#if its a submission i try to shut up so i don't talk over your work

[dark-side-blog3]

Had a vision that the demon brothers set up a small, cozy area in a forest for their shared baby. A group of trees, each one decorated with each brother’s likeness - Asmo’s tree with fairy lights and heart stickers, Satan’s tree with a bookshelf carved into the middle full of child-friendly fairy tales, Levi’s tree with anime merch and fish paintings - and “age-appropriate” gifts resting against the tree at the bottom.

Now, their baby didn’t yet know they were a baby. So image their surprise when Beel carries them there in the middle of the night - no different than a nap! - and tells them about the brothers’ plan. They’re confused and scared, poor thing, but then the brothers come together and console them with their presents and presence (even though there’s no real difference to them). The brothers try so hard for their little baby to assimilate into the family. That’s why they made this little area. To help indoctrinate manipulate brainwash remind their little one of their place before safely bringing them back home to the family where they belong.

And as this place is for their baby, they shouldn’t ever mention the corpses in the foliage, or the pentagrams carved into each of the seven trees, or the many other activities that take place there… But maybe one or two slip ups can occur when trying to console such a fussy baby…

Taking place in a forest is unlike the brothers, giving it an almost ritualistic element, but an interesting idea nonetheless...

The idea that the tree's have symbols carved into them lends even more to the ritualistic aspect of your idea, as if the choices their darling makes (or refuses to make) will have lasting consequences to their psyche, and perhaps their physicality!

#i can't tell if this is a submission or a confession? #it seems more like your narrative and story so i think I'll tag it as submission #if its a submission i try to shut up so i don't talk over your work #submission #not mine! #yandere agere #forced agere #yandere daddy satan #yandere mommy asmo #yandere daddy leviathan #yandere daddy beel #platonic yandere

[chaepink]

Hi i really loved ur content about submissive Kenma. Can u write a fic about kenma again🥺🥺 like the reader was so jealous because some ramdom girl is flirting with kenma. Thats why she ended up fucking him all night u knaurr

jealousy, jealousy | sub!kenma kozume

wc: 1k+ words | masterlist

dom!reader, pegging, possessiveness/jealously, begging, jealous sex, aftercare is mentioned though its not written, established relationship, slight crying

note : oh my god thank you! 😳

and im sorry but i forgot to write how the reader kept fucking him all night :,)

"Oh hello~ you're rather cute, aren't you?" You ignore the voice, thinking it was just a girl hitting on a random person. That's until you hear the high pitched voice again asking the person for their number, except it was closer this time and a familiar voice answers afterwards.

"N-No thanks... I'm not i-interested.."

You stray your attention from the item in your hand to the familiar voice and furrow your eyebrows when you see the scene.

Kenma, who's your boyfriend to make it clear, being flirted on by this clueless girl who, though he denied her advances once already, thinks she still has a shot and keeps on trying to talk to him. She's getting rather close to him too, making him have to take small steps backward in order to keep the distance between them comfortable, a slight blush on his cheeks.

You feel anger bubble up inside your body as you furrow your eyebrows, glaring at the girl. You know the emotion you're currently feeling loud and clear: jealously.

Knowing how Kenma hates being social and would rather stay inside and play video games over anything else, your boyfriend is probably hating all the attention that he is currently getting from her. Hell, judging by the facial expression he has on it seems that he would rather be anywhere else than at that very spot.

Having dated him for a while now, you know the poor boy won't find it in him to be able to find the words to shut her down directly. That's where you come in.

Taking a few deep breaths, you calm yourself down before you mindlessly do something you would regret. Walking towards the two, Kenma sees you and his eyes immediately light up, begging you to help him out of the situation.

Grabbing his hand more harsher than you meant, you immediately begin walking towards the cashier section while completely ignoring the girl right there.

"C'mon, babe. I'm done getting everything."

Kenma blushes at the venom in your tone. He could feel the jealousy radiating off you and honestly? It's rather hot.

But he can't help but be nervous about what's going to happen to him.

---

"P-Please! i'm s-sorry!" He lets out another sob as you hit all the right spots in him with your strap. Due to the sheer size of it, it fills him up almost too perfectly, making him whine and whimper underneath you as you continue to pound his insides.

Tears brim his eyes as you brutally fuck him stupid. All he can do is lay there as pleasure courses through his body in waves making him unable to do anything without being shocked with pleasure seconds later. He's a pillow princess, really, but oh do you love it.

Mere minutes if not seconds after you entered the shared apartment between you two do you already have him trapped on the bed underneath you, one of your biggest straps entering and exiting him easily and quickly due to prep. His top half is still covered by a hoodie as you were too focused on revealing his bottom half.

"Oh don't worry, baby." You clench your teeth. Your thighs are absolutely burning but you don't dare stopping for even a second. You remember how touchy the girl was being with Kenma and you speed up your thrusts even more, jealously fueling your adrenaline. "I know you're sorry. Just gotta make sure that the next time that girl sees you-," you start to say. "Well the next time anyone has their eye on you, they'll see the hickeys on your neck and decide to leave what what's mine alone."

A shiver runs down Kenma's spine as your possessiveness makes blood run far down his body. His hands make its way into your back, latching on and digging his nails into your skin, making you hiss from the slight pain it causes. The grip you have on his hips is hard enough to leave a mark but it allows you to easily fuck in and out of him and be able to control the pace.

"You're mine, yeah? No one else's. Mine."

He whimpers as a particular thrust of your strap has him arching his back and letting out a almost pornographic moan. Fuck, he looks absolutely breathtaking right now.

"Y-Yes- fuck! I'm y-yours."

You latch your teeth onto his neck and bite down, making Kenma mewl out from the slight pain. Making sure to leave a few more bite marks and love bites, you lick a few to soothe the pain. You don't care if they only stay for a few days, knowing you would leave more in the near future.

"Fuck- i'm close!"

With that information, you switch from quick, hard thrusts to slower, deeper ones that make Kenma's toes curl and eyes roll from the sheer pleasure he's feeling. He lets out another moan.

"Go on, baby. Cum for me, alright?"

And with that, Kenma lets loose. Whines, moans, and whimpers fill the room as your boyfriend stains the bed and his hoodie with cum. You continue slowly fucking him to ease him down from his high and Kenma whines from sensitivity when you pull out, leaving him to clench around nothing.

"Good boy," you say, kissing his cheek. He blushes red from the praise, almost as if you weren't fucking his brains out mere seconds ago. "You did so good for me." You're about to leave to clean him up until he grabs your arm, stopping you. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"Um... w-what about you though?" It takes a moment for you to process his question but once you do, you can't help but smile.

"Aw sweetie," you coo, making him blush even harder at the new pet name. "Don't worry about me, I'm just glad you enjoyed it."

As you go and get a wet towel to clean him up, he reaches to his neck and gently touches the hickeys and bite marks you've left there. Though it hurts as he slowly presses down on a bruise and he has to stop himself from letting out a whimper, he can't help but smile, a dark blush adorning his cheeks.

He's yours.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

#chaepink.nsfw #[ 🏐 ] haikyuu! #[ 𝖐𝖊𝖓𝖒𝖆 𝖐𝖔𝖟𝖚𝖒𝖊 ] #sub!character #sub!haikyuu #dom reader #dom!reader #dom fem reader #kenma x reader #kenma smut #sub!kenma #sub!hq #sub character #sub kenma #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #x reader #haikyuu #dom male reader #kozume x reader #anime smut #kenma kozume #haikyuu fanfiction #hq x reader #haikyuu kenma #haikyuu kozume #hq kenma

[actual-changeling]

It was actually rather hard to decide how to begin this meta post because there are essentially going to be two main parts: why Crowley does not actually avoid/run from his problems and why "going off" is not a bad thing regardless.

Then I wrote the first part and realised this is now 2.5k words long, so uhhhh I will grant part 2 its own post.

With that, welcome back to Alex's today-not-unhinged meta corner!

I am going to approach this topic from a psychological angle, which a lot of people have already done, but without explicitly mentioning it or going into depth. All my information comes from personal experience, research, my therapist, and my psychiatrist, just so you know I am not making shit up. I actually dug up some resources my therapist gave me a while ago.

Generally, there are four different fear/survival responses: fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. Most people have probably heard about fight and flight, since those two are usually the only ones that are mentioned/taught, so I will stick to explaining the other two.

"Fawning" refers to actively being submissive and subdued, both physically and emotionally. The goal is to appear non-threatening and to calm whoever is causing the fear response in the first place. It shows up as being overly agreeable, not having thoughts/opinions of your own and ignoring them if you do, your body language changing (e.g., making yourself smaller, taking up less space), and generally attempting to 'keep the peace' or reinstate it.

"Freezing" is pretty much exactly what it says on the tin—you freeze. It means slipping into a dissociative state, which disconnects you from your body, your emotions/mind, and/or the outside world. Usually, people stop being able to talk well or at all, they do not move, and if they do, it is on autopilot; you do not fight or flee, you simply exist until what is causing the fear response is over.

While dissociating, your brain is unable to form full memories—and depending on how heavily you are dissociating, it does not form any memories at all. 

Freezing as a response happens when fight, flight, and fawn aren't possible anymore, e.g., a child who has no internal mechanisms to deal with large amounts of fear because it's a child, so the only way to escape the pain and aggressor is by fleeing into your mind and shutting down.

Why am I telling you all this? Because most people tend to have one or two survival responses that dominate/they usually fall back on, and the same goes for Aziraphale and Crowley.

When faced with an outside problem and a lot of stress, Aziraphale's first instinct is to fawn, to placate the person, to diffuse the situation, to make sure everyone is agreeing, or, at the very least, submitting to authority figures or aggressors. It is what heaven teaches them—stick to the rules, don't ask questions, do what you are told. If fawning involves lying, he will do so, here the need for safety is stronger than his desire to be truthful and stick to his morals.

Unfortunately, the fact that this is his primary fear response is also the reason behind his extreme cognitive dissonance. How can you stick to the rules when you do not know what the rules ARE? So he is stuck trying to figure out what is "good" and what is "bad" so he can be a good angel and avoid doing anything that might be seen as bad or disobedient.

His secondary response to stress or fear is to fight—once it's clear that fawning won't work, he can and will switch over to being more direct and aggressive/less submissive. We see that happening when he gets discorporated in season 1 and needs to get back to earth, at the airbase, or when the bookshop gets attacked.

If I were to ask you what you think Crowley's primary fear response is, how would you respond?

Well, if you said "flight"—you're wrong, and I will explain why.

Flight is his secondary fear response, it is what he falls back on in absolute emergencies when everything is doomed and there's nothing he can do anymore.

Before that, though, he fights.

Even as an angel, he was already questioning the system, he was ready to go and tell God she was doing a terrible job, that her ideas were bad, that he wants to keep his stars and the universe— six thousand years are nothing! If you actively oppose existing rules and defy people's authority over you, fighting is the only option you have unless you plan on giving up or the response becomes too much to deal with.

Fear itself happens when you or someone/something you love is being threatened (whether that threat is real or simply perceived as such doesn't matter), plus there are a large number of more irrational fears.

Crowley's creations were threatened -> He goes against the rules, he wants to fight for them.

On the walls of Eden, he questions God and talks to an angel, his hereditary enemy, once again defying the rules, questioning them.

Job and his children were threatened -> He goes against orders to try and save them.

There is good reason to believe he went against God by saving some of the children from the flood.

He showed Jesus the kingdoms of the world—do we really think that was based on orders? No, it was once again Crowley not playing by the rules.

Wessex? He proposes the Arrangement, which is one gigantic "fuck you" in his fight against celestial rules. Everything after that goes back to Crowley knowing that their jobs suck and that they can cheat, fight the system by working together. In 1827, it gets him pulled to hell and punished, and yet he does not stop; he keeps fighting.

Crowley is the one who immediately tries to stop the apocalypse. Aziraphale needs to be talked into it, needs to be convinced with selfish reasons and personal pleasure.

The reason why both heaven and hell absolutely loathe him is not because he is a runner; it's because he constantly and consistently defies them. He fights.

In season two, he immediately tries to deal with the Gabriel problem while Aziraphale is standing behind him and saying "I don't know" to all of his questions. Taking him somewhere so they can figure shit out in peace is not 'running'—it's smart. Sure, it's far from ideal, but we see what keeping him in the bookshop brought them, don't we? The hiding miracle is what tipped heaven and hell off in the first place.

Aziraphale goes to Edinburgh based on a hunch, but once again—did that help? Did his journalist roleplay trip actually provide vital information that solved a single puzzle piece of that mess? No. Finding out that Gabriel was at that pub with some mystery person was a nice fact to know, but that's it.

During the ball, Crowley is scared, vigilant, prowling around the shop, checking windows, telling Aziraphale to "stop this charade" so they can figure out what to do. Aziraphale, in that moment, was already convinced that sticking to the rules would save them—a heavenly embassy on a technicality, surely the group of fallen angels who got booted due to not following heaven's rules will respect that.

Crowley goes to heaven, which is once again him actively looking for a solution, while Aziraphale also falls back on fighting because fawning is not going to do shit.

There are three times during which Crowley suggests fleeing—which is his secondary fear response—but those are exceptions. Let's have a look at them.

The first one is at the bandstand, the evening before the Apocalypse, and since Aziraphale is lying to him, the situation seems hopeless to him. Yet he is still having his 'agents' look for him, is still fighting.

Do you know why he even suggests running? He is about to leave when Aziraphale calls him back with "there isn't anywhere to go," and now allow me to insert the following passage from the scriptbook.

Crowley looks back. He looks at Aziraphale. Above them, a beautiful starry sky. And Crowley softens.

"Big universe. Even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo, we could go off together."

The sentence in the show is slightly different, but they have one thing in common: If.

IF the world ends, we can still leave and be together. IF.

Crowley is NOT saying "let's leave", he is presenting Aziraphale with a contingency plan in case stopping the Apocalypse does not work. He is NOT running, he isn't even SUGGESTING to run.

It's a "if the world ends, we can be together. We don't need to be with hell or heaven; we can be in the stars," because remember what the end of the world would mean? Eternal torture for Crowley while Aziraphale bores himself to death in heaven.

The next time he suggests it again—when he stops Aziraphale on the street—several things have happened.

First, he did not leave. If he truly wanted to flee, he would have by now, but he didn't. He sits in a cinema waiting for the end: "Out of time. Out of hope," as Neil puts it. Then Hastur and Ligur show up on screen and tell him, 'You're dead meat, Crowley. You're bloody history. […] We're coming to collect you'.

We all know that means "eternal torture in hell," but if you're not convinced for some reason, have another snippet from the script book that did not make it into the show.

Dagon is speaking from the Bentley's radio while he drives towards the bookshop, saying that something has gone wrong and they're sure he has a 'perfectly reasonable explanation' for it. Once he gets out of the car, however, Dagon still keeps going and says the following:.

"Your explanation, and the circumstances that will accompany it, will provide a source of entertainment for all the damned of hell, Crowley. Because no matter what agonies the damned are suffering, Crowley, you will have it worse."

Crowley already knows that. He has been punished by them before, heard, seen, lived torture, there is no doubt as to what will happen should they catch him. So he does what any person with a single fucking brain cell would do—he tries to get his loved one and FLEE.

Flight is the best response in this situation, and if you need me to explain why, then honestly, I cannot help you anymore. I won't go into detail about Aziraphale's response, but, tl;dr, it was shitty and incredibly hurtful, go figure.

Now, let's get to situation number 3, which is his speech during the final fifteen. We do not have an official script for that, but someone did make transcriptions for all episodes; you can find them here. Additionally, I will copy some of what I already said in a different meta post.

Crowley, stuck in his trauma-induced hypervigilance and paranoia, suggests putting as much distance between them and the problem as possible. I think it is interesting that in ep1 he wants to get Gabriel away from them, while at the end of the season, he is ready to get them away from the problem.

So far, I have never seen anyone mention that change! And it’s important! The entire season, it is hammered into our heads how much they love being on earth. It is THEIR bookshop and THEIR car and THEIR life.

Crowley wants to protect that home, and Gabriel is a threat to it, a threat to both of them, their life, the bookshop—everything. He does not want to leave, he wants his peace and angel in one place.

Yet by allowing Gabriel to stay, Aziraphale destroyed the sense of comfort and safety Crowley had slowly developed over the last few decades. Heaven nipping down every now and then to check in with Aziraphale is very different from him sheltering the Supreme Archangel who is running from ��something terrible’ without even asking if he’s alright with that.

Aziraphale calls it their bookshop, but he fundamentally still sees it as his space to govern and Crowley as a guest; he even calls it a 'heavenly embassy'.

After another horrible week and having his previously safe space violated by several different times and beings, Crowley is back to where he was before—without a home. That fragile existence broke apart, so he is standing in the heap of shards and telling Aziraphale 'I don’t feel safe here anymore, let’s leave’.

He lost his safe space, but he still has his safe person, his best and only friend, the person he loves. I doubt he cares where exactly they go as long as they’re together and it’s safe.

Returning to heaven—it is the one place Crowley cannot follow him to. It’s literally the worst option, he can’t go back, he won’t go back. So he invokes the bookshop again, if you don’t want to stay for me, stay for the bookshop, your books, your corner of existence that I thought we had carved out for ourselves.

There is a common error that people make regarding the timeline, which is assuming that during this conversation they are already aware of the impending apocalypse—but they aren't. Aziraphale himself has no clue, and while Crowley saw the conversation and trial, he does NOT know when it will happen. For all he knows, it could be tomorrow, could be in a thousand years, and, even if he had been given a date, I doubt they laid out all the details and how to stop it.

Considering that his original plan was "get drunk at the Ritz and then have us time," I don't think he knew literally anything about how or when to stop it. So no, Crowley does NOT suggest running away from earth and leaving it to die.

All he wants is some bloody peace and quiet where no demons, angels, or power-hungry floating heads can interrupt them. A space that is safe and theirs. There are also zero mentions of where he wants them to go; he is not talking about the stars or the universe. He wants to get away from where they currently are because heaven and hell show up uninvited whenever they please.

If your boss and ex-boss constantly kicked down your front door and stated their wish to torture you, would you stay there or would you move? Yeah.

This post got very long, but it was long overdue.

I am tired of seeing people call Crowley a callous coward who always runs away from his problems when he is the literal opposite. You take three sentences said under exceptional circumstances and apply them to Crowley as a whole, when it is nothing but his last ditch effort to keep himself and Aziraphale safe.

One last thing: If you come onto my post and start aggressively arguing about this, I will block you. Genuine discussions and questions are always welcome, being a dick is not, and I also simply cannot handle some of the rhetoric people in this fandom perpetuate because it's very triggering.

Make your own post, don't do it on mine.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #crowley meta #aziraphale meta #crowley deserves better treatment from this fandom #and people that actually remember canon and don't take some fanfic version of him they have created during the hiatus #so many straight up factually incorrect takes #i dont know if i will make it until season 3 guys

[atydblack]

"only shadow"

regulus black x reader

masterlist

heres some regulus black fluff to soothe the soul while i get back into writing <3

this isn't my best tbh but i think its cute

reader is a bit annoying in this but it turns out cute lol

title based on only shadow - my bloody valentine

You sat in the library, trying to focus your attention on the homework you had sprawled out in front of you but your eyes kept drifting to the hard faced brunette sat on the table next to you.

The library was almost empty, so Regulus Black being the root of your distraction wasn't a surprise. His eyebrows were furrowed as his book had his undivided attention.

"Psss" You whisper to Regulus with a giggle.

He tilts his head slightly, his face still laced with a frown. "Yes?" He responds, not even bothering to look at you.

"What are you doing?" You push further, looking for any source of entertainment.

"Reading." He replies bluntly, his eyes still not lifting from his book.

"I'm bored." You stand to your feet and sit yourself next to him with a pout.

"How unfortunate." He rolls his eyes and slams his book shut. "I'm trying to read and that would require you to go away."

"That was mean." You pout again, trying to tease him.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but that's kind of my thing." He muttered.

You smirk and try to think of the best ways to get under his skin.

"Being mean doesn't suit you." You tease, resting your head in your hand. "You're too pretty."

His face softens at your words and you almost see a small blush raise to his cheeks.

"You're really annoying you know that?" He muttered, trying to hide any emotion your words might have caused him.

"I can't help it." You giggle as you realise you're finally getting to him. "It's kind of my thing."

A hint of a smirk reaches Regulus' face as he realises you're teasing him. It was definitely getting hard for him not to completely cave in to you.

"Did I just make Regulus Black smile?" You pretend to be shocked, teasing him further.

"Shut up." He mumbled, he wanted to deny the blush that had found his cheeks, but he couldn't.

It was as if he was playing a game, with her as the enemy... and he was losing.

"Make me." You giggle again, trying your hardest to push his buttons. You were having fun playing this game with him, watching as his tough exterior slowly crumbled.

"I could." He smirked, his eyebrows furrowing as he didn't break eye contact with you. He wasn't used to being the submissive one, dominance being one of the only things that mattered to him.

"Then why don't you?" You smirk. "You don't scare me."

"If you weren't so cute right now, I probably would." His face was still laced with a smirk as he moved closer to you. This time it was your turn for your cheeks to blush as the tables quickly turned, you weren't expecting him to play back.

"You think I'm cute?" You tease and tilt your head, not wanting to show his words affected you.

