#wagyu is fucked up

[loquatic]

Pk dragon design yay

still learning how to draw object characters

they're my favorite atm. Also the tags are out of order idk why trying to fix that darn.

[upwards-descent]

I wish all fantasy was real so Autumn could take Gale out on the Korean BBQ dinner date of his dreams

[biohazard-inevitable]

Wanna come back to my place for some fun?~~~~

What? No i dont want to have sex with you- I was gonna give you a whole 3 course meal but noooooooooooo

[notebookpapers]

do u ever eat so much kbbq you feel drunk afterwards

[rowanhoney]

I’m gonna scream. I’ve always said it will get to this point. And the time has come

[4unnyr0se]

❥ kuroo as your boss

warnings: post-timeskip! kuroo, fem! reader, office sex, blatent favoritism, kuroo coddles reader, cunnilingus, blowjob, desk sex, unprotected sex, not proofread

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 694

Tetsuro Kuroo, the best damn boss anyone could ask for. Gave anyone the day off when needed, even if they were out of paid sick days. His office morale was the highest ever recorded in the Sports Promotions division, and he was damn proud of it. 

Tetsuro Kuroo, who originally hired you because you looked really good in a pencil skirt. And because he needed a female employee for diversity’s sake. Either way, he had no idea of your skills or how you would manage in a sports office setting.

Tetsuro Kuroo, who was shocked to hear that you actually went to Nekoma and were in the same class as Kenma. Who called himself stupid for not recognizing a pretty girl when he was in high school, who called Kenma after he was done for the day to scream at him for not introducing him to such a fine piece of ass. 

Tetsuro Kuroo, who had you do the work you wanted to do and never gave you assignments or paperwork you didn’t feel like you could handle. Was he coddling you? Sort of, but how could he not? You were just too pretty to be stressed. As long as you were his employee, you wouldn’t experience work-related stress. Not under his watch. 

Tetsuro Kuroo, who always bought you lunch from wherever you wanted. You wanted sushi? Premium salmon rolls got delivered in 30 minutes. Wagyu? Consider it done. Convenience store ramen? He bought 10 cases for you to take home and eat at your leisure. 

Tetsuro Kuroo, who confirmed the rumors that you were his favorite employee. What were they gonna do about it, hm? He wasn’t disenfranchising them by spoiling you; being jealous isn’t a cause to get you fired. He was a smug bastard and gave no shits. 

Tetsuro Kuroo, who was eating lunch with you in his office one day. Who observed how your tiny pencil skirt rode up your thighs perfectly, how your stockings made you look so fucking sexy. He observed how you blushed when he looked at you, the cutest giggle leaving your lips. 

Tetsuro Kuroo, who thanked the universe that his office had two-way blackout curtains and soundproofing. He would bend you over the desk and rip a hole in your stockings, purring at the sight of your soaked lace panties. Did you wear those just for him? Adorable.

Tetsuro Kuroo, who made you sit in his office chair as he ate your pussy like he was on death row. Who relished in your desperate and wanton cries of ecstasy, another orgasm rippling through you. Who demanded you finish on his tongue over and over again, that was all he wanted to eat. 

Tetsuro Kuroo, who sighed as he got under-the-desk support while on a phone call with a very important sports vendor. He would grip the mahogany of his desk as he felt your tongue trace on his cock’s throbbing vein, prematurely cumming all over his face. Who, when asked what was wrong, said he just stubbed his toe. 

Tetsuro Kuroo, who fucked you like a machine each afternoon. Who gripped onto your hips with such strength that it left imprints on your hips as he fucked you harder and harder. Who demanded you scream as much as you needed, no one would hear. And even if they did hear, no one would stop him. He was their fucking boss. 

Tetsuro Kuroo, who never used a condom because you’re on the pill. Who moaned at the sight of his seed leaking out of your weeping core as you struggled to fix your now wrinkled pencil skirt, shooting him a dirty look the entire time. Who promised he would go easier on you tomorrow, but he never did.

Tetsuro Kuroo, who was actually kind of glad that he met you when you were both adults. If he had met you in high school, he never would have fucking graduated or kept Nekoma a powerhouse school. He would have been too distracted flirting with you the entire time. 

Tetsuro Kuroo, who went to bed every night satisfied with his decision to hire someone as gorgeous as you.

[oukabarsburgblr]

drabble....aftermath of Man in the Elevator

FEATURING : DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x male reader

profile ...

fluff, con smut, root post

[START SCENE]

"Hey HEY! Where do you think you're taking me-"

(m/n)'s feet skidded against the carpeted floor, however Daisuke's grip on his wrist was tight, it didn't hurt but he managed to drag the (h/c) across his department's wing, gaining many confused looks from his coworkers.

"On a date! Well- lunch date. I was thinking fugu or wagyu beef!" Daisuke's mouth was watering as he continued to pull the struggling man behind him who was begging his coworkers to help him. His friends looked away, not wanting to intrude on (m/n) and his boyfriend- WHO TF SAID THAT??

Daisuke had bodyguards following him, tall buff men wearing suits and earpieces whispering to each other as they formed a parameter around the pair. (m/n) doesn't know how to feel that he fucked the CEO's son. No wonder Daisuke asked whether he knew him or not and his expensive attire he had adorned in the elevator.

Speaking of elevators, (m/n) violently pulled back, shocking Daisuke when they had approached the floor's lift. It was a different lift but the (h/c) was afraid nonetheless.

"I'm not going in there with you."

He hadn't stepped in a lift ever since two days ago, taking the stairs and claiming it was to burn his calories when his acquiantances asked.

The ravenette was silent, staring at the annoyed (h/c) before smiling. "Okay." "...Thanks." At least Daisuke acknowledged that what happened between them was somewhat traumatic. Deplorable and enjoyable but (m/n) wouldn't want to go through that with anyone else except if it's Daisuke- wait what?

"Is it fine if I carry you then?" (m/n) quirked an eyebrow at the ravenette. "Carry me where?" "Up the stairs. The helipad is closer than the garage from this floor. You must be sore after our whole workout right?" "Helipad???" Daisuke nodded as he crouched to slip his beefy arms under (m/n)'s knees and back who yelped and immediately clutched onto the ravenette's luxurious suit. (m/n) wasn't sure whether to address the workout comment.

"Our building has a helipad?" "Of course silly! How would I travel from my home to work every day?" (m/n) wanted to punch this privileged, first class, silver spoon in his mouth bitch. No wonder (m/n) never saw him near the lobby. He guessed either Daisuke commuted by a fancy car or a fucking helicopter.

One of his bodyguard opened the doors to the staircase, letting Daisuke pass through with (m/n) in his arms who was punching his chest, demanding to be released. "If you're worried about being heavy, then don't be! It's great for my cardio."

That was either backhanded as fuck or Daisuke was just really an idiot. They made their way up the stairs, Daisuke breaking a sweat or two while (m/n) was still squirming and screaming in his face. He was surprised Daisuke was still smiling at him.

True to his words, once they've reached the rooftop, a white helicopter was there, already running its engine and Daisuke told (m/n) to cover his ears as he continued to carry (m/n) up onto the helipad and into the helicopter itself. Once (m/n) was tucked in his seat, the pilot took off, heading god knows where as (m/n) began to choke the ravenette.

"Where are we going?!!" "To- ackk! My house- ghhackkk!" (m/n) gritted his teeth. "Are you trying to kidnap me??" "What? Why would I?" The (h/c) began to grapple away from the ravenette, pressing himself up against the window as his shoes smudged the leather seat. Daisuke tried to coax him to sit down properly.

"You dragged me here. By force." Daisuke pouted. "You looked like you wanted to run away from me as soon as you saw me. Besides- YOU LEFT ME IN THE ELEVATOR ALONE!!"

(m/n) choked on his saliva and looked away. Fuck he had a point. Daisuke was scrunching his noise as he pointed at the (h/c)'s face with his index finger. The pilot felt like two cats were fighting in the back.

"W-Well I tried waking you up. I swear! But you slept like a goddamn rock-" "I wonder why." Daisuke deadpanned as he stared at the (h/c) with his lips pressing into a thin line, hinting at the fact that even when Daisuke was tired, (m/n) wanted one last round.

Immediately, (m/n) felt flushed and tried hiding his face, Daisuke pawing at him to face him but fuck did he feel so embarassed around him. "Look at me. I want to see what kind of face you're making." The ravenette laughed as he tried pulling at the (h/c)'s arms, the latter kicking him in protest.

Soon, they arrived at their destination. (e/c) eyes bulging at the sight of the penthouse that looked even more extravagant than their already affluent company building.

"Welcome to my home. Well its my dads technically. I still live with him y'know." Daisuke held (m/n)'s hand as the latter descended from the helicopter steps. Is this what they call princess treatment? He wondered as Daisuke began to give out orders to his valets and shooed away his bodyguards.

"...I'm still in my work hours by the way..." (m/n) hoped he wouldn't get scolded by his HOD, Daisuke only tilted his head. "They'll understand. My dad is the boss to your boss yeah?" He suddenly went into a ramble, not remembering who (m/n)'s supervisor is but assuring the (h/c) that they'll definitely let it slide.

Rich people live such nice lives. (m/n) sighed as he let Daisuke pull him through the penthouse, in awe of the decorations and furniture. Looks like Daisuke was a fan of retro, Americanized. He definitely grew up with mainstream media. His eyes gazing over hung record disk on painted walls before his view was covered in green.

"Woah." (m/n) whistled at the magnificent view of his surroundings. It was a greenhouse, walls made out of glass and white pillars, vines hanging from the beige ceilings and flowers blooming from their patches of dirt nestled neatly in their respective areas.

"This is my favourite spot to eat. Since this is your first time here, I figure I'd take you somewhere nice." Daisuke rubbed his face, suddenly abashed.

Okay that's kinda cute. (m/n) hummed. "It is nice here. Wonderful even." Could never afford this place. He deemed and made a mental note, not noticing steam coming out of Daisuke's ears.

"Glad you like it." "Your favourite place to eat is your own home?" Daisuke pursed his lips, thinking of an answer. "My mouth is accustomed to my chef's food. If anything, I'd love to eat here everyday but my dad keeps saying I should go outside and explore." Again, he went into a ramble, saying that his dad won't even let him step out of the penthouse without a five-member escort.

The (h/c) rolled his eyes. How self-centered is this guy? He knocked on the wooden table they were seated at to catch Daisuke's attention. "Sorry haha. It's just really nice to talk to you." "It's not exactly talking if your mouth keeps doing all the work." "Well your mouth can do some other work-"

Daisuke howled in pain, a swift kick to his knees courtesy of (m/n) who was glaring heavily at him. "Behave." The (h/c) pressed. "...yes, sir." "Good." He looked around the greenhouse, taking note of the beautiful flora and faunas.

Feeling hunger stemming from his stomach, he turned to Daisuke who was rubbing his knee. "I'm hungry." The ravenette was eager to please his date, calling in a butler, giving him menus and showing him pictures of what his private chef could cook for him.

"I recommend the smoked salmon, the earthy taste is insane." Daisuke felt his mouth water, remembering the fish that melted in his mouth, smoky charcoal seeping in on his tastebuds. (m/n) was unimpressed. "How much can I order?" "As much as you like! You're my date so go crazy." The ravenette winked at him.

(m/n) squinted his eyes, before letting out a pleasant smile, letting Daisuke call him his 'date' and immediately ordering a five-course meal. The ravenette was impressed by his date's appetite, mirroring his order.

The meal went well, them talking to each other, albeit (m/n) cursing at him every time Daisuke teased the former, and officially introducing each other. The (h/c) found out Daisuke didn't even officially work there. He was just there to visit his dad or get some 'exposure' in a work environment.

They did talk about the whole elevator thing, Daisuke mentioned how he tried to investigate who was behind the intercom and the aphrosodiac but all lead to none. (m/n) groaned, taking note of how the lift he usually used was scheduled under maintenance and the one in the incident was usually used by VIPs.

"I just...don't want to go through that again." Daisuje shoved a piece of beef in his mouth before holding the (h/c)'s hand, expressing his empathy. "I hope you're okay after all that." "I am. It was just confusing?" The ravenette nodded.

"Same. I thought I was crazy, y'know? Cuz' I woke up all alone. Drenched in weird stuff on the floor." (m/n) glowered. "I said I was sorry..." "No you didn't. And what'd you say?" Daisuke teased, leaning in closer and the (h/c) pulled away, embarrassed.

"I said I'm sorry." He hissed. The ravenette laughed as he pulled away to recline in his chair, stretching his muscles. "You're cute." "I know." "But you're really cute." (m/n) slapped his hand on Daisuke's mouth.

"Just shut up and keep eating."

A scream left his mouth as Daisuke licked across his palm. A butler had to intervene when he tried to drive a butter knife into Daisuke's face who only cackled at the attempted murder. It continued like that for the afternoon, Daisuke chatting and ruffling up (m/n)'s feathers, the latter eating as much as he could while responding as little as possible to the ravenette.

The setting was nice, evening had dawned, (m/n) forgetting about his work, Daisuke trying to romance the (h/c) and a bottle of expensive wine was served to them. No cheap alcohol here, only the best for Daisuke Yuichi and his new 'lover'.

(m/n) downed the wine, a fruity taste lingering in his mouth. Maybe Daisuke likes sweet things. He kept that in mind as his eyes lingered on the flushed ravenette who was swirling his own glass, still being the chatterbox he is.

The alcohol in the wine was mild but it did its job, intoxicating the two as Daisuke drunkenly brushed his hand over (m/n)'s thigh, the tip of his ears red and his nape burning hot. Him switching places to sit beside the (h/c). His body slowly caging him in, his face leaning closer.

(m/n) knew what he wanted. He had his own desires as well.

Daisuke brought the (h/c) deeper into his penthouse, touching him all over, (m/n) leaning more into his hold.

(e/c) eyes fluttered shut, Daisuke pushing him down on his desk in his supposed office, the lights dark and curtains closed. It was contrast to their first which was a small space with glaring white lights.

"Haa hah hangh slow down Daisuke- mmff!"

(m/n) laid down on the mahogany desk, papers astrewn on the floor while Daisuke went to town on his neck while unbuttoning his work attire. "Sorry, it's so hard around you. So handsome." He kissed his cheek. "So cute."

