet, Clint Barton,” Tony said, as he headed for you. “Your new bodyguard.”

You stopped breathing as your eyes snapped to look at Clint. He looked nice enough, but so did Brock at first. Clint, sensing your unease, he didn’t make a move to get closer to you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Clint said, shooting you a smile.

You nodded. “Nice to meet you,” you whispered.

Steve and Clint shared a look. Both of them knew that Yelena was a better option for you, but they would do what it took to make you as comfortable with this as possible.

“You won’t go anywhere without Clint from now on, including my parents,” Tony explained. “No where is off limits for him as long as you’re there.”

Your heart began hammering in your chest. Your breath began to come out in labored pants, your body beginning to tremble. The men in front of you were immediately made aware.

“What is happening?” Tony asked.

“She’s having a panic attack!” Clint answered. “I’m calling Natasha and telling her to get Yelena over here, now!” He pulled out his phone and stepped away to make the call.

Steve stepped toward you, hands out in case you fainted. “Y/N, I need you to focus,” he urged calmly. “Deep breaths.”

You couldn’t respond, your mind spiraling. Tony didn’t know what to do as he watched Steve try to coax you out of the state you were in. He grew sad as he took in your trembling, gasping form. Tears had begun to trail down your cheeks. 

“Y/N,” Tony tried, taking a step towards you. Your eyes snapped to his. “Hey, it’s okay. Clint’s calling Natasha and she’s going to bring her sister over… None of us, including Clint, are going to do anything to you. We… We just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“You… You d—do?” You stammered, surprised by Tony’s words.

Tony nodded. “Yes, I do. It is my job as your husband after all, to protect you.”

“It is?”

Tony was beginning to understand how his mother could be so protective of you. You truly didn’t know what it meant to be treated right by anyone. And Tony hadn’t been of any help to that at all. 

“Yes, sweetheart, it is,” he continued. “So, Clint’s going to stick around because we need to double down on security, but Yelena, Natasha’s sister, will be your bodyguard, okay?”

You glanced at where Clint was on the phone before looking back at Tony. You nodded. “Okay… I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Y/N,” Steve said. 

“May I be excused?”

“Of course,” Tony responded. Steve and Tony watched as you scurried away to your studio. 

Steve sighed. “We should have listened to Maria,” he said. 

“We’re keeping Clint on board. We’ll have him take the nightshift on Y/N. She won’t even have to know. Yelena can have the day.”

“Understood. You handled that very well, Tony.”

“Well, as my mother said, she’s not going to let Y/N put up with my shit anymore. I might as well try to be her friend… Neither of us wanted this situation to begin with. She never did anything to deserve my bad side.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you for trying. She’s my friend now, Tony, and I can tell you she is so amazing. None of us even know how much—including her.”

“Yelena and Natasha are on their way,” Clint informed as he stepped back up to the other men. “I overheard that I’m on night duty.”

“You okay with that?”

“She clearly needs something different than I can offer, but she needs protection. I’m fine with the night duty.”

“Good,” Tony said. “Let’s go to my office and we will fill you in on the ins and outs of the house.”

next chapter >

[moldychefboyardeecan]

Flowers From Smoker

tag list: @hannahbarberra162

thank you Hannah for beta-ing, as always!! if anyone wants to join my taglist (aka the moldy mailist), don't be shy to let me know :)!!

a/n: he needs some love man😭😭 sorry not sorry! reqs are paused for now-- my ask box is still open though! AMAs, hcs and to just tell me anything are always and forever here :3

tags: fluff, drabble, SFW

wc: 1k

Smoker told himself it was just a flower. Just one.

Nika damn him for an idiot.

To leave such an inconspicuous flower, a single camellia bloom, white like his hair, set on your desk. A subtle love, that what you two are—A quiet confession for a quiet love, if you could even call it that. Most of your "romantic escapades" happened in the janitor’s closet or whichever office had a lock.

Fuck him if he didn’t wish for more.

But of course you'd notice. Captain of half of G-5's fleets, professional at shouting down pirates twice his size, and yet...hopeless when it came to him. You and him had done a great job at keeping your relationship secret..for the most part. There were a few times where his smoke clung to your clothes, leaving you smelling like an ashtray, or, times when your lipstick would stain his collar with that pinky nude you always wore. Tashigi caught on rather quickly, watching how he interacted with someone else..for once; but she wouldn’t meddle in the Vice-Admiral’s personal affairs (never aloud, that is.) 

Though, she would say that there were moments that surprise her the most, such as: putting the final piece on who the Vice-Admiral was smitten about.

Opening your office door, you were greeted with the bloom sitting on your desk.

Of all the things you expected to find on your desk: reports, stolen snacks, maybe a live grenade—a flower just wasn’t one of them. A flower was just a direct opposite on what you see everyday. Something so gentle, so soft.

You’ve seen strange shit on your desk before; stolen pirate maps, half-empty liquor bottles, the occasional seastone bullet. But this?.. This was romantic. Beautiful. You had already known who gave it to you the moment you laid your eyes on it.

“That damn fox..” you chuckled as you thought to yourself, looking amorously at the camellia as it laid , contrasting on the dark mahogany wooden desk—standard issue for any high ranking Marine. Only you did realize, you had left your door open.

Oh shit. You left your door open.

Tashigi was staring back, intrigued by your reaction, leaning against the doorframe, her glasses gleaming a hint of knowledge. She already fucking knows.

“Lieutenant,” you said, acting casually, palming the camellia like contraband.

She adjusted her glasses. “Captain.”

You both stare at each other for a moment, acknowledging the tension and awkward silence in the room, before Tashigi broke:

“That’s a lovely flower.”

Shit.

You shrugged. “Found it on my desk. Probably a prank from one of the lower branches.”

"Mmm. A prank." She adjusted her glasses, the light flashing across the lenses. "Do keep me updated on any further... office break-ins, Captain. Wouldn't want your secret admirer stumbling across classified documents."

"I'll be sure to file a report."

"Excellent." She opened her mouth to continue—

Almost immediately before lauching into the next question, you were both cut off by the sudden boom of a certain someone’s voice.

"TASHIGI! GET YOUR ASS TO MY OFFICE—WHAT THE HELL IS…THIS INVOICE FOR TWELVE DOZEN—"

“That 's my cue. Keep an eye out, captain.”

You nod Tashigi off, hearing her footsteps grow quieter. Once you were able to confirm no more accidental walk-ins, you shut the door and prepare a vase for the flower. Setting it back on your desk after, you sit down and work on the paperwork meant for your quarterly reports.

You fell asleep at your desk.

It happened—stacks of quarterly reports made for shitty pillows, ink smudged on your cheek, and the camellia still standing vigil in its vase. The click and lock of your office door didn’t even register.

Neither did the heavy coat draped over your shoulders, smelling of cigar smoke and sea salt.

“Mm..” you mumbled at the sudden weight put on your body. The strong cigar scent followed until it reached your head, pressing into a soft kiss onto your forehead.

“Just rest, you hellcat.”

It would stay this way with your breathing slowing back down, the presence of his body calming you back down. He stayed, brushing your hair back from your face, adjusting you until he sat in your chair, you on his lap, chest to chest, clinging to his scent. Hours pass, and his voice rasped against your hair, low enough to stir the strands.

 “Sun’s up.”

A grumble escaped you, half-protest, half-sleep. His chest vibrated with a quiet laugh, but his arms tightened anyway, holding you in place for one stolen second longer. Then, with a roughness that didn’t match his hands;gentle as they tucked your hair back, straightened your clothes, he peeled himself away.

The morning light stabbed through your eyelids before you registered the warmth missing from your lap. Your back protested in its soreness as you straightened in your chair—now empty , except for the lingering scent of cigars and sea salt clinging around the room.

The camellia stood untouched in its vase. But beside it now stood white rose, its stem carefully cut, and placed neatly beside the other flower. And tucked beneath it, a scrap of paper with familiar, jagged handwriting:

"Stop sleeping at your desk. -S"

Outside your window, the base was coming alive with shouts and marching boots. Somewhere beyond the chaos, he's at his desk, scowling at paperwork, pretending last night never happened. For both of your sakes.

The door burst open without warning.

"Captain! Vice Admiral Smoker wants these reports—" The recruit froze, eyes darting between the flowers, and his nose twitching against the scent.

You leaned back in your chair, fingers steepled. "Tell the Vice Admiral," you said sweetly, "he can come get them himself."

A beat.

"I'll be waiting for him."

The recruit's Adam's apple bobbed. "M-Ma'am, he said—"

Cutting him off, "Did he now..?" You plucked the rose from its vase, rolling the stem between your fingers. "Then you can also tell him..."