"I might." His eyes darkened as his eyes scanned your body and returned back to your eyes. "It's just a shame you're so annoying."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, your heart sinking softly at his words but you didn't want him to know you cared.

Regulus had to prevent himself from laughing as he watched you strop. He was starting to like this game, something back how you were looking up at him made him feel powerful.

As much as it annoyed him, he was starting to accept that he wanted you.

"What's the matter?" He grinned. "Your bark bigger than your bite?"

"No," You scoff and regain composure, immediately trying to shake the feeling that came over you. "I'm just shocked I've actually managed to get you to talk to me for this long."

"You're actually quite amusing." His eyes flickered down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you try to ignore the growing heat in your stomach.

"I know." You stare back, trying to think of any way to regain control of the situation. You reached up to his tie and began fiddling with it in between your fingers, causing his body to move closer to yours.

"Cocky as well as annoying?" He muttered, ignoring the jolt of electricity that ran down his body at your touch.

"I'm learning from the best." You shrug, avoiding his dark eyes that were sewn on to your every move.

"What else are you learning from me?" His voice was low as he spoke. Your mind raced with ideas of where to take this situation, and there was only one answer.

"How much you want me." Your eyes fluttered up to his once again, an innocent look on your face that contradicted your seductive smirk.

Regulus' breathing hitched in his throat giving you more confidence. Your hands that held on to his tie snaked up to wrap around his neck. His closed his eyes for just a moment as blood coursed through his body in a way he'd never felt before.

"Maybe you're right." He whispered, his throat felt as if every breath he took was being squeezed by the girl in front of him. He was losing control of himself.

Regulus' words ignited a fire in you that you'd never experienced before. Your confidence got the best of you as you as you spoke again.

"Then I'm all yours." You breathed out, not breaking eye contact. A rush of desire flooded through the both of you, making you both weak.

He was losing control of himself and so were you... the both of you finally giving in to seduction.

"Mine?" He uttered, the words barely finding their way out his parched throat.

You nod your head submissively, the way you were looking up at him made him feel powerful.

"Good girl," He smirked before leaning forward and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

You had both kissed plenty of others before, but this was different. The two of you melted into the kiss and a soft moan left your lips.

Regulus was just as lost in the moment as you and neither of you wanted to pull away.

His tongue found yours just as your fingertips found the hair on the nape of his neck and the kiss grew more passionate.

He eventually broke the kiss slowly, his breath heavy. Your heart was racing and your red cheeks matched his.

It felt like the whole world had stopped and he didn't even care. You stared into each others eyes, your thoughts of anything but each other completely escaping your mind.

"I still find you annoying." He smirked

#regulus black x reader #regulus black #regulus x you #regulus black angst #regulus black fluff #marauders #marauders fluff #marauders x reader

[theywantedplayer]

Masterslist

NEW MASTERLIST

Smut

All Categories 

who i write for 

Jamie Draysale 

“shit I didn't mean to say that”

Loved so dearly

“Its midnight where the hell were you

obsessed

Doing nothing with you

“my friends are really annoyed about how much I talk about you” “you’re staring”

Sparks fly-Taylor Swift

Thin walls NSFW

Good morning NSFW

Happy Birthday NSFW

"please kiss me" "stay quiet" NSFW

“ it’s okay just breathe” “look at me, please?” 

“I’m not leaving”

Trevor zegras

jealousy

“... " " "Wanna make out?" "Sure" “ the second I saw you I couldn't get over how beautiful you were”

“You're kinda cute in this” “only kinda.”"Did you see that?" "You saw that right?"

“someone’s happy to see me” “you bought me flowers?”

Picking fights 

he didnt say it 

obsessed

“don’t fucking touch what is not yours”  “Shh.. I’m here”

“oh hun, i wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard” “you look exhausted”

“first one to make noises loses” NSFW

Just one more NSFW

Moth to a flame NSFW

Long Day  NSFW

Auston Matthews

“No, no, please don’t look sad. I can’t handle that.” 

“don’t fucking touch what is not yours” NSFW

I only want you 

obsessed

I think Your enough 

I wouldn’t do that to you” “i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”

“You take me so well.” “Spread your legs wider.” NSFW

You comfort Austin after they get eliminated in the second round

paparazzi NSFW

“I’ve been in love you for years”

Jack Hughes 

This is how you celebrate a win NSFW

“Shh im here”

obsessed

All stars

First time NSFW

Jersey NSFW

Shower sex NSFW

Luke Hughes

“ i love you the way you are, okay? you don’t need to change. ”

High and dry NSFW part 2

Bruises

My boyfriends Brother NSFW

Finally alone NSFW

Drunk

“No, no, please don’t look sad. I can’t handle that.”

Quinn Hughes 

“im just trying to help you” “Please, talk to me’’

soft spot

“Baby can you please shut the fuck up”

“do you think I dropped my walls like this for anybody?”

"i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”NSFW

you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad”“ you’re blushing” “am not” 

Submissive quinn NSFW

Flight NSFW

Brock Boeser

andrei kuzmenko

Nico hischier

Captain NSFW

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard”

Golden gold

“come and sit on my face and i’ll show you how much i missed you” NSFW

obsessed

Fair amount 

The purse 

Dirty talk NSFW

Little things

HandCuff’s+Blindfold NSFW

Arber Xhekaj 

I wanted to see you

Kirby dach

Freezing 

Cole caulfield

Feeling lost

“Why isn't he getting up?”

“I’ll never be good enough”“I wish you could see yourself how I see you”

Talking to yourself

“No panties?” NSFW

In every room NSFW

Sidney Crosby 

“Will you dance with me? Please, pretty please!” 

“I missed you so much” & “ you bought me flowers?”

“i love you the way you are, okay? you don’t need to change. 

obsessed

“Don't listen to them” “Because I know you” 

“Hey…..be safe”  “ you’re not even listening” 

Juraj Slafkovsky 

“I just wanted to be held for a while”

"everything about you amazes me"

“don’t yell at me in a language i don’t understand!” “please don’t cry, i’m sorry” 

Mitch marner  

“you’re crying” and “i missed you so much” 

“you were crying.” “you’re warm.”

obsessed

Second Chance 

“I get so hard when i’m around you“ 

Needy Mitch  NSFW

Carter Hart

Mat Barzal

“You smiled! I saw it, so no denying it.” and “You’re definitely the only person I would do this for.”

andrei svechnikov

Fastest Skater goes to?

“i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name” NSFW

leon draisaitl

“first one to make noises loses”

“come and sit on my face and i’ll show you how much i missed you” NSFW

"so, how much longer do you plan on using me as your personal space heater?"“Please kiss me.”

Jeremy Swayma

“no panties?”“Do you want my fingers?" NSFW

Morning kisses 

#quinn hughes x reader #jamie drysdale x reader #jack hughes x reader #nico hischier x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl angst #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby angst #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #jamie drysdale #nico hischier #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #luke hughes x reader #cole caufield x reader #juraj slafkovsky #juraj slafkosky x read #juraj slafkosky x Reader #mich marner #mitch marner x reader #Leon draisaitl x reader #andrei svechnikov x reader

[selineram3421]

Dodadodadoo-

Temporary Control

Part 1

Prolouge

Alastor X Fem Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ using she/they for reader, cussing, fluff, soft Alastor, kisses. ⚠

Alastor was attending an Overlord meeting.

He sat in one of the chairs, making sure it was a comfortable one. The others trickled in slowly, talking with one another to catch up or trying to start a fight.

The smile on his face widens into a wicked grin when a fight did break out.

"You piece of shit edge lord-!"

"Who are you calling edge lord!?"

It soon breaks up when another yells at them into submission.

Like two children being scolded. He chuckles at the thought.

Then Vox enters.

Alastor's smile is strained as the T.V. Demon sits across from him.

Of course he would.

The other two V's took the seats on either side of their companion. Velvette on her phone and Valentino lighting his vulgar smelling cigarette.

"Oh goodie, everyone's here.", Lucifer says walking in.

The others still standing quickly go to get an empty chair.

"Its just the usual, regular check ups and keeping track of population on territory.", the King says as he walks over to his chair. "A good amount of demons died this year."

The Morningstar sat down and looked down the table.

"Who's first?"

The meeting wasn't anything special. It was like any other before, just keeping numbers on demons and reporting anything of importance.

Alastor just sat back and waited to give his report.

.

Vox was glaring at the Radio Demon, arms crossed and tapping his foot underneath the table.

What makes him so great? He thought with a huff. He's just a conceded, self absorbed, egotistical cannibal who's still stuck in the past and cares for no one but himself.

The red demon across the table ignores the glares, checking his claws instead.

He's not fit to keep them. The T.V. demon decides, beginning to think of ways to drive her away from Alastor and into his arms.

The meeting finishes quickly, nothing too interesting or new.

Vox continues to glare as the man in red stands from his chair and leaves the room, screen starting to glitch out and crash.

"You're gonna have to start up again if you stare too long.", Velvette comments after glancing over.

"Shut up.", he grumbles.

"Oh what hate can do to a demon.", Valentino says, blowing out smoke. "If I wasn't any wiser, I'd think you're in love."

"SHUT UP!"

"Oho~ He is! But not with the red man!", the social media demon says, placing herself on the table and shoves her phone toward the moth, showing him who. "Its this pretty little hourglass!"

"Damn it Velvette! I said shut up!", Vox stands up and tries to take her phone.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE BITCH!", she growls, quickly rolling off the table and away from the T.V. Demon.

The two fight over the phone and the moth demon just lets out a sigh, taking another drag from his cigarette.

After shoving Velvette's annoying face away, Vox leaves the two and walks out of the meeting room, hissing out curses while stomping out of the building.

His screen starts glitching again when catching sight of the damn deer demon again.

Fucking piece of crap!

.

You were helping Alastor with looking for spell books in the library.

He had just come back from an Overlord meeting and you noticed he looked a little tired, so you suggested to read together. With a smile, the demon in red accepted the invitation and walked into the library with you.

Now both of you were looking for books for each other.

"I don't think Charlie would have any books of witchcraft or voodoo in here. It is the library for guests.", you say, still looking anyway.

"I suppose you're right.", the radio demon says from the other side of the library. "But maybe you'll find something even more interesting while looking."

You're surprised when he appears out of the shadows with a small stack of books in his hands.

"I found your books darling.", he says and passes them over to you.

"I didn't find yours yet.", you pout.

Alastor quickly but gently held your head and tilted it up, using his thumbs to turn up the corners of your lips.

"Forgive me my little hour glass but you're pouting.", he says and places a kiss on your forehead. "Read me one of your books instead?"

You oblige and turn to head over to the seats nearby. The deer demon holds your hand as you read one of Edgar Allen Poe's poems out loud. Later, he walks you back to your hotel room and both of you make plans for a date.

Finally arriving at your door, both of you turn to face each other.

"Good night.", you say softly.

"Sweet dreams my darling.", he replied with a smile and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

You wave at him before entering your room and closing the door. Now in your room, you take off your shoes and get things ready for bed, turning on the radio on your vanity.

It's just the thought of you

The very thought of you

My love~

The radio plays a favorite of yours as you get into bed, letting the song lull you to sleep.

Sorry this is so late! I've finally written down the notes for this and I'm going to post the next part soon-ish? Soon.

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @willowaudreykeyes @bisexualboba @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

ChL for TC

#alastor x reader #fem reader #x reader #time demon reader #fanfic #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #the radio demon alastor #radio demon #tv demon #vox overlord #alastor overlord #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin velvette #valentino hazbin hotel #fluff #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #The Very Thought Of You-Nat King Cole #music mentions #song lyrics

[btnclmrttn]

OPM NSFW HEADCANONS (PT.1)

Guys I swear I am not trying to drag ass my remaining requests are just long and I want best effort take this in mean time I love u

Ppl think it's just not something he thinks about that often, but he's a very low key pervert

He can be perceived as dominant, but he just slightly leans to it. He's blunt and assertive about these things. It's nice to not be the one always in control but he absolutely can take control if he felt like it. Just depends on how he's doing in life

Always checking you out and hardly anyone could notice. It's because he takes just one good look and starts spacing out with some thoughts of his

The more excited he is the more creative he is. Sometimes it's just some classic position but he's put you against a wall a couple times, holding you up with your knees to your chest

Even if he's being slow and gentle, you can tell when he's starting to lose it cause it gets just a little rougher and progresses from there. Take it if you can or just let him know

Decently vocal and very whiny when you're in control

Likes watching you put on a little show. Don't let him do anything to himself as he watches you and it gets him going

With his strength, you aren't going to have much room to squirm. If ykwim

Has great stamina, but he's just fine with one, maybe two rounds. If he really wants more but you really can't he'll just give you kisses all over your body and praise you. It don't bother him at all that you likely won't ever have equivalent stamina

By some chance you do? And strength? News reports in several cities for "earthquakes"

Always takes a bath with you after to get you cleaned and cuddles with you

I REFUSE to argue. Switch

Honestly more perverted than you would think and is pretty shameless about it

Like he isn't gonna lie, he's upfront. Sometimes during situations probably best to not to say anything but oh well

He's always on his hero business so it's often he isn't around, so sexting came to be a thing with you two. Send him some pictures while he's out you'll be in for it when he gets back

Always at ur place so he doesn't disturb his teacher's peace

Anything squishy on you is an absolute. Tummy, thighs, chest, he wants it. He'll stare if he sees it. Rly likes body worshipping you. Guide his hands where you want he'll be steaming

As much as he's studied you, he knows by now what you want and has some things to try he thinks you'll like based on his studies. Like your horny algorithm

Excellent at keeping consistent motions. Great with his hands, although he'd likely have to put on a glove designed for finger activities to avoid injuring you

Tries his best with dirty talk but that's if he can even talk. It's easy to fuck him stupid. Isn't very vocal, his machinery sort of gets in the way of that.

He does not cum, and you can only overstimulate him so much before his body forcefully shuts down to avoid overheating his shit. Basically you could knock his ass out if you played your cards right

Aftercare KING over here. He got you best blankets, best snacks, he's a personal heater, best praise. Can't go wrong with it

Menace to this society if given the opportunity to be horny

He likes to tease. Downright a shithead with how much he uses it, but it's so very worth it

It's sort of to cover up his inexperience. Quick learner and is down to try anything. Consistently spicing up the bedroom. Loves using toys and vibrators

Gets a bit nuts if you're in a bit of a helpless position, like bound up or pinned under him. You can just tell he's resisting just ruining you

He's fucking YOU stupid, whether it's intentional or not. Could make you see every god with each backshot.

If its more passionate and intimate he's more submissive and doesn't like it being pointed out. It will transition into straight fucking quickly if you do

Actually really big about petting and foreplay. He likes you on his thigh, or pinned with it, kissing you slowly and sloppily all over your neck and your lips.

I think it's obvious he's into biting. He bites to make his whining less noticable. He can get VERY loud and it embarrasses him how much you can make him loose it

He wants EVERYONE to know how good you get it, and leaves hickeys and bites in the most noticable spots

Dude loves some good ol' twist twist sloppy toppy, and gives it back just as good. He can hold his breath for a long ass time, and you taste like the best thing he's ever had

Let's be fr, aftercare took him a minute to get the hang of. He wasn't horrible but again, inexperience. Very clingy cuddler in all.

#anime #opm #one punch man #opm x reader #saitama #genos #garou #saitama x reader #garou x reader #genos x reader #saitama hcs #genos hcs #garou hcs #opm n/sfw #season 3 #opm headcanons #opm season 3 #caped baldy #blonde cyborg #blond cyborg

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Cupid's Chokehold | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! I don't write smut anymore- this is smut adjacent. And because it's me it's got some angst, but also fluff. It's kind of a catchall.

Warnings: domBucky, subReader, talk of sex, sex acts, choking, discussion of kinks, Bucky's trauma

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

Back before you got together, you’d imagined Bucky’s style in bed as gentle, almost too polite. He was from a different era. Things in his day certainly weren’t as wild as the current age. And after his time as the winter soldier, you knew his soft touch was an overcompensation. A penance for the violence he’d performed.

You feared you’d scare him with your kinks and deepest desires. But his quiet nature held a depravity you hadn’t expected. 

When he asked you to find his notebook and read aloud a phone number he’d jotted down, you never expected what you found.

“Baby, did you find it?” he called, but you didn’t hear him. You didn’t notice his footsteps growing ever closer, either. Only when he touched your shoulder did you realize you weren’t alone. 

“I didn’t mean to- it just opened to this page and I…” you stammered. “Buck, is this a sex bucket list?”

Bucky’s cheeks reddened, and he kicked himself for asking you to flip through his notebook. “I didn’t- it wasn’t supposed to be a bucket list…” he said. “I heard about a bunch of things, and I didn’t know what they were. I just wrote them down so I could look them up, but…”

You eyed his list and read a small selection. “Bondage. Edging. Impact play. Marking. Hmmm…” Everything on his list enticed you. “So, you liked some of ‘em, huh?” you nudged your shoulder against his.  “Seems like you’re the dominant type.”

Your sex life with Bucky was slow and steady. He still didn’t trust his own strength, still feared he’d hurt you. And giving his body over to you, no matter how much trust you built, presented its own set of challenges. He was still working through some things, and you never pushed. But something about the way he looked at you as his notebook sat open in your hand made your cheeks hot.

“Yeah, I liked a lot of ‘em, actually,” he said, his hands fidgeting. “I just don’t know why I like those things.” Something unpleasant darkened his gaze. Out of pure instinct, he took a small step away. “I know what it’s like to not be in control, you know? I’ve been restrained and marked and hit…” His voice fell a bit quieter, “I know how it feels. And I don’t want to do any of that to you.”

The heat building in your chest fizzled at the mention on Bucky’s abuse. He had no realistic gauge for measuring what was and wasn’t okay. So much happened to him during his time at Hydra- he had zero ownership of his own body. They stripped him of his autonomy. It made sense that he feared these particular desires. 

“Nothing you experienced was consensual,” you said. “That was abuse. The way this stuff works,” you gestured to his notebook, “this stuff is all agreed upon. It’s discussed and negotiated. There’s safe words. No one does anything that the other hasn’t said yes to. You know each other’s limits- it’s about safety. And trust.”

He nodded.

“And as far as preferences go, everyone likes what they like. Maybe you steer more toward dominance because Hydra took your sense of control. Or maybe it’s something else completely.” You dotted a kiss to his lips, “I don’t know why I’m submissive in bed. I just am. And I don’t see you any differently for the things you wanna try. I encourage exploration.” You shot him a wink shut his notebook, handing it back to him.

Something in his smile reignited your lust. “I know we’ve been taking things kinda slow because of my, um, unique situation…”

“I’m not in any rush, Buck.”

He rested a hand against your cheek and dragged his thumb across your bottom lip. “I know, baby. I was just thinking…” He nearly stopped himself. What if he made you uncomfortable? He wasn’t sure exactly what you liked just yet. Up until this point, everything in your sex life was cautious and calculated. No spare energy or focus went to kinks or fantasies. He kept a careful watch on the way he touched you. He knew what you didn’t want, and you knew the same about him. But everything else remained a mystery.

“If you want to help me check a few things off my list, we could start tonight-”

Your ‘yes’ was immediate.

But before you could make it to bed, Bucky pulled you into the living room and made you sit in his lap. He had you give him every detail of what you liked. What you wanted. He listened and asked questions and shot you a wicked smirk every time something you said stoked his fire. Focusing on your words when his ever-hardening cock nudged against you time and time again was nearly impossible. 

In return, he told you what he liked, what piqued his interest- what he wanted to do with you. His breathe hitched as you listened with your hands trailing down his abdomen. You’d been right- he was dominant. And everything he wanted seemed to line up perfectly with the things you thirsted for. It sent rush of heat to your cheeks. Who knew he had such a kinky side? 

Together, you agreed on hard limits and safe words. And, while Bucky did want to spank you, he showed no interest in doing so with anything other than his right hand. “I don’t wanna use this one…” he said, clenching his metal fingers into a fist, “it would hurt too much.” And you assured him that he didn’t have to- he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do.

When he finally carried you to bed, your mouth nearly watered. Everything was a haze of lips and hands and sweat- it almost had you dizzy. And even though Bucky knew your limits, he still had to ask every so often. He checked in when you went quiet- or got particularly loud- but always a received an affirmative in response. 

“No nodding,” he said when you were too breathless to speak, “can you use your words for me, doll?”

After a few greedy inhales, you gave your answer. “Yes. I-I’m good.” You wanted him to consume you, to never stop touching you. 

His left hand pinned your wrists above your head while his teeth left mark after mark across your chest. He teased you, had you almost begging. And when you didn’t beg, he flipped you over. If you weren’t going to play his game, he’d turn your ass red until you did. You shot him wicked smiles and bratty shrugs, never following his instructions. 

But when you finally played along like a good girl, he granted you what you wanted: his cock. 

He drove into you time and time again, your legs hoisted up around his waist. His fingers dug into your hips and held you firmly in place. Nothing could make him break his rhythm- until you spoke up.

“Buck-” you breathed, reaching for his hand, “choke me.”

His hips stuttered to a halt.

You let out a needy whine and moved against him, “Wait, no…” Yet again, you tried to roll your hips against his, “don’t stop. I just want you to choke me”. You gave his hand a tug, “please?”

He leaned in close a dragged his lips across yours before responding with a firm, “no”.