The (h/c) panted while holding Daisuke's shoulders. "Don't call me cute." "What should I call you?" The ravenette questioned endearingly while pecking his neck.

"Hot, sexy, suave, drop-dead gorgeous."

Daisuke laughed as he swiped his hair back, (m/n)'s legs were loosely wrapped around Daisuke's, caressing them with his shoes. "Alright then. My hot-," A kiss on (m/n)'s hand. "so fucking sexy-," He purred while brushing his lips down the (h/c)'s arm.

"not really suave-," A slap to Daisuke's chest, the ravenette teasing the fuming (h/c). He chuckled as he leaned in, their forehead touching, black optics covering (e/c).

"my drop-dead gorgeous lover." He kissed the edge of (m/n)'s lips, the (h/c) sighing as his hands gripped Daisuke's bosom. "Lover is quite fast, don't you think?" "My mind is quite a few chapters ahead. Will you be willing to speed up your pace?" "Only if you wait."

Daisuke paused, not expecting the (h/c) to give a serious answer, a genuine smile stretched on his lips. "...Of course." He was willing to do as much for this man in his arms. Something in his heart tells him that he would regret to not give chase.

(m/n) stared at the man above him, sighing quietly as his hand cupped Daisuke's face. "You're lucky you're rich." The ravenette leaned into his palm. "You're welcome to use all my inheritance." (m/n) laughed for the first time.

"Don't say that. I might actually suck you dry. You're not so bad, Yuichi."

Something jumped in the ravenette's pants, (m/n)'s crotch lightly feeling it. "Sorry, I got really hard hearing you say my name." (m/n) rolled his eyes. "I should expect that from someone like you, huh?" "Yup!"

Daisuke cheered as he kissed the (h/c), the latter wrapping his arms around his neck, pressing his lips back. The ravenette's tongue soon licked his lips, begging for entrance as (m/n) opened his mouth.

They were both moaning and sucking on each other's tongue, Daisuke's hips bucking and humping (m/n)'s bottom, the latter gasping into the sloppy tongue-tying session letting Daisuke thrust his wet muscly organ down his throat.

Choking on his saliva, (m/n) squirmed, patting Daisuke's chest, who immediately pulled away. "D-Daisuke-" "Please, please, I wanna do it so badly." Daisuke mewled, his face entirely flushed. "You can just sleep here after this, not worry about work tomorrow but please, pretty please, let me have you."

The (h/c)'s bottom jerked, feeling Daisuke grind himself on him. He sloppily licked (m/n)'s bosom, his eyes all teary, begging the (h/c) to sleep with him.

(m/n) grinned, he was also intoxicated and suddenly liking Daisuke's behaviour. He pulled Daisuke's hair up, swiping his tongue onto the latter's teeth, Daisuke moaning loudly into the kiss.

Hurriedly, he shuffled his clothes off of him, pulling (m/n)'s own as well. Fingers pumping in and out of the (h/c) who threw his head against the table, Daisuke used his precum as lube and pull his fingers out once he wringed an orgasm out of his new 'lover'.

(m/n) didn't have time to recover, Daisuke immediately pushing his cock in and the (h/c) yelped in pain, scratching the latter's pale back. Both of them liked the pain, Daisuke jamming himself into (m/n) rapidly, the (h/c) digging his nails in and screaming every time the ravenette's huge cock dragged against his tender walls.

The ravenette's eyes rolled behind his head, his mouth open as he came so early into the (h/c), his hips twitching as he stuffed his cum inside (m/n)'s hole. Arching his back, (m/n) mewled feeling his ass filled with something so wet so fast.

"Sorry..." Daisuke was heaving, his eyes droopy, apologising for cumming so early. "You idiot..." (m/n) pulled Daisuke's hair, reeling him into a kiss as he rubbed his ass onto the ravenette's penis.

They went wild, fucking like bunnies all over Daisuke's office. Almost every furniture was used and tainted with the smell of sex. Daisuke was extra hyper with the help of the wine and him being so happy that (m/n) was so willing to have sex with him. (m/n) was taking advantage of Daisuke's fondness and huge cock, letting him split him open in so many ways, bent over the couches, pushing him up against the wall and even pressed him facing the windows, his own cock rubbing against the glass, smearing it with his cum.

Daisuke came so much that every time he thrusted inside, semen leaked out with a squelching effect, turning on the (h/c) more. Eventually after the tenth round, Daisuke dropped himself on the luxurious sofa, the one (m/n) was folded into a mating press two rounds prior. In his arms was (m/n), breathing heavily, his body sticky and dripping cum.

The ravenette's beefy arms were holding (m/n) more securely, perhaps he didn't want the (h/c) to disappear like last time. "...Let's sleep like this. When I wake up, I'll carry you to my bedroom." Daisuke mumbled, his eyes closed, so tired having his dick pumped dry.

(m/n) hummed, adjusting himself on top of Daisuke, . "Mkay." He felt a hand rubbing his hair which eventually turned into small massages on his scalp. How sweet was this man?

"...Don't just leave...like last time...please..." It was barely a whisper, (m/n) couldn't read Daisuke's expression, his eyes shut tight. "...I won't."

He could feel the man underneath him flinch, not expecting the other to hear him but the latter's body relaxed, loosing his tension and worry.

Daisuke passed out before (m/n), his light breathing was comforting and the (h/c) placed his face in the crook of Daisuke's neck, sleeping soundly as well. He had a good meal, oh and the food tasted great too.

True to Daisuke's words, (m/n) woke up in an ornate bedroom, the color scheme mainly consists of royal blue and dark greyish except for its furniture. The ravenette had woken up way before him, spooning the (h/c) being so giddy that (m/n) was still with him the next morning.

Instead of turning up for work, (m/n) went shopping, Daisuke insisting he wanted to treat him with clothings and jewelries and he did, getting pampered by the rich man all day and he finally returned home with an abundant amount of shopping bags. He also did not let Daisuke into his apartment, knowing that he wanted to sleep with and in his room. That horny bitch ISTG-.

Although Daisuke assured him that he could retire at an early age, (m/n) still continued his normal work life, although his manager and supervisor were extra respectful to him and his coworkers had so many questions on how did he manage to bag the CEO's son. Said CEO was wary on how did his precious son managed to fall for someone so quick but after meeting the (h/c), he realised his son was a tender-hearted idiot and wished the best for the pair.

Maybe (m/n) was thankful for the whole elevator shenanigan, he managed to end up with a lovestruck rich boy after all. His life didn't change much except the fact that a certain priviledged puppy would steal him during lunch hours and promptly fuck him in the long nights.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

How long/short a drabble should be? Haha cuz i think i went way overboard. Daisuke would feature in more aus and their official(?) storyline including spinoffs (what ifs) with another oc i will introduce next week maybe.

Please leave a comment! Although there will be no part 3 for this au haha. Keep an eye out for my next AU [Reversing the Tropes]!

I had smoked salmon w my bf the other day and IT WAS SO GOOD WHAT ANSBAKHAUAH. I think its funny me writing all these smuts while being a virgin LMAOOOO

more of daisuke yuichi! ☾

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Can you pretty please write a fic where Logan and Deadpool are having an argument about how they should be fucking the reader, like going over techniques while the reader is just drooling and mindless like “whaaa”

hell YEAH i love getting fucked stupid by big strong men >:3333€

this is a rly good prompt btw so i could GLADLY expand on this but for rn here’s a snippet 😌

warning: dp, painal, sadomasochism, mild transphobia, slurs, degradation, overstim, dubcon, daddy kink

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy/bussy

They talk about you like you’re not even there.

Well, physically you were right there with them. Mentally you were nowhere to be found, certainly not on their conversational level. Wade had been bouncing you in his lap for god knows how long. His cock in your cunt had thoroughly fucked your train of thought off the tracks. Your internal monologue was nothing but bitchy whimpers and primal burning for more. Welp. What do you expect? Back to back orgasms will do to that to you. You couldn’t even recall how the argument started, and context would’ve really been helpful.

“Wow! Okay! That’s a shitty thing to say to our guest! Wanna apologize and maybe try that one again, JK Rowling?”

"Oh, get fucked. That's not what I meant and you know it." Logan kept his firm hands on your shoulders, assisting your bounce, since your legs were damn near liquified.

“Mmmmm, ah, gah-fuuuck… Wh... Wha? Huh?”

“How is that not what you meant?" Wade, questioned, maintaining his steel grip on your ass. He felt that he had to protect you from the big bad wolf and his transphobia. "You just said he’s not a real man because he has a pussy. A tight, sweet, JUICY pussy that feels like a fleshlight full of microwaved angel dust. And yet SOMEHOW this makes him not a real man to you? Maybe you’re just not man enough for HIM, sugar-tits!”

"I said you gotta fuck him like a real man. You’re being too good to him. It's gonna fuel his ego, and I’m not letting you turn him into a spoiled brat. Fuck him in the ass, that'll teach him a lesson. Show him this shit ain't a joke."

"No way! Ass is ass is ass is ass. Everybody's got an asshole, peanut, and newsflash? They all feel the same. But this boy's pussy? This hot buttery premium A5 wagyu bussy that's—SQUEEZINGmyfuckingdicksotight, oh, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, angel baby, sweet boy, you feel so GOOD! Making your Daddy feel so good, good boy!"

Praise was easy enough to process. It didn't require any cognitive effort on your part. You didn't have to weigh in and have an opinion, you just have to take it, and be grateful for it. "Hah, fuck! Thank—thank you, Daddy! FUCK! Wade! WadeWadeWadeWade—WADE! WadeWadeWade..."

But Logan wouldn't let it go. "I'm serious. Make him take it up the ass, or I will."

“Un-be-lievable. You know something? You must be the one guy in this universe who could see a whimsical forest path that leads to a magical unicorn fountain, and says 'Oh, no, none for me. Let me go spelunking in the poop-chute, thank you very much!' And if that's not the single gayest thing I've seen in my entire—"

"WADE, SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"Eeep!"

Oh, you poor thing. He nearly gave you a heart attack! It's terrifying when someone yells out of nowhere, especially when that someone has you naked and vulnerable in their hands. Logan had slammed you down on Wade's cock when he yelled, completely stopping the scene and trapping you between them. Woah. Time out. Shit has officially just gotten real. You and Wade held bated breath, and traded a glance that said "We're cooked. Nice knowing ya."

But Logan just laughed at you both. Delighted by the atmospheric tension he had just created.

"Heh... heh heh heh..."

Then he relaxed his grip on you, and those big strong calloused man hands started to explore. They massaged your shoulders, rubbed your neck and jaw, and groped and squeezed wherever they pleased. All the while, his hot breath, tinted with whiskey and malice, ghosted over the shell of your ear as he talked. He spoke very firmly. Targeted. Slow. He wanted you to get every fucking word.

"Listen, bub. I’m not about to question whether or not you’re a man, okay? But I’ll say this. When real men wanna take cock? It hurts. Oh, it hurts real bad. And most of ‘em don’t get the luxury of a cushy little cunt that’s meant to take a pounding. No, son. Real men get ripped apart by cock. It makes them cry and scream and sometimes their tiny little rims even bleed because of it. And you know what? They love it. They love how much it hurts them. Cause they’re men. Strong men. And you’re no fuckin’ better than them, you know that? You think just cause you got another hole that you can take the easy way out? Everything's gonna be peaches and cream, huh? Nuh uh. Not on my watch, you little shit. You wanna act like you're such a fag? Well then you’re getting fucked like one of us too."

…

…

…

“Jesus fucking Christ, babycakes, if you don’t want him up your ass I’ll GLADLY take the heat for you.”

[luvsupa]

tags: chef!geto x married!reader, cheating (don’t do this guys), naoya is readers husband, food play(ish), geto has tattoos + purple eyes, smut (kinda), mdni,

w.c: 1.9k

+ finally this is out of my drafts 🙂‍↕️

“i’ve hired a new chef.” your husband, naoya, announces coldly from the other end of the long, polished dining table. the sharp clink of cutlery echoes through the grand dining room as you both eat the meal your private chefs had meticulously prepared—medium rare wagyu steak with truffle mashed potatoes and buttered asparagus, the kind of meal that screams luxury. but his voice grates on you, cutting through your attempt to enjoy the evening.

you grip your knife tightly, scraping it against your plate in irritation, barely tasting the food. naoya’s eyes finally flick up from his plate, narrowing as he notices your silence. his leg bounces under the table, the tension radiating off him as he grows impatient with you ignoring him. 

“i’m speaking to you, woman,” he snaps through gritted teeth, barely holding back his annoyance.

you drop your utensils with a clatter, meeting his icy gaze. “and i’m listening. another chef, huh? what is this, the eighth or ninth employee you’ve hired just to fuck behind my back?”

naoya leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. his tongue rolls against his cheek, a clear sign that you’ve struck a nerve. but instead of shame, he’s amused.

“whatever happens between me and my staff is none of your concern,” he says smoothly, his arrogance on full display. “and this time, i’ve hired a male chef. try not to spread your legs for him the way you do for everyone else.”

the words sting, but they’re nothing new. his chuckle follows as he tosses his dirty napkin onto his half-eaten plate and stands, casually loosening his tie from his work suit. “slut,” he mutters under his breath as he walks out of the dining room, leaving you with the hollow clink of his footsteps fading in the distance.

you stare down at your left hand weighed down by stacks and stacks of luxurious jewelry—gifts from naoya, from a time when he at least pretended to love you. the massive diamond on your ring finger feels heavy, a cruel reminder of the life you thought you’d have. a life where you were cherished, not ignored and humiliated.

but that was before the affairs. before he cheated on you with everyone from his secretaries to the maids. you’ve tried to leave him more than once, but his connections, his power—he’s made it clear he’ll destroy you if you ever walk away. 

and so you stay, trapped in this gilded cage.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the next morning, you wake up tangled in silk sheets, the rich fabric cool against your skin. you turn to the clock on the nightstand—9:40 a.m. naoya is already gone, no doubt having left hours earlier for work. good, you think. it’s better that way. waking up to his smug face would only ruin your morning.

slipping into your soft slippers, you wrap yourself in a sheer lilac robe, its light fabric brushing against your bare skin as you make your way to the bathroom. after freshening up, you take extra care with your skincare routine and hair, making sure you look more presentable than you did when you woke up.

the enticing aroma of freshly baked pastries and pancakes floats through the air as you descend the grand, floating staircase—something you’d begged naoya to have built when you first moved in.

you walk into the kitchen, expecting to see one of the female chefs who probably has a history with your husband. but instead, you freeze mid-greeting.