You inhaled the scent—fresh, like dawn, like the stolen hour before; when his hands had been in your hair; before meeting the kid's terrified gaze. "His hellcat says come here."

Somewhere down the hall, that familiar voice bellowed: "WHERE THE HELL IS MY—"

'Speak of the Devil.'

The recruit fled.

You set the rose back in its place, humming as you reached for your coffee, that had been left by that fox himself, acting like a high school boy with these quiet gifts.

But that’s all it took for you to know that he loves you, all you ever need, even with or without all these decorated subtleties.

[nevadancitizen]

-> FASCINATION WITH THE ORDINARY

synopsis: your world is vastly different from the nevada native to madness combat. after the main three + 2bdamned get transported to your world, they each find things that fascinate them.

word count: 2.5k

characters: hank, deimos, sanford, 2bdamned, player! reader

trigger warnings: ehh slight yandere/obsession but could also be read as super heavy pining if you're not into that lol

notes: madness combat fandom arise. madness combat fandom come back to me (also set in @/saltymongoose 's self-aware au)

For the sake of consistency, let’s imagine that the Player lives in a big, lonely, woodsy and plain-sy plot of land. There’s little to no outside human interaction, and lots of animals wandering through the area with a river running through it. For the wildlife, I’m basing it on the American South because I’ve lived here my entire life and know how they act.

SUNSETS & SUNRISES

2BDamned would be the most entranced, since he has the most memories from before the fall and before Hank killed the sun. He’s an early riser by nature (since his body has conditioned him so he’s mostly overworked and under-rested, as unhealthy as it is), so he leans more towards the beauty of a sunrise, towards the light that starts to paint the dark sky with hazy orange shades and rosy hues. He likes breathing in the crisp air and the way it almost sends a shock through his lungs.

But the sun stirs a lingering feeling of nostalgia, though, for the way things were before everything fell to madness. Doc tries his best not to let the thoughts get the better of him as you slip through the front door and out onto the front porch, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. 

God, he could imagine staying like this forever: just you, him, a beautiful sunrise, and coffee. Surely the way you pay attention to him, the way you get up extra early to watch the sunrise, the way you doctor his coffee just right – they’re all examples of how you care for him, just as he cares for you. But for now, he’ll just bide his time, blowing the steam off the surface of his coffee and purring, soft and raspy, both at the taste and because of your company.

But that doesn’t stop the others from appreciating the astounding view at dusk, because Sanford and Deimos are more partial to sunsets after long days. They like lounging in the adirondack chairs set up around the fire pit, cracking open a few beers, and simply relaxing with you. (Don’t worry, Sanford will gather firewood and Deimos will set it alight if it’s a little too cold for your taste.)

They’re fresher clones, so they don’t remember the sun well, if at all. They both always go quiet when the sun starts to dip below the horizon. Sanford props his tea sunglasses on top of his head and Deimos sets his cigarette in the ashtray as they both stare at the way the light turns the clouds purple and paints the sky with pink streaks. It stirs something sad in your heart – both of these men are pushing and just over the cusp of thirty, yet they don’t know the simple sweetness of a sunset. 

But as soon as night overtakes the sky, they both turn their attention back to you. Deimos makes some suave comment about your beauty being nothing in the face of a sunset in that rumbling, smooth voice of his, and Sanford gives him a pointed glare. Sanford points out that your beauty and the beauty of nature are two whole different things, but keeps showering you with not-so-inadvertent compliments, leaving you flustered and blushing from both grunt’s words.

Hank is somewhat of an anomaly with this one. All of the grunt’s biological clocks are absolutely porked from their time without a sun, but Hank’s affected the worst by far. (That, and he doesn’t really care for the sun. He literally slaughtered it.) Therefore, he’s more privy to waking up in the middle of the night and dragging you onto the roof to look at the stars. 

He likes laying on his back with you on his chest, pointing out the brightest stars and asking you questions about them. (He doesn’t really care, he just likes hearing your voice.) He loves your vivid descriptions of the constellations and how you describe them in intricate ways. To Hank, they’re just sparkly, unreachable dots in the sky, but it seems like, to you, they’re beautiful: like millions of silver nails driven into a dome of dark blue velvet. 

He savors the moments like these the most, when you’re alone with him. There’s no sound except for the crickets and dog-day cicadas and spring peepers and your voice and Hank’s sputtering purring. Honestly, it’s as it should be – without those other pesky dipshits ruining your time together. (Well, he can tolerate Doc, but that annoying extraction team could go fuck themselves for all he cared.)

ENTERTAINMENT

Sanford hates being lazy. He hates feeling like he’s not doing anything useful, even if he’s being useful by resting. The only real way to make him sit down and stop moving is by trapping him on the couch, laying your head in his lap, and turning on the TV. (Even if, for the first thirty minutes, he’s too focused on you and your body heat and how fast his heart is beating to even consider looking at the TV.)

But the thing he loves watching the most isn’t any sort of movie with amazing cinematography or show with riveting writing – it’s infomercials. Specifically, infomercials from the 90’s to the late 2000’s. He likes seeing what things could’ve been like if there was no madness in Nevada, because things are oddly peaceful (at least, to him) in your world. Billy Mays and Cathy Mitchell make him wonder about domestic life with you (even if the Jupiter Jack and the Xpress Redi-Set-Go are completely obsolete by now), and how these little gadgets would make your life together supposedly go smoother.

He likes combing his claws carefully through your hair as you both watch these people play up how useful these obviously useless inventions are. He tries to avert his eyes and act interested in the TV as you look up at him and point out how the Red Devil Grill was recalled because it got so hot it collapsed and caused fires, but can’t. He just can’t keep his eyes off you when you look up at him so sweetly, and can you blame him? You just make his face so warm and his heart beat so fucking fast…

Deimos has always had a fascination with electronics, but it’s mostly been from a tactical and weaponized standpoint. But he’s discovered (well, really, you introduced him to) video games. He absolutely loves curling up into your side, purring and providing commentary as he watches you play. (Because, despite his trying, he hasn’t really gotten a hang of the controls yet.)

He loves more story-fueled games with characters he can really get attached to. He likes investing himself in things and people that don’t actually affect him, because seeing your favorite character go through dire straits or even die hurts for a little while, but it’s nothing compared to seeing someone get eviscerated right in front of you. And, yeah, he totally cried when Arthur Morgan died (and totally played it up so that you’d comfort him). 

He also likes draping himself over you in the middle of a boss fight, wriggling and nuzzling into your cheek, causing you to giggle, lose focus, and, obviously, die. He strings together half-hearted apologies through his raspy purring, but he’s not really sorry. More deaths means more time spent with him, and internally, he’s completely and honestly unapologetic for his underhanded tactics. 

Due to the nature of his administrative role, Doc spends a lot of time in front of screens. He likes to unplug and unwind by reading, no doubt with a straight-up hazardous amount of coffee by his side. He prefers reading with you with an arm wrapped around your shoulder, whether you’re also reading or working on something else. Though he’s inexperienced (and sometimes even shy) with these types of things, he’s more than happy to ease into affectionate touches and romance that kills his common sense with you. 

His tastes are often cheap, but when he earns enough dough, he likes to splurge on second-hand college anatomy textbooks. No, he’s not planning on going to university, but he wants to know the inner workings of the human system (and, therefore, the inner workings of you). He also likes speculative biology and seeing what humans think about other intelligent species potentially being out there.

He would absolutely be elated (though he tries his best to hide it) if you took his interests seriously and discussed them with him. He tries to keep you in his makeshift office and away from the others so you can continue to spend this precious alone time with him, but that doesn’t stop the red-hot flare of jealousy as one of the others bursts in with a childish ask about something that should be obvious. (Of fucking course you wouldn’t want to go for a walk, Deimos, have you seen the weather out? Leave you and him alone!)

Obviously Hank would love gorefest and splatter film movies because of his all-encompassing and absolute love for carnage, and he’d love them even more if you got scared and hid yourself in his shoulder or chest. It’s clear that he’s your strongest and most capable vessel, so he clearly agrees with your choice to choose him as your protector (even if that choice is based on an instinctive need to hide). 

He also loves WWE and MMA fighting. When given the choice, he opts for MMA because it’s real and bloody and he prefers seeing people push themselves to their absolute limit rather than some predetermined fight that serves a higher storyline. (But, then again, he really likes the clip of Undertaker breaking into Paul Bearer’s house during an interview and throwing a cabinet at him because, what the fuck? He’s never thought of that before! Using things from the environment when out of weapons instead of his fists could be an improvement. Maybe he can learn a thing or two from these fake fighters…)

And, yes, if you give him access to Twitter he will turn your entire timeline into those backyard fight videos and dashcam car crashes. He doesn’t mean to, it just happens.