You pouted. Maybe he was teasing you- yet again. Your bratty attitude returned with a vengeance, “Why not?”

“Because your headspace is compromised.” Bucky was serious. “You might want that now- but regret it after. And I don’t want that to happen.” He dropped another kiss to your lips.

“But, Buck-”

“No,” he said again. “We’re not gonna renegotiate now. We’ll talk about it later, baby.”

Another rebuttal found its way to the surface, but just as you opened your mouth, Bucky stopped you. “Be a good girl ,” he gave his hips a slow roll, “and don’t argue.”  And that was the end of it.

Bucky held your pliant body in his arms. He gave you some water to drink and inspected every bite mark and hickey that adorned your skin. He quite liked how they looked, and knowing you liked them too had him grinning. He checked in on you, doted on you, made sure you felt safe and loved and cared for. And when you finally came back to life, you were ready to talk.

“I’m really sorry about earlier, Buck…” you rested your head against his sternum in shame. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just got carried away in the moment and I-”

“See, that’s why I wouldn’t do it.”

You brought your face up to meet his, “what do you mean?”

“You said you got ‘carried away’, and that’s why you wanted me to choke you,” he said. “You weren’t thinking clearly. We didn’t agree on choking beforehand. And I didn’t want you regretting it after.”

You nodded.

“You said it’s about safety and trust. And if I did anything to break that trust or make you feel unsafe, I’d never forgive myself.” He ran a hand through your hair and brought his palm to rest against your cheek, “Plus, if I’m being honest, I don’t necessarily want to choke you.” A strange cold eliminated the warmth from his eyes. “I did that a lot when I was, um…” he clenched his metal fist, “anyway, it’s just not something I’m comfortable doing yet.”

“Oh, then forget it,” you said. “You don’t ever have to be comfortable with it- we can forego that completely.”

“But you want me to-”

“Not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“What about-”

You silenced him with a long, soft kiss. “There’s no ‘but’ or ‘what about’. If you don’t want to choke me, don’t do it. This is about both of us feeling safe. And I don’t want to do anything that’s gonna dredge up shit from your past. Choking is off the table.” You gave him another quick peck to punctuate your thought.

The tension in Bucky’s shoulders fell away with your words of reassurance. He couldn’t shake the image of his vibranium hand wound too tight around your throat, blocking your air way, and crushing your windpipe. It made him shudder. But he cared about making you happy, about pleasing you. More than his own comfort. 

“I can work up to that- I just don’t want to right now,” he promised. His accompanying smile was a bit too wide, a bit too fake. “But I’ll get there, I promise. Just give me a little time and I’ll-”

You brought your hands to either side of his face, silencing him. “You don’t have to get there- I meant what I said. It sounds to me like that’s a hard limit for you. Is that correct?”

He shrugged. It was a non-answer; he didn’t want to commit either way.

“Okay- how about this? I told you earlier that don’t ever want to hit you in the face cause it makes me uncomfortable. Remember?”

He nodded. 

“Would you want me to ignore that limit if you asked me to slap you across the face?”

Without hesitation, he said no. 

“Then why are you willing to ignore a hard limit of yours?”

But you knew the answer. He didn’t have control over his own mind or body back at Hydra. He did what he was told, no matter what. And if he didn’t, he’d get punished. They’d strip him down to the bone with beatings and reset his mind until they could guarantee he wouldn’t resist. They’d break him all over again before putting him back together for the millionth time. 

And, though he knew he’d never face wrath like that with you, it was his nature to do as he was told. He may have been dominant during the act, but after was a different story. He aimed to please, to obey, to follow orders.

“This is our bedroom in our house and what we say, goes. Alright? So if you wanna add choking to your list of hard limits, we will. And you don’t ever have to try and get comfortable with it. You don’t ever have to do it.” This time, you pulled him into your body. You rested his head against your chest and ran your fingers through his hair. “Do we have a deal?”

Bucky nodded against your chest.

“Can you use words for me, babe?”

He smiled against your skin- it’s like you stole hie earlier words right out of his mouth. “Yes. Deal.”

“Good,” you leaned down and left a kiss on his head. “Cause we only scratched the surface of your notebook- there’s a lot more things we can try.”

———————

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll @god-ofthunder r @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky

#james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x you #bucky #Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes reader insert #Bucky smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x yn #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x female reader #Bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #fatws bucky

[vivisection-and-vampyrism]

Home Sweet Home part two

Content Warnings: burns, muzzles, restraints, general threats of violence, Stockholm Syndrome, captivity, escape plans, rats, spiders, pet whump, vampire whumpees, human whumper, vampire hunter whumper

Chapter summary, brought to you by TV Tropes (I'm so so sorry for this) 1 2 3 4 5

"We need to find a way out of here," Odessa said. "I know you won't really help us. But you can at least tell us how to get out of this basement."

"You can't," October said. "We're solidly underground. The only door is solid silver, including the lock and hinges. The only way out is to earn enough trust to be let upstairs, then hope you can get out from under Falkner's direct line of sight."

"Fuck you!" Odessa's burnt and blistering face contorted with rage under her muzzle. "I want to go home!"

"Shouting isn't helping," Pavel said. "Do you want Falkner to come back down here?"

Odessa took a deep breath before snapping at October, much quieter now. "Put on a shirt, won't you? You're distracting me."

Despite the highly limited amount of blood in its veins, October still managed to blush. Years had passed since it last gave thought to concepts like modesty.

But its initial embarrassment was soon replaced with anger. What gave Odessa, of all people, the right to talk like that? She was new. No better than a guest in October's home.

"Eyes to yourself then," it snarled. "I don't owe you jack shit."

"Leave it alone," Pavel said. "We have bigger things to worry about."

October quickly changed the subject. "If you guys promise to behave, I can call Falkner down here to untie your hands. No promises about the muzzles."

"We won't make any progress with our hands tied," Pavel argued, sensing his sister's hostility towards the idea. "If you can keep your mouth shut, we'll stand a better chance at freedom."

"Fine," Odessa said. "I'll sit still and look pretty for a few minutes. But that doesn't mean I'll like it."

October plopped down on the anvil again. "First, I want to tell you a few rules. You'll be punished less if you can follow them."

"Sure," Pavel said. "Thanks a million for trying to help us."

Odessa remained silent, but her disapproval was as obvious as the muzzle obscuring half her face.

"I know this'll be hard," October said, knowing how painfully bad of a start it had chosen, "but you've got to be respectful. If you lash out, Falkner is just going to beat you into submission. And no, he isn't bluffing about putting you out in the sun. It hurts like a bitch and takes weeks to heal. I don't want you going through that."

"I'm scared," Pavel admitted, staring down at his lap.

"You should be scared. This is a dangerous situation. Fear will keep you alive." It cleared its throat. "Besides, this is home. At least, it will be. Years of captivity will wear down on you. After half a decade, you won't even want to escape."

"Then we'd better escape before we end up like you," Odessa said resolutely. "I'm not giving in. Not for a fucking minute. You hear me?"

"Listen to the rules then, if you want to stay alive long enough to achieve your little pipe dream."

"We're listening," Pavel said. "Keep going."

"Falkner lives upstairs. He hardly ever leaves, except when he's out hunting or on the occasional date. He lets me hang around with him sometimes. But that's because I earned his trust. You won't be out of this basement for a long time."

"Why does he bother with letting you up there?" Odessa asked. "If you're supposed to be a prisoner."

October considered its response. It had never been able to confide in anyone before. But now that it had the opportunity, it found the truth hard to force off its tongue.

"He likes spending time with me," it said. Not quite a lie, but only half-truth. "He's grown fond of me over the years we've spent together. I'm his most beloved pet, don't you know?"

"I'll buy that," Pavel said, before his sister had a chance to respond. "But why is he keeping you down here, if he loves you so much? It's hardly prime real estate."

He stood up and gestured around the unfinished basement that had grown so familiar to October over the last eight years. It had once hated the place, but now it felt right at home within the mold covered walls and uneven concrete floor.

"No bed," he continued. "Or any furniture for that matter. An infestation of rats and spiders and every other filthy thing. I don't even see a source of water. The place reeks of decay. How do you live like this?"

"The rats are my pets," October said. "Spiders too. So you can stop being rude. And Falkner doesn't always keep me down here. I spend nights at a time upstairs with him. But he's always kept me here. I like it. If I want a bed, I'll sleep in his. If I want water, I'll ask him for some. They're privileges that I've earned."

"You're crazy," Odessa said, now shocked rather than angry. "Here I just thought you were a bootlicker, turns out you're an overqualified maniac."

"I was trying to help you. Why are you complaining so much?"

Odessa ignored this question in favor of her own. "How'd you end up here? I think we deserve to know. You're awful docile for someone who's been held captive for eight bloody years."

"You know what they say." October gave Odessa a crooked smile. "No good deed goes unpunished."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"I saved his life. Didn't realize he was a hunter. He showed his appreciation in a way I hadn't expected. Is that enough for you?"

"Plenty."

"Is there anything else we need to know?" Pavel said. His main strategy for avoiding conflict seemed to be awkwardly changing the subject of conversation. "I really appreciate you trying to help, October."

"Well, some things you'll just have to learn as you go. The way I did. He doesn't just plop down a list of rules and ask you to read them. But I can tell you that he doesn't like there being any noise when he's trying to sleep. And that trying to fight him is a damn good way to make sure you get left in the sun for a week. Got it?"

"Got it."

"I think I'll be more cooperative when my wrists don't feel like they're on fire," Odessa complained.

October took the hint, and walked up the creaky stairs leading to the upstairs. It was careful not to burn itself on the silver door, but stood as close as it could before calling out.

"Falkner, I'm sorry to bother you, but they want to talk. I think I've convinced them to cooperate."

It heard Falkner's heavy footsteps, and stayed perfectly still on the stairs, its head bowed for a show of submission.

Before it had worried about Falkner preferring his newer pets, but after meeting them it felt more secure than ever in its place as his favorite.

Taglist: @sulnusoup13 @heavenlyeden @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @excessive-vampires @pigeonwhumps

#pet whump #vampire whumpees #vampire hunter whumper #Whump #Pet whump #pet whumpees #nonhuman whumpee #whump writing #Whumpblr #Whump series #Stockholm Syndrome

[becca-e-barnes]

My fyp has been inundated with videos of a beautifully dishevelled Matty Healy and it's giving me so many submissive CEO vibes 🙈

Because I can't stop thinking about leaning against the edge of CEO!Bucky's desk, maybe after or during the office Christmas party.

You're still fully dressed, cradling the glass of white wine you brought up from the party downstairs and feeling pretty well put together compared to the man in front of you. Your blouse has lost its top button but that's nothing compared to how Bucky looks.

Bucky's white shirt is entirely undone, his sleeves unbuttoned and rolled to his elbows and his shirt is untucked from the waistband of his black dress trousers.

Not only that, he's kneeling on the plush carpet in front of you, between your slightly spread legs, desperate for some relief.

You've teased him relentlessly tonight. You know you have. You've sent him photos and filthy messages, promising what he already knows; that you're soaking wet and looking forward to getting him alone.

But now you've got him alone and you're not ready to give in just yet. He sounds so sweet when he begs and no one begs like he does. He's already dropped to his knees, intent on worshipping every inch of skin he has access to until you grant him permission to kiss further and right now, that's the expanse of skin between your ankle and the hem of your pencil skirt.

"Baby..." He whispers, holding one of your ankles in his hands while he charts a course of open mouthed kisses over your skin. "You're fucking relentless."

You can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. He knows exactly how to make you feel sexy and confident and it's dizzying.

"You didn't tell me to stop." Your fingers drift through his hair and for a brief second, his lips pull away from your skin.

"Why the fuck would I tell you to stop?" That thought hadn't crossed his mind. Despite the risk and his own frustration, he never considered asking you for less. He only ever wanted more.

"You got yourself all worked up. You were so horny and pathetic you couldn't even focus on small talk." While he resumes his worship of your right leg, you press the pointed toe of your left shoe to the growing bulge in the front of his trousers.

"Don't ever stop. Please." He whispers, his eyes squeezed shut, trying not to give into his own need to grind against the sole of your shoe.

You chuckle, pressing a little harder, earning you a groan from the man you're ruining. "Do you hear yourself? You're a stupid little mess and it's fucking embarrassing." It only takes you a second to hike your skirt up, pressing your own panties to the side and his eyes are now fixed on your soaking wet sex.

"Don't get excited." You chastise. "I'm going to play and you're going to watch. If you're well behaved, I'll let you fuck yourself stupid in me but only if I think you deserve it." Two of your fingers drift over your glistening cunt, teasing your clit before sinking into your fluttering entrance.

The quiet, slick sounds of your arousal are almost too much for Bucky but he's even more overwhelmed when your press your wet fingertips to his plump bottom lip. Despite what he needs, he doesn't lick his lip immediately; he knows better than to do that.

"Good boy." You hum your approval once you're satisfied he's waited long enough. God, you feel powerful like this, watching someone so influential and composed come apart under the sole of your shoe.

#becca's thots #ceo!bucky #subby!bucky #sub!bucky #I'd love to hear 'Robbers' live 😩 #I didn't see the appeal of Matty but these videos have converted me #the amount of times I checked that I hadn't linked those videos from my poetry tiktok account #cause that would've been the most embarrassing thing to happen to me in 2022 #imagine exposing your own simping like that #couldn't be me #another one of the girls in my second job quit 🥺 #I didn't like her as much #but now I'm probably going to be working the entire week between Christmas and the new year bc they'll be short staffed #I was looking forward to a break 😩 #might treat myself to a Dyson airwrap to make up for it hehehe

[athenaholmesartistsguild]

Ugh. Finally out of my slump. I dunno what was going on, but I was struggling so hard to get a card finished!!!

Absolutely ridonculous.

But I really like the way this card came out! I struggled a bit to figure out what I wanted to pose to be. I had some alternate ideas that I liked, but I felt like they just didn't fit with the card lol.

I might end up finishing one (or both) of the concepts I had and post them here or on Patreon because they were pretty solid.

I also changed the bottom of the border. I felt like the red misty-parts in my original were waaaay too large. I'll have to modify the other cards that I've already done, but that'll take a bit of time so I'm gonna do that later :')

As always, I got my interpretations under the cut. This one's pretty interesting. I go from talking about video games to the power of restorative justice. Pretty neat~~

One of the main themes of the Strength card, I feel, is the coexistence between raw force (as demonstrated by the lion in the original Rider-Waite-Smith card) and a more quiet inner strength (demonstrated by the woman closing the lion's jaws).

In this card, we see our understanding of lions flipped on its head. Usually considered an untamable, savage beast, the lion is happy to yield to the woman. She's shown the animal a sort of patience and kindness it's not used to and as such, its putty in her hands.

But there's an air of benevolence to the woman's actions. We get the feeling that she's not looking to take advantage of the lion's eagerness to please. It's almost as if the company of the lion is enough reason to tame it.

In the woman's actions, we see a sort of bravery and confidence that isn't often depicted in pop culture. This woman has balls of steel to put her hands and face close to a lion's mouth, but she isn't looking to dominate or force the lion into submission.

So often, we see someone who's considered 'brave' resort to violence or anger and while there's not necessarily anything wrong with that if someone truly believes they're doing the right thing, the Strength card suggests that maybe the better option is to be patient and kind.

You'll never close a lion's mouth if you're trying to snap it shut. But if you have the courage, you can coax it shut over time.

Overall, pulling the Strength card is a sign that you've got way more courage and bravery than you think you do. You're tough as mother fucking nails, regardless of whether or not you show it on the outside.

Maybe with this sign, you can take that step you've been scared to take.

Reversed, the balance has been lost. While that inner strength is still within you, there's something (whether that be outside voices, your circumstances, or even your own thoughts) that's convinced you that you're weak.

Pulling a reversed Strength card suggests that you're feeling self-conscious about yourself. You feel you're missing that 'It' factor that separates you from the Confident Ones. There's likely people around you who seem to have their shit together. Who don't put up with the shit being thrown at them.

The important thing to remember is that we have no window into their minds. It's probable that these people feel the same fear that we do. After all, it's not brave to do something you don't fear.

Fear doesn't make us weak and the reversed Strength card urges us to reevaluate ourselves.

Toughness takes many forms. You're not any less brave just because you don't beat people up.

Being able to coax a lion's jaw shut, or say 'no' when you don't want to do something is just as valuable.

For this card, I wanted to focus more on the coexistence between the woman and the lion in the original.

I feel like something that's kinda glossed over in a lot of interpretations is that the lion appears happy to have the woman close his jaw. This is a mutually beneficial partnership-- the woman has a companion and the lion loves being her company.

Yellow is the primary color this card uses which implies a joyfulness to their interaction.

In regards to Kiryu and Haruka, I feel this applies really well to them.

In the first game, Kiryu's been essentially thrown to the side once he gets out of jail-- no one visited him pretty much his entire time in prison, no one was there when he got out. He's been abandoned and treated as the reason for everyone's problems.

He's forced to rebuild his life while everyone's trying to kill him.

But then he meets Haruka and those rough edges begin to soften.

Something that sticks out to me about Kiryu in the first yakuza game is that he's initially hesitant to feed a starving puppy. Kiryu's convinced that there's no reason to help it out since it's going to go hungry again. "That's just how life is."

This sounds like a really small detail, but it's a huge departure from how we understand Kiryu now. Even just a game or two later, he wouldn't even hesitate to help out.

The message that comes across to me is that everyone is capable of loving and being loved. But for some, they've been treated so poorly and have begun to believe that the world is cruel and uncaring. In those cases, it takes someone showing kindness and not just trying to shut them up and shove them to the side.

And I feel this is really important to the meaning of the Strength card.

The woman isn't taming the lion just cuz. She sees that the lion desires love and companionship and is happy to give it.

I think the card is also implying that the act of loving and caring for those deemed 'violent and unlovable' is a more universal, cosmic act than an individualistic one.

If you squint at the original card, the perspective looks kinda wonky. The woman and the lion look like they're towering over mountains and shit. At first, I thought the tarot cards as a whole just had a poor grasp on perspective, but looking back, that's not really true at all!

I think the woman and the lion in the card are supposed to be towering over everything because they're not literal representations of a woman and a lion; they're a metaphor.

We have a very unforgiving view of people who don't meet society's image of the 'upstanding citizen'. It starts in school where 'bad kids' are considered irredeemable and not worthy compassion or understanding and it extends all the way out to our treatment of the poor, or the homeless, or those in prison, or any other group that's blamed for everything wrong with the world.

It's easy to shun those we consider undesirable. Having a scapegoat to blame all of society's ills on is convenient and great for pushing agendas, but is that actually how we should be treating people?

What if instead of shunning and punishing people, we treated them with love-- taught them that the world is good and people care?

What if we showed the value in small acts of kindness? What if giving a dog a meal meant more than just the food and water you purchased?

How many good, loving people have been convinced that they're not worthy of goodness or of being loved?

Why are we okay with even one person not seeing their value and their worth?

#I always wondered why the woman in the strength card was always described as kind and now I get it. #I just had to write 1100 words to finally understand :') #Working on the 3 of Swords next and it's featuring Nishiki! #I haven't planned out the entire suit yet but Nishiki's all over the swords. He's very sword-coded if I do say so myself lol. #That poor man. #yakuza #my art #yakuza fanart #kiryu kazuma #sawamura haruka #tarot card design

[aajjks]

TPOL!JK

you're left confused because where is this animosity coming from? but when you see jungkook and namjoon conversing like they have known each other forever, it all makes sense to you. they are clearly best friends and when namjoon pulls you close to brag about you to jungkook, you're visibly nervous and jungkook is enjoying himself.

why is it that every time you try to move on with your life he comes back to disturb the peace? to disturb YOUR peace.

you thought he would have moved on from you. its been over 3 years since you've last seen him and surely he must have a partner in his life but this is jungkook you're talking about. the man who tatted your name and killed for you.

"hey guys, can i borrow y/n for a second? thanks" interrupts yerin who could tell from a mile away how uncomfortable you were in front of jungkook. she pulls you in the bathroom away from the commotion and locks the door behind herself, meanwhile, you're pacing back and forth on what he meant by 'just the start of surprises.'

"okay, what the hell is going on?"

"yerin, namjoon invited jungkook. he...he invited him to...oh my God"

"that asshole must be planning something. i can see it all over his face"

"yerin, i'm scared. i swear i wouldn't have dated namjoon had i known he was friends with jungkook"

"first off, fuck him. what's he gonna do, tell him? don't worry about him. if that asshole claims to love you so much, he won't hurt you"

but you KNOW jungkook. you know how possessive and crazy he can be. he killed his father for christ sake! but what if he kills you? you don't want to stick around and wait for that to happen but you deeply care and like namjoon.

he threw this grand party together for you and you made a home out of switzerland, so you're not going to let him ruin it. you're not going to let him scare you into submission.

"maybe you should tell namjoon the truth, y/n"

"i-i can't. he'll hate me not to mention he invited him"

"but at least he'll tell jungkook to fuck off so you can be happy. you've been through too much y/n and i won't let him pop your bubble"

you let out a deep breath and nod your head. you will tell namjoon about jungkook tonight and hopefully the two of you can move past this.

you won't let him win. you can't.

you and yerin head back to the party and you're nervous for the rest of the night but namjoon coaxes you through it. he's holding your hand, caressing your back, and pecking your head and cheek to put your mind at ease. the party was great minus jungkook but all good things must come to an end...

while jungkook and yerin stay back to help the both of you clean, you pull namjoon away to talk to him, leaving yerin and jungkook alone.