“good morning, rina—oh…” your words trail off as your eyes land on a tall, muscular man in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with an ease that seems almost hypnotic. his back is turned to you, but you can’t help but admire the way his broad shoulders stretch the black tank top—no, wife beater—that clings to his frame. you can see the muscles in his arms flex with each movement, glistening in the soft morning light streaming through the tall windows. his long, dark hair is tied up in a neat bun, and his discarded chef’s jacket hangs over the back of a chair.

he turns at the sound of your voice, a warm smile spreading across his lips, and you’re suddenly struck by how impossibly handsome he is. it’s not just his looks—it’s his presence. confident and utterly intoxicating. your mouth goes dry as you try not to ogle him, but it’s impossible. fuck, he looks good.

“ah, good morning, mrs. zenin. apologies for the late breakfast,” he says smoothly, his voice deep and velvety, and you have to lean more into the wall for support.

you quickly correct him by letting him no the preferred name rather than naoya’s evil surname. “a-and, there’s no need to be so formal…?,” you drag on for his chance to introduce himself.

“such a beautiful name,” he compliments, sending a shiver down your spine. you feel like a teenage girl speaking to her crush for the first time. “i’m geto suguru.”

suguru. you roll the name over in your mind,

“do… do you need any help, suguru?” you offer, your voice barely above a whisper. you step closer to him, drawn in by his presence. his cologne is subtle, but it clogs your mind, intoxicating you as you catch the scent of sandalwood and something dark and sensual.

he looks down at you, smirking at your shy demeanor. “you wanna help, pretty?” his eyebrow quirks as he motions you to join him, and you nod, as the petname made you all happy.

he motions you to move to his other side but as you follow- your gaze catches something else—tattoos. a full sleeve, intricate designs snaking up his toned arm. your mouth goes dry again as your eyes linger, tracing the ink and the way it contrasts against his skin.

he notices, of course, and chuckles. “got these during a… phase. not really proud of it,” he admits casually, his voice smooth as silk.

“i think they’re attractive,” you say softly, barely able to look him in the eye as you flirt back.

his smirk widens, and he turns back to the stove, pouring a decent amount of pancake batter onto the pan. the butter sizzles, filling the air with the rich, delicious scent of breakfast. “i think you’re attractive,” he murmurs, “shame you’re already married.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, a reminder of naoya, of the life you’re stuck in. your smile falters, and geto notices, his sharp eyes catching every little reaction.

“is that whipped cream?” you ask quickly, desperate to change the subject, trying to pull yourself together.

“just finished,” he replies, turning down the heat on the jam. his voice is low, smooth, teasing. “wanna taste?”

you nod, unable to resist the pull of his presence. geto steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours as he dips his finger into the whipped cream. slowly, he brings it to his mouth. his lips part, his tongue gliding over his finger as he sucks the cream off, savouring it with a soft, sensual hum. his eyes flutter shut, and the moment feels intimate—too intimate.

your lips part slightly, unable to look away from the sight of him. his finger glistens as he pulls it from his mouth, the motion slow, deliberate, teasing you without a single word. he dips back into the bowl, scooping up a thick, generous glob of cream, his eyes darkening with desire.

“say ahh, baby,” he whispers, his voice so low, it’s almost a growl, holding his finger near your lips.

your breath catches, your glossed lips parting eagerly as you wait for him to feed you, heat pooling between your thighs at the way he’s looking at you. but instead, his hand accidentally slips, the cold cream falling between your breasts, slowly trickling down your cleavage.

you gasp at the shock of it, the cold against your heated skin sending a shiver through you.

“oh… i’m sorry,” he murmurs, though the wicked smirk curling at his lips tells you he’s anything but. “mah i clean that up?” he politely asks as you mutter out a soft, yes, as he smirks.

before you can fully process anything, his large hands are on you, lifting you effortlessly onto the cool marble counter. your breath hitches as your robe falls open slightly, the flimsy material slipping down your shoulders, baring more of your chest. geto positions himself between your legs, his gaze locked on your cleavage, his tongue slowly wetting his lips.

you tremble above him, his body so close, the heat of him making you dizzy. he leans in, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers slowly push more of the fabric of your robe, exposing the thin top beneath. his eyes darken with hunger as he takes in the sight of you.

with agonizing slowness, he lowers his head, his long tongue sliding up the valley between your breasts, collecting the cream in long, deliberate licks. the sensation sends a shock of pleasure through you, and your head falls back, a soft moan escaping your lips. he moves up to your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin, leaving hot, wet kisses. fuck, you didn’t realize how touch deprived you were until now- especially being in his presence is making your cunt quiver.

his hands glide up your body, one gripping your waist while the other cups your breast. your eyes flutter at the intensity as your breathing quickens as he kneads your breast through the thin fabric of your top. you let out a broken moan as he sucks harder at your neck while simultaneously pinching and twisting your erect nipples between his experienced fingers as his tongue continues its sinful path along your throat. and oh, the sweet melodies of your moans escaping your mouth does something to geto. he feels his work pants get tighter and tighter the more you let out your moans. fuckk he thinks it’s beyond pathetic how something so minimal is making him this hard.

“m-more,” you plead breathlessly, your voice a desperate whisper.

geto chuckles against your neck, his lips brushing your ear. “does your husband even know how fucking needy you are?” he taunts, his voice thick with amusement. his fingers pinch your nipple harder, drawing a gasp from you. “how much you crave this? how desperate you are to be touched like this?”

you shake your head, unable to form words, your body arching into his touch, wanting everything he can give. but just when you think he’s about to give in to your pleas, he pulls back, his heat leaving you suddenly cold as he turns his attention back to the stove, his movements casual as if nothing had just happened.

your eyes fly open in disbelief, your body still trembling, aching for him. he flips the pancakes calmly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as though you hadn’t just been begging him for more.

“i-i didn’t get a taste,” you whine softly, your voice thick with need, still perched on the counter, your legs open, desperate for him.

he glances back at you, a knowing grin spreading across his face as he finishes preparing you your breakfast as he turns around, hands you a beautifully plated dish of pancakes, the whipped cream and fresh jam. “i don’t want the food- i want you,” you whine as he places the food beside you.

“you can’t always get what you want, spoiled brat.” you huff in frustration, your body still burning for him, but before you can say a word, he leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“maybe i’ll let you have more when you learn some manners, hmm?” 

[hotnbloodied]

Hi there could I request a yandere rich boy x gn reader can it also be a smut if you are comfortable.

Fun fact, this will be the first time I've written smut for this blog. I'm not too skilled at it I'll admit so I hope that what I wrote will be good enough for you my dear~

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Yan!Rich Boy X Reader (!!SMUT!!)

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

CW: not proof read, yous/yours used, gn reader, there is SEX, sloppy lewd writing, alcohol, drunk sex, yandere is pretty tame since there is smut. (LMK if I'm missing anything.)

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

You were a business major at a prestigious college, you worked your butt off trying to get as many grants as possible. Even then, you still needed to seek out loans to help you in your class payments. Luckily you knew that if you wanted to take this path you needed to sacrifice a lot to the grind. A loud laughter broke you out of your thoughts, who the fuck is making so much noise in the library? You look over and see him, the ringleader surrounded by all his goonies, making you grimace. Derek, one of the top nepo babies at the college; his parents being owners of big trading companies. Rumors say that last week he couldn’t decide on either to get a Ferrari or a Lamborghini so he got both.

Laughter rang through the library again, why were they doing this here? There are literal private rooms they could rent if they really wanted a hang out place. Since you were a commuting student you didn’t have a place like a dorm to study in between classes that’s why you had to use the library. You couldn’t sit back and not say anything anymore so you walked up to the small group. “Hey, I’m sorry to be asking this,” why should you be the one that’s sorry you thought, but whatever, “I’m just trying to study and you guys are being just a little loud.” You look at each of their faces finally landing on Derek last looking at him in the eyes. His eyes widen and a cheeky smile spreads on his features again, “sure, if I can have your number.” You laugh slightly because you thought he was joking but he doesn’t laugh along with you so you gulp and take out your phone. After the exchange he leads his friends out of the library with him.

The next day after your classes you were in the library studying again. You noticed that someone sat down beside you and came face to face with Derek. “Hi,” he says with a smirk, “what are you doing?” You looked at him, confused, “I’m studying.” “Is it fun?” You scoff, “no, I wouldn’t say it’s much fun. But I can’t let my GPA drop so I gotta do it.” Your stomach growls, loud enough to be heard making you blush. Derek laughs at you, “come on, a bookworm still needs to eat right?” You were confused but packed up your things and followed him out to the parking lot where he pressed his keys and the lights to a Bentley lit up. What about the Ferrari or Lamborghini you heard about? Like reading your mind he said, “I like Bentley for everyday use.” He opened the passenger door for you as you sheepishly went in. The drive was surprisingly pleasant, the weather was cool and he had the windows down with the radio playing the popular songs, singing along to them making you laugh and sing along too. Your anxiety was raised again when you two arrived at what seems to be a restaurant with valet parking.

“Why are we here?” You ask while nipping at your fingers. He looked at you confused, “for dinner of course.” “I, uh, can’t afford something like this,” you said with a blush. His confusion turns into a chuckle, “dude what? My treat of course, come on.” He led you in and the host brought you two to a private room. You glance at the menu but don’t see any of the price tags, only stuff like aged wagyu. He looks at how you squirm and smiles, your range of emotions have entertained him since yesterday when you first looked at him. You were so different from him, constantly on the move, taking everything so seriously. What did it look like when you came undone? He was determined to find out.

He orders for the both of you and makes small talk to learn more about you, each word captivates him and makes him realize how oddly charismatic you were. (He’s already in delulu land) Each back and forth feels so genuine and like a breath of fresh air to him and the best part is that you would look at him when talking to him. When the food arrives you light up after each bite, never did your broke ass think you’d even taste food like this. And don’t forget the wine, you might have gone a little too far with it. He helped you back to his car and started driving, you had the window down and your head stuck slightly out and in the zone to notice that you never asked him where he was going.

He was bringing you to his place, leading you inside to his room, you crawled into his bed giggling. He gets in bed and hovers over your intoxicated form. “Hey, this isn’t my bed,” you slur slightly. “You’re cute,” he says. You giggle some more and boop his nose with your finger. He leans in and kisses you, you sigh as you wrap your arms around him and return the kiss. His hands start to roam and grope your body, with the help of the alcohol your skin feels extra sensitive making you whimper. “You like that?” He asks as he breaks the kiss to have a taste of your neck, licking and sucking with sloppy wet sounds echoing through the room making you moan out his name. “We’re just getting started darling.” He reaches down to your entrance, “look at you, you’re so excited to take me.” He slowly works one finger, then two into your entrance, the slow rhythm gets you worked up and you beg for more. Derek sighs dreamily, this is different when other people ask him for things. He wants to give you the world if you let him. He slips his fingers out of you and you whine more. “Don’t worry, you’ll be filled soon,” he slides his pants down and his girth springs up making your mouth water. You’re grinding against his shaft and it sends a shiver down his spine. He holds your hips in place so he can line himself up to your opening and slowly pushes in. You gasp as he enters, you feel so full and he did everything not to just ram it into you. You both fell into a rhythm, the sounds of skin slapping, whimpers and moans resounded through the room. You returned the favor and sucked on his neck and teased his nipples which got him worked up and he took your legs and pounded you in a mating press, the amount of pressure was dizzying and you found yourself being drowned in pleasure about to release. Your toes curl as you orgasm and he follows sooner after. You pass out and he looks at your sleeping form with his fluids leaking out of you. As much as he wants to keep you marked he gets a towel and wipes you and himself down before snuggling next to you.

Has he known peace like this before? His eyelids grew heavy as he listened to your steady breathing beside him. He was already convinced that you were the one meant for him, his one and only. He’ll take care of you from now on and he’ll do everything you ask of him. Derek didn’t even consider the fact that you might say no, because in his head he was going to make you his and it was your choice of either heaven or hell.

[suiana]

lol am I allowed to ask for yan!fwb? or have you already done that? like darling isn't looking for something serious, just casual, but yan!fwb is already planning their marriage when they get darling inside their sheets

(yandere! fwb x gn! reader) (silly😜) (dom reader)

"can we just fuck why do we have to go out for dinner?"

"because... because it's for the plot?"

you stare at the male, deadpanning at him as you roll your eyes at his stupid answer. what plot? you two were just friends with benefits, why'd he need to bring you out to some fancy ass restaurant to eat?

and he even made you dress up?? what the hell?

don't friends with benefits just fuck and get it over with? that's the whole point isn't it? why's he treating you like you're his lover?

"dude this feels like a date."

"i- it's not!"

the male stutters, cheeks pink as he nervously offers his hand to you to escort you into the restaurant. you stare at it before slapping the hand away and walking in. geez, did he seriously think you were about to act like his lover? no way!

the male pouts, cheeks flushed as he quietly trails behind you like a little puppy. aw... his hand really felt lonely and he thought yours might be too ☹️ no matter, you'll be fucking him tonight anyways...

"ahem-"

the male clears his throat as he anxiously fiddles with his phone, walking up to the main desk. you watch in slight amusement as the receptionist and waiters immediately gush over him, carefully bringing the two of you to what seemed like a private room? woah, you knew he was rich but you didn't know it was like this rich.

"a-ah... you can order anything you want... I'll pay."

"thanks."

you mumble boredly, flipping through the expensive menu that you'd never have touched if it weren't for him. dawg maybe you'd let him dominate you for once... as a way of saying thanks.

...

nah. actually you think he'll break down in tears if you told him to dominate you. he's such a crybaby.

"hey-"

"yes my love?!"

the male exclaims, hearts in his eyes as you stare at him with the most disgusted look you can conjure. ugh, he's always like this! treating yoh like his lover, calling you petnames... is he delusional or what?