ANIMALS

Being a natural night owl, Deimos loves keeping a lookout for what critters come out at night. When he’s on the front porch with you, smoking a cigarette and waving away mosquitoes, he makes sure to keep an eye out for weird and unusual wildlife. (While pressed against your side and purring loudly, no doubt.)

He likes watching the whip-poor-wills swoop down and catch the moths that swarm around the overhead porch lights. Yes, he will try to catch one, but backs off when you tell him to. Instead, he opts for digging in the dirt to find beetles and grubs to toss up in the air for the small birds to catch. He will kinda feel bad if the beetles hit the ground but will continue to throw them to the birds when you tell him insects are basically immune to fall damage, so… no harm, no foul.

He’s also absolutely enamored by raccoons. He likes throwing food to them from the safety of the porch and watching them eat with their little grabby hands. He’s very reckless so, despite your warnings, he’ll try to squirrel one away inside the house. (He does this multiple times and, without fail, gets bitten each time. 2B has given him multiple rabies shots after shooing the raccoons out with a broom.)

Speaking of Doc, he enjoys going out in nature and finding decaying things just to see how many buzzards arrive. He excuses it with something about wanting to see if decomposition works the same across both your world and his, but he secretly finds some relation with the birds – something about being deliverers and arbiters and negators of death. (Though the last one really only applies to him.)

He also likes the rare sightings of wild horses. He’ll go out of his way to (carefully, shyly) rouse you from whatever you’re doing to go take a look at the majestic beasts, and he’ll be even more excited if there’s a foal wandering between the stocky legs of the adults. 

He just barely brushes his fingers against yours as you both stand on the edge of the treeline and watch them graze. Seeing the foal break from the herd, kick out and tumble and fall over and immediately get back up sparks… something in his heart. A vision. Just you, just him, linked pinkies, and a future together, with this warm feeling in his chest.

Hank really likes the more dangerous creatures. He gets along well with cottonmouth and other venomous snakes (and “gets along well” really means that they’re mean as can be and strike as often as possible while he just holds them and smiles at you). 

If you don’t keep a close enough eye on him, he’ll wander off and try to provoke larger animals, like bobcats. To him, they’re just tiny little pussycats, even if they pose a real threat and could kill him. Please don’t let him go too far, because if he comes across a bear, he will try to wrestle it, and Doc doesn’t like having to do emergency surgery on the island countertop in your kitchen. 

On multiple occasions, he’s come back to the house after being missing for hours, reeking of skunk spray. He just purrs happily as you tell him to strip and hold still as you spray him down with the hose.

Sanford is way calmer with his interactions with wildlife. He likes sitting on the dock with you and watching the fish swim by (because he’s impressed both by the fish and by the river – he’s never seen water in such great quantity!) Set him up with a hook, lure, and line and he’ll be entertained for hours. Though he struggles a bit with making streamers and fishing knots due to his big hands and claws, he’s more than patient when you teach him (mostly because he gets to spend time with you). 

When he’s fishing, he likes to look around and observe – mostly because fishing is a waiting game. His favorite visitors are herds of whitetail deer, especially when summer is in full swing and the fawns are ready to start exploring. They remind him of his family, mainly because of the way the does don’t really care which fawn is theirs, just that each is getting enough milk. You point at them and discuss them with him in small whispers because you don’t want to spook them. 

Again, it reminds him of his want for a domestic life with you. Just basking in the mottled sun that seeps through the trees, dipping your bare feet in the cool river water as a catfish tugs on the line – it’s all he wants, really. Now if he could just get the rest of the grunts to leave you alone… excluding Deimos, of course.

[justmeinadaze]

Calling All Cars (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: Have I not slept yet, no. Did my managers change my schedule AGAIN from 2 -11 to 8-5, they did indeed. So Ive been living in this angsty universe. Please enjoy and please ignore any typos.

Warnings: Toxic Vampire Steddie & Human Fem Plus Size Y/N, SMUT, edging, dirty talk, spanking (light), humiliation (they refer to her as a toy and a whore), aftercare

ANGST (because obviously), more details of the boys time in the lab is mentioned (them being forced to be in sunlight, gaslit, and them rebelling by killing some guards), they do gaslit Y/N, she does smack Stevie a few times, they constantly refer to her as something they use, she does have an interaction with her parents, cliffhanger ending.

Yeah, they are bad toxic boys but they do have feelings.

Word Count: 5209

Series Here/ Donate to Me

"Calling all cars, we've got another victim 'Cause my love has become an affliction What did you expect from me? What did you expect from me?

I am not the one that you should blame Take what I left you for the pain And do your best to forget my name."

Eddie lit the end of his cigarette as he leaned back against Steve’s headboard, glancing down at your naked frame that was being obscured by the other boy’s sheets before offering you a puff that you eagerly take. 

It had been three months since you found out what happened to the guys and how your parents were involved. You purposely avoided your house as much as you could spending most of your time with either one of them. 

Your friends were very concerned as everything about you had gradually changed; your clothes, your hair, your kind demeanor. 

“Y/N, stop!”, your best friend screamed at you as you walked down the empty hallway after school. 

“What?! What do you want, Mandy!?”

“I want my best friend back! What happened after you left that party, Y/N? Garrett drove you home—”

“No, he didn’t! I don’t know how many times I can say it till you fucking understand. The police believe me.”

“No, they didn’t find any evidence! Just a car and a body of the boy I know I saw you leave with. Add in the fact that he had a crush on you and you’ve been spending way more time with Edward Munson—”

“Oh my god.”, you sigh as you roll your eyes. “So what!? I’m hanging out with Eddie Munson AND Steve Harrington but let’s focus on the boy this town hunted for like they were a posse in a western movie!”

“Y/N, three people died and he almost did to after they found him. SOMETHING happened.”

Smirking, you stalked gradually towards her till you were mere inches from her face. 

“Maybe that turns me on about him. The fact that he’s capable of hurting anyone who hurts me…like a friend who keeps butting her nose in my business when she knows NOTHING.”

“Y/N, please… Just tell me what’s going on.”

You heavily exhale as you shake your head and disappear down the hallway. 

“Why doesn’t the nicotine hurt you?”, you ask as you pass it back to him. “I mean it’s entering your body, right?”

Eddie shrugs as he inhales and flicks the ash in the nearby ashtray. 

“Maybe because I’m not exactly ingesting it. Thankfully for everyone I can smoke because if I couldn’t…oh boy.” You giggle at his joke and he tosses a smile towards Steve who smirks at the sound as he continues to read through your parent’s files that they stole. 

As the time passed, they were able to collect more tangible information now that they knew what they were looking for. Judging by the constant grunts of anger, you imagined they weren’t finding much. 

“Harrington, I don’t think I saw you read this much in school.”

“Yeah, well, this is something I find interesting so…”

“What’s this one? ‘Today subject B snored in his coma?’” The metalhead chuckled but your sad exhale had his head whipping in your direction. “What?”

“Will you ever tell me what happened? What put you in that coma and gave you these?”, you ask as the pad of your finger traced the scar on his chest.

Both men would never tell you but they loved the way you touched them. 

They had spent months being tortured and tossed around, not just by doctors and scientists but Vecna and the bats when they went into the upside down to fight him. 

Even after they were done being rough with you, you would wrap your arms around their waist and caress their skin till you fell asleep. Steve would feel your nails run through the hair on his chest and his eyes would close as he absorbed the brief feeling of what a normal relationship would be like. 

Eddie would wake up with the strong need for a cigarette before it was replaced with the desire to not disturb your sleeping form as your nose nuzzled into his shoulder behind him and you pulled him closer to your body. 

“You don’t want to hear about that, sweetheart.”, he exhaled as he caught your hand and kissed the back of it. 

“I want to hear everything.”, you mumble.

“Oh?”, the former jock asked as he turned in the chair at his desk to face you both and began to read in a high pitch voice. “’Spoke with Edward Munson today after the much anticipated sunlight test. He and Steven Harrington were allowed outside today for an hour. After 35 minutes their skin began to ‘burn’ (their words). When the hour ended both were red and their flesh began to decay as if they were third degree burns. Dr. Y/L/N said they seemed delusional and Edward begged ‘for his father to stop hurting him’. Healed after fifteen minutes and a blood iv drip—”

Eddie growled beside you as his angry eyes bore into his friend but as if challenged Steve continued. 

“’I asked him why he said that and he said he didn’t remember but documentation from Hawkin’s Police records shows a history of violence—'”

The metalhead swished towards him, tackling him out of the chair and onto the floor. 

“Come on, Munson, is that all you got!”, the pretty boy chuckles as they begin to wrestle. 

“Why do you have to read my reports?! Read your own personal shit!”