"why are you here, jungkook? asks yerin, upfront about why he suddenly appeared in your life again.

"if you can't tell, she's happier without you and you need to stay out of her life. you're no good for her and you know that. don't tell me you think she's gonna be with you because i can tell you right now, it's NEVER going to happen. you planning on confessing your sins to namjoon cause unlike you, he's a real man who doesn't call his woman a bitch, or a whore, and uses her abortion against her. or better yet, he's not like you're father which i know you killed him. you gonna kill y/n next? all because jungkook can't stand the thought of y/n being happy. i wonder what your mother would say if i told her all that i know about you. she'll be so proud to hear that her precious 'kookie' is just like his father"

Your friend is almost giving his dead father competition for how much jungkook can hate a person.

He laughs at yerins poor attempt at confronting him.

“Shut the fuck up you’re fuckin annoying.” He scoffs while cleaning the plate, “how about I tell namjoon about yns friend who can’t help but interfere in every single relationship of hers?” He rolls his eyes at her.

He cannot fathom how yugyeom is still dating her.

“And I’ll be sooooo glad of yn will tell him about me. Would make it so much easier for me.” He shrugs. Who do you think you are?

You’re nothing if you’re not his.

“What can he do? Nothing.” He laughs, it’s so funny that you and yerin think that they can get rid of him. “Stay away yerin or I’ll tell yugyeom about that little fling of yours with that white guy from the club, a few months ago.” He winks at her.

He’s ruthless and he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty

You made him like this, and if he’ll go down, he’ll take you with him because yn has always been incomplete with Jungkook.

“I’m not afraid to hurt him or you.” He reminds her, it’s so satisfying to feel the fear radiate off of her, he is not even looking at her.

“Now let’s see how he reacts if she tells him. It would be her loss but my gain.”

Maybe he is like his father after all.

#ask: tpol!jungkook #he’s…. umm

[0perfectimperfections0]

Reborn: Part 3

The screen came on and spared no mercy for Lou. No time to gather what courage was left in his new body. It wouldn't have mattered anyhow. Those human blue eyes found his immediately amongst the group of dolls that stood around him. Slick, black hair had a few bangs loose from their gel, reflecting some sort of internal war raging inside the man. The scowl on his face was only disturbed by a small curl of his lip, showing the teeth underneath. "You filthy, wretched piece of trash..."

That was a nice welcome. Lou could certainly feel the love.

His creator continued. Lou didn't dare try to interrupt him. "Do you have any idea how much of my hard work you threw away? I spent days making you...just for you to throw it all away. I have half a mind to make the robots drag you to my office and let me tear you apart. Maybe I can salvage what parts of you are left in that machine."

Lou's legs went numb, threatening to collapse beneath him. The fear nearly forced him to throw up. Breathlessly, he pleaded, "Sir, please...I'm sorry-"

"Shut up!" The command made Lou's jaw snap shut. Hands clasped in front of him, head bowed. Submissive. That was what the man wanted. Lou had no room for boldness to try and deny him that. "You don't talk back, understand?" Lou swallowed, throat tightening. "Louis."

"Yes, Sir." His voice was quiet.

"Some of the robots sorted through the recycle." He might as well have been giving the weather report. "Lucky for you, some of your old scraps have been recovered. We'll start with that hideous brown eye of yours-"

Oh...God...

Lou couldn't hear anything else. It drowned in white noise. Something in his gut twisted, and heat rushed throughout his body. The understanding of what the man was going to do to him urged his stomach to throw up. Lou's breathing picked up, eyes burning into the carpet floor, brows scrunched as if trying to mentally will away the images.

"-and as your punishment, you'll be awake the whole process."

Legs buckled beneath the white-hot rush pulsing through him. He didn't register Mandy's arms catching him, leaning back so he could rest some of his dead weight against her.

The Uglies revolted at the man. Lou couldn't hang onto any of their words. Ox's voice rang loudest amongst them all. Yells were exchanged. Threats made -- promises, Lou knew.

Nothing truly reached his awareness. Splotches of light faded in and out of Lou's vision as the heat got worse. It was cold and hot at the same time. No, that was the floor. The bathroom floor. His knees rubbed painfully against the tile, hands bracing himself up. Mandy was holding him around his torso, chin resting on his back. Something jolted in his stomach and it was then he finally became aware that his body had given into the need to regurgitate.

It was suffocating. The fear, the sickness, the noise-

"I'm right here." It was the calmest thing he could recall hearing so far today. That overwhelming heat was strangled, its hold releasing just a bit as Mandy eased the sweatshirt over his head when he caught a break. A wet rag was wiped over his mouth and a different heat pressed against him. Mandy drew him into her lap. He was adorned in just the pants now as the flush of heat began traveling down his neck and shoulders. The worst of it began forming in the pit of his stomach.

His throat burned. Every swallow was painful, but he had no way to stop himself from doing so. His mouth hung open loosely as he panted, eyes fluttering and unable to focus.

Mandy used a different wet rag to wipe his face, keeping it behind his ears for a few seconds before switching to the other ear. The flush wasn't going away.

"What do I need to do?" Nolan was kneeling down in front of her. She hadn't even heard him walk in. Wordlessly, she handed him the rag, and he resoaked it in cold water. The task was lifted off her shoulders as he pressed it against Lou's neck and ears.

"Where's Ox?"

"Still giving that guy a piece of his mind. We might regret it later, but I'll let Ox say what he wants." The flush gradually ebbed away. Nolan resoaked the rag once more to wipe it across Lou's chest and back. A shiver finally coursed through the doll. "You with us now?" He gently tilted Lou's head to face him. Bleary, mismatched eyes met his. A small noise came from the boy, nothing coherent. Nolan grabbed the sweatshirt and helped Mandy slide it back over Lou.

Shivers now assaulted him. The heat was gone, thank God, but now his whole body trembled. Mandy pulled his legs up into her lap, arms wrapping around his curled-up frame. "He can't go back in there." Mandy pressed her mouth lightly to the crown of Lou's head. "I'm taking him back to the bedroom. Can you get his breakfast?

Insides coiled at the mention of food. Lou allowed his eyes to fall shut, body completely drained. Nolan was gone. He must have gone to do as Mandy had asked of him.

Once again, lifted into trusting arms. He had faith in these arms now. Not that he had the energy to rebel anyway. Mandy carried him upstairs to Ox's bed again. Such little time had passed since he had woken up this morning, but already too much had happened. The covers were still tossed, unmade.

A different direction was taken. Lou watched the bed move to the side of his eyesight as Mandy sat down with him in the recliner in the corner. She settled him beside her, still with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other rubbing his leg. "We're just gonna chill for a while. Things will calm down in a minute." He didn't know if she was referring to his stomach or the chaos downstairs. Maybe both.

They rocked silently. The motion didn't unease his stomach for some reason. He gave Mandy credit for that. "I thought you were a stylist?" He spoke lowly, head resting against her shoulder.

"I am."

"Then how do you know how to take care of people?"

That made her giggle softly. That was a pleasant noise, too. "I just do what seems right. When you're sick, the best thing to do is eat soup and saltines. Water and ginger ale is best, considering you're dehydrated now. Y'know, the basics."

"Oh." Why didn't he know this? That seemed important.

"But don't worry about that. You don't need to know that. I'll take care of you."

"You won't always be here."

"I will. We'll always be here whenever you need me or the others."

I always will need you. I will always need someone. I always needed Ox, yet he still left.

"I am scared." Was what he said instead.

Arms embraced him tighter. Was that all it took? Such simple words of confession, and he was graced with the presence of warmth and love. Had it always been that easy? He refused to believe he had been so close to comfort all these years.

The bedroom door opened. Nolan set a plate that had once been Lou's breakfast down on the bedside table. A napkin covered the top of it from where it had been reheated. Something was mouthed between the brunette and Mandy. Whatever it was, Nolan shook his head, frowning.

"Check you're phone," Nolan said, kneeling in front of Lou's line of sight. While Mandy did so, he smiled small at the doll. "You probably don't feel like eating, huh?"

"Not really," Lou grimaced. Nolan nodded understandably, glancing at Mandy while she read.

Her heart dropped to her stomach. Ox had messaged her.

Mandy waited for him to continue.

She still didn't respond.

Mandy finally looked up at Nolan. He was already staring back at her, crestfallen. It was then she noticed the strange device in his hands.

She glanced between the device and Nolan. He raised a brow, extending it a ways toward her as if asking if she wanted to do it.

Lou noticed it, eyes widening a smidge. "What's that?" He glanced between the two dolls.

"It's nothing," Mandy spoke softly. She set her phone down and cautiously took the device from Nolan. Ever so gently, she turned to face Lou, cupping his chin. "Just relax, oka-"

"No, Mandy, please!" Lou recognized it. The robots used it to silence him. It was one of his punishments for disobeying orders. He gripped Mandy's wrist, the one holding his chin. Tears spilled from his eyes. "P-Please don't do this! I can't go back there!"

"Lou, shh, it's okay-"

"No, no, it's not!" He sobbed. "You lied! You said you'd take care of me!"

"And I will-- I am--"

"This hurts, Mandy! It hurts! Please, don't make me go back!" He gripped onto her like a lifeline. A lifeline that was about to send him somewhere dark.

But he didn't make a move to push her hand away that held the device. He didn't coil away while she held his chin, head tilted to expose the place where Nolan had instructed her to use the device. He clung to her. Begged. Pleaded.

Even as she was about to send him to his worst nightmare, all he wanted was someone to hold onto.

The device was shoved back into Nolan's hands. He frowned at her. Teary, gold eyes looked back up at him. "I can't...you have to do it." Her voice quivered, soft. She let Lou wrap his arms around her neck, holding onto him. He clung onto the back of her shirt, chest heaving as he sobbed. She shook her head at Nolan. "I'm sorry, but I just can't."

The brunette sighed heavily, running a hand down his face before rubbing the back of his neck. He looked down at the device in his hands and then back to Lou. Nolan stood, walking to lean over the recliner arm behind Lou. He brushed back the curls of mixed hair to expose the spot.

"N-Nolan, please," came a watery plea. Once again, Lou didn't try to fight back or move away. He held on all the more to Mandy.

"Lou," Nolan had to look away for a second. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be." Nolan closed his eyes and pressed the button.

The arms around her neck loosened drastically. Sobs silenced, and all that was left was steady breathing.

#uglydolls #lou #nolan #ox #mandy #hurt/comfort #tw throwing up #part 3 #fanfiction #writing #series

[cryptixani]

Heyo! I'd like a romantic Sonic matchup if you don't mind ^-^

 Name: Walela Rose!

Pronouns: She/they

Sexuality and preferences: Bisexual, and my big crushes are Shadow, Sonic and Knuckles (am major Shadow simp) but I’m cool with any match. If you’re focusing on my big 3, I mostly crush on modern and Boom Sonic, movie Knuckles and any freaking iteration of Shadow (except IDW, they did him so dirty ;--;) smaller crush on movie Sonic and Blaze, but again I’m good with any matchup so no pressure!

Personality: where do I freaking start. I am more or less a huge anxious shut in. I have pretty bad anxiety and am scared to be outside by myself. I am a little socially anxious and am awkward, whether I’m confident about it or not. Whenever I try to talk to someone new, I tend to open up with a joke or meme that they end up not understanding and the convo usually ends there. Otherwise, I tend to not talk around strangers. However, when I get close to someone, they can’t shut me up. I get clingy, really affectionate and maybe annoying idk. I tend to crack myself up with puns that everyone else facepalms over. Sometimes I overshare my thoughts. I can be loud when I get excited. My sleep schedule is fricked up lol and I am a bit chubby. I also have a lot of low iq moments lmao and I need a lot of reassurance to know somebody isn’t going to leave me or replace me with someone else. I like sharing the things I obsess about with the ones close to me. I’m an age regressor, but even when I’m not regressing I tend to act a bit like a kid. I’m also lazy af and I blush easily. (Sorry if this was super long) Likes and dislikes: I like singing and playing video games and drawing too! I don’t like pickles, or coffee, and I don’t like hard thunderstorms or people angry yelling at me bc those scare me a lot. I really like Kingdom Hearts and My Little Pony and, of course, the Sonic franchise! My favorite colors are pastels and black. Although I like fireworks, I have to plug my ears when watching them bc I’m a highly sensitive person and those big loud babies hurt my ears. I like childlike things, like those stupid pretend cash register toys.

Relationship type: Something intimate, someone who likes taking care of me but tries to help me grow as a person as well. A relationship where they'll just suddenly remind me that they love me (that makes me swoon) and say sweet things in my ear first thing in the morning (more swooning). Perhaps someone just a little bit possessive, like they get a little jealous or pull me close when they feel like there's competition nearby. Someone who likes to gently brush my hair and doesn't call me cringe if I write them a super cheesy love poem. Someone who will love my body regardless of its shape, but still encourage me to be healthy. And someone who will be understanding and caring when I regress.

NSFW: My top 3 kinks are yandere, DDLG (as in calling someone Daddy and they take on a dilf-like role) and praise kink. I'm a switch, but mostly submissive.

hello lovely, thank you for submitting! i hope you like your matchup!

i match you with...

knuckles the echidna

• this is honestly just a gut feeling but i think knuckles would be a really good match for you!!

• he would definitely help you come out of your shell a bit, at least if you're only around him, to help you overcome your social anxiety. even if it's just baby steps.

• definitely loves taking care of you, making sure you're okay in any given situation, keeping an eye on you when you're around others in case your social battery runs dry

• his love language is acts of service so i think he'd overall just enjoy having someone that lets him convey that

• i don't think he'd be too into pda or anything like that, i headcanon him as pretty reserved, but when it's just the two of you he loves to murmur his affections by your ear while he keeps you close

• won't get most of the memes you reference but will still appreciate it anyway <3 he will enjoy your silly jokes and puns though

• knuckles is very protective over what he loves and what he considers his so rest assured you are in very safe hands, not to mention he won't hesitate to assert himself as your s/o if anyone else tries anything funny

• enjoys your affectionate, clingy nature, would never find it annoying.

• honestly if you gave him a cheesey love poem, he'd be more flustered than anything. he's not used to receiving such affection so it takes him off guard!

hope you enjoyed your matchup!!

#sonic matchups

[ifeelsoemptysometimes]

Like many others, there are times where I fucking can't stand ny mom and wish I could just beat her with my base ball bat. She's just such a fucking bitch sometimes and obviously it fucking pisses me off, like I dont even do anything. She's just a bitch. Earlier today maybe around 7, 8ish, mom and dad were getting to go to the city to drop my mom off at her mom's house. Blah blah blH someone said something about my grandma and how we were gonn celebrate her birthday on Saturday. My dad's mom was like well why don't mom's family just come over and we can celebrate it here. We can do your cake idea and we'll do our carne asada idea here. Then idk what happened but mom started bitching to dad that dad didn't bring that up when mom was talking about the cake shit. Well when she was saying this she sounded really irritated and so that also irritates my dad. I started to feel uncomfortable/nervous about them and feeling like they were gonna start fucking fighting. So I put my hands on my head and shook my head nervously and told to stop, to stop talking like like that. I told her that she was talking like she was mad and that why cant she just talk normal, without sounding pissy. ofc she retorted with how she was infact not mad and that she was speaking normaly so I bounced back saying that it didn't sound like she it. Then she told me that I needed to just shut my mouth. I was so baffled that all I could say "ejuela no" and I walked away with my hands balled my my blood boiling. Like is that really the fucking way you respond to your child asking why you cant jusr have a god damn conversation with you spouse without sounding like tour fucking pissed all the god damn time?? Like wtf. Like fuck fine act pissy with mw i can suck it up but it just makes me so uncomfortable and anxious when my parents start speaking to themselves like that bc then they start yelling at each other. And most times its usually my mom like there's just something that she doesn't like in the slightest and she'll raise her tone and she just sounds angry for no fucking reason. Like a couple of weeks ago I was asking who wanted to shower first bc I'm ussually the one who takes the longest to shower abd take up alot of the hot water. Thats all I asked and thats all I wanted to know. Well she fucking snapped at me and yelled at me to just get in the damn shower. You'd think I said something offensive towards her to get her to react like that. And it happens so often and I so sick of it. Then she has the audacity to tell ME that "she can't say anything bc then I get mad" when she is the exact same way! Where did she think I got my pissy attitude from?? Definitely not the fucking neighbor. Same with my dad but to lesser degree. Im just so sick of it. And I just have to sit there like a dog and take it. I've been forced into submission through violence so I can't even speak up for myself. I try to but its very minor and it always just makes things worse. Im so sick of it. But I hope one day I say something that just feels like a punch to her gut. Something that she won't forget something that will make her cry. I have a core memory of when I was a child. I told her that sometimes it really felt like she didn't love me. How awful do you have to be for you own damn child to tell you that?? Like for fuck sake.

God my head it throbbing.

Like im not even mad anymore im just,, idk. upset. When I walked away I just started crying. Like idk why she has to be like that. Its just so frustrating. And its not like I can try talking to her bc it just make things worse. Her talking to me like that riles me up and get me all pissed off and so its just a dead end road. But yea I cried and its like fuck I don't even know why I'm crying. Probably just the irritation of it all. But its so annoying.

Ugh.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 32: Daze

Baaaack, with another supersized chapter that will test some of ya’ll’s patience, and possibly make you flail, daresay? 👀

There might be a while between this chapter and the next one, so just fair warning!

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 19,000+

Summary: Trying to sort through the deep-seated baggage you've allowed to affect your relationship with Javi, you end up finding yourself swept up into the worst-case scenario of both your fears. Can you both find your way back to one another?

Warnings: Javier Peña going into BAMF mode. Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of oral (m+f receiving) and unprotected sex. Mentions of hurt/comfort, emotional trauma, toxic coping mechanisms, and suppressed feelings. Descriptions of dom/sub play, cum play, size kink, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to triggering events, threat of violence, and psychological trauma. Some Protective!Javi, Sub!Javi, Dom!Reader, Wrathful!Javi. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter -  Chapter 31: Ballad - Part 2

Chapter 32: Daze 

The first chance for Javi to apologize and dispel your upset doesn't come as soon as he'd hoped.

Not when he calls you the following morning – both on your cell and house phone – and gets no answer. On the second try, he contemplated leaving a voicemail on your apartment's machine, but decided against it and hung up before the machine finished the prompt.

You lay in bed, having ignored the ringing, and let go of the breath you unconsciously were holding while the machine down the hall began to recite its automated message only to hear the click of the caller abandoning leaving a voicemail.

Dejected, you stare up at the ceiling and fight the urge to cry all over again. After all, you pride yourself on being reasonable, even when you don't want to be. Usually, you're able to be objective. But this entire exchange knocked you off-kilter. And the volatility of the bitterness that boiled over in you? How the hurt sprung up in you so vehemently?

Sullenly, you screw your eyes shut and huff in frustration at yourself.

You're not delusional enough to ever compare your work to Javier's, but you do think it has value. If you didn't, you wouldn't be doing it! So, hearing that he doesn't think it's important, albeit within the context of you stubbornly insisting on going to Medellín on short notice was like a blow to your pride. You felt minimized, your work trivialized as something 'that could wait' – an errand lacking merit or any consequence to him.

It felt like an extension of what always ends up happening, as far as you and Javi being together is concerned.

Throughout the on-and-off-again span of your relationship, you'd spent so much time waiting for him – for Javi to accomplish his goals so the things that you want to pursue together were viable. This is the first time he'd ever made you feel that the things you want to accomplish and the goals you strive to achieve weren't priority, and it made you spiral into despair and unearthed a profound doubt from somewhere deep-seated in you.

Your head hurts, temples throbbing as you war with your emotions, trying to cull them, or at the very least wrestle them into submission. It's overwhelming how bewildered you are by everything, struggling to grasp why what Javier said struck such a devastating nerve in you.

Then, unbidden, your mind's eye recalls the visage of your father as he sat in the backseat of the Cadillac in your dream from last week. It strikes a chord in you, flooding you over with memories you'd not let cross your mind, ever. At least not consciously.

Refusing to let them pull you under into the miasma of long-repressed resentments, you roll onto your side, exhausted of being sick of yourself, as well as from the fitful night of sleep. You try to coax yourself to at least have a nap, when the phone starts ringing again.

Groaning, you shimmy towards the nightstand and grab the wireless handset to peer at the caller ID in an attempt to steel yourself to just take the leap and answer him, but when it displays a number you don't recognize as Javi's cell or satellite phone, you're compelled to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Ketsele! I miss you so much, mon chéri," Sasha's rich baritone greets over what you make out as the sound of waves and the cawing of seagulls in the background. "It's not too early there, is it? I hope I didn't wake you—"

"No…I'm just loafing around in bed," you cut in and try to force a smooth veneer to your tired tone. "I miss you too, bub. How're things? Sounds like everything went very well if you're lounging on the beach."

"Hah, the only thing I'm missing is a daiquiri and you at my side under the parasol, krasivaya," he drawls impishly. "I'm sorry for not calling sooner. Things have been non-stop."

"No worries. I figured as much," you remark softly and sit up on your elbow. "So? Did they make you an offer you couldn't refuse?"