"firstly, don't call me that. secondly, what do you recommend?"

"o-oh... hm, i recommend the A5 wagyu and the caviar-"

you blink in confusion, brain not processing any of his words. god damnit, why was rich people food so confusing?! all these fancy names for a tiny plate of food?!

"you know what, forget it."

you mumble as you slam the menu shut. the male jumps slightly, whimpering as his lower lip pouts. aw, it's times like this where you can't help but think he's so freaking cute.

"ah... I'm sorry darling! w-we can go to another restaurant instead... oh i knew this place wouldn't be to your tastes and i-"

"i want you instead."

you cock your head at him, grinning as you make your way towards the flustered male. you drink in his delightful expressions, humming happily as your friend with benefits turns into a cute puddle of blabbering words.

yes...

you never were that hungry for food anyway.

and he would fulfill your hunger much more easily.

"hehe, you really are the cutest, aren't you?"

"oh darling!"

ah. guess it really is time to devour him. in more ways than one.

[probablyintensemuses]

Tiny Little Good Things-

A. Aretas

PAIRING: ARMANDO X READER

synopsis: You and Armando get sent on a mission to stop a vicious drugs and arms dealer. Chaos ensues and you two find out why the lines between love and hate are constantly blurring for you both.

theme(s): eventual smut (+18), gore and blood, cursing, graphic imagery, angst, enemies to lovers, Armando is a dick and really hot when he speaks Spanish.

warnings: there is smut in this fic as well as many bloody scenes, if you can’t handle either, I wouldn’t read on!

authors note: hi, yes I know this fic is long as shit, but I felt it was necessary for what unfolds. There is more than 12k words here, so sorry to all my short attention span people. ❤️love you, k bye!

word count: 12.5k

“Ramos Malik, age thirty-seven and Miami’s biggest up and coming arms and drug dealer.’ Kelly says, fingers gracing her iPad as she swivels through pictures, displaying them on the plasma screen ahead.

“He’s a big fucking problem. 3D printing' slugs that are hitting the streets faster than crack in the seventies.’ Mike Lowery, head of AMMO, interjects. “Shells the size of a thumbs, sharper than lions teeth, are being pulled out of rival gang members, bystanders, and law enforcement all around the city.”

You turn in your chair, pushing away from your computer screen. “So, how do we stop him?”

Dorn rounds the steel table, a slab of guns, gear, and tech, gently taking the iPad from Kelly’s hand, and you don’t miss the way she blushes. It’s cute, those two. Kelly and you had grown close ever since you joined AMMO as their new technical analyst months ago. Dorn gave up the position, wanting to be present in the field—mostly to have Kelly’s six—he and his therapist had been making great progress and he felt it was time to be more than the brawny guy in the chair.

So that lead to you taking over and eventually many girls nights full of red wine, cheese, and pillow talking. A slip of a wine-jaded tongue later and you were the first on the team to know of their love affair. Sometimes you desired to have that of your own, but life and fate, as Marcus would say, hadn’t given that to you yet.

“Good question, followed by an even better answer.’ Dorn sails and the screen changes and a new scene plays. “This is Moxy, a new club on the strip. It’s where Ramos Malik and his crew hang out. Rumor has it he’ll be there tonight, and we're going to bind him with a sting.”

Intrigued you stand. “You need me to make inconspicuous body cams, don’t you?’ You gasp and breath deeply, a smile spreading on your face. “God I love it when you guys want me to make inconspicuous body cams.”

Dorn coughs and Kelly looks off to the side, biting at her nails. Mike walks over slowly, slapping a hand onto both your shoulders.

“Now, we know how much our sweet little, non-violent, girl here loves to just stay in her lane and chill here while we get into all the bloody action.’ Mike massages your shoulders, displaying you off to the group like a fresh piece of wagyu. You scan the crew's faces—mischief, panic, fear—but the one that snipes you the most is the one of Armando Aretas. He sits perched on a table on the far side of the room, combat boot clad feet planted on a chair as his brown eyes pierce into you, sending tiny, invisible sparks flocking on your skin. You suck in a sharp breath and look away. He always stared, so why did it bother you now?

When your ears finally stop buzzing, you dial back into Mike's speech. “But this time, it’ll be different. You’ll be out in the field.”

As if you were just tased, you jut away from his grip. “What?”

“Ramos can sniff cops a mile away. It’s what makes him so good at what he does.’ Marcus cuts in. “He knows our faces, too. The only face he doesn’t know, is yours.”

You take another step back, heart racing, completely stupefied. “So you want me to go and trick that bastard…by myself?!”

“No! Never!” Mike says. “Armando will be with you.”

A clatter echos through the room, all eyes snapping to where Armando was sitting, the little black stool wobbling on the floor. “The fuck I will!” He growls.

Your eyes narrow and you jut your chin up. What the hell was he so mad for?

“Okay, son, calm down. It’s a simple sting operation. If you’re careful, it’s an in-and- out kind of thing.”

Armando circles close, and out of habit you cower behind the wall of Mike and Dorn. You may have a high IQ but you’re no match physically for anyone on this team, especially not Armando. You’ve seen what he can do countless times. He was the silent beast, he always just stared and hardly spoke. No matter how much you tried to warm up to him, make him feel accepted, you two just never clicked.

You thought it might just be his past, how he was manipulated by his father and lied to by his mother, that made him so closed off, but with the way fury rumbles off of him so strong right now, pushing you deeper into Dorn and Mike, it makes you think there’s more unspoken. And if so, what?

Caged between Mike and Dorn Armando finds your eyes again, scolding your cheeks hot with his glare. It was as if he needed you to not only hear his words but feel them too. “I’m not going on any mission with the princesa. All she does is type and sit in that fucking chair all day. It’ll be suicide.”

Mike takes his son's shoulder, massaging them similar to how he’d done your own. “She’s the only choice right now, okay? She’s just the arm candy to fill out the picture we’re setting for Malik, alright?”

For some reason his words— “just the arm candy?”and “the only choice right now,” —sting. You may not be skilled in the field or in combat, but you were vital to this team and you spent months trying to prove your strengths otherwise. When you first joined the team, everyone insisted on making you their baby bird, some wounded thing they needed to protect in a gilded cage. You were the new young and stary-eyed cop, and they are all jaded-old bags who need someone to shelter. It happened authentically and you still couldn’t shake the box they put you in. You aren’t helpless, you are capable and strong and maybe this is what you need, an opportunity outside to finally prove yourself.

“If he doesn’t want to do it, I’m sure there is someone else in the field we can find.’ A surge of confidence flushes through you as you push past the Mike-Dorn barricade, chin help up high with defiance as you brush past Armando. “Whatever the case, I’ll do it. I can do it. I’m capable Mike, so let’s see my cover.”

A smirk peels on Kelly’s face as she passes you your file. “Okay, Ms. Bad-ass. I’m loving this energy.”

Armando scoffs, planting himself next to you, his broad shoulders brush up against your frail ones. The slight gesture sends a hear through you. Quickly you scoot away, no need to sweat through a perfectly good cardigan over mean-ass Armando Aretas.

You flip through your file. You’ll be playing Jenna Combs. A twenty-six year old dancer and model who is the new girlfriend of—

“You hijos de puta’s got me playing myself?” Armando argues. “What kind of shit disguise is that?”

Dorn shrugs. “It’s not. That’s the point. The Aretas name is still feared and no one knows you’re in with the cops. It’s a pretty believable story, you need new armory and he can supply it.”

“Last anyone in this circles heard, you was killing cops and slinging a new dope empire. Just get em’ to confess to making this bullets and where he does it, so we can get em’ off the streets for good.” Marcus chimes in with a smile.

Armando’s grumbles a few curses under his breath before his attention turns and latches onto you. Suddenly you feel hot again, like a solar flares are swallowing you whole. Armando’s eyes rack over your form, slow and tentative.

His gaze latches onto your lips before he says, “And she’s supposed to be my date? Suicide mission.”

“For who? You or me? Because the way I see it, with your attitude you’ll be made in minutes.”

The gap between you and Armando closes in an instant. Your faces mere inches from each other. His cool breath trickles down the crest of your neck and frosts the tips of your ears when he whispers, “Careful when you speak to me, Princesa. You’ll be alone out there with me, and anything could happen to you.”

Was he…threatening you?

Your balls must have really dropped in the matter of minutes, because instead of keeping quiet and apologizing, like you normally would if you managed to anger Armando, you bite back.

“Stop calling me that.” You grit your teeth.

“¿Por qué, eh?’ Armando whispers, pulling back from you and taking a seat on a nearby stool. His eyes are drunk with a flavor you can’t distinguish. “Only princesas get to sit up in their castle all day, shielded, while everyone else goes out and does all the heavy lifting.”

“I never asked to be shielded!’ You stamp your foot, moving in on him with a swiftness. Armando invites your challenge with grace, folding his muscular arms slowly over his wide chest, watching you stalk nearer.

You don’t know how, but you find yourself in between him, his legs two thick gates around you. Where it should bother you, in the moment it doesn’t because It’s your turn to invade his space. In this moment, the great Armando Aretas doesn’t scare you.

You poke at his chest with each syllable. “Rather you like it or not, Aretas, this princesa is going on this sting with or without you, and I don’t give a shit what you think, not anymore. Cool?”

A small smirk pulls on his face as he peels your finger off his chest, the digit so small in his his hand, his movements making you keenly aware of your closeness.

“Cool.” He stands, boxing you in with his large build before brushing past you and walking out of the compound.

You watch as the last bits of daylight leave with him as the door slams closed. This confidence was like adrenal coursing through you and suddenly you felt tired and zapped, being strong is exhausting. You take a seat, pulling at a loose curl atop your head, thoughts burrowing into your mind like a splinter.

To this day, you couldn’t understand the hatred he had for you. In the begging, when Mike had negotiated a deal with the D.A’s office and the department to allow Armando to work for AMMO, not wanting his raw talents to go to waste, no one trusted him. But still, you gave him a chance, because you knew how it felt to be the underdog and you didn’t want the same for him. Still, in his own fashion, he warmed up to the others…but never to you. But maybe he was right, everyone else here has put so much of themselves of the line, risked it all for the greater good, and what have you done? Nothing. You haven’t saved anyone or changed a life. You’ve sat and watched from the comforts of the compound. Their eyes and ears, that’s all.

You push to standing and gather your file. You may not be the strongest, or fastest on the team, but you had strengths and you’d make use of them tonight for once, no matter what.

Suddenly snickers and chuckle fill the room, bouncing off the walls of your mind and bringing you back to the room glazed with the smell of oil and pinesol.

Marcus breaks through the laughter. “Next time you two want to engage in some foreplay, ask for the room first.”

Your skin nearly peels off at his words. You could burn alive right now.

You and Armando?

“Never would that ever happen.” You shiver at the thought of being with any man, let alone him.

Armando is a mean man. A mean man you suddenly have to trust you life with.

But if that’s the case. Why does your heart not fall to your feet at the thought?

###

“You’ve memorized your role, right?” Kelly asks, tightening the final fixings of your dress.

“Yes,’ you nod. “I’m Armando’s new girlfriend, Jenna. I don’t speak, I just sit quietly and listen. I shadow him, basically. Anything he does, I do.”

“Good girl.’ Kelly winks. “One last thing.’ She digs into her pockets before brandishing a small knife. “Here, just in case things go south.”

Your eyes widen and you nearly flinch. “I thought you and Mike said this was an easy in-and-out kind of deal.”

Kelly sighs. “Nothing like this is ever easy. All things have the potential to go south.’ She grabs your face in her hands. “I just want my girl safe, that’s all.”

Reluctantly, you accept the knife, shoving it into your purse. “What about Armando? Isn’t he supposed to protect me—I mean Jenna?”

“And he will,” Kelly assures. “But you can never be too sure.”

You nod. “Right, whose to say he won’t abandon me if shit oops off,” your snicker is laced with fear.

Kelly walks you out of the compound and toward the front where you’ll be meeting the rest of the team. “He won’t. Trust me.”

“He did allude to it early, Kels.”

Kelly rolls her eyes, stopping you and giving your curls one last fluff. “Aretas is all talk when it comes to you, don’t take him for a grain of salt.”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to be mean.”

Kelly smirks. “See for yourself.”

She steps out of the way and in the shinning exterior of Mikes Ferrari, you see yourself.

Do you look like a slut, yes, but nonetheless gorgeous.

Your curls are loose and defined, a cascade of shea butter and hibiscus around you. Your makeup is layered, yet light, elevating your high cheekbones, wide lips, and honey-brown eyes. And your plum colored dress pops against your warm-brown skin, somehow making even your thin body look full and figured.

You look fucking hot.

And for the first time in forever, you feel fucking hot.

Apparently you’re not the only one who thinks so as a whistle breaks loose in the yard.

“Goddamn girl!’ Mike claps. “If I wasn’t some old dog, I’d ask you on a date myself.”

“I’ll keep my comments to myself,’ Marcus smiles. “You know Theresa be listening.” He looks over his shoulders, head on a swivel.

“Dorn don’t say a word.” Kelly scolds her boyfriend, Dorn holds his hands up in defense.

“Staying silent.” He whimpers.

Your cheeks flush. “Stop, you guys.” You giggle. “This was all Kelly, besides you know I look better in a cardigan and jeans.”

“I agree.” A voice emerges from the darkness. A wide berth breaks before you as Armando strolls over.

Your throat goes dry and suddenly your head is dizzy with a feeling hard to explain, as you take him in.

He’s fresh with a new hair cut, faded low on the sides and thick, raven black up top. His beard is full and more manicured, enunciating the sharp cuts of his jaw.

He’s graced in a suit, black-on-black. The undershirt unbuttoned exposing much of his chiseled chest and the gold, cross necklace that dangles there. His suit jacket fits perfectly over the swells of his biceps and his pants expose every aching muscle in his thigh.

Like gravity, it’s hard to pull your eyes away from him. But somehow you become the void of space and manage to.

You can’t say the same for him though, because despite his insults that same burning, tingling sensation finds its way tip-toeing down your back and to the swell of your ass. One quick spin and you catch Armando’s eyes lifting from your backside to face you.

“I thought I looked better in a cardigan?” You say, breathing heavy.