“I don’t know if you heard me but that involved us both, asshole! They locked me outside to in the sun, remember?! I was right there beside you fucking banging on that door trying to bust it down! Screaming for anyone to help us! Of course, they didn’t care. Didn’t even bother to tell us any of their fucking names.”

“’Tests were initiated today on their strength and tempers. Steven Harrington was the hardest to break.’”, you read aloud from his desk chair causing them both to pull apart. “’When his parents were mentioned, little reaction took place. Brought up Dustin Henderson and his blood pressure spiked but no physical reaction. It wasn’t until a woman by the name of Robin Buckley was mentioned. One of the doctors spoke of collecting her to bring her in and Mr. Harrington broke his restraints until he was subdued by security.’”

Steve slowly rose to his feet and sauntered your way, his eyes locked on you as you kept reading. 

“’Neither man appear to have any romantic interests contrary to ‘rumors’ of Miss Wheeler. Pressure points for them seem to be Robin Buckley and Wayne Munson. Documenting for future use should anything happen to me.’”

Bending down to find your eyeline, he places his palms on his knees as he searches your features. 

“And who is the ‘me’ in that sentence?” Blinking back tears, you swallow the pain you’d been avoiding these past few months. “Answer me.”

“My mom.”

“That’s right.”

“May I ask you something?” Neither man responds as they continue to glare your way. “You…you didn’t seek me out to get back at them, did you?”

“If memory serves, sweetheart, YOU came up to ME.”, Eddie answers as he slides on some shorts and bounces back into the bed. 

“And I warned you to stay away from us.”

When all you do is nod, Steve abruptly lifts you into his arms making you smile as he tosses you beside his friend and climbs in beside you.

“I, um, I like you a lot…both of you…”

Both men exchange a glance as you cuddle up further into the pretty boys cool but comfortable chest. The metalhead heavily exhales and his friend watches as he curls up behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he holds you to him, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder. 

####################

“Y/N, sweetie?” Your head shoots up from your sketchbook at the sound of your teacher’s soft voice. “They need you at the front office. Someone’s here to see you.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, honey.”, she sighs as she holds up the pass that was handed to her with emphasis. 

As you glance across the room towards Eddie, even he seems more alert at the announcement as his head tilts but as you begin to collect your things, you briefly hear him scribble something down on a piece of paper. 

You don’t know what possess you to do it, maybe intuition or the new found connection you have with these boys but as you absently reach for one of your books, you knock it to the floor allowing the notes within to scatter with it. 

The long-haired boy doesn’t hesitate as he quickly kneels down to help you collect your things and out of the corner of your eye, you see him slide the paper he wrote on into the front cover. 

“Thank you.”, you mumble as he firmly nods and watches you take the pass before disappearing out the door. 

Pausing in the hallway, you flip his note open and panic subtly flows through you as you read, “Don’t fight him. Go where he asks. You aren’t alone.” 

“Hey, baby.” At the sound of the man’s voice, you head snaps towards the office as you come face to face with your father. “I think we need to talk.”

***

Your hands shake in your lap in the back of the SUV but you try to hid it as you hold them together. To your surprise, your dad brings you back to your house and opens the back door for you so you can follow him inside. 

Your mom is pacing in the living room but she stops when she sees your face and runs to give you a hug. 

“Y/N, we missed you so much! We’re so glad you’re ok.”

Her tone and smile fall when you don’t reciprocate and she slowly backs away as your father gestures towards a chair for you to take a seat. 

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, Y/N, and for this to go as smoothly as possible I want clear, concise answers. Am I being understood?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “How much do you know?”

“About Project Sunlight?”, you murmur with contempt. “I know you tortured them and mom gaslit them. I know I was a subject at one point.”

“No, baby, you were—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me! I read dad’s notes from when I was in the hospital!”

“Were we cautious, yes. Were you a subject, no.”, your father responds before his wife can as she starts to lean forward to object. “Would you like to be?”

His callous wording has you blinking back shock as you lean back in your chair. 

“Y/N, you have no idea what Edward Munson and Steven Harrington are capable of but I can show you.”

Sliding out of your way, he pushes play with the remote in his hand and both their sullen faces fill the screen of the tv. They appeared incredibly thin but still had some color in their faces as their eyes stared into the void while sitting in what appeared to be a large white empty room. 

“Can we get this over with please?! I’m really fucking tired…and I need a smoke.”, Eddie grumbles. 

“Shhh… do you hear that?”, Steve whispers as he gets to his feet and heads towards the locked door. 

“I’m bringing in anyone who was in the other world so we can run tests on them. Steven and Edward may have been bitten but who knows what else could have been in that place that contaminated the others.”

“I understand, sir. Names of the subjects?”

“Will Byers, Dustin Henderson—”

“No…”

“What?”, Eddie asked as he watched his friend start to panic and pull on the handles in front of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckl—”

“NO! DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH THEM!”

The metalhead’s eyes widen in fear as he watches the former jock try to rip the door off its hinges but fails. 

“Wayne Munson did come into contact with the gate in his trailer. That’s in the paperwork here. Should we grab him to or?”

Eddie began scrambling around the room while Steve searched for something that would get them out so they could get to their friends and family. The camera angle changes to the corner of the room as both men suddenly stop moving and their heads tilt towards a mirror against the wall. 

Their eyes become that black you’ve seen before and you watch in horror as they fly forward, effortlessly crashing through to attack the men on the other side. Camera shots constantly changed to different gun angles as they tried to rein in the beings as they flew and tore people apart with magnificent strength. 

Abruptly, you and them were blinded by a bright light as they screamed and fell to the floor as the tape ended.

“Don’t you see, Y/N? We HAD to run all those experiments on them to see what we were dealing with and we were terrified by what we saw. Thankfully your mom’s therapy techniques have kept them from hurting anyone else. We told them this here…” He gestures towards the tv. “…was a rouge outfit and thanked them for saving us. We NEED them to keep believing we are on their side.”

“You…you tortured them…why didn’t you just help them?”

“We tried, baby, we really did.”, you mother replies. “After a while we realized there was no cure for what they were.”

“But we are still learning everything about them. Apparently, they can heal wounds on other people. They can feed without changing the human they are directly feeding from—”

“You’ve been watching me with them…”

“At first, no. I had an inclination after your wound on your neck healed in the hospital. When you didn’t come back home, we sent agents to find you. For the last three months they’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“Why them and not you?”, you snap. “Too afraid to face the truth?”

“What’s the truth, Y/N? What are you to them?”

“A meal.”, your dad answers your mom’s question. “That’s all you are to them.”

“No. They care about me and I care about them.”

“All they care about is themselves and blood. They will die without it, Y/N. Why do you think everyone else abandoned them? They are not the same boys from before especially Edward Munson. When he died, he came back stronger and from what we can tell his senses are more in tune than Steven’s.”

“If you’ve been watching me for so long then why are you talking to me now?”

“We…we know you’ve become romantically involved. We want you to help us find out more information that we’d never be able to get.”

“Wow.”, you laugh as you rise to your feet. “After everything you just told me and everything I’ve seen about what you two did to them…you really think I’d help you?”

“Y/N, please, you can save so many lives—”

“You could have just asked us directly.” At the sound of Eddie’s voice, you jumped as your mom stood up and placed herself beside her husband. “Mr. Y/L/N…Mrs. Y/L/N…or should I say doctors?”

“Edward. Steven. You both have changed.”

“Oh, yeah, we aren’t fucking dying anymore.”, the pretty boy practically hissed. “And thanks to this little exchange here now we know that was always the plan. Do you even know how long we would have suffered before we wasted away?”

Your father shakes his head making them both snicker. 

“Thankfully a little angel entered our world and we have absolutely enjoyed corrupting her. The fact that she’s your daughter is just an added bonus really.”

“I thought you said—”, you began before the metalhead cut you off.

“We said we didn’t pursue you but that doesn’t change the fact that part of what gets us off is that we are making the daughter of the man and woman who made our lives hell scream while we fucking use her.”, Eddie replies flatly. “Fuck…I’m getting hard right now thinking about you having to hear feedback from your subordinates about how she moaned our names and how uncomfortable that must have made you.

About as uncomfortable as being force-fed things that make you sick.”

“Or being manipulated to believe you were going to hurt the people we cared about.”, Steve added. 

Your palm to his face startled everyone in the room as you slapped him hard with every ounce of energy you could muster. 

“You don’t care about fucking anybody! Neither of you do!”

The growl that rumbled from them had your mom starting to step forward to protect you but your father held her back. 

Eddie grinned devilishly as he shook his head and held up his index finger. 

“Excuse me. We need to have a talk with our toy. It seems she forgot her place.”

With that, he wraps his arms around you, protecting your body as he crashes through the window and flies into the sky with Steve in tow.