"Ah, pretty much. It's a done deal – they'll have 'Worship' for a year, exclusively. Tomorrow I fly back to New York and get back to my regular job," he quips in a velvety chime. "Figured I'd get some color while I still can—"

"Do not crisp yourself, and behave yourself with the cabana boys," you chuckle and smile when he grunts in protest. "Are you in Miami Beach?"

"Yes. I actually relented and took Giani up on his offer to stay with him," he tells you, and you are surprised, until he deadpans, "Hated it. So, I made an excuse the next morning and checked into a hotel right on the beach."

You snort, sneering, "You're such a snob. How you could hate staying at the Versace mansion is beyond me—"

"It's so tacky! And he's got his annoying sister around all the time. He's a sweet guy, but his whole scene aggravates me," Sasha complains, and you hear him shifting in his beach lounger, as well as the unmistakable sound of him picking up a glass with clinking ice. "Anyway, how're things?! Has my Javi darling gotten down on a knee and proposed yet?"

You flatten out sidelong on your bed and war with the effort of keeping your voice cool as you deflect, "Fine, and no. Everything's fine."

Sasha takes a beat before carefully questioning, "What's wrong?"

Internally swearing, you shuffle up in bed and lean against the headboard. "Nothing. Everything's—"

"'Fine.' Yeah, I got that, so…what's wrong, kitten?" he murmurs, the sound of him adjusting the cell phone and bumping it against the temple of his sunglasses audible on your end.

With a forlorn sigh, you reply, "Nothing. I'm just tired…this week ended really awfully, and there's a lot of stress at work—"

"C'mon, you're not one to let that wear on you," Sasha challenges. "Is everything ok with—"

"Sasha, I don't really want to talk about it," you insist, rubbing at your temples in frustration. "I'm just…it's just a bout of melancholy. I promise, though, everything is—" you go to say 'fine' but decide to pivot to, "—Ok. I have a lot of things stressing me out lately, is all."

Unconvinced, Sasha hums, but decides not to press any more. "Well, I hope you're able to surmount all the stress soon. If not, then I'll be there soon enough to bug you into cheering up," he teases, which makes you huff amusedly. "Blessed hell, you should see the kind of swimsuits people wear down here! The women have their entire asses out. A real feast for the eyes," he tells you and you laugh, imagining him sitting under his parasol in his super-short swim trunks, gawking out at the thong and string bikini-clad ladies. "And the banana hammocks are something else—"

"Hah! Well, I'll leave you to it then, you voyeur," you jibe, and he scoffs haughtily at that. "Enjoy, have a safe trip home, and talk soon, ok?"

"Will do, my love. Take care."

Ending the call, you set the phone aside and wring your hands over your tired features. As you try to rally the strength to get out of bed, Javier is roiling with worry and fighting every impulse to just jump in the car and show up at your door. Annoyed with himself, he decides to go to the office and catch up on the work he'd been putting off. But even then, when he's driving towards the embassy, part of him is cajoling him to keep driving and go to your side of town.

She said she wanted to be alone. Give her some fucking space, he snaps at himself, getting wound up with aggravation.

After he's parked, Javier heads up to his office and spends the next few hours forcing himself not to be a shit boss – signing requisitions, approving for equipment at some of the field offices, reading reports. Every so often, though, he pauses and ruminates, brooding. When he huffs at himself and tries to force himself to do something productive, like organizing the ridiculous clutter on his desk, he ends up right back to thinking about you when he moves a stack of folders and finds the coffee candies he'd told you about the other day. Exhaling testily, he stares at them and can't help let his mind wander – to ponder over what the hell even happened last night.

All he can figure is that he unintentionally hit a nerve in you. Something that triggered you not to act out in anger, but to become despondent, truly upset.

Javier stews with it, and now, itching for a cigarette and sulking as he paces the length of his office, he decides he can't take it anymore.

He's in his car and driving to your place a few minutes later.

When he pulls up to a vacant spot on the street, across from your complex, he looks around and doesn't see your car parked anywhere nearby. Frustrated, he's relegated to grabbing his cell phone and trying you again, knowing you're unlikely to answer as he listens to the line ring—

"Hello?"

Javi's tenses up before murmuring your name and passionately husking, "—I'm so sorry. I never meant to upset you."

There's a pause, a hesitant breath before you answer. "I know. You…you didn't do anything wrong, Javier. I just—" you break off, grasping for words. Javi can make out what sounds like traffic in the background just as you sigh. "I'm just really stressed out, and I overreacted. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry."

Frowning, he leans heavily into his seat. "Can I see you? I, uh, I came over to your place, but saw your car's gone—"

"I'm running errands with Francesca," you answer, elaborating, "She needed help unloading some stuff – decided to donate what she can't ship back home to California, so I'm at her dorm helping her pack and separate things out."

"Oh, I see," Javi mutters, and relaxes. "Anything I can help with? I'm pretty good with packing and lugging boxes," he attempts, injecting a humorous inflection to his tone in hopes it'll soften things between you.

"I—I'm sorry, Javi," you susurrate, lowering your voice as you parcel out, "Right now, I'm just…I just need some time. To figure some stuff out, and I—" you pause, and Javi thinks he hears a door open and close before the drone of the street traffic dissipates. "I just have to sort through things, and I don't want to subject you to that."

"Querida," he rumbles, almost lamentingly, before stressing, "It doesn't have to be like that. Nothing has changed. You can talk to me," he pauses before emphasizing, "I was an asshole for how I said what I said, but I need you to know that what I said? It didn't mean I considered those things being unimportant. It matters. You…you don't have to put your guard up."

"…It's not that simple. I can't just turn that part off," you evenly declare, then murmur, "I have to go."

Javi impulsively rubs the backs of his curled fingers across his lips, warring with the angst that threatens to bubble up his throat. He wants to insist – to press that you don't have to shut him out. But his father's voice of reason begins reverberating in his head, telling him not to louse it up, so he clears his throat and manages to assure, "I'm here if you need me, cariño."

It was the right thing to say.

You let out a relieved exhale as you lean into the post of the staircase so you can covertly swipe at the tears collecting in the corners of your eyes. "Thanks. I—I love you, Javi," you breathe out, pushing through the flustered shyness that heats your face.

"I love you too. Cuídate, gatita," he rumbles in a gravelly rasp that settles butterflies of comforting warmth in your belly and has a soft little giggle escaping your chest at the silly endearment.

"I will. Bye," you manage softly and internally wilt at ending the call, when the longing, lonely part of you wanted to reverse course and beg him to come get you. Collecting yourself, you walk back up the steps to Francesca's dorm room, where she's still rummaging in her closet through textbooks and other odds and ends to separate in the 'ship' versus 'donate' boxes sitting on the floor under her window. "Sorry about that. Got caught up on a call," you remark as you sit at her desk chair.

"No worries!" the young woman chirps as she sorts a few things into the boxes. "Do you think they'll accept all of this at the donation place?"

"Sure. I've always taken stuff to them. They're great at collecting donations and dispersing items to where they will get the best use. All the books and magazines I've given them have ended up in low-income schools or afterschool programs, where that kind of stuff is hard to come by. And clothes get passed to women's shelters they work with," you assure, smiling when she sits back on her haunches and hastily pulls her curly hair up in a ponytail. "Those lamps and the futon will get grabbed up quick too."

"Great. I was freaking out over what to do with all this stuff. My roommate's moving out at the end of the semester and is going to purge her stuff then too," she remarks as she cleans her eyeglasses idly with the hem of her shirt.

"Is everything all set with finals?" you ask as you admire a picture frame on her desk.

"Yep! I have a few papers to turn in this week, and only three final exams that were required. I'll be all set and good to fly out end of next week," she muses.

You're glad the entire mess isn't going to be as big of a disruption for her as you'd feared, and you tell her so as you're carrying the last of the boxes down to your hatchback. She accompanies you to the donation place, where you both unload and chat with the volunteers for a spell before you take her back to her dorm, having arranged for the remainder of her heavier donations to be picked up on Monday. With that, you give her a big hug, coordinate to help her ship her belongings stateside, and assure her you and Ellis will see her off to the airport when she leaves.

Exhausted, you get home and skip dinner, instead opting to soak in a hot bath before mechanically going through your night routine, then getting into bed.

Why you thought you'd immediately fall asleep, you don't know, but when you just lay in bed after tossing and turning for a while, you inevitably are left with only your thoughts. The express things you've been avoiding all damned day.

The nagging recollections decide to spring on you now, while you're alone in the darkness.

"You're wasting your time with that stuff. It's meaningless work."

"What kind of profession can you pursue?! There's no security in that field, less so for a woman."

"¡Tan irrespetuosa. Te dije lo que deberías hacer, pero todo lo que haces es exactamente lo contrario!"

Your father's aggravated, booming voice will forever be imprinted in you. Especially his bellows in Spanish, like when he'd told you, 'You're so disrespectful. I told you what you should do, but everything you do is the exact opposite!'

The more your mind unshackles the memories, the more you realize how much his dismissive, disapproving anger had made you want to rebel. Where you're mother had grown stoic to it, you'd become vehemently defiant to him, and the older you'd become, the more that challenging streak had grown the chasm between you and him. Nothing you did was good enough, and even when he had nothing to criticize or disparage, he'd become reticent and distant, which only spurred your recalcitrant ways.

It's only in morose moments like this that you even try to recall a time when you and your father were close. Even now, you can't help feel like that had been someone else's experience. That the little girl who'd run to her daddy when he'd come home from being deployed, or returned from Navy Seal training hadn't been you, per se – rather, it'd been just someone else you used to know. The resentment kept you protected from the hurt of having lost that.

Your guard keeps it at bay still – the hurt, but as you lie in bed, you realize that your father's disapproval of your choices had only motivated you to strive for them more. But, being confronted with Javi disregarding the things you thought important had let that ingrained hurt loose. Like a dam in a flood, your guard crumbled and you were swept under – left reeling and feeling untethered.

Not having your father believe in you is one thing. Having the specter of that creep into what you have with Javi? Being confronted with the perception that what matters to you is meaningless? Even if Javi hadn't meant it that way, it had been a blow. You've never cared so deeply about what another person thinks about you, or their opinion about the value of your goals.

But, Javi is different.

What he thinks and how he feels about things…they matter to you. Having him think less of you, or the things that you hold sacred, is something you cannot bear.

The mere perception of that being the case had rattled your confidence and pride, leaving you bare and feeling lost – set adrift in the hurt and panic of your hollowed out sense of being. It had left you profoundly unsettled – sad, even.

Left to be the sad, inconsequential little girl that had lost the love of the only man she'd cared about.

Bereft by the betrayal of your own stubborn will giving way to the insecurities you'd long buried, you cry yourself to sleep.

It's late morning when you're startled awake by the ringing of your landline, so you blindly scramble to grab it and shake the exhausted daze away in order to answer it.

"—Lindita, are you in bed? Wake up! It's time to rise and shine," your grandmother is chiming deliberately, so you grumble lamely, assuring her you're up. "I need you to be awake for what I have to tell you," she's suddenly musing, tone a bit ambivalent.

Sobering and sitting up in bed at that, you retort, "I am. What's wrong?"

"Well, I know you've been busy—"

Feeling guilty, you remark, "I have been, but I'm sorry, 'Buela. I should've called sooner. Good news is I'm going to take some time to go to Medellín this week—"

"So, that's what I'm calling about. You see, your cousin is moving up her wedding again," your abuela interjects.

Blinking slowly as you absorb that, you ask, "Ok…when is it now?"

"…Sunday after next…"

"…What?!" you exclaim and toss the blankets aside to jump out of bed and pace. "What the hell—? Why?! What is going on?! Is she knocked up or something—?!"

"¡Dios te sane—claro que no, lindita! Your aunt would keel over," she exclaims right back. "It seems Miguel got a promotion that requires him to go out of Colombia for training, and they told him he has to go in three weeks time, or else he'll forfeit the opportunity. Your cousin doesn't want to be stuck at home with your aunt like that for months! I can't say I blame her," your grandmother sardonically explains. Shaking your head in bemusement, you listen as she adds, "Do you think you could come earlier? It'll be a hectic rush, but everything was able to get moved up, except for the reception venue. The church will let them have the reception in the activity hall behind the chapel, though."

"I mean, it's not like I have much choice," you sigh and plop down heavily on the foot of the bed. "I'll have to make some adjustments and see if I drive up tomorrow?" you're thinking out loud before huffing, "Well, it'll have to be tomorrow. I was hoping to do something very important at the field office there this week, so I will have to fit that in between all the running around."

"I know it's not very considerate of your time, but I'm sure your prima would be so grateful. She and your aunt are running errands today, so really, I'll only need your help with the little projects I said I would chip in and be responsible for," your dear grandmother chimes in a cajoling tone, one that has your annoyance deflating.

"I'd be glad to, 'Buela," you relent softly. "Let me go make some calls in order to make the arrangements for the week…"

While you're thrown for a loop, Javier had decided he couldn't spend another day in his office, or bored out of his mind alone in his apartment, so, he'd gone out to the unlikeliest of places he'd ever thought he would be caught dead at.

Sure, his father had suggested that he make certain you were both on the same page before making any decisions, but Javi figured he has to at least do some research. After all, this wasn't at all like the last time.

Oh, no. Last time, he'd practically been given an instruction manual, so there wasn't any real thought behind the gesture. But this time, he's starting from scratch, with no sense of what to look for, let alone a clue of how he'd go about it.

So, he finds himself wandering the joyería district of the capital, looking at display cases and perusing the different assortments of anillos – marveling at the insane variety, shapes and sizes. The arrangements of stones in the myriads of settings and all the different hues of gold had his head spinning, and before he could get too anxious, he'd stroll over to the next shiny ring that caught his eye.

Would she want something like this? Javi wonders to himself as he peers down at the gold band with the pear-shaped diamond. Or, something like that? Is his deliberation when he sees the elegant gold setting with an oval diamond in the center and an emerald flanking it on each side, frowning when he sees what something like that would run. "Fuck me," he mutters to himself before absently rubbing his cheek as he continues along in his meandering stroll.

He realizes then that he's never seen you wear rings, so he has no frame of reference to what you would even like. You'd worn the occasional necklace, and dozens of pretty earrings, but no anillos on any of your lovely, dainty fingers. Hell, he didn't even know what your ring-size would be, and he's out gawking at the dizzying, elaborate options?

Just as he's getting peeved with himself, his phone starts ringing in his leather jacket's pocket.

Reaching in and pressing the button, he answers, "Peña."

"Hey," your voice filters into his ear, and the wave of serotonin the soft silkiness of your tone stirs in him has Javi feeling charged. "Are you busy?"

Javi glances at his surroundings and hustles in direction for the parking lot he'd left his car at. "No, just out, uh, downtown; checking something out," he retorts, striding down through the foot traffic towards the sidewalk across the way. "What's up?" he queries in the most casual way he can muster while buzzing with hope that you'll ask him to come over.

"Well, my blood pressure, more than likely," you cavalierly quip, and Javi has to register the joke before grunting in concern. "'Buela called me this morning and told me my cousin has moved up her wedding. I just finished making arrangements with Ellis and HR to take some personal time so I can go to Medellín for the week. Heading there tomorrow," is your huffy explanation, clearly sounding weary. Javier slows in his pace when he rounds the corner that the parking lot is at. "Remember I told you to run while you still can? You might want to seriously consider it—"

He cuts your acerbic quip off with a surly hum. "C'mon. I'm not missing a chance to hang out with your abuela and get spoiled," he teases as he resumes his confident stride towards his car, amused when you snicker at him. "When are the nuptials?"

"The Sunday after next," you reply, and sigh. "I know how hectic things are, so if you can't make it, I understand—"

"I'll be there," he assures, baritone pure honey and gravel as he purrs, "Want me to give you a ride to the airport?"

"Oh, I'm not flying," you respond, as if that was obvious.

Frowning, Javi stalks over to his SUV as he rumbles, "You're going to drive there? With everything going on—?"

"Of course! I have to be running errands all week. I need a car to get around," you cut in; tone getting a little impatient. "I've done the drive hundreds of times alone—"

Javier scowls as he unlocks his door and slides into the driver's seat. "I know. But right now it would be safer to fly there over making the 8-hour drive—"

He hears you let out a frustrated exhale before you grumble, "Javier, we're in Colombia. There's no such thing as 'safe' in the way you're used to back home. If recent history has proven anything, I could be blown up on the plane just as easily as I could get driven off the road," you pause your snide remark to scoff, "You know what? Never mind. We'll talk when I get back—"

Maldita sea, Javi curses in his head before cutting in with, "You know how you hate it when I get flippant? I'm not much of a fan when you do it, either," before pressing with insistence, "What if I arrange for a car and driver for you? You could fly out first thing in the morning—"

"Sea la madre…" you snippily sneer, take a breath, and then evenly snap, "I have enough stuff to stress out about right now. I don't need you babying me and giving me a hard fucking time about this—"

"I'm not trying to do any of that," he interjects crisply, gripping the phone to his ear while his free hand wrings the steering wheel in aggravation. "I'm just trying to suggest a better option—"

"First off, I'm not even supposed to be traveling, as you so keenly keep needling, so how would the DEA country attaché arranging for another embassy department head to have a chauffeur be at all a good look for either of us?!" is your snarky challenge, one that has Javi clenching his jaw in exasperation. "Secondly, I didn't ask you to solve anything for me. There's nothing to solve."

Temper starting to rise to his temples from how stubborn you're being, Javi pinches the bridge of his nose and grits out, "I didn't say I was trying to solve anything—"

"Great! Then there's nothing else to discuss," you sneer with an imperious edge before announcing domineeringly, "I've exhausted way too much patience having to justify things – what feels like a lifetime's worth, so I'm hanging up now—"

"YOU are exercising patience right now?!" Javier derides harshly, unable to help himself as he genuinely balks at your unreasonableness.

It was the worst thing to say.

"Yes. You know what I've been doing?" you icily scathe, before adding disparagingly, "Counting to ten. In my head, I count to ten in order to not lose my fucking patience with you. I've never cared or bothered to do this before, or for anyone else. And right now? I don't care to do it at all."

Javi's mouth is hung open, lost on what to say, so the sudden click and chime of the dial tone whining in his ear is little comfort as he lowers the phone and leans forward to bang his forehead weakly into the top of the steering wheel before growling and grabbing for his cigarettes.

While he lights one up and tries to take the edge off with the buzz that a deep inhale of the addictive smoke coaxes over his irritated mind, you're throwing the phone like a fastball into the propped pillows of your bed before snarling and burying your face in your hands. Why do you do this? Why the fuck are you like this?!

You want to call him back and apologize, but the still seething part of you scoffs, and you feel so frayed and dazed with the turbulence of everything you're dealing with that you're afraid it'll all come pouring out of you. So, you go through the motions. You set everything you purchased in Cartagena in the hall by the side table so you won't forget it in the morning, and return to the laundry you'd just brought up before having called Javi.

The next morning can't come soon enough, and while you abhor having to be up early, your fitful night sleep spent fretting makes it easy for you to get up and go shower. Standing in front of the medicine cabinet mirror as you finish applying your moisturizer, you try to avoid your tired gaze from looking back into your moodily droopy eyes. It's made easier when you focus on brushing your hair up into a twist before setting the towel on the rack and slipping into your silk robe.

You've just padded out of the bathroom to mope down the hall to your bedroom when a weird sounding set of knocks bump into your door. Confused, you wander back and tiptoe towards it. "¿Quién es?" you call out through the door.

"It's me," Javier's muffled voice answers, and with a miffed glower, you hurriedly undo the locks and open the door.

He's standing there, juggling two to-go coffee cups, and a giant take-out bag from Don Gilberto's, aviators perched low on the bridge of his aquiline nose and pout on full display while he focuses on not dropping the piping hot cups, bag, or his car keys. He's got on a light-gray suit, a fleur-de-lis-patterned navy tie, and his hair is combed back. You internally swoon.

He eyes you with a grumpy scrunch of his features that make his eyes crinkle as he drawls, "Well? Can I get a hand?"

You can't help it. You lean your weight onto one hip and sarcastically slow clap – your acerbic way of 'giving him a hand'. He literally scowls, and you crack a smile before taking the two coffees from him. Your smile wanes when you feel unworthy of leaning up to kiss him like you want, though. The pang of the guilt lodges sharply in your chest, so you divert your gaze and turn to let him in.

"I don't deserve this," you murmur as you go to take the cups to be set down on the kitchen island. Javi frowns at your tone, but follows you in, kicking the door shut after himself, and puts the bag down on the counter as you sigh. "I don't deserve you after how insufferable I've been…" Javier didn't expect to hear that. He looks at you keenly and notices how your shoulders are slumped as you turn away to hide your expression. Any impatience he might've felt dissolved at the sight of you silently warring with something else to say, before deciding on, "I'm sorry for being such a bitch."

His keys clattering to the countertop and the sound of his sunglasses being discarded with them register before he's suddenly next to you, pulling you into his arms and holding you as he nuzzles the top of your head and exhales a brooding huff. "You weren't a bitch," he grumbles and rubs his hand soothingly along your silk-clad back. "A ball-buster? Yes." You let out a startled snicker and bury your face in his chest. "If I made you feel even more stressed out—"

"You can't cause that. I caused it in myself and just…I just took it out on you rather than find a way to get through it," you tell him and finally stare up at him through your dewy lashes that you have to blink rapidly, stubbornly willing the tears of frustration back. "Before, I've just coped with it in my own way, alone, and never really had anyone to try and help. It just—I just feel like it's such a frivolous burden—"

"It's not. Your feelings are not a burden," Javi insists, cupping your cheek and caressing his thumb along it as he confides, "I just…I worry about shit. It's not me questioning you. I just want to protect you."