Was he just? No…

Armando swings open the passenger door for you. “Get in.” He grumbles.

Not wanting to test his patience, you oblige, taking a step into the Farrier.

Armando closes the door behind you before climbing into the passenger side.

At the window, Mike approaches.

“Get in ask Ramos about the bullets, say you heard about them from word of mouth and you’re interested in them. You’ll pay top dollar. Once he confirms he can give them to you, we’ll move in. Got it?” Mike explains to Armando before turning his attention to you. “And for you, just be silent, pretty, and say nothing, okay?”

“Won’t be hard for her.” Armando grumbles as he starts the car.

You roll your eyes, ignoring his comment. “You guys will tail us, right.”

Dorn nods. “You should be fine though, you’ve got Armando.”

Armando reeves the engine, slowly idling off and away from your friends. And for some reason, when you whip off, you can’t help but wonder if he was right. This was a suicide mission, just not for him.

Fuck.

###

The drive is silent and smooth. You really could see why Mike insisted on such expensive cars, they rode well.

Your heel-clad feet tap against the bottom of the car, humming a tune in your head, making you realize just how much this ride needed some music.

Slowly, you turn to face Armando. His eyes are focused on the long road ahead, his jaw is clenched and he doesn’t seems to be paying you the slightest bit of attention.

As smooth as you can be you carefully lift your hand up and turn on the radio. Soon enough Ariana Grandes, The Boy is Mine, blasts from the radio.

You squeal and find a small groove with your fingers against your purse, humming the lyrics and bopping your head to the beat. The song is just reaching its second run through the chorus when the radio goes dead.

You turn, seeing Armando’s hand leaking from the controls. Annoyed, you give him a look before turning the radio back on, louder this time.

Armando’s jaw clenches tighter, like he might actually collapse through it with his bite force. He slams the radio off…again.

This time you don’t bite your tongue.

“Would you stop doing that!” You shout.

“No.”

“Why not? I was listening to that.”

“I don’t care. I need to focus.” Armando grumbles.

“Focus on what?”

“I don’t know, Princesa, making sure we both come out of this alive, because I damn sure can’t count on you to do that.”

His words bite, but if he wants to play a snake you have venom for him. “Why don’t you like me, huh? What have I ever done to you?” You hide.

Armando stays silent, his knuckles whitening as his grip strengthens on the steering wheel.

You snap at him. “I’m not talking to myself, Armando. Why do you hate me, huh?!”

“Cállte!” He shouts

You don't know much Spanish, but you’ve heard him say it enough to know it’s time to walk away from the conversation.

So you do, resting your head against the window seal, counting the number of streetlights you see flash and shimmer as you zoom by.

When you were younger your mother couldn’t afford fancy candles so she used a flashlight instead. You imagine the streetlights as just that, wishing that one day you’d know what you did to anger Armando so much.

Not soon enough, the car comes to a halt. The only sounds filling the cabin are those of Armando undoing his seatbelt.

Annoyed, you don’t even look at him as he speaks. All he’s done is tear you down in the past few hours, you’re done giving him the energy you need to conserve.

“When we go inside, don’t say a word. I don’t care how many questions he throws your way, you don’t say shit. Am I clear?”

Slowly, you turn towards him. Your mouth is scrunched and your eyes filled with no sympathy for the devil in front of you.

“Crystal.” You whisper, venom leaking off your tongue as you speak.

Armando’s chest rises and falls as he takes in your anger. He squeezes Mikes keys between his hands, and you you really do your best to ignore the heat that unfurls inside of you when he bites his plump lip between his teeth and runs a hand over his dark, full beard.

You adjust in your seat, because despite his constant cold front, It looks as if he has something to say. You wait in contemplating silence, the only sounds in the cabin being your breathing and Armando’s hesitant taps on the keys.

Part of you just wants to go in a get this over with and never speak to him again, but another part is desperate for him to say something meaningful to you. Something like the things you say to him before a mission.

“Don’t die.”

“Come back in one piece.”

“Be careful.”

“We should all have pizza when you come back.”

You knew how scary things could get on missions and you just wanted your team to know you were there, to take away even a slither of the darkness clouding them in that moment. And for your first time, you thought Armando might do the same—say something meaningful—but he doesn’t.

In a flash he’s out of the car, handing the keys over to valet, threatening them about what will happen if any scratches and dents are found.

You take in a deep breath and look down at the camera, disguised as a gold necklace resting above the cut of your breast.

“You guys getting all this?” You whisper, stepping out of the car.

“Do you mean Moxy, or your fight with Hotmando?” Dorn says over the earpiece.

You come to a halt. “Shit, I’m sorry guys. I’ll keep it professional, okay. From here on out, I won’t let him get to me…that’s not what’s important.”

“Good, get in and come back to us. I need my girl and our wine down Sundays.” Kelly says.

You smile, making your way over to wear Armando stands at the mouth of the nightclub, hoping he heard your words.

The sour look on his face as you walk through the door he holds open for you—sure to flip my hair as you do, giving him a nice taste of your leave in conditioner—tells you he certainly did, and perhaps he didn’t like what you had to say, but nonetheless…

He wont bother you anymore. Not tonight, at least.

Inside Moxy tore hit with a wave of a scent that nearly makes you gag—weed, sweat, and criminal activity. The club its self is large in scale, high ceilings with rope dancers stringing off the tops and flashing red and blue lights melting to make a purple haze over the club. Smoke and bubble guns are in constant effect and you’re pretty sure you can feel the bass of Wiz Khalifa’s Black and Yellow in your thoracic cavity.

From what you can see there are three floors, the first and second appear to be where the actual clubbing takes place. You watch the sweaty bodies corralled into dance floors, babbling nonsense either too drunk or too high for their own good.

But above, on the third, it is caged in and covered by glass. Yellow lights, different from the multi-colored ones below, remain at a halt and big , burly men with guns at their hips wander the halls. No doubt looking to take out any threat that comes for their boss—Ramos Malik.

“The glass. It’s bullet proof.” Armando says, eyeing the scene above, just as you do.

You would praise him for the impressive catch. But you’re Jenna now, and Jenna doesn’t speak.

“Any sign of Malik?” Mike asks.

“Not yet,’ Armando places a hand on the small of your back, making you flinch. “But we’re about to find out.”

Never moving his hands from your waist, Armando guides the two of you through the sweaty pillage of bodies and towards the elevators.

The ride up is quick, quiet. That’s not shocking. But what is shocking, as soon as the elevator comes to a screeching halt, Armando grabs your hand in his, completely engulfing your own with his size.

The burning sensation wraps up your wrist and shoots straight to your cheeks where you flush.

“What are you doing?” You gasps, trying to pull away. You did not sign up for this kind of role play.

Armando turns to look at you. “If you’re my girlfriend, we’ve got to play the part. Other than that you just look like someone who I brought out on a hit with me.” He squeezes your hand.

You suck in a deep breath at the motion, looking away.

“What’s wrong, princesa? This too much for you?” For a second, you thought he meant the fact that he was holding your hand, and in that case he wouldn’t be wrong, but soon enough the doors open and you shortly realize what he means.

The two burly men from early, dapper in black and white suits, wait outside the elevator, fingers in the triggers of their guns.

“Aretas.’ They nod, tuning your attention to you. “Whose this?”

“My girl, Jenna.” Armando says, gruffly.

One of the men nods, motioning you forward. You swallow, backing up a bit, hesitant on what to do.

Armando nudges you forward. “Esta bien bebe.”

You nod and walk towards them. They grab you up, calloused hands running up and down your body, and your pretty sure they linger to long on your untouchables on purpose.

Sweat begins to pile in your hands as a thought burst into your mind. What would happen if they found the knife Kelly gave you? She’d shoved it in a pretty good spot, but still, these guys were being thorough…and not in a good way.

You make eye contact with Armando as one of the guards continues to fill you up with what feels like excessive force.

In a blur, Armando pushes off the wall with his foot, slapping a hand on the guards shoulder.

“She’s clear, eh?”

The guard nods.

Armando grips his collar and pulls him in close. “The why the fuck are you still touching her, hm?”

The guard swallows, fear evident in his eyes.

“Just covering the bases, that’s all, sir.” He whimpers.

“Cover the bases again like that with my girl, and I’ll cut your fucking hand off and feed it to your other fat fuck of a friend.” Armando notions to the guard behind.

The guard nods and swallows, caressing his hand.

“The boss is this way,” he guides us with a motion.

Armando grips your hand once more, leading your down the long hallway.

“You okay?” He asks, holding his gaze forward.

You look up at him, even in heels he still manages to be taller than you. “Don’t pretend to care.” You scoff.

That makes him halt, conjoined with him you have no choice but to face each other. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, yet no words come out.

You roll your eyes, looking past his shoulders. Inside the bright room, you can see a shadow of Ramos. “Let’s just get this over with.” You say.

Armando’s gaze lingers on your longer than you’d like, giving you the shivers despite the fire leaking off him.

Soon enough, he pushes open the door and you follow behind him.

The room is small, club girls linger around either serving drinks or being felt up on. Ramos’s men, stand at each corner of the room searching for the next threat to their boss. Luckily they haven’t figured it is you yet.

“Armando Aretas,” Ramos claps his hands, jumping off of the white couch he’s sat on.

He stalks over, cigar between his lips, and you take him in. He is nowhere near as stalky as Armando, and his curly blonde hair is put up into a bun, exposing the undercut beneath. You can’t catch the colors of his eyes because they are covered by dark, Fendi shades.

His business definitely makes money, and lots of it. His three piece black and burgundy suit screams it all.

“To what do I owe such great pleasures?” He bows, lifting your hand up and placing a kiss on the back. “That goes for you too, sugar.”

Armando squeezes your hand a bit tighter at the pet name. You want to bite back and tell him to go easy, but you’re on stage now, and for your own safety and his, it’s best if you don’t break the act.

“I’m in the business of buying something from you. Streets are hot down in Mexico right now, and I need to establish some new territories…with a little force.” Armando says smoothly, sometimes you forget he was a hardened criminal not too long ago.

Ramos clicks his tongue between his teeth. “Ah. Come sit.” He motions you two over to one of his coaches.

“Good job. Keep em’ talking.” Mike says over the coms.

Armando takes a seat across from Ramos and you do the same.

A chuckle leaves Ramos’s lips. “I don’t think your pet likes you very much,” he motions to the space between you two.

Armando smacks his lips. “Nonsense. Ven aquí, bebé.”

You swallow and scoot towards him. When you’re close enough, in one swift moment, Armando’s slips you in his lap, running a rough hand up and down the exposed parts of your thigh, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps all over your body.

What the hell was happening.

Ramos chuckles, pouring himself and Armando a drink. He pushes it across the glass table, just out of reach.

Armando gives your ass a light slap, you turn and flare your nose, giving him your best “don't push it,” it glare.

He ignores it.

“Tráeme eso, mamá.” He says, motioning towards the glass.

You pick up the tumbler, suddenly realizing what he’s playing at. Ramos is watching because he isn't convinced. So you suck up your pride and do some convincing.

You grip Armando by his chin, rubbing the pad of your thumb in circles over his gruff beard before putting the glass against his lips, assisting him as he drinks.

Never once do his eyes leave you as he swallows the amber liquid, and the shivers that were once in your spine travel lower, much lower. You have to blink away the awful, dirty thoughts of you being in place of the glass out of your mind as you swipe away the spillage off his beard and plump, pink lips.

When you turn, Ramos’ shoulders drop and his smile is so wide it’s nearly reckless.

“So you’re in the business of buying my most popular product from me?”

“That’s right.” Armando says, a hand still caressing you slow and smooth.

“I am curious, though,’ Ramos takes a swig of his drink. “How did you hear about it?”

Armando shifts, the movement forcing you closer to his center. Your eyes go wide as saucers, your new position doing nothing for the growing pain massing within your heat.

“I’m an Aretas. Nothing in the streets goes past my ears…nothing.” Armando's confidence radiates off of him.

“Very well,” Ramos chuckles. “Let’s establish two parameters of this deal, then. One, you pay me before I give you any product. Two, you get caught with my product, you don’t tell a soul who you the fuck got it from. Sounds good?” He smiles.

Armando nods. “Just one thing,’ his hands enclose over your hips, sliding you off to the side, as he leans forward. “How do you make them? The bullets.”

Ramos frowns. “Why? You trying to steal my swag or something, Aretas?”

Armando chuckles. “Nah, just curious.”

“Feed his ego, he’s going to talk.” Kelly says.

“I mean, they're sharp, large, fast, quiet. It’s impressive. I just want to know how you do it before I invest any of my money into it.” Armando leans back, arms spread in a wide arch on the back of the couch.

“In our world now, with a little money, the right connections, and a fuck ton of fortitude, anything you can think of is a possibility.’ Ramos says, lighting another cigar. “It’s rare and hard to get everything right. But if you really want to know how I do it,’ he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper.

Armando does the same, you make the conscious effort not to. Instead you play with your necklace, making sure the camera catches his face and his face only when he confesses.

“It’s a three—,”

A sudden buzz swallows the conversation whole, swirling it down the dirty sink it had come up from. The buzz echoes once more before you realize where it comes from…your purse

Fuck.

Ramos straightens, likes a dog on guard, eyeing you fiercely. Your chest rises and falls with a weight heavier than gravity as your ringtone continues to blare out for everyone to hear.

Ramos licks his lips, like he’s hungry for what comes next. “Well don’t be shy, Ms. Jenna, answer the phone.”

You swallow and tuck a curl behind your ear. “I don’t think that’s appropriate right now. Let’s just finish up the deal—“

In a blur of fury, Ramos stands brandishing a gun, pointing it right at your chest.

“Make you perra answer the fucking phone, or I put holes in you both.”

“Answer the phone,” Mike calls to you. “Do what he asks.”

Armando gives you a cautious look as you slip your phone out of your purse. Your fingers are shaking, so answering takes a few tries but when you finally do get it, you see that it’s your sister calling.

“Make sure it’s on speaker too.” Ramos demands, clocking his gun.

You inhale deeply, press the speaker button, then answer, “Hey, sister, this isn’t really a good time.”

“Hey, I know you’re probably working late and all, but this is kind of important. My routers are not really working and I have a date with that guy, David, I told you about and I really need my tv to work.” She explains.