###############

The metalhead lands in a field of tall grass and you stumble out of his grasp on to the ground. Gathering your faculties, you run in what you perceive to be no particular direction, finding a seemingly empty trailer and running inside. 

There’s a strong smell of dampness you can’t identify but as you glance towards the ceiling, you see a big hole that is pitch black within. You half expect to see the night sky but when you place yourself under it all you see are vague remnants of a carpet that looks like the one currently under your feet clouded by a darkness that frightens you. 

Backing away, you fall into a chair and as you hastily stand back up a framed photo catches your eyes. 

A small boy with long hair is in an older man’s arms as he lifts him towards the camera and they both laugh. There’s another picture beside of it of a woman holding that same small child to her chest as she kisses his forehead. 

Intrigued, you wonder to the kitchen and find some loose papers on the counter. Flipping it over, a picture of Eddie glared back with his description underneath and above read “Missing Person.”

You wondered further towards the back of the trailer and your jaw dropped slightly as you took in the metalhead’s former room. The door behind you slammed shut making you jump as the man himself folded his arms. 

“I think some of the lines in our relationship have been blurred, Y/N. You belong to us. That’s it. That’s all you are. A belonging.”

“And belongings don’t hit.”, Steve growled as he forcefully pushed you onto the bed. 

“That’s all I am? That’s all I’ll ever be? So when I said I like you both—”

“I don’t know what you expected, little girl. We told you in the beginning that you were our untapped resource.”

“Why? Why are you like this?! Where is this man?!”, you plead as you hold up his flyer. “Or the man I drew who used to work at Scoops Ahoy who made his best friend laugh?!

“That man is dead, Y/N. He was bitten, torn apart, and then some doctors got ahold of him.”, Eddie hissed as he grabbed the paper and tore it up.

“I don’t think you understand how much your parents and those other doctors destroyed us.”, Steve followed. “I didn’t die like he did but after saving this fucking town I came back to torture…literally!”

“But…but that wasn’t…I’ve been nothing but nice to you…I thought—”

The pretty boy’s hand around your throat cut you off. 

“You thought wrong. What? Did you think we would fall in love and run off into the fucking sunset together? Get married and have little babies who snack on their pathetic mother?”

Your heart breaks at his words and they see it as you hunch over and cover your eyes. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.”, you murmur before facing them with a look they had never seen from you. “Why…why did you even bother!? You should have just left me alone! I have lost everything because of you!!”

“No, you lost everyone because of you and the choices you made. YOU saved Eddie. YOU came to the store. YOU stayed with us after you found out about mommy and daddy. There wasn’t even a doubt in your mind.”

“I trusted you and what you showed me…”

“Yeah, well, trusting us was your mistake, baby, not ours.”, the metalhead sighs as if annoyed. 

Something in your energy changes as you rise from the bed and square your shoulders. 

“Your right. I will never make that mistake again.” As you start to walk towards the bedroom door Steve grabs your wrist to pull you back and in return you slap him again. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Where do you think your going?”, he growled. 

“Home. My parents may be despicable people but that’s nothing compared to you two and at least there they can keep me safe.”

He tugs you roughly closer to his chest as Eddie steps closer to your sides. 

“There’s nowhere you could go, little girl, where we can’t find you.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh? Yet you need to be ‘safe’ from us?”

“Fuck you. Does Robin Buckley know the kind of man you’ve become? What about Wayne Munson? Do they know the monsters you are?”

Steve walks you backwards till your back hits the wall and even then he presses himself against you till your sandwiched between. 

“You want to see a monster, Y/N? Say her name again.”

Your body shutters slightly at the drop in his voice as his irises burn into your eyes. His chest rose and fell, pushing against yours as the wind from his nose moved your hair every time he breathed. 

It was incredibly subtle; the bulge in his jean lightly touching you. 

He was getting off on this; your defiance. 

“So…that’s a no…on Robin?”

In one swift action, the former jock grabbed your hair and spun you around, slamming your front half aggressively against the wall. Lifting your skirt, his palm came down hard on your behind causing you to jump and whine.

“We are going to fucking ruin you tonight, you little brat, and when we’re finished you’ll never forget your place again.”

His palm hit you a couple more times in quick succession before he yanked on your hair to guide you back to the bed and push you down on all fours. After ripping off your panties, you felt the wind behind you of Steve ducking down, moaning loudly when his tongue licked through your folds. 

“You’re so ungrateful, Y/N. After everything we do for you...”, Eddie growled, throwing his body in front of you as he stroked his cock. “You still forget your place… you’re still…disrespectful…”

You whimpered when the man behind you pulled away and it wouldn’t be the last time that night they left you wanting. Both men used you for what felt like hours, building you up till you were right at the edge before pulling away. 

The metalhead was top of you now, pumping his cock deep inside you with his head beside your own till he felt your pussy begin to quiver and he abruptly stopped moving. All three of you were sweaty and panting as Steve folded his fingers against his forehead. 

“Please…”, you beg, desperate.

“Who do belong to?”

“You and Steve.”

“That’s right. You’re our little whore.” As he spoke, Eddie began thrusting into you again as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Say it.”

“I’m…I’m your little…little whore.”

“Yeah, you are…Fuck, baby…ours…”, he moaned, not slowing down. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to crash into you as you screamed his name and he mewled as you lightly tugged his hair. His lips crashed to your own only for a moment as he struggled to keep them connected, his face scrunching in pleasure as he hastily pulled out and rapidly stroked his cock till his release hit tummy. 

“You didn’t—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I am.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes as he climbs off you and is quickly replaced by Steve who collects you in his arms, falling back first against the headboard while adjusting your body to straddle his lap. Taking a hold of his shaft, you slowly sink down onto him eliciting a sexy groan from him as you gradually move your hips. 

Your hands cling to his shoulders as his lips attach to your nipple and you can’t help but squeak when one of his fangs drags lightly along the bud. 

“That was for fucking hitting me…even though your pussy is telling me—shit—you liked that. Did you, baby?”

“Yes, I liked it.”

“See? We take care of you to.”, he whispers as he meets each one of your bounces with a thrust of his own. “We take care of our things.”

Eddie’s head tilted as your eyes opened at his friend’s words and you hugged his head to your body as he bit into your neck. Your fingers lingered in his sweat soaked hair just as you had down with the metalhead but your bottom lip trembled as you tried to control the tears. 

“Like you said, Y/N…Monsters.”

Your eyes closed again as the other boy’s palms gripped your ass, guiding you as his mouth released you, licking your wound, and resting his head against your chest as you held him. You trembled as you came and Steve grunted at the feeling. 

“Goddamn it…off, off, off!”, he urged and you slid back to watch him pump his cock roughly till his seed erupted on to his hand and thigh. “Fuck.”

As the metalhead handed the pretty boy a napkin, Steve raised his eyebrows in annoyance. 

“The water doesn’t work here, remember? No one has lived here in like a year.”

“We could go to the lake. It’s not far from here, right?”

As they spoke, you had tried to suffocate the tears that escape as you reached for a tissue by his bed and cleaned yourself. Something cold tapped your arm and you turned to see Eddie handing you your clothes. 

You stared at them as if they were a foreign object and again, he tried to push them towards you. Fury filled you as you took the items, tossed them to the ground, and stomped them with your bare feet as you screamed at the wall. When you finally stopped, they both redressed you themselves as you stood there and allowed it. 

Your sad eyes took in the room around you; absorbing all the band posters and D&D campaign memorabilia. By his bed were cassette tapes of bands you very much knew, having listened to them yourself. There was what appeared to be a fantasy book half read along with some more photos that you picked up to examine. 

Softly chuckling, you hold up a picture of him with a group of people wearing the same Hellfire shirt as he held up the rock & roll symbol with his tongue sticking out. 

“Some days…after school…I could hear you guys yelling and laughing in the theater room…You sounded so…happy.” Your voice cracked on your last word before tossing the images back where you found them. “Do you care about me at all? Even a little?”

Eddie’s chest heaved as he exhaled and stepped towards you to gently kiss your forehead. 

“No.”

You nodded but your knees betrayed you as they buckled as Steve quickly caught you and pressed you to his chest. 

 “Y/N…” You heard it through your pain, a particular tone from him you had been hearing more and more as you got more comfortable together. “Don’t trust your parents… anyone who works for that lab isn’t someone you should trust. They made us…who we are.”

Your head shakes adamantly.

“No. You are the way you are because of yourself. I know those men are still in there.”

“Maybe…or maybe this is who we were always meant to be.”

At the long-haired boy’s words, you start to sob and they both hold you tightly to them until they fall asleep. 

As the Hawkins sun begins to rise, you give them one last cursory glance before grabbing your shoes and running out the trailer door. 