Your hands tighten on the back of his shirt when you curl into him and close your eyes so you can get lost in his comforting, warm scent – clean soap, and earthy cologne twining with the unique notes of his natural musk. "I know. Can we just forget about it?" you mumble, and he encircles you tight and kisses the top of your head, grunting in agreement.

…But then, that thought that had crossed his mind as he'd driven home after your argument on the phone yesterday crosses it again now, and he can't help ask, "You would tell me if something happened, right?"

Leaning back to stare up at him, you question, "What do you mean?"

"Like, if something happened at work. Or if there was something that's stressing you out, that I could help you with," Javi rumbles. It'd been something he wondered since Friday – if there were other causes for your frustration. If other stressors were plaguing you, and you either felt you had to handle them on your own, or perhaps, that you couldn't confide in him with them. Your expression gets guarded, and he knows now that there's something you're definitely keeping to yourself. "Cariño—"

"Javier, can we just talk about this later?" you retort and shrug away from him, but when he hesitates, you scoff and rub at your forehead before turning away and stalking off to your bedroom. "You're really not going to let it go," you chastise as you storm off.

"If it's bothering you, why can't you talk to me about it?" Javi's inquiring firmly as he follows you, not able to let it go. He's walked in just as you're tossing things into your suitcase from a neat assortment of items you have lined on the dresser. "Don't you trust me?"

That sets you off.

"Of course I trust you!" you yell as you slam your palms down on the dresser top. "But I can't talk about it – not right now, and it's really upsetting me that you can't respect that," is your accusation as you whirl around when you sense him shift closer to you, expecting to find him standing by the bed, and instead gape at him being down on his knees mere steps from you. "What—?"

"I totally respect it. I just…I just needed to ask, preciosa," he gravels in a husk and gives you the damned look – those big brown puppy-eyes looking up at you with his full lips look pillowed and soft as he pouts up at you. "I only want you to feel safe – to have your trust and to prove that you can rely on me for anything. And, if I've made you feel the opposite, then I want to make it up to you," he's telling you in a velvety tone that has your tummy tightening in excitement as you lean back on the dresser when he shuffles closer and caresses his palms up to your hips before he rests his forehead against you.

Your mind is flailing in a molasses-thick slow burn, taken aback as Javi nuzzles his face against the robe in order to nudge it away from where it's tucked shut by the sash. His moustache brushes into the sensitive skin of your sternum before he tilts his face up to mouth the swell of your right breast, then giving the same treatment to the other. He then noses down the line of your midriff, scenting you almost reverently.

Gasping when he presses an open-mouth kiss to your abdomen, you thread your fingers into the back of his hair and arch as his hands paw up the backs of your thighs to cant your hips forward and knead your bare derrière. "M-Make it up?" you ask in a daze, arousal fogging your mind into a slight delay as you feel want throb into the clutch of your pussy at the way his hands squeeze you covetously. Your next question derails to the giggle you let out when his moustache tickles a trail down your womb, but when he hums against your skin before suckling a path down to your mons pubis, you mewl and press into him.

Javi adjusts so he can brush his face into the apex of your thighs and just breathe in your spiced, heady scent before nuzzling into your curls. You shiver, brain backfiring from being flung into a series of emotions prior to now being turned into a yearning creature. To being left careening towards the gratification you've gone without. The sight of him fully clothed and on his knees has your cunt clenching in excitement. After all, you've fantasized about him just like this – dressed for work, at your feet and hungry to worship you with his ravenous mouth.

And the way he looks up at you now as he tugs the sash loose and pushes your robe open has you trying to press your thighs together. "Ja-Javi—"

"Let me relieve some of your stress, hermosa," he purrs in a canela-brined tone that has you tingling and biting your bottom lip as he suddenly flings your right leg over his blazer-clad shoulder and bows to bury his face in your warm pussy.

Gasping, you mindlessly grapple for purchase by gripping backwards onto the dresser, feeling weak in the knees when Javier swipes his tongue languidly through your folds before nuzzling into your cunt and groaning. Your toes are curling as heat flares across your tissue and radiates like a pulsing beacon in the seat of your core. In this position, all you can do is ride it out, precariously leaning back onto the dresser and rocking the cradle of your pelvis against Javi's mouth. He easily melts you apart with the swirl and spearing of his tongue before he flicks the tip of it libidinously against your pulsing clit in the way he knows will singe you through with pleasure.

A hand impulsively buries in the back of his hair and fists his dense tufts as you cry out and mewl, "Oh god, Javi—" just as he purses his mouth over your clit and suckles hard before pressing the flat over his tongue to grind over it.

You come undone solely by the ruinous skillfulness of his mouth, and writhe in the embrace of his hands holding you steady from crumbling in a heap over him. The haze of pleasure that weighs over you has you clumsy and heavy-jointed as you slump to cling to the dresser at your back, feeling dim and overcharged as he lazily licks through your soaked cunt and hums in accomplishment.

Quivering, you pant to catch your breath while you try to open your eyes against the soporific euphoria still buzzing in your veins. Javier loves the sight of you flushed and lulled into bone-deep bliss, so with a wet kiss to the top of your curls, he turns his head to nip into the supple inside of your thigh before easing your leg from his shoulder.

"Feel better?" he huskily grouses and affectionately squeezes your hip.

The enchanted smile that softens your plush lips as your eyes flutter to gaze glossily down at him is something that Javier catalogues and stores in his thoughts to fawn over in his loneliest moments. His cock is throbbing for attention in his light-gray slacks, jutting up at the sight of your drench pussy and the taut stretch of your belly as your breasts rise and fall with your hearty breaths. He's deliberating about suckling on your peaked little nipples when you let out a silly exhale.

"…That, that wasn't fair," you hiccup and try to clear the lusted fog clinging to you. "We were talking, and then you derailed me—"

Javier snorts and scrubs the inside of his hand over his moustache and mouth before idly wringing it down to his chin. "¡Ni madres!" he scoffs to himself before quirking a derisive brow up at you. "Tan pinche mandona. You're really the queen of busting my balls, you know that?" Javi chuckles wryly and watches with smugness as you blink bemusedly down at him. "You wanted me to let it go, and not only do I drop it, I drop to my knees and eat this glorious pussy out, only for you to complain about me not wanting to keep arguing?" With a challenging stare of those molten brown eyes of his, Javi teases, "Did I get that all right, controladora?"

Expecting you to snicker or sardonically bury your smile into your shoulder, Javi sits back on his haunches with the intent of pivoting to his feet. But, you surprise him by snatching his tie in your hand and curling the length around your fist before tugging in a way that keeps him on his knees. His breath hitches and a deviant thrill scintillates down into his apex at the smoldering look you're giving him. Shifting your weight to stand before him, like you're his master and he's your unruly pet, you stare down provocatively at him and narrow your eyes.

"Manipulador," you hiss, tone laced with something exacting, even though it drags over his senses like rich silk before you declare, "You think I'm one of your little informants? That you can wear me down with your fantastic fucking mouth and your infuriating charm? Oh, you're very mistaken, agente. So much so, that I'm going to do you a favor and straighten you the fuck out…right now."

With that, you bend down and admire how blown out his pupils are and the blush that colors a flush up his neck to his face before radiating at the tops of his ears as you suddenly let go of his tie and order, "Get your ass on the bed."

Lewd anticipation burns a path up his loins and pulses at his groin before cresting a hot wave into the center of his chest as he complies – bounding up to sit at the foot of your bed and stare at you with shameless wonder. Javi continues staring as you shrug your open silk robe off to pool behind you on the floor before you step to loom over him. His eyes covetously rove your nude form, pulse racing and breath stuttering in his chest when you nudge him back with a firm shove of his shoulder.

He acquiesces and lies back, but husks, "Querida—"

"You want me to trust you? To let you make it up to me by proving I can rely on you?" you interject imperiously as you lean over him while your hand drags up his muscular thigh towards the bulge in his pants. "Then, quit being a smug desgraciado and show me how much you want me to dominate you, and maybe, I'll ride your cock until I've relieved all of my stress," is your salacious proposition as you rub your palm teasingly over his hard-on.

Javier answers by hurriedly unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants before shoving his clothes out of the way in order to free his throbbing, straining erection. You admire how flushed and thick with need it is as it juts up and bobs with his hasty movements from Javi rushing to unbutton his shirt open. His fingers stumble in their task when he gets to the buttons at his chest and you've decided to climb onto his lap and straddle him as you snatch his tie into your hand again and make it very clear that it's staying on with a bossy tug.

"F-Fuck, mi amor—" Javi begins to protest, but you silence him by cupping your free hand around the girth of his length and proceeding to grind your drenched pussy against it. He lights up and grips your hips, begging, "Ride me, please, baby. Please don't torture me—"

"Oh, ni madres, I thought you were this magnanimous, gallant tough guy?" you heckle in a syrupy purr, using his derisive scoff right back on him as you tug warningly on his tie. He groans, turned on beyond belief as he arches and clenches his eyes in mounting desire. "You gonna trust me to take care of you, bebito?" is your alluring murmur as you pivot the cant of your hips and guide his cock to notch at your dimpled entrance.

"Yes, mmph, y-yes. Trust you. Always trust you," he rambles and squirms, feeling a little shame at how sweat beads at his temples and the back of his neck while he perspires through his suit. Dimly, he realizes this is your payback for him thinking he could mollify you. He'd have to go to work smelling of sex again, and the raunchy allure of it makes him blush.

When you finally sink down to sheath his throbbing cock in your silken cunt with a pleased groan, Javier ruts up and moans your name before stammering, "—So good, feel so fucking good."

"Yeah?" you purr, and he groans and nods while his hands clench the tops of your thighs. Smirking, you undulate to grind him all the way down until he's seated completely inside you, and then clamp your walls around him. The needy grouse he grunts out has you humming in approval as you tug on his tie to pull him up to meet you halfway as you claim his mouth with your own.

It's a torrid kiss, one flavored with the mint of your mouth and the heady tang of you clinging to his. Javi's dizzy with need when you push him flat onto his back and plant your palms on his broad chest in order to start riding him with gusto. The squelching, molten wet sounds of how Javi's cock plunges in and out of you as you set an exquisite pace in how you fuck yourself on him laces together with your moans and filthy praise.

"—You drive me crazy, giving me those damned sexy pouty eyes. Being so wonderful. Make me feel so needy—" you're proclaiming as you bounce on his dick and grip the warm planes of his pectorals, fucking Javi belly-up while still in his cute suit, drunk on how his mouth hangs open on the panting groans and his eyes stare heatedly up at you, lost for words. "Oh fuck, Javi," you gasp when he suddenly pulls you down so he can guide you to pound down onto him in this new angle. "Need you, need you—" you gasp and cling to his shoulders as you sob with pleasure into his neck.

When he hits that devastatingly rapturous pleasure point in you, Javi moans as you bite his sloping muscle to keep from screaming out, and that's all it takes for you both to be flung into ruinous completion together. He mindlessly keeps thrusting up into the rippling heat of your fluttering cunt as it floods over with your climax while his cock spurts hot cum deep inside you, sealing you both over in a lustful daze at the euphoric release.

Completely spent, you collapse over him and smile wistfully into his jaw when he vacantly huffs in awe.

"I love you, Javi," you murmur so softly that he has to strain his hearing to make sure he didn't make it up. "But, there's still something I want you to do to make it up to me."

Shifting to kiss your shoulder and hug you to him, Javi mumbles, "Anything, querida."

Smiling against his cheek, you sit up and climb off of him in order to prowl up on the bed and lie propped up in the pillows. Javi rolls to follow you and ends up staring as you splay your legs apart and show him how your pussy is dripping with his seed.

"Come relieve the last of my stress, and take care of this, hermoso," you susurrate, a little tremor in your voice from how lascivious your request is.

Disheveled, Javi dampens his lips before he kicks his dress shoes and shrugs his blazer off. More comfortably able to shift on the bed and crawl between your legs, he maneuvers in order to nestle where you want him before he bows his head to lick his own cum out of your cunt without any hesitation or shame.

His tongue sweeps over your puffy folds before he buries his mouth into your warm, drenched and tingling flesh. The ridge of his nose presses against your clit as he groans and tilts your pelvis up to his greedy ministrations, which has you overawed and writhing in wanton delight. Ever since he'd gone down on you after he'd fucked you silly and filled you with his cum, you'd been enthralled by the thought of it – by how filthy and naughty it'd been. Knowing now it was not a fluke borne of Javier being in some primal, feral daze, you encouragingly squeeze your thighs around his shoulders and caress the crown of his hair.

Pleased, Javi hums and presses a thick finger into your fucked-out entrance before adding a second digit, pumping them into your still-rippling heat. He quickly works your over into another dizzying climax that soaks his mouth and has you trembling; exhaling breathless mewls of his name over and over again.

When he flops onto his back next to you on the bed, Javi sighs and closes his eyes, riding out the high he only feels when your taste and scent cling to his senses and his own body buzzes with post-coital bliss. He smiles when he feels you shimmy closer just before your soft lips brush his cheek.

His cock is filled out and resting on his lower belly, twitching minutely. So, you curl down his body and kiss it.

"Mmm, baby," Javi exhales hoarsely when your kisses have him throbbing against your lips. "M'not gonna be able to control myself—"

"Hush, and let me take care of you, amado."

Your bossy purr is throaty, which sends a shudder through him, so he quits being modest and watches with avid awe as you suck his dick. The depravity of the fact that he'd just had it in your heavenly pussy, so it was still coated in your slick, has his cheeks flaming as arousal surges blazingly through his sinew. When Javi comes, he grunts a guttural sound of completion before muffling his hand over his mouth to keep from rambling stupidly. You can't help chuckle at how flustered and disheveled he looks, sprawled out in his rumpled dress shirt, tie hanging haphazardly sidelong over his shoulder, pants at his thighs and legs askew on the bed.

"Well, whomever your first meeting of the day is? They're going to get quite a sight," you tease warmly as you kiss up his torso and caress the length of his side.

"…It's gonna be a staff meeting," Javier mutters, lopsided smile brazen as he drapes his forearm over his eyes before he drawls, "And I'm going to look like I feel: completely fucked."

Your laugh is irreverent and effervescent, warming that spot behind his sternum.

Content, he lets out a sated hum before rumbling affectionately, "Oomph, eres la más chingona…"

You smile, dazzling and warm before pecking his lips and resting your head on his chest for a bit while you both regain your bearings, letting yourself bask in the wistful delight only Javi can stoke in you.

That wistful feeling stays there as you both eat the breakfast he brought over, and once you've each had your fill? Javi sits reclined in your bed, watching you get dressed. The buttery-soft pair of indigo jeans you pull on accentuate your ass perfectly, so much so that Javi's entertaining filthy thoughts when you pull on the white, well-worn Queen logoed t-shirt and turn to catch him staring.

Snickering, you finish packing your suitcase and sardonically strut out of the room with it, as if you're fine with him lounging like an overgrown sated cat on your bed.

He catches up to you when you're grabbing the tote next to the side table, and chivalrously takes both bags from you in order to carry them down to your hatchback for you. Once you have everything stowed in the car and have locked up your apartment, Javi lopes down with you, arm around your waist as you stroll towards the driver's side. You both greet the few neighbors out and about in the courtyard as you go, and you smile to yourself, knowing some of the retiradas steal appreciative ganders at him when he's not looking.

"So…we'll talk about it, when you get back," Javi attempts when you pause after tossing your purse onto the passenger's seat.

"Yes, I promise," you tell him, encircling your arms around his waist and hugging him. "I'm sorry for being a brat."

Javi kisses the top of your head and hugs you tight. "Not as sorry as I am for instigating your brattiness," he quips, and you scoff and pinch his sides, earning a sharp intake of breath before he puffs it all out in a chuckle. Smug, he retaliates with scruffy moustache kisses into your neck that has you giggling and swatting at his back playfully. "I was happy to be your stress-reliever," he purrs when you nuzzle into his chest and stifle a smile.

"I'm sure that's why you contribute to my stress – so you can relieve it, eh?" you accuse mischievously and bounce your brows at him.

Humming puckishly at that, Javi grouses instead, "I love you, bravita. Call me when you get there?"

Smiling, you nod and cup his cheek as you plant a few kisses along his jaw before brushing your lips against his. "I will," you assure, closing your eyes when he rests his forehead to yours. "I love you…I'm gonna miss you," you find yourself murmuring out loud.

"Me too," he sighs and presses a kiss to your cheek. "That's why you better go now before I just change my mind and take you back upstairs."

You snicker and caress his hair back from his brow affectionately before kissing him again, fond and flirty as you give him a loving squeeze before getting in your car.

Javier watches you drive off from the curb, hands shoved casually into his slacks pockets as he gets smaller and smaller in your rearview.

For better or worse, you have the hours long drive to think about everything, and no matter how much you want to honor your promise to tell him what's got you so bothered and edgy, you just don't see how telling him about Stechner's involvement in sabotaging you at work won't end with Javier storming the man's office and going ballistic on him.

While the thought of Javi throttling the man is appealing, you're not deluded enough to not worry about the consequences – least of which would be a very messy affair playing out at the embassy that would inevitably lead to a whole host of repercussions for each of you. Things being so tenuous with Javi's work would only exacerbate outcomes decidedly for the negative, so you keep circling back to not telling him about it. Or at the least, not telling him all the details. It feels wrong no matter how you look at it, though.

These deliberations end up taking a backseat though once you're in Medellín running around with your grandmother, completing all the errands for the flowers and table arrangements you'll both coordinate for your cousin's reception. Your only respite in the daily mad dash is when you spend Thursday at the field office doing the linkup with your team there. Just like the process in Barranquilla and Cartagena, it's a breeze, and you treat everyone to a celebratory dinner. You mention it to Javi that night once you get home to your grandmother's, and he gets a bit surly that you're out late like that.

"—Ay, Javier. It's not at all like before here. Things are quiet. Really, it's never been safer. Everyone is telling me so," you gripe, getting peeved with him as you chat in your room after getting your pajamas on. When he grumbles, you needle, "I'm going to be home Sunday night, gruñón. Don't make me punish you for annoying me—"

"You know I like your brand of punishment, gatita," he purrs in your ear, and you scoff. "Listen, I get it. You're right. Things have gotten tamer there, and overall things have been relatively quiet. I just can't help stay on guard. It's when things seem copacetic that the other shoe fucking drops…" is his wary rumble.

"Well, if it was going to drop, it wouldn't be anywhere here, right?" you pose knowingly. Javi grunts in agreement. "Anyway, it's only a couple of more days, chavón. You can hold out until then without me having my way with you—"

"Yeah fucking right, atrevida. As if you're not missing me just as much," he gravels ruggedly, tone dipping an octave as he husks, "When you get home, I'm going to do all the things I've been thinking about doing to you since you left. Pure fucking filth—"

"What else is new?" you can't help goad, grinning when he hums in that 'Oh, you're gonna get it' kind of pitch that has you tingling a little. "Alright, malvadito. I gotta get to bed. Talk to you tomorrow night, ok?"

"It's a date, guapita," he murmurs amusedly, takes a pause, then drawls, "Tell me what you're wearing?"

"Hah, an old-school batita, you beyako," you giggle, smiling when he makes an exaggerated groan, as if incredibly enticed. "Now, go to bed, fresco."

"Sí, patrona," he deadpans, before purring, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," you return warmly before ending the call.

The next day, you're merrily driving around with your grandmother, making all the stops at the different shops to buy materials, chat with vendors about best options, and even swing by the nice mercado that has the pretty dress shops your abuela insists on checking out.

"—Remember, it should be in some nice shade of tropical blue. A turquoise, or teal," she's remarking now as you do some window-shopping after having picked up pretty glass globe terrariums that would work perfect for the idea you have for the table arrangements.

"Sure, those would be pretty colors. And the shoes?" you ask her as you head towards the middle point of the shopping center. It's a temperate day in Medellín, so you're wearing a pair of khaki capris and a faded red linen blouse with white embroidery around the hem, and leather flats while your grandmother is in a navy-patterned matching blouse and long skirt, with a nice brown cardigan, hair brush back and neatly braided to dangle over the opposite shoulder from her pocketbook.

"Oh, I haven't thought about that," she pipes as she idly fidgets with her braid before looking down at her little handwritten list. "Hmm, let me add it to the list now so I don't forget—"

"I mean, it's not like we'll go barefoot if you don't add it to your list, 'Buela," you can't help teasing, snickering when she bops you on the arm with her pocketbook. "Ah, before we look at dresses for real, let me put these in the car," is your suggestion as you hold up the big paper shopping bags with the meticulously packed glass. "Stay here in the shade. I'll be right back," you comment as you gesture at the nice shady bench just on the inside of the roof-covered promenade.

"All right," she retorts and takes a seat so she can comfortably add the new item to her little list.