You bite your lip and lick the sweat that forms around them. “Have you tried turning your tv on and off again? You know I’m not really a whiz at that tech stuff.”

A pause, then your sister erupts in laughter. “Girl, are you high?’ She laughs. “You’ve been messing with wires and the internet since we were kids. That’s the whole reason twelve wanted you anyways”

Your hear sinks the moment she says those words, you hang up because the last thing you want is for your sister to hear you die.

“Well fuck me, Jenna, I’ll be damned.” Ramos growls, pushing his gun into your skull.

You pierce your eyes shut, brace for the burning impact of the bullet and pray for a quick death.

But it never happens, instead in a swift motion Armando pushes you off to the side causing you to collapse onto the ground. He makes a quick sweep of his leg, sending Ramos crashing onto his ass and the bullet that was meant for you soaring up and hitting the rafters, lodging into some wood.

Your breath is heavy as you watch all out war unfold before you. Armando takes on five men at once. The first man takes two tumblers over the head and one shard of glass to the neck, scarlett liquid oozing from the wound before he drops like dead weight beside you.

You let out a scream, backing away from the scene that moves like a riptide before you.

“Get out of there, now!” Kelly screams in your ear.

“I—I can’t just leave him!” You shout back.

“You have no training! We’re coming in, go, now!” Mike yells.

You gather yourself, undoing your heels, still watching Armando skillfully take out guys and keep clear of the gunshots that ring in the tiny room. You watch as he dropkicks one man, then shoots him in the face before stalking over to another man, dishing out a few punches, before finally gutting him with a knife.

He’s still on the move when you finally slip out of your heels. More of Ramos’s men are filing in and the fight expands,moving from the small room you were just in into the hallway where any innocent person could be hurt.

Unlike most times you weren’t in your gilded chair. You were in the field and you would help as many people as you could. So, you don’t think, you let the adrenaline cloud you as you bound down the hallway in hopes to get back downstairs and direct clubbers from the chaos.

Setting the golden elevator in your sites, you push faster. People below were already screaming, running wild. Who knows what could happen? How many people could be trampled and hurt. This only fuels you, quickening your stride. You nearly make it but a gunshot slows you, and the body of a bleeding girl drops before you, putting you into a full halt.

“Oh my god,” your voice is breathy and shaky.

“Why are you still in there!” Dorns’ voice becomes a far void as you rip at the bottom of your dress and use the fabric to compress her wound.

Two gunshots to the chests. The girl, who can’t be any older than yourself, gurgles blood which sprays onto her porcelain skin and leaks into her brown hair, sticking strands to the marble floor.

The girl coughs, sending blood splattering onto the side of your face, and claws at your arms, streaks of crimson standing out against your brown skin.

She murmurs, but it’s hard to hear.

You press deeper into her wounds. “Shh, it’ll be alright,’ You tell her “guys, I need a medic on the third floor when you get here. She’s…she’s in really bad shape.” You whimper.

The girl whines again, her eyes open and closing in two second intervals.

she raises her arm pointing a shaking finger in the direction behind you.

You wipe your eyes, blood no doubt trailing on your face now.

“What?” You croak. “What is it?” You turn around and see Ramos Malik limping over to you, a large knife in his hand.

You stand, putting distance between him, yourself and the girl.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?’ An injured Ramos says, limping toward you with his knife pointed. “Trying to get me caught up in some trap, but you weren’t even smart enough to shut off your phone!” He screams, lunging at you with the knife.

You tumble backwards, your back and head hitting the marble floor with the weight of you both. You cry out as pain sears through you, especially your hand.

It takes you a moment of readjusting to the bright lights and sounds to realize why. You caught the fucking knife in your hand.

You scream, as Ramos pulls it from your palm in a slice. Your hand open and bleeding, you cry out and roll away from another vicious attack by Ramos.

He growls and lunges at you again, grabbing a tuft full of your curls. You beat at his legs with your good hand, squirming in his grip. He pulls at your hair, making you scream, lowering his knife to your neck, pressing inward.

You let out an animalistic scream, pressing your thumb into the oozing wound on his leg. He screeches, falling to his knees.

Wasting no time, you crawl away.

You think you’ve gotten far enough.

You rise up on your knees and push the elevator button, but the cold hand on your ankle snatches you back.

You claw at the marble floors, leaving a trail of blood, as Ramos drags you like a rag doll. He stops, flipping you over and planting his weight on top of you.

You flail, kicking the ground and scratching at his face, desperate for him to let go. But he doesn’t. Instead, he cages you with his legs and wraps both hands around your neck, applying so much pressure that your vision blurs.

Under his grip, your breaths become distant and faint. Your muscles relax, and your eyes bulge. Turning your head to the side, you can barely make out the flashing blue and red lights from outside.

The team is here. But you're not sure they'll find you in time because Ramos is relentless, and the air in your lungs is vanishing. Your skull feels like it’s being crushed, the pressure intense.

You feel yourself slipping away, losing focus on your surroundings. Ramos moves your head to face him, and he’s a mass of incoherent clouds above you, the only clear thing are his dark, empty eyes.

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die,” he growls, spit slipping from his mouth. “I hope Aretas finds you like—”

Ramos drops, and oxygen rushes back into your lungs like a clap of thunder.

You shudder on the ground, scraping at your neck and slapping your chest.

Warm hands engulf your cheeks, and it takes a minute for the blur to leave your vision. When it does, you see Armando before you, a smoking gun at his side.

“¿Estás bien, mamá?”

His voice barely registers before oxygen slips from your lungs again, and you slump over, hitting the ground.

Armando scoops you up, and even though it should be a relief, you can’t help but be saddened by the way your team jumps over the girl you couldn’t save.

Darkness swallows you whole as your team swarms you and Armando.

###

“The stitches will dissolve on their own in time as your wound heals itself.’ Kelly says, tightening the last of the bandages on the hand Ramos had sliced.

“Thanks, Kelly.’ You smiled softly, rubbing at the soreness that still lingered all over your body, especially your neck.

Ramos and his men had been arrested, not on the charges the team had planned, but still, getting him locked away for attempted murder of a police officer and soliciting drugs would have to be good enough for now.

Kelly rubs your shoulders, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “I’m really sorry this happened to you,’ she says, eyeing your injuries, the bandages on your knees and hands, the purple-ish bruise on your neck, and the small scratches and scrapes all over your body. You definitely weren’t as hot as you were that night.

“It’s okay.” You smile. “I’m still here, so.” You shrug.

“You were brave that night, saving that girl. We’re all so proud of you.” Kelly says.

You shake your head. “But I didn't save her, Kels. She died. Right there, she bled out.’ Tears start to rim your eyes as the memories of the girl and her blood in your hands flare in your mind. “Fuck,” you cover your eyes with your palms. “I could hardly save myself that night…if it wasn’t for Armando, I’d be dead.”

You sniffle, taking a seat on a nearby stool. “I’m not cut of for the field, and I don’t think I should ever do it again.”

Kelly swarms you. “No. Don’t say that.’ She shakes her head. “We’ve all been there, helpless, but that’s why we’re a team. We cover each other's six when shit gets rough. So don’t feel bad, we won’t let you.”

You nod slowly, trying to let her words penetrate your soul so that you could really believe them. But right now, you couldn’t. You put everyone at risk because you made a rookie mistake by leaving your phone on.

You were to blame for all the carnage, all the bloodshed and chaos.

Armando was right, it was a suicide mission. And it was all your fault.

Kelly’s phone ringing thrusts you out of your thoughts.

She reads the screen number and looks at you. 'I got to go,’ she motions. “But if you need me, call me, seriously.”

You nod and wave her goodbye. You turn and fully expect to hear the compound's heavy, steel doors slam shut and lock, but they never do.

On high alert you turn and meet eyes with Armando. He’s in his typical black on black, head to toe. The only thing different about him is the white bandage covering the bulge of his arm.

You try not to stare too hard at the way his black shirt clings to his body, flexing every taunt muscle as he strides down the steps and towards you with a force.

Refocusing, you work on the project at hand—Dorns broken drone. You mesh wires together and a spark comes alive, something like the sparks you feel when Armando takes a seat next to you, leaving up against the steel work table.

“So that’s it, eh?” He says, staring at you. “Gonna ignore me.”

You keep fussing with your wires. “Not sure there is much to say.”

Armando chuckles bitterly. “I’m sure I could find some words. How about we start with, lo siento or soy un maldito idiota.”

You slam down your tools and turn to face him, fire blazing in your eyes. “I don’t even know what the fuck you just said.” You growl.

Armando stands, towering over you. “I’d be happy to translate for you, princesa. It means you fucked up and cost alot of people their lives.”

You flinch at his words, more reality of your mistake clouding over you. “You don’t think I know that? I’ve regretted my mistake every night when I cry myself to sleep because all I can see is that girl's face.

Your voice wavers. “Her blood.”

“If you feel like that then you should have listened to me when I told you that mission was suicide.” He growls.

“Fuck you.” You spat, walking away.

Armando catches your forearm, pulling you back towards him. “I’m not done, so don’t walk away from me.”

“Let me the hell go!” You try jerking from his grip but it’s no use, you’re stuck, stuck taking his abuse.

“No, you need to know that it was your fault out there. That your place is in the chair,’ he motions to your desk behind you. “You can’t handle the field, you’re not built for it.”

The need to prove him wrong boils in your gut causing you to lift your hand and swing it out towards Armando’s face.

Bad idea.

He catches your arm with ease and now both your limbs are in his hands. You try to snatch away, but Armando keeps you steady, pulling you closer until the two of you are breaths away from each other.

The heat in your chest spreads like wildfire as you watch Armando’s eyes linger on your bruised lips, then trailing down slowly to your hands and legs, accessing all your injuries as if they matter to him.

“Besides,’ he trails on, his index finger glazing cautiously over the ring bruise on your neck. “If it wasn’t more me out there, princesa, you’d be dead.”

“I didn’t think…”

“That’s the point,’ Armando holds you steady. “You didn’t think, and you not using your head almost got you killed. And if you would have died I—.”

There's a quivering pause in Armando’s voice, his eyes slam shut tight. You don’t know what to make of this, one second he hates you and the next he cares if you’re dead or not. Armando is a mystery you’re too tired to decode.

You jerk from his grasps once more and this shocks his eyes back open.

“Are you done?” You manage to say.

Armando licks his lips, slowly releasing you from his grasp.

“I’m done,’ he says, backing away from you.

You hold onto the steel table for support, the scorch of his touch slowly fleeting.

You hear the steel door crack open and turn to watch him leave, but he’s halted at the precipice, “One last thing, stay in the chair next time. It’s where you belong.”

With that he leaves, the steel door slamming shut and your confidence crumbling down.

You tried your hardest to not let Armando affect you, but he does. His words cut you deeper than Ramos’s knife. Maybe he was right, maybe you should just stay in the chair. But what if there was another time they needed you in the field? Could you just say no without feeling immense guilt? Probably not.

So when you write your resignation and leave it on your desk and walk away from the compound, you do it because you can’t stand to see the people you care about get hurt, all because you’re not a good enough cop.

###

“Okay, seriously! Are you really going to be that stupid and go back into the house where you know the killer is! Come on Noah!” You shout at your television screen.

It’s been a week since you put in your resignation and the amount of discourse behind it has resulted in you shutting off your phone and locking yourself inside, watching shitty horror movies to pass the time.

Because if you step foot outside, you’ll be mobbed by friends from the department and your friends from AMMO who, to say the least, weren’t happy about your resignation.

All but one.

Not that he mattered anyway.

They all hated that you quit, saying you needed to come back immediately and talk this out. But you couldn’t.

How could you face them when you were such a coward and created all that chaos? They worked so hard to save lives and keep order and you did nothing but fuck shit up.

It was time to jump ship before someone else got hurt in the crossfires of your neglect.

The thought pushes you deeper into your plush green couch that sits far back into your home, well renovated garage. But hey, Miami is expensive, and this place was renting out, so you just renovated it. A little love all around and it became an actual home.

You let loose a small smile looking around, the walls, once bare and industrial, now are splattered with a lively palette of bright yellows, deep blues, and playful greens. They are decorated with framed posters of all the things you love: vintage video games, classic sci-fi movies, and beloved comic book covers, each one a nod to your past. Strings of fairy lights crisscross the ceiling, casting a soft, whimsical glow that contrasts beautifully with your high-gear equipment scattered throughout.

Your floor is a patchwork of colorful rugs, each with its own story. Some are intricately patterned, those are the ones your parents gifted you, while others are simple yet bold, adding a splash of color to the room. Together, they might be your favorite part of the whole place, just because they keep your bare feet warm on lazy nights like these.

In one corner, a plush, oversized bean bag chair sits next to a low coffee table cluttered with all your retro memorabilia – old gaming cartridges, Rubik's cubes, and a couple of well-worn graphic novels.

The heart of your home garage is the tech haven. Your large, custom-built desk stretches along one wall, supporting your impressive army of monitors in various sizes. High-end computers hum quietly, their cases glowing with neon lights. Cables and wires, though numerous, are neatly organized, snaking their way through the room in an orderly fashion.

Shelves above and around the desk hold a treasure trove of tech gadgets and components – everything from VR headsets and drones to soldering kits and spare parts. A 3D printer sits in a place of honor, its latest creation still cooling on the print bed.

Your home made you feel complete, but still after you quit you do feel a little empty. You miss the small talks at work, the laughter, the bickering, the teasing. It just wasn’t the same alone. But again, it was for the best, because if there is one thing you know—keeping your family safe is the most important thing, above all.

And you’d hate to be their reckoning.

Flipping open your laptop you continue to scroll through your job search.

“What do you think, Chester?’ You say to your golden retriever. “Tech support job? Or maybe we go dark and get into hacking for higher companies.”

Chester whines, fidgeting in his spot next to you.

“You’re right, no going bad. Tech support it is.’ Chester rummages around a bit more before springing over your coach, darting towards the door. “Hey, I can work from home with this one!” You say.

Chester’s barks ring out, bouncing off the walls relentlessly.

You stand and make your way over to what’s got him so riled up. At the door, you bend down and pet him, still doing nothing to soothe his barks.