###############

“You’re safe here, Y/N, I promise.”, your mom assures as she slides your suitcase and backpack into your new room at the “safehouse” they sped to after you arrived at their front door. “We’ve always had ‘get away’ packs ready just in case and this house is ‘clean’ so they shouldn’t be able to smell us. I’m not even sure they can do that but—”

“Yes, you are. You don’t have to lie to me.”

Sighing, she takes a step towards you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder giving you pause. 

“I know you’re angry with me, baby, and you have every right to be but no matter what I’m still your mom and I’m still here for you. Your father and I love you very much.”

“Thank you, mom.”, you whimper as you take a seat on the bed and pull out the sketchbook from your backpack. Flipping through the pages, your heart cracks in half as their images you drew fly past. 

Anger and pain fills you as you begin ripping out pages and tearing them in half before tossing them across the room. 

“I don’t know about this, honey.”, your mom whispers as she closes her and her husband’s bedroom door and walks over to the desk where he was watching you break down from his laptop monitor that was connected to the many cameras around the house including your room. “She doesn’t seem like them. I mean she came to us in the day time for Christs sake…on FOOT! Those boys couldn’t even handle 30min.”

“Yeah but we won’t know that unless we keep an eye out.”, he replies absently as he continues taking notes before your mother walks over and shuts the laptop closed. “Look, we don’t have any data on what happens when they take blood from a human. We also don’t know how intimacy works, for example, can they get her pregnant? Can they—”

“Ok, ok! I don’t even want to think about that.”

“There’s also a lot of information she can give us. We just have to get her to trust us again.” You father watches as your mom’s head hangs and she takes a seat on the mattress with her arms folded across her chest. “Sweetheart…”, he sighs as he wheels his chair in front of her and grabs her palms. “I know how you feel. We never wanted her to experience any of Hawkins craziness but it is what it is…now we just have to find out what we can to protect her and the rest of the world.”

“Even if that mean doing to her what we did to them?”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that…”

“But if it does?”

Your father tenderly kisses the back of her hands before tugging her onto his lap. 

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there.”

##################

@debkk16 @myherometalhead @veemoon @hardladyheart @moonlightseranade @iloveyou987123 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ollieolive @localemofreak @munsonmoonshine86 @twirls827 @munsongirl48

Some other people commented but I can't tag y'all! I tried!

[wandussyfantasy]

I'm Late

Summary: Final part to the Jealous mini series. Kate is afraid that she hasn't had her period in some time and expresses her concern to Y/n

Pairings: Kate Bishop x g!pReader

For: @ravienaa031

Word Count: 1,589

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!! smut, g!preader, powerbottom!KateBishop, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, masturbation, oral, sex toys, fantasies, and teasing.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

You and Kate are lying in your bed, she has her head on your chest and you have an arm around her. The two of you are quiet as you relax after having sex. You sit up a little in the bed and pull out a joint from the drawer in the desk that sits next to your bed. You light it and take a drag. You offer a hit to Kate, as you always do but this time she declines and snuggles her head into your chest more. 

“I’m late,” she mumbles as she holds onto you.

“Oh shit, you have a class right now?” You laugh as you try to pull her off. 

“No, I'm done with classes for the week,” she replies. 

“Then what are you late for? Work? I thought you only work when you're home for the summer.” You take another drag. 

“I do,” Kate pouts as she draws invisible shapes on your chest with her finger. 

“Then what are you late for?” you set the rest of the joint down on your ashtray. “Do you have something going on for your sorority? Because you seem awfully calm about being late.”

You look into her soft blue eyes and see something serious in them that makes your heart start to beat a little faster. “I’m actually pretty terrified right now,” Kate admits.

You gulp as you come to the conclusion on what she means but you won't say anything about it until she confirms it. Until she says the words. “Kate, what are you late for?” 

“My menstrual cycle,” she answers softly. 

“Okay,” you start calmly, “have you taken a test? I mean, we've been pretty careful… well most of the time.”

“I was too scared to check without you,” she admits in a small voice. You can't help but stroke her hair. She looks so scared and you aren't quite sure how to comfort her. 

“Do we need to go get some?” 

“No, I brought some with me. I,” she takes a breath, “I planned on coming here to do that but when I saw you… ugh I couldn't resist doing this!”

“Hey, hey, it's okay. We'll just get dressed and I'll get you some fluids and we'll get you peeing, okay?” Kate nods as you rub her arm to comfort her. “Do you think checking after sex will give a wrong result?” you ask as you jump out of your bed and gather clothes. “Do you have a drink preference? Wait, you probably don’t need something to drink. You usually pee after sex. Unless, are you too nervous? Shit! What do you need from me, Kate?” There are very few times you are ever wishing that you were never born with a penis and right now is one of those times. 

Kate stands up and grabs your hands to calm you down and calls your name until you stop rambling and look at her. “I will take the water.” 

The five minutes while the two of you wait for the results are the longest minutes of your lives. You sit next to Kate and hold her hand. You try to stay calm but this was nerve wracking. One second she's bouncing on your dick and calling screaming your name and then next she's telling you she might be pregnant. You don't get how this could have happened. 

The test, thankfully, comes out negative. The both of you are filled with relief. No baby is on the way. No stress of having to make a decision on whether or not to keep it. No spur of the moment marriage proposal. The two of you can go another day to be irresponsible. 

“How should we celebrate?” You ask when you toss the test.

Kate takes your hand and guides you to her bed. You sit in the edge as she lowers herself between your legs. She unzips the fly of your jeans and pulls your limp dick out of your pants. You smirk as you watch her wrap her plump lips around the head of your xockm. “Yeah, that's a great way to celebrate.” You bite your lip as you tangle your fingers in her hair. 

You thrust you hips up slightly against her mouth as you feel yourself harden while her lips work her magic on you. You groan as she starts to use her hands on the rest of you as your dick grows in her mouth. “Fuck, Kate.” 

She smirks as she looks up at you and takes her shirt off. She pushes her supple breasts together and slipps your thick cock between them. You thrust your hips as she licks the tip of your penis while you fuck her tits. You groan excitedly. 

“Where?” You asks since you're close. 

“Already?” She smirks.

“Shut up, where?” You groan as you prepare to cum all over her face right now. 

She giggles as she drops her breasts and wraps her lips around your cock again. You pump your load into her mouth as her cheeks inflate. But she doesn't let a drop escape. You shudder as you pull your dick away from her mouth and wipes her lips and finish swallowing your load. 

Her phone pings and she gets up to check it. You know that ringtone of hers. It's specific to her secret business. Her OnlyFans account. You weren't sure how you felt about it since the two of you began seeing each other exclusively. 

“Now I need you to behave yourself. I need to work,” she says as she waves you off her bed. You stand with your dick still hanging out of your pants. She sets up her tripod and pulls out a box of toys from underneath her bed.

You sigh and start to stuff your dick back inside of your pants. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Kate asks. 

“You want me to stay?” 

“Yeah, sit in that chair in the corner. I need you babe. I can't get off anymore without you. It's made my job… work,” she frowns as she changes into her lingerie. You obey her request and sit on the chair in the corner of her room. Watching her from the other side of the camera. You sit with your dick, that's still wet from her lips and watch as she gets into character for whatever sick fucker paid her for the video call. 

“Mmm you want me to use that big boy? Oh, I hope it fits in my tiny tiny pussy,” she says in a high pitched voice. You had never heard her sound so pornographic before. You watch as she pulls out a dildo from her toy box and you smirk as it's half your size. She can most definitely handle that dildo. “It's stretching me deep inside zaddy,” she says as she makes a face. 

You lick your lips as your dick starts to wake up again. She is riding that silicon cock pretty hard as she makes fake noises of pleasure. It shouldn't turn you on as much as it does but you watched a lot of porn as a teenager. You start to stroke yourself as Kate watches you. She bites her lips as she grips her breasts. She starts to rub her clitoris to get a release. You can hear the moans of the man on the computer and you almost want to shut the computer off but you know it's better to keep from upsetting her client. 

Kate can see that you're struggling and she smirks before she puts on a big show of “finishing” for the client. When the man logs off, Kate beckons you over. You shut the laptop closed on the way over. You watch as she pulls the dildo out of her dripping pussy. 

“Finish me,” she begs. You toss your clothes and climb on top of her. You kiss her passionately. Your tongue wrestles with hers. You shove your cock deep inside of her. She moans as you pump inside of her. You feel yourself getting close early again. You don't know what has made you so sensitive. You pull out and stroke yourself until you're spurting all over her breasts. 

“Sorry,” you say through your groans. You move to put your head between her legs. “I'll take care of you, baby. Don't worry.” You promise against her pussy lips. You lick her moist lips moaning as you taste her. It's become your favorite flavor. You slip your tongue inside of her hole for a few seconds then move to suck on her clitoris. She moans as she pulls in your hair. You hum against her pussy as your hand blindly searches for her dildo. 