Smiling, you stride off out to the avenue and across the street to the parking lot for the mall. It's a busy section of the city, with buildings and side streets filled with moving traffic and bustling shoppers, so you're keeping your hustling pace to get to your car, which is parked close to the side of a brick building that has a back alley tucked just out of sight by a retaining wall. You manage to get your keys out to quickly open the trunk's hatch and place the two large shopping bags in as snugly as possible, to avoid any shifting about as you drive. Once satisfied that it's secure, you close and lock the car before adjusting your purse to be cross-body over your shoulders so you can freely maneuver the next round of purchases.

You'd just slipped your car keys back into your purse and began rounding towards the side of your car when your senses pick up the hasty rush of heavy footsteps approaching behind you. Before you can turn, someone's grabbing the back of your shoulder and gripping your upper arm. "¡Venir conmigo, mamacita—!"

The panic that wells in your gut is secondary to the automatic, muscle memory of your basic self-defense training kicking in as you swing your free arm back to slam your elbow at an upward angle into where you think your attacker's face is as he's in mid-taunt. You feel your elbow connect with cartilage before the assailant howls in pain and lets you go. Then, your flight mode kicks in, and you're sprinting as fast as your leather-flat-clad feet can take you, frantically looking around for the right place to go for safe haven.

But then you hear his footfalls advancing behind you as he swears and sputters angrily, and you dash through traffic to try and get back to the mall, hoping you can spot a security guard or a policeman. Just as you clear the thoroughfare to bound up across the front curb where taxis and buses drop passengers off in front of the promenade's entry, a car zooms in front of you to cut off your route of escape. You whirl around, frantic but prepared to go down fighting, when the car's front passenger door opens behind you.

"Señorita," you hear a tenor voice greet before you feel what is unmistakably the barrel of a gun being pressed into your lower back. "Please, do me the favor of behaving, and getting in the car with me," this new stickup man instructs, and you turn to glare at him over your shoulder while your heart is about to burst in your chest. Pale eyes and the relaxed regard of fair features lightly stubbled with reddish-blond beard meet you as he opens the door to the back passenger seat for you.

"Pinche malparida! Look what she did to my nose—" you hear snarled as the original attacker approaches and furiously goes to grab you, but the man behind you gives him a cold, murderous look, one of pure disdain, so he vacillates while you use the moment to look around for help.

Your eyes lock onto your grandmother's expression as she hesitates at the entrance of the mall's promenade, looking distressed. She calls out your name, and you turn back to the man who's holding a gun at your back, hidden from view by the car. "Just come along," the man – who you now catalogue as slightly balding, with light rosacea at his cheekbones and wearing light-wash jeans and a Hawaiian-styled button shirt, instructs, so you nod and get into the car with him while the assailant with the bloody nose hops into the front passenger seat.

Sparing a reassuring glance at your grandmother through the window, you watch her rush forward and try to flag someone down to help as the nondescript sedan you're in peels out and zooms past traffic, weaving through the busy avenue. Your hands are suddenly grabbed, and your wrists get bound together by the man sitting next to you once he's tucked his pistol into the waistband of his jeans. The zip-tie is secure enough to keep your wrists pressed together, but not enough to cut your circulation off or dig into your skin.

"You might have a lot of questions, señorita. But for now, we're just going to go for a ride," he tells you almost conversationally before he's handed a blindfold by the man in the front seat.

That's when you get nervous and jerk away from him, pressing, "Could you please just tell me what this is about? I tend not to take rides with strangers, let alone blindfolded."

The man's expression quirks, as if amused. "Be that as it may, please cooperate," he remarks and weaves the blindfold over your eyes without waiting for you to acquiesce.

You recoil away from him once you're blindfolded, and feel him tug your purse off before you hear him rummaging through it.

"Pinche puta. Merece un plomazo—"

"Callarse, huevón."

You're concentrating on trying to distinguish each of the three men in the car. It's clear that the one sitting beside you is calling the shots, while the driver seems to want no part in entertaining the passenger who you'd bloodied with your elbow hit to the nose. Who the fuck are these guys?

While you ride around in what feels like woven routes in and around Medellín, listening to the men grumble at each other over the radio playing cumbia on a low setting, Javier is reviewing some Mil Group-provided logs of cartel activity, when his satellite phone starts ringing at the end of his desk. Sitting up to grab for it, he snatches it up and answers.

"Peña."

"Javier! I need your help! They took her—just, they took her and I didn't know who to call—"

It takes Javi a moment to recognize the voice of your grandmother as she frantically rushes out her panicked petition, and the sinking terror that seizes his chest has him jumping to his feet and grappling to grab the edge of his desk. "Ma'am, tell me where you're at. I'll be there within the next couple of hours," he cuts in, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice.

"We were at the mall downtown, and a man made her get into the backseat of a small green car! I called my sister-in-law and she came to pick me up, so I got your card and called you. I don't trust the police, and she doesn't answer her phone. I don't want to do anything that could endanger her more, but I-I—" your grandmother rambles until her voice breaks and he can hear her trying to smother a sob.

His heart is breaking, and before Javi's even realized it, he's grabbing his badge, gun, and blue blazer as he firmly assures, "I'll be right there. Just stay where you're at, and I'll have someone I trust go by to take your statement. I promise, I'll handle it. Everything's going to be alright."

"Y-Yes, ok. Thank you, mijo."

Javier bounds out of his office and orders Stoddard to block out the rest of his day, and to be on stand-by in case he needs him to do something for him in his absence. He's on autopilot as he shoves his gun into the back of his waistband and pulls on his blazer to conceal it while he rides down in the elevator to his car. Once he's stalking across the parking lot, he's dialing CNP to catch a ride on the next chopper out to Medellín. And while he's speeding like a man possessed to the airbase, he calls Trujillo.

The CNP officer and former Search Bloc teniente under Col. Carrillo and Col. Martínez had transferred to Medellín after the Gilberto Rodríguez raid, and while he'd been demoralized by his most recent superior being booted without cause from the force, he was still someone with convictions, and Javier felt he could trust him with this. He explains to him what's going on and asks for his help.

"—Got it, Peña. I'll get some guys to ask around and will go to the address. Meet me there."

Little less than two hours later, and Javi is jumping out of the helicopter with his go-duffle he leaves in his SUV for last-minute ops before it's completely set down. He hunches down as he stalks through the kicked up gusts from the chopper and bounds over to his waiting ride, which drives him to your grandmother's house. When he hustles up the sidewalk and through the gate to rush up the walkway less than twenty minutes later, your cousin meets him at the screen door and opens it for him.

It's a whirlwind of emotions for him when he comes in and finds everyone sitting around the kitchen table. He can tell your abuela has been crying, and he's compelled to go over to her and kiss her cheek before pulling her into a protective hug. She holds onto him tight, and he assures, "Please don't worry. I'll bring her home."

"I know you will. Thank you for coming, mijo," she exhales airily.

"No one's called for a ransom, so what is this even about?! Her dad is connected in Washington, so who would be stupid enough to kidnap her?!" your cousin, who is now being admonished covertly by her mother, harangues before glaring back at her. "What?! It doesn't make sense. And the longer we're trying to figure it out, the worse it could be!"

"Niña, sit down right now and mind your manners," her mother hisses as she stands and puts her arm around your grandmother, who then quickly yet vacantly introduces him to her sister-in-law. "Mucho gusto, Javier. Though I wish it were under different circumstances."

He nods, feeling like a shit-heel that's completely responsible for this happening to you. After all, you'd gone out of your way to not disclose what his work was to your family, knowing it would worry them. You'd also done so from a desire to keep his work as discreet as possible amongst civilians, family or not. But now, Javier can't help feel gutted with guilt.

With a clearing of his throat, Trujillo calls out, "Peña," as he stands and gestures for Javi to follow him outside so they can talk in private. Javi assures everyone that you'll be brought home safe before he follows the CNP officer out to the porch. "Listen. No one kidnaps anyone here without running it by the godfather. My guys have heard nothing on the streets, which means this might be something outsourced. The only way to know for sure—"

"You're giving me a ride to his fucking cafeteria, right now."

While Javier is riding in the unmarked Jeep over to Don Berna's spot, you're stopped somewhere, left in the backseat with the windows rolled down, but still blindfolded and with your wrists bound together. Your purse was taken completely off your person and stowed somewhere so you wouldn't have access to your phone, which you've heard ring in what you think is the glove box dozens of times while you've been taken.

From the smell of the air, you can tell you're on a colina, but are unsure where, or what this is about. No one has talked to you yet, or made any indication that this was some sort of ransom bid. So, you ponder, and worry, and then ponder some more.

For a while after the initial shock, you'd remained quiet, as they'd driven you around. It'd been hard to swallow around the lump in your throat you had at the image of your grandmother looking distressed, feeling horribly guilty for causing her to experience something so terrifying, all alone. She was a tough, resilient woman, but you were so afraid this would affect her health – make her blood pressure skyrocket or worse, and you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if something happened to her because of you.

Suddenly, unbidden, your father's voice is echoing in the recesses of your memories.

"Never panic. If you are taken, it's best to sit, listen, and bide your time. Nothing is random. It might not be planned right, but there is always an agenda. It's on you to try and figure it out in order to find an opening to get free with the least amount of damage."

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ok, just focus. Firstly, what is the agenda here? It eludes you, so you try to keep the stickup man's appearance outlined in your mind. Average height, stocky build, fair-skinned, and light eyes – no, crystalline blue, with auburn-ish hair. Thinning hair. Why does he look familiar…?

What you don't know, and what Javier is about to confirm, is that this isn't personal. You are just the leverage, and while technically you've been abducted in Medellín, your abductors work for Cali. But, more specifically, they've tracked and abducted you under the order of an unsanctioned player that has access to the inner circle of the Cali cartel.

After the failed raid on his father's luxury high-rise penthouse, David Rodríguez had wanted retribution. And since he couldn't get it from Salcedo, no matter how much he suspected the man, David decided it would be fun to make the guy responsible for conducting the raid pay for disrespecting his family. Unbeknownst to his father, David had ordered Navegante to trail Javier for a sign of weakness – for something they could use to get to him and send him a pointed message.

Reluctantly, Navegante had volunteered that he already knew what that was.

You.

He'd warned Javier, after all. Back when La Catedral was housing Escobar and his men, he'd met with the DEA agent, and right after news of the siege broke, he'd given him the veiled threat: "I just hope you and your partner have a better sense on your priorities now that Escobar is on the loose. Would be a shame if you didn't… it's hard to be on the hunt when you got a lovely little bird in waiting, drawing your attention to home…"

However, Navegante was no fool. He'd been around the block, working with the different cartel factions as a capable trigger and body man. He knew David was not someone who called the shots – let alone order him to make a hit that was not sanctioned by any of the actual Cali godfathers. If Gilberto was having an aneurysm in La Picota every day from having to deal with Miguel going rogue on his plans, he'd melt shit down if he found out they'd killed the lover of the head of the DEA – let alone another head of department within the U.S. embassy and the daughter of a Vice Admiral of the U.S. Navy. Nope, Navegante wasn't an idiot. So, he told the two guys with him that they would snatch you up, put the fear of god in you before letting you go so you could break down in Peña's arms and beg him to stop going after Cali.

But the moment you'd evenly, albeit with a snarky edge, responded the way you had in the car earlier? He knew this was a wash. Were you nervous? Sure, but it was clear to him that you were not the blubbering kind.

And, it was also a matter of time before he got the call.

So, he waited. Had the dimwit fanboy wannabe gatillero friend of David – the one whose nose you'd broken – cool his jets under the shady grove of their pit stop, and his reliable lookout/driver go get lunch from the food stand at the bottom of the hill. While he sits on a nearby log and idly widdles a piece of wood with his sharpened pocket knife, the unmarked car is pulling up to the street next to the nondescript cafeteria.

Javier's furious and barely hinged together as he stalks into Don Berna's place. Trujillo hangs back at the door while he stalks over to the corpulent man's table. The unruffled narco is stuffing his mouth, per usual, but he seems genuinely surprised to see him storm in.

"Javier! What brings you back, and so soon—?"

"Where the fuck is she," Javi dispenses with all the couth and just glares dangerously down at the man. "Nothing happens here without your knowledge or blessing, so, I'm not going to fucking ask you again."

Placing his fork down on his plate and sitting back in his chair to regard him, Don Berna sizes Javier up. "What, did you lose another Barbie doll—?"

Javi slams his hands down on the man's table with enough force that it rattles, and his fork clatters off the plate onto the floor. His bodyguards make motions to intercede, but Don Berna holds his hand up to gesture for them to stand back.

"…You need to make the call, right now, and find out who abducted a woman from a shopping center downtown before noon today. If you don't find her and hand her over to me safe and in one piece, not only can you kiss our deal goodbye, but I will personally destroy you and anyone in my way until I get her back," Javier threatens with cold, furious force, coffee-brewed eyes dark and merciless as he bores them into Don Berna.

The man studies Javier before crossing his arms and muttering, "So, is this your way of confirming that your suitcase in no longer your girlfriend?"

"She means more to me than you'll ever know. If she gets hurt, I will do everything in my power to mete out the kind of vengeance that would make pinche asesinos like you regret ever being born," Javier promises, tone a malevolent grouse that matches the livid etch of his features.

"…Let me make a few calls," Don Berna declares as he laboriously stands and trudges over to a private alcove with his satellite phone.

While the corpulent head of the local narco cartel seeks answers, you're sitting in the backseat and listening intently to the crunch of gravel as someone approaches the right side of the car. "Paisa. Would you like something to eat?" the voice you distinguish as the light-eyed abductor's chimes over at you through the open window.

"No thank you, but I'd take something to drink. If you have it," you answer evenly.

He hums, sounding amused again. "Beer, or a soda?"

"I'll take a Postobón," you retort and gesture to your eyes before asking, "Could I take the blindfold off? I mean, I've seen glimpses of you guys, but we both know I'm not going to go to a sketch artist."

He snickers. "Be that as it may, it would be best for you to keep it on, señorita," he retorts over the sound of a bottle cap being removed and the telltale fizzy hiss of carbonated beverage being given air. "Here."

He places the cold bottle of soda in your clasped hands. "Thank you," you sigh before taking a swig. Exhaling a relieved sound, you attempt, "So, is this a good time to ask those questions?"

"Sure," the man answers casually.

"What is this about?" you ask, point blank.

He grunts in a way that you can picture him shrugging. "Let's just say, you have your boyfriend to thank for this. But don't worry. We don't intend to do you any harm. It's just a little message an interested party wanted to send his way – wanted to prove that he can be got, indirectly or otherwise," he remarks matter-of-factly. "Perhaps it would be good for you to suggest to him that he should leave Colombia. Start a new life together chasing lesser gangs somewhere else. Although, we both know how stubborn he is," the man remarks almost derisively.

"Well, then you know how that suggestion will go," you remark glibly before taking another long drink of the soda. "Did this 'interested party' know who my father is? Because even if Javier wasn't in the picture, no one crosses my father and gets away with it."

"Hence why no harm will come to you," he drawls coolly, in a tenor rasp.

You're about to ask another question when you hear a satellite phone ring. He grunts and walks off, so you covertly shuffle closer to the window to try and eavesdrop. With the sound of the breeze out the window, though, you can only make out a few things. You get the impression that he knew this was coming, and was only ticking off boxes in some kind of compromise to whatever the original order had been.

What you don't know is that Miguel Rodríguez is on the other line, irascibly ordering Navegante to take you back and drop you off at the Terminal Sur bus station – a convenient middle ground place coordinated with Don Berna, who'd agreed to not retaliate for the breach of his territory, and guaranteed no reprisals would come if you were released unharmed.

Once Javier is assured that they will free you, he storms out with Trujillo, who drives him to the large bus terminal. His heart feels like it's slamming into his ribcage with how wound up with anxiety he is, but the trained, analytical part of his mind tries to cool his terror into a manageable rancor. After all, Don Berna seemed just as angry about the entire thing – took it as an affront to him that Cali would be doing their business in his territory without asking for his blessing, and while the narco wasn't someone he would consider honorable, he had convictions. He'd made it clear to Javi that this was a rogue operation on the part of Cali – that at the very least, the right gatillero had been sent to handle it, and the man had enough sense to go through the motions of the request without actually following through on any order.

"El hijo pródigo, tratando de impresionar a papá, aun sabiendo las consequencias," Don Berna had grumbled before taking a long puff of his cigar.

Hearing that the prodigal son was trying to impress his father, regardless of the consequences gave Javi little comfort, but at least the pressure of his fear loosened a bit from his sternum as he'd gruffly thanked the man and rushed out.

Still, Javi was roiling with worry, knowing how fucked things could end up when it decidedly shouldn't, so he's on pins and needles as Trujillo cuts through traffic towards the bus station.

You're feeling an eerie sense of calm as you ride in the backseat, feeling the bumps and turns that indicate your descent from the hills. The sound of traffic picking up tells you you're at least back in the metropolitan area of the city, and while your kidnappers remain quiet, you can sense their collective relief that this weird errand will be over with soon. The salsa song playing on the radio has an infectious tempo to it, so much so that you're absently tapping your fingers together to it.

Navegante is watching you, mildly impressed by your steely demeanor. You hadn't cried, begged, or threatened them with payback. Nor had you asked too many questions. He figured you'd had to know this was a possible threat – being snatched up. Hell, after Escobar, most middle-to-upper-class Colombians had dreaded it for years, but he got the impression you'd been taught long before any of that to keep your wits.

"I hope this didn't ruin too much of your day," he can't help joke as he busily starts brushing the gravel dust off of his white sneakers.

"No, it didn't. I just wish you'd have snatched me up without anyone being around. Spared my grandmother the unnecessary fright," you tell him sincerely before sighing.

"If you hadn't broken my damn nose, that would've gone down different—" the guy in the front passenger seat sneers before you hear what sounds like smack.

"Don't talk to her, marica," the driver snipes.

"But it's true!"

"Cállate, pendejo."

You bite your lip, trying not to snicker. After all, none of this should be funny. But really, your coping mechanisms are macabre. Now several hours into this, you feel like the whole thing had happened to a different version of you. And now? Feeling reasonably reassured that whatever this was, the intent to kill you hadn't been a real viable option, you figure you just have to worry about how to explain all of this to your grandmother – then feel the wave of guilt hit you anew, prickly and sticky as you internally fret.

You sense the car cruise down what feels like some kind of ramp, because the sound of traffic dims and the echoes of distant acoustics filter through from all around. Are we inside a warehouse?

"Here," you feel the man next to you guide your hands over and hear the sound of what must be a pocket knife being unfolded before he uses it to hack the zip-tie and snap it off, freeing your wrists. Then the soft leather of your purse is pushed into the cradle of your hands like a football before the door opens and he firmly grabs your upper arm to pull you out. "Keep your head down and just walk."

You do as you're told, frowning that he isn't just going to take the blindfold off and let you go. He keeps his grip firm on your upper arm as he guides you up metal steps, and across what sounds like some kind of platform. You can smell the stale air, which has the lingering scent of car exhaust, oil, and overheated combustion. Worriedly, you hesitate, wondering if he's lying and is going to toss you under some kind of press or something after all. He hums, as if reading your trepidation, and drawls, "No need to worry. We know who your father is thanks to your buddy, and like you said before, no one is looking for that kind of retribution. So, come along, en confianza."

He tugs on your arm to keep going, and you stop resisting, too busy trying to decipher what he meant. My buddy…?

Before you can get too tangled up, you're sensing steep steps he's pulling you up now. You cradle your purse to your chest with you free arm and let him lead you to what feels like a hollow space that echoes with foot traffic and the sound of rolling carts, muffled chatter, the occasional pionero, and what sounds like a loudspeaker or intercom droning some kind of call through the building. Terminal! I'm in some kind of bus terminal?

Before you can wonder further, your kidnapper is guiding you up another series of steps, then walks you a few strides leading you to a corner. He directs you to stop with his hands steering you to a halt. "Count to ten. Once you're done, you can take off the blindfold," he's telling you close to your ear, and not for the first time, you smell his cologne and the mint of the gum he'd been chewing earlier. You nod. "It was a pleasure, señorita. Have a nice afternoon."

And with that, you feel him depart, hearing the dull retreat of his sneakers as he sprints down the steps from where you both came. You count to ten, as instructed, and then pull the blindfold off, squinting at the brightness after being shrouded from direct light for so long. Blinking back the wateriness in your eyes, you dazedly look around, realizing that indeed, you're at the bus terminal, standing on what looks like the top mezzanine walkway that looks down at the shops and different gates for departures and arrivals. The light coming in from the late afternoon day pours in from the skylights that darken with occasional fly over of pigeons nesting on the roof and the scaffolding of the building. You're the only person up on the mezzanine, which gives you an odd sense of relief.

Realizing you need to call your grandmother, you fling your purse over your shoulders and start rifling through it for your cell phone.

Your addled thoughts are racing a mile a minute as you locate it and begin to dial when you suddenly hear your name echoing – being shouted from across the way. Flinching, you gape about and spot Javier bounding up the opposite stairwell, frantic as he looks for you. When he skids to a halt and sweeps his frantic gaze across the expanse of the mezzanine, you start to tremble. The gravity of everything hits you, and you feel plunged into an overwhelming sense of guilt at seeing the cold terror etched in his tense features before they smoothen out when he locks eyes with you.

Before you register it, you're shoving your phone into your purse and running towards him. Javier sprints over at you, advancing across the sprawling length of the mezzanine in what feels like the shortest eternity ever before he's got you in his arms.