“Chessy, what’s wrong, huh?” You grab his collar, pulling him towards the door and opening it.

You stick both your heads out the door, turning them left and right, the only thing you see and hear is darkness and the bad storm slamming outside. You pull back inside and Chester sticks to you like glue. “See, nothing to worry about.’ You squat down to love on your dog, who's growling like crazy right now. “We aren’t like Noah, we don’t go into scary houses for fun. We’re safe here, Ramos is gone. ” You pat his head, but that only makes him bark more.

“Chester, enough already.” you stand, moving towards the kitchen and getting yourself a glass out of the cabinet, flicking on the sink, and filling it with water.

Your just about to take a sip when a loud crack of lighting explodes, illuminating your dark house, revealing a cloaked figure behind you.

You scream and drop your cup, shards exploding on the ground around your feet. Chester is in a full on frenzy right now, and rightfully so. Could this be Ramos’s men, did he send them to finish you off?

“You’re one crazy bitch, you know that?”

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die.”

You scrape at your neck, the tender bruise making you hiss as if the pressure of Ramos choking you has never left.

The figure steps forward and you screech, ripping a butcher knife from your kitchen sink, and pointing it at them.

“Back the fuck up!” You scream. “I’m a fucking cop!” You take wobbly steps back, watching Chester go up the figure and sniff them…then roll over?

Chester by no means is an aggressive dog, but he loves you, and if he sensed you were in danger he’d protect you with his life. So when he begins to receive pets from the intruder, you lower your knife.

“Kelly?” You say, she knows Chester, you’ve brought him to the compound many times before, but she’s the only one on your team who has a key to your place.

The figure doesn’t answer, they just move over to the corner of the kitchen, flipping on the light.

Your shoulders drop the moment you see his thick beard and warm-brown skin peeking from underneath his black hoodie.

Armando.

“How the fuck did you get in?” You cross your arms over your chest.

Armando shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto your kitchen stools. “It’s not exactly a place with state of the art security.”

“I could have killed you, Chester too.”

Armando snickers. “You and your pooch wouldn’t have done a thing.”

You grumble, crossing the kitchen landscape and moving towards the coaches. “What do you want, you're interrupting my movie night.”

Armando follows, hot on your trail. “I can see that. By the way, is that hello kitty on your pajamas?”

You look down and groan. Of course you’d be wearing something totally embarrassing when your least favorite ex-coworker breaks into your house.

“Stop switching the subject. Why are you here?”

Armando rustles in his pocket before pulling out a paper and shoving it into your hands.

You’re careful to unfold it because there is rain damage from the storm, but when you get it open, despite the smooshed ink on the page, you see it’s your resignation letter.

“Okay, and?” You shrug.

“Okay, and, take it back.” He says.

You chuckle. “You’re joking, right. Like you have to be joking.”

Armando’s face is straight. “I’m not.”

You plop down on your couch. “I’m not taking it back, I'm already looking at different jobs.”

A scoff leaves his lips. “So that’s it, eh? You’re just going to run away.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Weren't you the one who told me I should quit?”

“I never said that. I said you needed to stay in the chair, and still, you did the opposite of that.” He says.

You stand. “What’s the point of saying I’m a cop, if I don’t actually save people. You said that entire night was on me, so I backed away from the situation and now you’re mad?”

Armando sits quietly for a moment, tapping his leg against the ground. “I never said quit.”

“It doesn’t matter what you said. I did what I felt I needed to do.”

Armando scoffs, turning in his seat. “Yeah I can see that, real egoísta if you ask me.”

You stand, marching over towards the kitchen. “You know I have no clue what you’re saying.”

Armando turns, follows you, taking a seat at the bar. And before you know it, just like that compound before, you're caged between his legs.

“I called you selfish.”

You let out a gasp. “How the hell am I selfish?”

“Because you left the team!”

“I left the team to keep everyone safe! Not because I’m selfish!”

“We're safe! And we’ll be safer knowing that you’re safe, too, especially with some of Ramos’s associates still out there! I—we need to keep tabs on you.”

You stumble back. “What?’ You swallow. “Are you telling me my life is in danger? That Ramos will send people after me?”

“It’s a possibility we’re considering,’ Armando says, his eyes never leaving you as you sit across from him. “But if you come back to work we can keep you safe.”

“And what’s to say they won’t come for me any other time?” You croak. “Being in that compound doesn’t guarantee my safety.”

Armando rubs a slow hand over his face. “But I can.” He says, hardly above a whisper.

“You. Protect me?”

“Why is that so far-fetched?” He says.

“Armando, you hate me.”

“You keep putting words in my mouth, princesa, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m not putting words in your mouth. It’s just, actions speak louder.’ You shrug. “Ever since you got into AMMO, we’ve been the least close out of everybody. No matter how hard I tried, we just never connected. So yes, I’m sorry if I find you putting yourself on the line for me, unprovoked, a little hard to believe.”

Armando stands, his frame opposing against yours. He lifts his shirt and you hiss at what you see. Bandages, dried blood, and purple bruises litter his torso.

You look away but he catches your chin with his thumb, pulling your attention back to him.

“I wouldn’t put myself on the line for you,’ he said, pulling his shirt back down. “I already fucking did.”

“I never asked you too.” You mutter, looking away ashamed that you caused that.

“You didn’t have to.’ He sighs. “I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“What?” You turn, slow tears building, blurring your vision now.

“I didn’t want you to go out there because, as much as I try to hide it, I care about you.” Armando says, hot brown eyes melting into you.

You blink, stalling and stepping back. Armando…cares about you? Those two things shouldn’t even be in conjunction and your brain can’t process that they are.

The man in front of you has never been anything but harsh towards you, now he comes to your home in the middle of the night begging you to come back to work and confessing his feelings for you.

You truly must be dreaming…this can’t be real. Not that you’d be mad if it was. Despite all your bickering and misunderstandings, you still held a soft spot for Armando. You could see he was trying to be a better person, a more open person, regardless of his flaws.

And there were moments when he was kind to you, like opening doors for you, walking side by side with you to your car late at night, never forgetting to get your lunch along with the teams if you couldn’t make it. You knew he had a nice side to him and that’s why you showed him yours time and time again. Showed him it was okay to be vulnerable, but now he is, truly is, and you can’t even compute it.

“Why would you say something like that?” You swallow, something weird stirring inside of you, making you step closer towards him.

Armando does the same, closing the gap between you two. “Say what, princesa? The truth.”

You don’t mean to, but you whimper as the nickname leaves his lips. You look down, heat flushing in your cheeks. “Please don’t call me that.”

Armando scoops your chin with his index finger, your eyes latching and twinkling under the soft glow of your house's lights. “¿Por qué? no puedo manejarlo.”

“No.” You breath, studying every bridge and sharp angle of his face. This close, his beauty is unbelievable.

Armando’s thick, kept beard, is just as dark as his hair. His brown eyes are surrounded by a shade of full lashes, and his plump pink lips, glistening in the soft light. Armando Aretas was hard to resist and that’s why you feel yourself falling closer into him.

Like your mind is on autopilot, your hands fall to his chest, resting there and feeling every muscle he’s worked so hard for.

“I can see that.” Armando smirks. “I can also see that you care for me, too.”

“I—,”

“Want me to show you how I know?” He whispers, lips touching your ear and making you gasp.

You nod. There was no point in resisting him at that moment. Not that you wanted to either.

In one swift motion, Armando bends down and then you're airborne. His hands rest underneath your thighs as he carries you to your bedroom.

Walking over, your eyes never leave each other. You open your mouth to speak as a thought holds you captive.

“Is this why you said all those mean things? To discourage me because you didn’t want me to get hurt?” You ask, caressing his face in your hands.

Armando leans into the touch, nodding his head just as you two pass through the door of your bedroom.

He sets you down gently and you cling your arms around his neck.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” You ask.

Armando’s hands encircle your waist as he sighs. “I didn’t know how. I was just so angry that they’d even ask you to do something like that anyway.”

“And you were angry because you liked me?”

Armando nods.

“And when I was pretending to be Jenna…were you acting then, too?”

Armando chuckles, biting his lip, you look away to keep from melting. “You mean when I smacked your ass? I might have taken advantage of the situation then.”

You hit his chest and laugh. “I can’t believe you. That’s a violation!”

Armando leans in close. “I’d be happy to violate you some more, princesa.”

You chuckle lightly and wither out of his grip, taking a seat on the bed.

Armando frowns, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong? Was it something I sa—,”

“No. It’s fine. It’s just…I’ve never actually been with anyone before.”

Armando stills. “Oh. I was just joking with you,” he stands. “I can leave.”

Quickly, you grab his wrist, pulling him back. “No. I don’t want you to.’ You stand, taking his face in your hands and pulling him close. His lips are inches from yours and you can feel his nose brush against yours. “I want you to show me, just like you said.” You moan, placing your lips onto his.

Armando shutters, placing a hand on the nape of your neck. He opens his mouth, swiping his tongue over the bottom of your lips, asking for entry. You oblige and he slips inside, turning the kiss hot and fierce.

Armando swallows every moan you release, gripping your hips and pushing you back against the bed, his weight gently hovering on top of you.

He uses his legs, he spreads you open, you gasp at the motion allowing him access to your neck.

Like a man starving, Armando attacks your neck with hot-trailed kisses, lingering sucks and suckles, and licks that drive you wild, the heat between your legs pulsing now with desire.

“Fuck,’ you gasps and he palms over one of your breasts, sucking on the tender spot beneath your ear.

“Te gusta ese, bebe?” Armando whispers against your skin.

You shake your head “Yes.” You whimper.

Armando leans back, pulling at your top. “Let’s get this off of you, eh?”

You sit up just enough, allowing him access to pull the fabric off of you.

In a flash he peels your shirt off of you, leaving you bare in front of him.

Impulse has you covering yourself, but Armando reaches out, slowly moving your arms away from your chest.

“Don’t hide from me, mama.” He says, eyes darkening when he finally has a full view of your boobs.

“Mierda, you’re so beautiful baby.” He moans.

You shutter as he talks one breast in his hands, rubbing circles with it, while the other he latches his plump lips onto, sucking at your nipples.

The sensation causes your head to snap back and a deep, repressed moan to fly from your lips. Armando was doing the lords work with both his hand and tongue.

You squirm, squeezing your legs together and stimulating your spot, making your pants leak with want.

You had never had to opportunity to be with a man before, but in this moment you wanted nothing more than to fuck Armando.

“Fuck me,” you moan out. “Please.”

Armando chuckles, the sensation against your nipple makes you hiss. “Estás tan impaciente, princesa.’ He smacks your ass. “But eh, if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.” He smirks, pushing you down against the bed.

He hovers on top, snatching his shirt off. All of his rippling muscles on display before you. You bite your lip at the site, hoping to see more and soon.

“If you want me to fuck you, will have to get rid of these, no?” He pulls at the strings of your pajama bottoms.

You nod, eager to have him inside of you.

In a blur, Armando pulls off your pants, tossing them to the side.

If you thought you saw darkness in his eyes when he saw your boobs, the look he has now is nothing in comparison. His eyes are nearly pitch black as he takes in what is soon to be his.

Armando spreads open your legs, hissing once he gets a glimpse at your glistening cunt.

You moan just at the thought of bearing it all in front of him.

“God, fuck.” He says, pulling down his pants and revealing a surprise of his own that makes you gasp.

Though covered in boxers, you can see just what he was working with. And to say the least, he was huge, and thick.

“Come here, baby.’ He moans, pulling you by your thighs to the edge of the bed. “Let me taste you.” He says.

You watch as Armando’s head lowers between your legs and the second his mouth touches your pussy, you fell back into the bed.

His mouth makes quick work of you, versing between sucking on your clit and licking your slit in a rhythm that builds a euphoria inside your gut.

The force of his tongue against your pussy and the pressure of his lips wrapped around your swollen clit has your back arching and screaming out.

Your toys had nothing on Armando.

“Please,” you whimper and try to squirm, but Armando holds you in place, slapping your ass twice as hard as a repercussion.

With each pass of his tongue, circling arcs on your pussy you can feel yourself climbing to the edge. Armando must feel it too because he puts the cherry on top when he sinks a thick finger inside of you.

“Oh my—ugh!”

You’re a whimpering, whining mess. The sheets beneath you turning a new shade of green as you soak them with your slick.

Armando adds another finger in for good measure only adding to the build up in your stomach. Each pump, suck, and lick causes a buckle to snap inside of you and a high only the man eating you out right now can give you is climbing.

You reach higher, and higher. Your orgasm just around the bend.

One last pump and suck, and you come undone, all over Armando’s face.

Armando comes back up from the floor, crawling over top of you. With the little moonlight that shines into your bedroom you can see yourself covering his beard, droplets of cum covering most of it.

“Taste yourself for me.” He growls, lowering his lips into yours.

You latch on and a sweet, yet neutral, flavor slips onto your lips as you and Armando kiss in a harmonious rhythm.

You never let go from his grasps as your hand travels down. You grab a hold of his massive, bulging cock.

Armando hisses and whimpers as you begins to stroke it with a various pressures: soft, hard, slow, the soft again. He shutters above you, his faces desperate and pleading.

“You’ll make me come like that.’ He breaths, gripping your hands. “I thought you were a virgin?”

“I am,’ you hiss, still squirming. “But I think it’s a bullshit construct. I’m still highly sexual,’ you say, pulling at his cock, bringing it forth. “And I want to be highly sexual with you.”

Armando bites his lips, pulling you into his lap. “Eres un problema, princesa.”

“I know,” you say, kissing him once more.

You rock back and forth, feeling his cock press against your needing pussy. The pressure making you both shake in anticipation.

Armando breaks the kiss. “Do you have a condom?”

You shake your head. “No, but I’m on birth control.”

He nods. “Good, you’re going to need it.”

He flips you over so that he is on top. Finally, he reaches down and slips out of his boxers, his cock, thick, long and full, springs to life and you can’t help but moan. Your pussy is aching with the need to be filled.

Armando spreads your legs open, angling the tip of his cock with your pussy’s pulsing entrance.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” He asks.

“I’m sure. Now fuck me, please.”

Armando obeys, slowly slipping his cock inside of you.