Kate helps you find it. She places it in your hand. As you continue to pleasure her with your tongue you align the dildo and press the tip in her entrance. You fuck her with the dildo until she is screaming and shuddering. Her intense orgasm causes her to squirt on your face. 

You pull away breathlessly with a grin as she continues to squirm on her bed. 

“Good thing we don't have to worry about a kid. We'd never get to be that loud again,” you joke with a short laugh as you wipe your face.

Kate scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You'll knock me up soon enough and you know it.” 

“Shut up,” you start to stroke your cock again, “or I'll shut you up.” 

Kate smirks with a mischievous gaze.

The End.

[yellowf1nch]

Minors: Do Not Interact

Note: a bit long for a quick idea, but mentions of slightly dubious intentions, though nothing explicit described. Gender neutral terms/second person and no physical descriptors but size (you are three inches tall)

Hmmm.....

What if [intelligence!reader] was subject to some kind of shrinking technology? And when suddenly Captain Price is looking for his favorite *behind the scenes* coworker, and Laswell mentions they're "incapacitated," he's suddenly trying to get the proper clearance to get to them... And maybe he does, as a captain, and is brought to an observation room where [intelligence!reader] is wrapped in a handkerchief, three inches tall? He'd stand there speechless, stunned, first thoughts going to what kind of new hell has been unleashed on the world, and is then asking the doctor about the science of it... Is it reversible? How was this done?

Of course he keeps it under wraps, only telling his most trusted brother-in-arms Lieutenant Riley (off the record)... And of course Ghost keeps it a secret because he knows how to keep secrets until he lets a little something slip about the whole ordeal to Sergeants Garrick and Mactavish, who then go smugly to Price because they know something he shouldn't have let out... So then the three of them are also pursuing proper clearance because when they get it and pay [intelligence!reader] a visit, it's the collective turning to Laswell with "maybe we could watch them, ay?" "They could use the company, practically torture to keep 'em locked up all alone after what they've gone through," "we've got enough time between ops to help 'em be more comfortable and keep a record of status for the doc," and honestly it's not the most outlandish argument to make... Maybe it wouldn't hurt, after all, you were still *you* just much smaller...

Much smaller and to your coworkers-turned-acquaintances-turned-guys-you-hang-out-with-sometimes-turned-caretakers, much less capable of doing much of anything. There's the simple things, like helping you move around by placing you in a hand, on the shoulder, or in a front breast pocket. Not to hard to deal with, and the boys certainly enjoy toting you around (even if some wouldn't admit it)... Then there's the ingenuity they seem to enjoy in trying to work out how to make things for you, small sized. Small chair and table? Starts with a small plastic container and an overturned ashtray. Food and drink? They start with already small foods like rice and shredded cheese, maybe some canned beans that you can eat each piece one at a time.

But then there's the point where you honestly become like a *pet* to them. Exacerbated when Johnny seems to remember his sisters having a doll set that they grew out of, and really it's the perfect size! And Kyle saw some videos online of people making tiny sized pancakes and pies for their hamsters, how cute would you look then? Simon, well, he gets a little tired of you trying to work on paperwork and such; all this energy you need to get out, just use this rodent wheel and you'll be ready for a nap in the nest he made for you... Oh, Price? Well, he sees how excited the boys get, and knows how much they think about you out in the field-- really, this was an unexpected change and of course you're upset but maybe it's for the best? But it's been a while since you had a wash, what with being afraid of showers and sinks, so what if he's got a teacup that he "definitely doesn't use anymore, dearie," with little portions of shampoo and conditioner, a little chip off a soap bar for you to wash with and a washcloth for you to use as a towel-- but he needs to keep an eye on you, so you don't get hurt or in case something goes wrong?

And if you turn back to your normal self, but they seem... Disappointed? Or maybe they continue patting your head and trying to do everything for you like you can't do it yourself... Or what if this is unfortunately a permanent fixture?

[springlockscars]

oral fixation (w.afton/fem!reader)

pairing: william afton | steve raglan/fem!reader content tags: oral fixation, oral sex, body worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, praise kink, william can not keep his mouth off you. summary: William has an obsessive habit of chewing and biting things, especially when he's stressed. You interrupt his work at just the right time. word count: 2,898 read on AO3

18+ content below cut. minors do not interact.

note: I am so glad I received this because I love oral fixation fics.

In public, Steve’s mannerisms, his facial expressions, were a well-rehearsed performance. Not a single person would be able to see the crime scene he cleaned up a week ago through the crease in his eyebrows, or the screams of a victim he still heard ringing in his ears in the way he sipped bitter coffee from a chipped mug; they simply were not there.

No, Steve Raglan was an ordinary guy. A little peculiar perhaps. Sometimes he tried a little too hard to be funny, and that affinity he seems to have for rabbit themed memorabilia could be classed as odd to some. Aside from that, Career Councillor Steve Raglan acted no differently to any other employee in the office.

In private, however, the comfort of his own home or even the privacy the closed door of his office provides, William Afton wore his thoughts externally like he wore the sleeves of his shirt. William would chew on the plastic end of a pen while pouring over a client’s file; agonising over how he was supposed to find suitable employment for a 37-year-old with only a high-school education, a criminal record and a 9-year unexplained gap in his employment history.

He would light up a cigarette or two, rolling the paper filter between his lips, biting it carefully with his teeth while sketching concept blueprints for a new animatronic design, trying to seamlessly integrate a dispenser for a knockout gas that wouldn’t be overtly noticeable.

William would bite his nails and chew his lips when you were out late and not responding to his calls or texts, crashing those worried lips to yours as soon as you’d come through the door. “My phone died and I had to stay late, you don’t have to worry I’m safe.” “All manner of dangerous people are out there,” he sighed your name, “can you use a coworker’s phone to call me if it happens next time? I hate to be sitting on the edge of my seat wondering if someone is hurting my girl.”

It was now that William was deep in thought, a half burned out cigarette resting in between his lips. He was tweaking some finer details on an endoskeleton hand, wanting it to have more precise movements, he had said before heading into his garage workshop. That was over five hours ago and the dinner you decided to make him was almost ready.

You watched him from the doorway. The ashtray showing he was on at least his third cigarette; he was stressed. Stepping over boxes and piles of scrap metal, you made your way over to him, resting a palm flat against his back.

“You’re tense,” you said quietly, smoothing your hand over the expanse of his rigid back.

William leaned into your touch but didn’t stop working. You took the chance to gently work out some of the knots in his muscles while he manipulated the metal on the bench, the cigarette still in between his lips. Watching as he moved it between his teeth from the left to the right side of his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and inhaling deeply.

You moved from behind him to lean on the edge of the desk, facing him now. Mentally crossing your fingers in the hopes he wouldn’t snap at you, you take the cigarette from his mouth, immediately drawing his attention. You raise your eyebrows teasingly, bringing the mauled butt to your own lips to take a drag.

“Dinners almost ready,” you exhale the smoke over your shoulder away from him.

A smirk on his lips, “What time is it?” he asks, placing his tools down and finally sitting up straight to stretch out his aching back muscles, twisting his neck side to side. He takes the endoskeleton hand from the desk and places it gently in a box, moving it to a shelf out of the way for now.

“11:41pm, according to the clock in here,” you inhale one more time, feeling the buzz in your head, before passing it back to William who takes the almost finished cigarette graciously. He seems way more interested in it now that it’s been between your lips.

He leans back in his chair, removing his glasses to rub his fatigued eyes then tossing them on the desk. He places the cigarette back between his lips to take a deep, satisfying drag, then stubs it out in the ashtray next to the rest. William exhales, smoke briefly clouding your vision as he reaches for your hips and pulls you down onto his lap, holding you tightly in his calloused hands. One holding your waist, the other gripping your thigh.

William nuzzles into the curve of your neck, nose and scratchy facial hair tickling your sensitive skin. He smiles when he can feel your heartbeat against his lips. He places a kiss, then two. Tracing the tip of his tongue from collarbone to ear, pressing a kiss in the space behind your ear and sweeping your hair back out of the way. You live for these moments. The way he dotes on you and worships every inch of you like a piece of fine art.

“I’m sorry I was distracted in here. Have I been neglecting my girl?” William nips the lobe of your ear with his teeth, before kissing a path down the juncture of your neck again.

“Could tell you were stressed,” your breathing heavy, “you need a break.”

“Hmm,” he responds against your skin.