Javi practically sweeps you up into him, hugging you with desperation as he lets out the pent-up anxiety in a rush of breath. You encircle his shoulders and stutter, "I-I-I'm sorry—"

Javi hushes you and squeezes you tight, nuzzling your neck and planting frenzied, albeit relieved kisses up your jaw and along your cheek. "No, don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong," he assures in a rasp, his features still tense when you look up at him and bite your lip to try and stave off the tears welling in the back of your throat. "Did they hurt you?!"

"N-No. They just drove me around. I was blindfolded and they bound my wrists, but they didn't do anything—"

Javier protectively loops his arm around you and begins to hurriedly usher you away at a clipped pace the way he came. "C'mon. I'm taking you home," he rumbles lowly, eyes darting around to make sure you weren't being followed, as he escorts you down to the main depot and out to the drop-off platform where Trujillo is waiting in the unmarked jeep. Once Javier gets you into the back seat and slides in with you, the car is speeding away. Now in the safety of the vehicle, he checks you over, brushing your mussed hair from your face and whispering, "It's alright now. I'm taking you to your abuela's—"

You hiccup around a sob, "Is she ok? She looked so scared."

He nods vigorously and kisses your forehead before pulling you into his arms protectively. You cling to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck and trying to regain your composure as you inhale his comforting scent. "She's all right. Upset, but all right. She had the presence of mind to call your tía, and she and your cousin picked her up, and then she called me," Javi explains, rubbing his palm soothingly along your back while you breathing calms. He glances at Trujillo in the reflection of the rearview, and in an unspoken gesture, gives him his thanks.

The CNP officer nods and focuses on driving to Enciso, where your grandmother's house is.

The rest of the car ride is quiet, save for the thrumming of your pulse in your ears and the soft murmurs of Javi cooing, 'I have you. You're safe. I'll never let anyone hurt you,' while he pets the back of your hair in soothing strokes that lull you in his arms.

By the time you're pulling up to the front of the house, you feel worn and wrung out, the adrenalin having seeped out of you finally. But you have the presence of mind to wipe at your face and brush your fingers through your hair in an attempt to right your appearance and not look like you'd been abducted for the day. Javier helps you out of the car and keeps his arm around you as you both lope up to the porch, where the screen door is already jutting open as your grandmother rushes out and hugs you with bone-shaking relief.

It takes everything in you not to burst into tears at seeing how wrought with upset she is, and you only manage not to thanks to Javi's hand rubbing your back, and then when your abuela pulls him into a bear hug and gushes her thanks, Javi stares wide-eyed at her as she declares, "You prince! Get in here before I keel over so I can hug the both of you some more!"

Once inside, you hug your prima and tía, assuring them it was just some misunderstanding, and everything was clarified. They don't believe you for a second, but know not to push, not when your grandmother is dismissing any more talk and demanding that they all relax while she makes dinner. "—And you tell that officer he's staying too! Invite him in right now for a coffee while we cook," she demands bossily at Javi, who helplessly looks at you before kowtowing and going to wave Trujillo in.

It's around an hour later when you're all milling around the quaint kitchen table to eat when your cousin's fiancé comes in through the front door and rushes over. "—I just got out of work! Is everything ok?!"

He sees you looking perfectly unruffled before he notices Javier sitting next to you with his arm around the back of your chair, and a comical sense of déjà vu must strike him at the recall of the intimidating man who'd threatened him at the nightclub for dancing with you. Miguel can't help vacillate and look over at your cousin before Javi realizes why he's suddenly wary. So, he gets up and extends his hand in greeting, drawling, "Nice to, uh, formally meet. Sorry about that other time. No hard feelings, compa."

Your cousin nudges you under the table and bounces her brows humorously at you while you try to hide your grin as Miguel accepts Javi's handshake and assures, "Nope! No hard feelings at all. Nice to see you again, parce—"

"What are they talking about?" your aunt whisper asks, and you and your cousin wave her off, indicating you'd tell her later.

After dinner, Trujillo enthusiastically thanks your grandmother for dinner, and insists he should head out, but you ask if you need to give him a statement.

Javier whispers in your ear, "It's probably best that you don't, querida. I don't know if it'll get back to the embassy."

You frown and gesture for them to follow you out to discuss it in private outside. Once the three of you are standing next to the jeep, you tell them, "They never intended to hurt me, but they gave me the impression that this was something much bigger. Could I give my statement anonymously with you, to avoid my name getting flagged by the embassy, and then provide it if and when I'm ready to go on the record?"

Trujillo exchanges a look with Javier before confirming, "Yes, I could do that. But are you expecting some kind of reprisal? If not, it would not make sense to create a paper trail—"

"It's not reprisals I'm concerned about. I—" you pause, thinking the better of something, and look at Javier. "I want to be able to document the incident happened if and when I need proof of this being a retaliatory attack on me, personally. In case this isn't just the Cali cartel trying to leverage me to get to him."

Javi is floored by that. "What?! You think this could've been personal—?!" he begins to growl.

You put your hand on his side and give him a steadying look. "I don't know for sure, but…I want to account for it being a possibility, so I'd like to have a statement that can be filed with CNP to document this," you murmur and look back at Trujillo. "I don't want to cause you any problems—"

"Ah, no need to be concerned. I'm used to Peñita making trouble. It would figure that his lady would be up to it too," he jokes, cracking a smile as Javi glowers at him.

With that settled, Javier begrudgingly hangs back while you sit in the car and give Trujillo your statement, detailing things you overheard, the things you were explicitly told, and give a description of two out of the three kidnappers. He pauses when you describe the main triggerman that had been calling the shots, but says nothing as he transcribes it all.

"Can you tell me why you think this could also be a personal reprisal against you?" he asks, brown eyes looking over at you thoughtfully.

"…The CIA station chief, Bill Stechner, has made veiled allusions to being responsible for recent trouble experienced by my team, as well as comments about my personal life. I refused to onboard several members of his team into a pilot program my department is in charge of, and I suspect that the problems I've been dealing with lately are his doing. I don't have proof. But this—everything that happened today? I can't help wonder if he could've had a hand in it," you confess in an even tone before sparing a glance at Javi. He's currently talking to Miguel, who'd come out to the porch and offered him a beer.

"Peñita doesn't know?" Trujillo asks knowingly.

You shake your head. "If he did, he's liable to choke that son of a bitch out," you snicker, and the officer chuckles, nodding along amusedly.

He agrees to keep the statements in his possession until you call him and confirm you're ready to file them publically. He gives you his card, and you pocket it covertly so Javi won't see.

Before he leaves, Trujillo offers to drive Javi down to pick up your car from the mall parking lot, so you give him your keys and kiss him with longing. "I'll be right back. You stay inside and wait for me," he rumbles and gives you a peck on the cheek, pinching your side affectionately before he gets in the jeep.

Sighing, you wander back into the house, and into the firing squad.

"What happened today?"

"Did they threaten to hurt you?"

"Why would they mess with you?!"

"And this Javier – what does he do?"

Miguel sits and sips his beer silently while his fiancée and soon-to-be mother-in-law question you in rapid-fire succession. Your grandmother, mercifully, is busy prepping the other guest room while this inquisition is happening, so you quickly answer, "Like I said: it was a misunderstanding. No, they didn't threaten to hurt me. I think they thought I was someone else, but were told to let me go once it was straightened out. And Javier works at the embassy with me! He runs an internal agency that works closely with CNP—"

"Ok, that's enough!" you turn at the stern exclamation from your grandmother, who is standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "We've had a very stressful day, and I don't wish to hash out any more of it, so, I think it's time for everyone to relax and go home for the night," she instructs before pointing to Miguel and bossing, "You didn't get to eat, so come. I'll fix you a plate for you to take home."

Situation diffused, everyone hugs goodbye and promise to check in before you leave on Sunday. Just as things quiet down, you go clean the kitchen for your grandmother while she keeps fussing with things in the hallway closet. You're too disconnected to wonder what she's up to, eager to compartmentalize this and set it aside to be neglected. After you've dried the dishes and stored them, you take the moment to sit on the sofa and bury your face in your hands.

The sound of the screen door being opened draws your gaze over to it. Javier stands there with his duffle bag hanging off his shoulder, looking worriedly at you, so you rush over and hug him with longing.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," you find yourself parroting to him sardonically, having heard it from him plenty of times before. He snorts and noses into your hair, irreverently squeezing you to him. "I'm so annoyed."

"What? Why?" he queries, concerned as he leans back and gazes down at you.

You purse your lips ruefully at him before diverting your gaze to focus on your hands as they fiddle with the lapels of his blue blazer. "Because…you were right," you grumble.

His brows knit together in confusion before it dawns on him. "Say that again?"

You flick your gaze haughtily up at him. "No."

"C'mon. It's so rare. After the day I've had? I think I deserve to hear it again," he goads ruggedly, smirking when you pout up at him. "You said I was…?"

You lightly shove him, but can't prevent the lopsided smile as it tugs your plush lips irreverently. "You were right, you pain in the ass. There, happy? You know-it-all!?" is your silly harangue as he encircles your waist and prevents you from storming off, so you're relegated to wringing your hands around his striped blue and yellow tie to snicker when he just grins triumphantly at you. "Stop grinning!"

"Mmm, you're gonna have to make me—"

"Ahem."

You both pause in your affectionate canoodling to look over at your grandmother, who is amusedly eyeing you two from the hall. You quickly tug Javi inside and cheekily squeeze his hand when he clears his throat and tries to pivot to the perfect, choirboy persona he's crafted for your grandmother.

"Uh, here are your keys. Cars parked on the corner. It's late, so I'll come back tomorrow and help you unload it—" Javi attempts to itemize as he hands you the keys and adjusts the duffle's strap on his shoulder as if he's preparing to head out, intending to call a cab outside and find a room for the night.

"Come back? Mijo, don't be silly. You're staying in the guest bedroom tonight," your grandmother chides as if it was nonsense for him to think otherwise. "Now, as you said, it's very late, and I need to pray and go to bed, so come get settled in," she's instructing as she breezes over and takes his arm to escort him down the hall to the bedroom across from the one you stay in.

Deciding it's pointless to argue, especially when you shut the front door and pleasantly follow in order to grin impishly at him, Javier let's her usher him into the room. The bed is already turned down, pillows fluffed, and there is a towel folded for him already on the dresser, so he smiles endearingly while setting his duffle aside on the chair she's pointed to. "Thank you. This is very kind—"

"Nonsense!" she waves off before kissing him on the cheek and declaring, "Now, I'll be going to my room. Lindita, you take care of him. Show him the bathroom, and let him relax. I expect you both in your beds soon, being exhausted by today, after all."

You press your lips together until they flatten out, nodding dutifully while Javier rubs his cheek idly and agrees with a polite smile. Once she's retired to her bedroom for the night, though, you turn and pout at him.

"Oh no, don't look at me like that," he chuckles knowingly and sits on the cozy bed.

"What? She told me to take care of you, so…" you purr as you strut over to lean into him.

"Nope. No. Out, atrevida," he husks and literally holds you at bay before chivalrously guiding you backwards and out to the hall. "I'm going to behave myself while in this house. Now, go shower, and get to bed. We can talk about everything tomorrow," he grumbles huffily and kisses you on the cheek.

You give him your big, doe-eyed look, and he raises you a surly grunt and stern glower, intending to stand his ground. Scoffing, you surrender and breeze into the room across from his before turning, sticking your tongue out at him, and closing the door. Snickering, Javi closes his door, and sheds his blazer and tie, pulls his service weapon out from the back of his waistband to be placed on the dresser, and sighs, deciding he should conceal it in his bag instead. Gun stored, Javi's rifling through his belongings in the duffle for his travel toiletries and to set out a clean outfit for the morning. He uses the while you're showering in the room down the hall to call Stoddard and check in.

A few minutes after he ends the call, he hears your door close again, so he grabs the towel your grandmother left folded on the dresser for him and goes to wash off the angst and terror of the day. He's just finished putting on his pajama bottoms, turned out the light, and slipped under the covers of the bed when he thinks he hears the sound of a door quietly opening out in the hall. After a minute or two, he doesn't hear anything else, so he settles down and closes his eyes, rubbing at the tension point between his brows and warring with his craving for a cigarette. The bed is very comfortable, at least, and the cool clime via the soft breeze from outside the slat windows helps mellow him into keeping his eyes closed.

But then, he hears the soft click of the door opening.

Turning his head to look, he sees you meekly poke your head in, hair brushed out over your shoulders as you squint your eyes, seeming to adjust to the lowlight of the dimly moonlit room. "Javi?" you whisper.

"I'm awake. What's wrong?" he murmurs and sits up, concerned.

Hesitating, you susurrate, "I…I don't want to be alone."

Realizing how dumb he was for not considering that the trauma of the day could've taken a toll – that you'd feel anxious and uneasy being alone in the wake of everything, he pulls the covers back and shifts in bed to make room for you. "Come here," he whispers, brown eyes soft as you dither a little, so he quips, "But you gotta behave."

That does the trick. You smile and stealthily slip into the room before shutting the door with a minute click. When you turn back to face him, his mouth is dropped open, so you look down – realizing he's staring at your moonlit silhouette under the billowy, cap-sleeved batita. It is a soft cotton that flairs out and brushes below your knees, and does nothing to hide the shape of your hourglass figure as the fabric almost glows under the lowlight, making you look ethereal. Demurely submerging your smirk, you tiptoe over to the side of the bed and climb in, sidling close to his warmth and curling into his bare, broad chest when he pulls the covers over you both.

He kisses the top of your hairline before tucking your head under his chin as he holds you in his protective embrace. You let out a serene sigh, leaning into him and clinging to his torso like he's your anchor for life.

It's a quiet, serene lull while you both lie together, thinking about the day from your points of view.

His hand rubs along your back, comforting and gentle. "This is all my fault," he hitches out when he can no longer ignore the conclusion.

"No, it isn't," you murmur and tilt your head up to nuzzle his stubble-covered jaw. "I got the sense that it was a flunky move with no real connection to anything—"

"David Rodríguez gave the order," he interjects and looks down at you, wanting to be honest and not give you a false sense of security. "He has no real power, but he's Miguel Rodríguez's son, so they knew it would be messy if they actually went through with it, but weren't about to refuse the little shit either."

"…So, he wanted to what, retaliate for the San Jardín raid?" you ask, eerily calm.

Javier exhales through his nose and cups your cheek. "It seems so. But it wasn't anything sanctioned by his father or any of the other Cali godfathers, so they just waited until the local syndicate got wind and called up the chain," he rumbles, deciding to confess, "I went to Don Berna and threatened him." Your eyes go wide, shocked. "He didn't even know about it, and since Cali is not looking for beef with Medellín, they worked out a compromise; coordinated the drop-off."

It all starts falling into place, the puzzle becoming clear. I guess Stechner had no part in it after all, you muse to yourself. It also makes it easier to keep that from him now.

And just as you're thinking that, you picture the Cali suspect board up in the DEA's bullpen, and flash to the triggerman's features. "That guy…the one who made me get in the car. I've seen him before," you tell Javi, and he sits up on his elbow with a deep scowl of concern. "His picture is on your suspect board. He was under the main guy's photo," you elaborate, and Javi's expression shutters in as he instantly recalls it.

"Navegante," he tells you in a low, rough mutter, and you blink at him, feeling like the name sounds familiar. "He was Steve and my informant when we were going after Gacha, and after when Escobar killed those guys in La Catedral."

Unbidden, your mind replays what the light-eyed man had said to you. "Although, we both know how stubborn he is."

"Well…that accounts for why he was polite, I guess," you remark flippantly. At his sour grunt, you cup your hand at the back of his neck and tug him down to rest his head on the pillow with you. "I was never in danger. It was clearly a shine-on, just checking boxes to not get on the son's bad side, but they were never going to hurt me—"

"Regardless, I'm going to make 'em pay for it," he growls contumely, and you frown. "From now on, you're carrying that gun."

"What?!" you whisper-exclaim. "That would've done nothing, Javi. I'm telling you, they're not going to do anything again. That guy – Navegante – admitted that they know who my father is, and that they know his reputation, so there was no way any harm was ever going to happen to me. Not unless the entire Cali regime became Caligula-level crazy and wanted to nuke themselves."

Javier is not mollified, so you lean close and rest your forehead to his. "But, in principle…you were right about things being sketchy still; unpredictable and tenuous. I'm going to listen to you from now on," you whisper with appeasement honeying your tone, batting your lashes before brushing your nose against his cutely, earning a charmed huff from him.

"Oh, you don't really have a choice anymore," he rumbles boldly and brushes an indulgent kiss over your lips before stating adamantly, "I'm not going to let you storm off or gallivant away anywhere without me from now on. And when we get back to Bogotá, we're going to look at apartments," he pauses when you blink in shock, lips softening as they part wordlessly. "And, until we find a place, you're staying at mine during the week. We'll spend the weekends at yours."

Flummoxed, and yes – very turned on by his assertive declarations, you simply nod and cuddle closer. Javi is pleased to get no argument from you, smiling when you tuck yourself against him and let him envelop you in his warmth.

Sleepily, you murmur after a quiet pause, "I think everyone's going to barge over tomorrow." When he grunts a musing sound, you elaborate, "They're going to be so nosy. What do you want to tell them?"

Rubbing his hand to smoothen the soft cotton of your nightgown bunched along your waist, he mutters, "The truth. I love you, and we're making plans—"

You giggle. "No, silly. I mean about your work. What do you want to tell them?" is your clarifier, adding, "I've always kept it vague and general – just that you work at the embassy as a liaison between the administration and CNP. But, after today? They don't believe that anymore…"

"Oh," he grunts, shifting his head more comfortably onto the pillow. "Well…what do you want to tell them?"

"Nothing," you answer simply and nuzzle his throat. "The less they know about things, especially what we deal with back in the capital, the better."

He hums, absorbing that. "We'll figure it out. Right now, I can't think past how tired I am and how nice and soft you feel," Javi grouses sincerely, making you snicker and tilt your head up to grunt amusedly for him to give you a kiss. So, he does, capturing your lips with tender feeling before tucking you back against him. Once you're both settled, Javi noses into your hair and relaxes as you let out a drawn out sigh.

"…I love you too, by the way."

He snickers at your silky whisper, then mumbles, "I know."

Smiling, you let the exhaustion shut your eyes, and Javi follows once he's lulled by your soft, gentle breathing.

You both surrender to the sublime slumber, secure and safe in each other's arms. The peace of it is enough to quell the unspoken things yet to be settled between you to instead put seeking to never be parted again at the forefront of your concerns.

It's a fierce sense of calm, and you'll cling to the respite of it for as long as you can.

________________

Read Chapter 33: Amor

Spanish-English Glossary:

Querida = Affectionate term for a female, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Cuídate, gatita = Take care of yourself, little kitten

¡Tan irrespetuosa. Te dije lo que deberías hacer, pero todo lo que haces es exactamente lo contrario! = You're so disrespectful. I told you what you should do, but everything you do is the exact opposite!

Lindita = little cutie; pretty little girl

Abuela/'Buela = Grandmother/Grandma

¡Dios te sane—claro que no, lindita! = God heal you—of course not, little cutie!

Joyería = Jewelry

Anillos = Rings

Maldita sea = Damn it

Sea la madre = A coloquial swear, similar to "Oh c'mon..." or "For fuck's sakes…"

¿Quién es? = Who is it?

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Canela = Cinnamon

¡Ni madres! = Coloquial Mexican phrase, meaning "No Way!" "You're kidding me!"

Tan pinche mandona = So fucking bossy

Controladora = Controlling woman

Manipulador = Manipulator (male)

Desgraciado = Disgraceful man; a get-over

Mi amor = My love

Bebito = Little baby (male)

Amado = Beloved (male)

Oomph, eres la más chingona… = Oof, you're the most bad ass woman…

Retiradas = Retirees (female)

Bravita = Tough girl; feisty girl

Gruñón = Grumpy man

Gatita = Little kitten

Chavón = a man that's pestering you

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Malvadita = Wicked little boy

Guapita = Sassy/foxy/daring/testy lady

Batita = A little cotton nightgown or house robe

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Sí, patrona = Yes, madam/ boss lady/mistress

Mercado = Market

¡Venir conmigo, mamacita—! = You're coming with me, honey—!

Señorita = Little lady; Miss

Pinche malparida = Fucking bitch

Pinche puta. Merece un plomazo = Fucking whore. She deserves a bullet

Callarse, huevón = Shut up, dumbass

Mijo = short for "mi hijo", a term of endearment akin to "my son/sonny"

Teniente = Lieutenant

Niña = Girl

Colina = Hill

Gatillero = Trigger man; pistol-packer

Pinche asesinos = Fucking murderers/killers

Paisa = Colombian compatriot; term of endearment amongst Colombians, especially in Medellín

Postobón = Brand of Colombian soda that's made in Medellín

El hijo pródigo, tratando de impresionar a papá, aun sabiendo las consequencias = The prodigal son, trying to impress Dad, even while knowing the consequences

Marica = Pussy; also a derogatory epithet for homosexual males

Cállate, pendejo = Shut up, dumbass

En confianza = With trust; with confidence

Pionero = street merchant, who shouts out their wares for sale

Tía = Aunt

Prima = Cousin

Compa = Short for 'compadre', which is a term of friendship and mutual attachment, usually through marriage or baptism

Parce = Colombian slang for 'buddy', or 'bro'; akin to calling someone 'buddy'

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