He kisses firmer, harder, more intensely until he’s sucking a bruise into the delicate skin. The way you feel against him, the way you taste on his tongue. More, is all he can think, closer…

He swivels in his desk chair and guides you onto the hard wooden surface of his workbench, sweeping nuts and bolts, welded pieces of metal and wires out of the way. Some clattering to the ground, but he doesn’t care about that right now. William stands, his 6ft 4” frame towering over you as he leans down, gripping your waist with both hands, and connects his lips to yours.

You can’t help but moan obscenely into the kiss. The ferocity and desperation of his lips moulding against yours has you instinctively grinding your hips against his. Wiliam deepens the kiss, his hot tongue sliding over yours, exploring your mouth and bending you into submission. The kiss tastes like the tobacco you both shared, giving you the same pleasant buzz. He bites at your plush lower lip, pulling it with his teeth enough to make it to puff up and redden.

William leans back slightly to get a better look at you; your hair dishevelled, lips swollen and glistening, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“So beautiful,” he stoops back down, lips connecting to your jaw before nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck again enough to bruise, traveling down to the collar of your shirt.

William slides his skilled hands underneath the fabric, caressing the skin there up to where he can feel your bra. He pushes your shirt higher, up over your chest, off your shoulders and over your head, paying no mind to where it falls.

Immediately, his lips connect to the soft skin of your breast poking out of the top of your underwear. Biting and sucking hard, desperately needing to touch you, to mark you everywhere his lips will reach. His warm hands snake underneath your back to unclasp your bra. He pulls the elastic straps down your arms and discards the garment on the ground, bending further at the waist to bring a nipple into his mouth.

Your back arches into his touch, one hand gripping the back of his head by his hair, the other finding purchase on the workbench by your head to keep you steady. William sucks and bites down on your nipple, bringing it to a hard peak. He moves all around the soft flesh, nipping and leaving bruises. With no pens to chew on and the cigarettes discarded, your body was his distraction from his frustrations and worries right now. Not that this would be the first time.

William moves across your chest to give your other breast equal attention. He bites down on your nipple hard enough for you to gasp and tighten your grip on his hair. He glares up at you through hooded eyes, not angry, but amused.

Whilst caressing and kneading the flesh of your breasts, he moves lower down your body, nipping at your torso and abdomen, leaving a trail of little red marks as he goes. He teasingly kisses the skin just above the waistband of your trousers. Deciding to speed things up he hooks his fingers into the hem and pulls them swiftly down your legs, leaving you in only your panties on top of his work bench.

William smooths his thumbs over your hips where your underwear sits. Continuing his goal of kissing every inch of you, he presses his lips to your mound, moving lower and lower, until he’s kissing right over your clothed clit.

A rush of adrenaline courses through your body, arching once again into his touch. William, however, moves away from the area you need him most. He sits back down in his desk chair, giving him the perfect angle to place hot, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, marring the area shades of bright red and deep purple with his lips and tongue.

Once he deems your thighs suitably marked, he pushes your legs further apart for him to gain access to the area you both need him the most. William runs two fingers down your clothed slit, a grin forming when he sees your arousal seep through the fabric. He teases you like this; tracing over your clit with his fingers, pushing into your entrance as far as the fabric of your underwear will allow. Watching you squirm on his desk, begging for a release.

William finds himself becoming impatient, biting on the skin of his lips, he needs you in his mouth again like an addict craving a fix. He finally lowers his face back down to your core, running his lips across your clothed mound before, with no warning, biting down in the area he knows your clit will be. You scream and arch dramatically off the desk, a hand coming to grip his hair. He smirks up at you, eyes swimming with lust and feeling pride surge in his chest. Nobody else could make you feel like this. Nobody but him.

William flattens his tongue over your clit through your panties as you come down from the electric jolt of pleasure. His saliva soaking through the fabric to your skin underneath, mixing with your arousal. The material of your underwear becomes smooth under William’s tongue, clinging to every dip and curve of your cunt as his hands grip your thighs tight.

“Oh fuck, Will…” you whined.

He hums against you, sliding closer to the desk on the chair and hooking his thumbs under the crotch of your panties. The cool air making goosebumps spread all over your body as it hits your wet core. William holds the fabric to one side, granting him access to tease your pussy while you writhe and moan beneath him. Noticing your reaction to the cold air of the garage, he blows against your cunt, grinning when he hears pathetic whimpers slip past your lips, and he watches you clench around nothing.

He moves closer and takes the swollen flesh of your labia between his teeth, biting ever so slightly. Just enough to make you squirm and moan his name. William sucks the flesh into his mouth hard enough to leave yet another bruise to match the many others that are scattered all over your body. The rough sensation of his facial hair causing the heat to stir low in your abdomen.

Once a suitable mark has been formed, William shifts his attention slightly higher. Flicking his long tongue over your clit, finally making contact skin-to-skin. One of your thighs rested on his shoulder with his arm wrapped underneath, holding you securely at the hip, with his other arm laying on top of your hips, holding your panties to the side to give him direct and uninterrupted access.

“Oh my god!” your own hands come down to grasp at his, feeling that heat intensifying inside you.

William doesn’t stop for a second. He sucks expertly on your clit until you’re writhing against his face. He moves lower and plunges his long tongue deep inside your tight hole. Your grip on his hands tightens as you arch into his mouth. Your upper arms pressing your breasts together, feeling the tenderness on the skin from the assault he laid into them moments ago.

William loves the way you taste, and he resolves to lap up every last drop of your arousal like it was his final meal on death row. He licks a stripe the entire way up your cunt from entrance to clit, before wiggling his tongue back inside, rhythmically stroking your walls. His breath is hot between your legs.

A sweat breaks out over your skin, you pant desperately as William builds your climax, stroke by tantalizing stroke of his tongue. He grips your thighs hard in his hands, bruising handprints holding them in place on his shoulders as you try to grind down against his face.

He eats you out like a man starved; routinely thrusting his tongue deep inside, moving it to circle your clit, pressing flat and teasing with the tip, biting and sucking intensely on your clit and labia before moving back to fuck you with his tongue — all while his facial hair scratches you so delightfully, only adding to the stimulation.

The heat is intensifying. You can feel your muscles begin to tense, twitching uncontrollably against William’s face as your climax takes over your body.

“A-ah, fuck! Oh fuck, Will!” you cried out, chest heaving as you pant and gasp for air.

William strokes your thighs encouragingly, breaking away from your core for a moment.

“Let go for me, baby. Come for me, that’s it,” he dives back in, coaxing you higher and higher, his nose bumping your clit. He loves hearing you cry and squirm at the mercy of his control.

Everything tightens and tightens, reaching an apex until there’s nowhere left to climb, and then you finally snap. Screaming William’s name as your muscles spasm, jolting your entire body. Your thighs tremble at either side of his head. William grips you tight, rhythmically pulsing his tongue inside and helping you ride out your orgasm. Shocks radiate throughout your body, your abdomen twitching and tensing with every clench of your walls.

William finally pulls back, laying gentle kisses to your inner thighs and caressing over your hip bones with his thumbs affectionately.

“Good girl,” he soothes, “good girl, you did so well for me. So good.”

You lay there completely bare on his desk, eyes closed, breathing deep and feeling light headed as you come down from the intense high he gave you. A smile creeping onto your face and a warmth spreading in your chest at his words of praise.

William takes your thighs from his shoulders, stands, and rests your legs on his desk chair. He presses a brief kiss to your abdomen, then higher in the valley between your breasts, your neck, jaw, then finally pecking your lips before deepening the kiss and allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You just begin to run your hands through his hair when he leans back.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said.

You narrowed your eyebrows, confused as he stepped away.

“Give me one minute, I’m coming straight back.”

You hear him cross the room in wide strides, then the sound of his footsteps as he ascends the stairs in the house. Only moments later, his footsteps drum down the stairs and enter back into the garage.

William drapes something soft over your body; the blanket from your bed. He helps you sit up and pulls the blanket snug around you, then holds you steady as your legs tremble beneath you when you try to stand.

“Woah, easy. Sit here for a sec,” he guides you to his chair, easing you down into the worn seat.

“Thanks,” you sigh, “that was… intense.”

He leans against the desk facing you, the side of your legs pressed against his, “too much?”

“No! No, definitely not. It was good,” you feel warmth creep up your cheeks.

“Good,” William smiles. He swivels the chair and pulls you against him from where you’re sat, your head leaning against his stomach.

“Did it help?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “you’re not biting your lip or lighting up another cigarette.”

He chuckles, “oh, it helped. Definitely way less stressed.”

“Good.”

William cups your face in his palm and leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“C’mon, we should go inside. It’s getting cold tonight,” he says, “and didn’t you say something about dinner?”

William gathers your discarded clothes from the floor and offers you an arm to hold, leading you out of the garage and back into the warmth of the house where luckily, there was no smoke billowing out of the kitchen.