You hiss at the burning, stretching pain, digging your nails into his back as he pushes in, your pussy swallowing him inch by inch.

“Mm,” you croak.

Armando stops. “Are you okay?” He shakes

You grip at his ass, forcing him inside deeper, despite the burn you’re desperate to feel all of him. “Don’t stop.” You moan. “Please keep going.”

Armando pushes in further and deeper, tearing you open, until you’re fully stretched and he’s reached the depths of your ocean.

You two stay still for a moment, him allowing you time to adjust to the new stretching sensation and his size.

You lean up to kiss him. He deepens it, molding his mouth to yours, before slowly moving.

You moan, holding onto him as he picks up the pace, thrusting into you faster.

You can feel the pain melting into pleasure the more he pounds into you.

Harder and faster you begin to feel yourself loose control, your euphoria coming to hit its second peak.

“Fuck me, ugh! Please, Armando!” You shot, lifting your legs, granting him deeper access.

Armando grips the tiny mound between your hip and leg, using it as leverage to drive his thick cock deeper into your soaking wet pussy.

Animalistic groans leave his lips as he drives into you at an unholy pace. The sounds of skin slapping and drawn out, breathy moans fill the room, reaching a devilish peak when you scream out, coming and pulsing around his cock.

Armando follows you not shortly after, his dick pulsing and pumping his spillage into you.

He rolls off of you, taking you in his arms and placing a sweaty kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He murmurs on your forehead.

“Okay.” You smile, your legs sore and your middle aching.

Armando lifts you up bridal-style and carries you into the bathroom.

Soon you’re surrounded by steam and soap as you two bathe each other down.

Showered, you two snuggle in bed, a burning question still at the forefront of your mind.

“Armando?” You say.

“Hm,’ he is hardly awake at this point.

“When did you realize you cared about me?” You ask, angling your head to head to get a good look at him.

Armando chuckles, stroking your curls you have yet to put in a bonnet. “I think I always did. I was just scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Maybe that you wouldn’t see me the way i see you.” He sighs. “I see only the good in you, and maybe that makes me a blind man, but I’m certain you’re a woman who can see through facades, and you wouldn’t see any goodness in me.”

You sit up. “That’s not true. Armando, of course you’ve done terrible things, but that’s not what I see when I look at you.”

Armando takes a hold of your bandaged hand, placing a small kiss on the palm. “So what do you see?”

“Now? I just see you, and all the tiny little good things that I love.”

A small smile graces Armando’s face before he leans in, kissing you softly. You sigh against his lips, not wanting this moment to end.

Though you two had some struggles, you wouldn’t have this pairing any other way.

You just wished you’d checked your blind spot early to see all the little signs you were missing.

[chefkids]

The Bear is A Midsummer Night's Dream and Marcus is making the violet love potion for Syd and Carmy

There have been Shakespeare references in The Bear from the very beginning. In the very first episode Marcus finds Carmy’s James Beard award for Fairest Creatures, which is a Shakespearean sonnet about life being short and how everything will end and die even if they're beautiful, but the only thing that survives are children, and not having children deprives the world of beauty. Nat's conversation with Jimmy about raising children was parallel with Carmy's conversation with Terry about starting a restaurant. Then of course there was Richie singing Love Story which is about Romeo & Juliet.

Violet and purple flowers are a reoccurring thing we see and learn about in Season 3 of The Bear. According to Roman mythology, the wild pansy, a type of violet flower, was originally white, then turned into the purple Love-in-idleness when Cupid accidentally shot one of his arrows at it, working as a love potion with Cupid's powers. The first time we see purple flowers is in Tomorrow when Carmy tweezing purple flowers next to Luca at Ever, this is the same wagyu dish they ate at the Ever funeral with Sydney. We see more flowers in montages, like Carmy eating them at Noma, bouquets in hotels, and at Marcus' mom's funeral and more.

A Midsummer Night's Dream TL;DR: The play starts with Theseus preparing for his wedding to Hippolyta, he declares that young people should have fun and celebration, not sadness like at a funeral. Hermia, Lysander, Helena, and Demetrius are in a love square and run away to the woods. Puck aka Robin Goodfellow, a fairy that enjoys mischief, manipulates them with the juice of a violet flower, love-in-idleness, that makes people fall in love with the next creature they see. Things get messed up, the wrong people fall in love with each other, and they all fight with each other. Puck reverses the magic, then the couples reconcile and get married at Theseus and Hippolyta's wedding. There is also group of 6 stupid men called the Mechanicals that put on a play, Pyramus and Thisbe (which is also the inspiration behind Romeo & Juliet) for the wedding. In the end, Puck breaks the fourth wall and apologizes to the audience for any offense the play might have caused. The Bear Season 3 started and ended with a funeral and an attempt at a celebration, and we know there will be a wedding in Season 4.

Marcus and his magic purple flowers are always tying back to Syd and Carmy. In Doors the purple flowers at the funeral cut to Sydney and Carmy's "cause you write in the margins" wholesome moment between them.

In Children, Marcus sees a white violet then it cuts to Sydney reading the partnership agreement that Carmy sent while wearing a purple flower scarf.

He then tells Nat about it, she mentions it's the state flower of illinois and he decides to make a white violet flower dessert.

In Violet, Marcus is working on some purple liquid and holds a violet petal, then it cuts to Syd and Carmy.

Even back in Season 1 Marcus was interested in the color purple and flowers, roommate Chester brought pantone color swatches. In Legacy Marcus and Carmy talk about creating magic to push his violet dish further, then Sydney appears.

In that same episode after the conversation about legerdemain and magic, Richie's notebook makes its own sleight of hand. It's a bit hard to read his terrible handwriting but on one page it says Lover for Syd on top and below:

Carmy -> Syd Luca -> Carm

And in another page he wrote:

Syd -> pansy Luca -> Carmen

Richie is Puck/Robin and he wants to see what would happen if Luca and Carmy start fighting for Syd. Richie and the Fak's have been fucking with the dream weave and Carmy’s love story for a while by pushing him to be with Claire.

The Faks are the Mechanicals, a group of incompetent manual laborers. We see Carmy tweezing herbs next to some pansy flowers, then Fak brings out the donkey piñatas. In A Midsummer Night's Dream, one of the mechanicals, Bottom, gets turned into a donkey then the rest of the mechanicals say they are being haunted. And we all know how much the Fak's love to talk about being haunted. Can't get more on the nose than that for them.

The Faks/Mechanicals are mechanics but they think they can make a movie/play. Theodore Fak thinks he makes art films, Sammy Fak argues with him over SD cards and tells him he makes films for children's parties. Even Francie Fak is a reference to one of the mechanics, Francis Flute, who is the only one forced to play the female role in the play they are putting on for the wedding. Also, In A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1999) Michelle Pfeiffer played Tatiana, the Queen of the Fairies, who Storer originally had in mind to play Donna. 

When Richie arrived to Ever he took off a fishing hook from a purple flower, then right after Luca appears and greets Carmy. Carmy's flower tattoo in his hand is a violet, and it was right in front of his face the whole dinner when he was next Sydney and Luca and they started vibing with each other. Next season will have a wedding and Marcus' white violet dessert will be tasted. Richie already told us plan he has for Syd, the pansy and it goes from Luca to Carmy.

At the end of the play Puck has an epilogue and breaks the fourth wall to apologize to the audience if they have offended them. Richie and Tiff broke fourth wall to address the "kids" aka us the audience in Apologies. In conclusion, The Bear is a Shakespearean comedy, but it is also first and foremost, a messy love story. 💜

[hxney-lemcn]

not a request

guess who's back

again

I have so many thoughts.

OKAY BUT HOW THE FUCK DOES IDIA ACTUALLY EAT???? He's a cursed human with human digestive track but he has sharp teefies WHICH DEF DONT let him eat like he should!!!

CONSPIRICY THEROY OF THE DAY: Idia is a twig bc he legit just doesn't have the AP to deal with his special dietary needs.

I dont remember which one but there's a vignette that has him explainin he doesn't like apples with skin cuz they squeak! AND LIKE YEAH!!! UNDERSTANDABLE!!! sharp teefies are NOT designed for apple!!! They are designed for ripping, tearing and swallowing whole-- which is NOT a good thing on a normal human stomach!

Hes also confirmed to eat chocolates cuz melty, and noodles cuz slurpable. Idia shroud DO NOT be getting all of his proper nutrients!! GET THIS MAN SOME EATABLE FOOD STAT!!!!

Sometimes, when I'm bored, I'll think about how to go about making a diet for Idia. (Definitely a normal thing to do.) He'd have to have very tender and finely cut food, in order to get him proper nutrients. Soup would be a good one! Specially if it has EGREGIOUSLY TENDER, I'm talking like FALL APART IF TOUCHED TENDER meat.

PLEASE WHATEVER GOD CONTROLS THE UNIVERSE.

LET ME FEED THIS GUY.

IDIA IS SUFFERING FROM ANTI-FLAVOR TOWN.

SHAKJNG YOU VIOLENTLY

I DAYDREAM ABOUT BULLYING HIM JNTO LETTING ME STAY WITH HIM OVER SCHOOL BREAKS SO I CAN PROPERLY FEED HIM-

Ok, ngl, didn’t think this hard about it but it made me fall into a mini rabbit hole.

Cus like the only characters drawn with jagged teeth are Jade, Floyd and Idia. Jade and Floyd are from the ocean and idk how you cook underwater so they probably eat their food raw and that makes sense cus their eels.

Idia? He’s not a beastman or a merperson. He’s literally just some guy with sharp teeth. (Not to mention that the predator beastmen we see aren’t fully carnivores. They have molars and muscles that let them chew their food thoroughly).

Looking it up, carnivorous animals don’t actually chew, they use their sharp teeth to rip meat into smaller pieces that they can swallow. So on that wavelength, Idia would probs be similar, BUT! He’s not gonna eat raw meat. Ew. And cooked meat can be more tough. So, how do we fix this?

Soup. Tender meats (like wagyu). Shredded meats. Noodles. Dishes that you tend to swallow instead of chew.

There are so many vegetarian lentil soups you can make. They’re super healthy (cus lentils) and taste so good. Not to mention all the pasta dishes he could have (peanut noodles come to mind). Yum. There’s this slow cooker ramen recipe I wanna make and it had shredded beef. I feel like he’d go to town on that.

But yeah, he’s not gonna go out of his way to make or find recipes. So he sticks with his instant ramen.

Once you start cooking for him it’s over. I don’t think he could go back to the bland microwaveable food. Get him iron rich recipes and he’s gonna wonder why he doesn’t feel so lightheaded anymore 💀

In conclusion, you will become his personal chef and he will start to feel healthier. Especially when he realizes there are a ton of options for him, you just gotta look.

[thebearer]

please can i request reader being carmy's taste tester? something sweet and cute please i love your writing

omg thank you so much!!!!! <3 yes! fluffy taste tester blurb ahead with carmen berzatto! just an inside look at his banter with you!

"Ok, taste this." Carmen gave a final stir to the pot on the stove, tapping it firmly on the side before reaching for the small spoon.

You swung your legs, contently perched on the counter beside him- well, not beside him bc Carmen was sort of a maniac in the kitchen, a little chaotic and bounding around when he got in his rhythm. You sat out of the way, but close enough to still watch him, how electric and excited he got cooking. It made your chest swell.

"What's this one?" You hummed, leaning forward while Carmen came towards you, one hand cupping underneath the spoon to stop spillage, the other holding the spoon delicately.

"Uh, same thing. Added the cream and shallots to it, might add those black cherries if it still needs some sweetness..." Carmen rambled out loud, his mind already whirring with what he could add next.

You smiled, placing your hand on his wrist gently. "I thought the last one was good. Perfect." You added.

Carmen gave you a look, pointed and a little playful. "C'mon, it's not perfect." He shook his head. "Too salty with the veal and the steak. Maybe if it was salmon or chicken, something a little lighter it'd be alright, but-"

You giggled lightly, Carmen cutting himself off. He flushed, shaking his head lightly at his own ramble, lips curling with your infectious laugh. "Just open up for me."

You unhinged your jaw, eyes on Carmen's while he guided the spoon into your mouth, free hand cradling your cheek sweetly. You let the sauce swirl on your tongue, really taste it like Carmen was always yapping that you should.

"Mmm..." You hummed, eyes fluttering closed, the blend of spices and creams and sauces all dancing in a melody on your tongue. You weren't a chef, not by any means. You could barely make eggs, but you appreciated that Carmen valued your opinion.

"Good?" Carmen's eyes lit up, tinging with excitement for your approval.

"Really good." You nodded, beaming at him. You held the spoon in your hand, grinning at him. "I was wrong. This is perfect."

"Yeah? You think?" Carmen's fingers tapped anxiously on your thigh. "Are you sure with the Wagyu? Syd's making these creamy potatoes with a sauce that's already kinda creamy like this. Fuck, I-I just think it needs something sweet ya know? To break up the flavor palette-"

"-Carmy." You cooed, jumping down to pad towards him lightly. You wrapped your arms around his waist, hands gliding over his back, rubbing the toned- tense muscles through the soft cotton of his shirt. He relaxed into your touch. "Just slow down. Add the cherries if you think that would be best, but whatever you decide will be best. You know that."

Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head. "No, no, I don't." He muttered, face falling.

"You do." You hummed, running a hand through his hair, finger twirling around a curl. "You should."

Carmen felt the sides of his lips curls, the anxiety bubbling in his chest simmering down with a feeling of calmness at your words, soothed into your touch.

"Can you just... just taste it one more time, ok? And-And picture it with the steak." Carmen ran his hands sweetly down your arms, grabbing a spare pot. "I'll save some of this and add the cherries to the others, and we'll do the tasting tomorrow with everything and see what works."

You nodded, reaching for your spoon from before, dipping it into the sauce. Carmen turned around, eyes bulging gently. "Eh, eh! Hey!" He tsked, loud and startling you.

You stopped, staring at him in irritation. "What?" You huffed.

"Is that- is that a clean spoon?" Carmen's eyes flickered from you and the spoon.

"It's the one from before-"

"-Baby," Carmen gasped, like you had committed a federal offense- in his kitchen, it was. "I told you, don't dip a spoon in there you've had in your mouth! Fresh spoon! That's a health code violation, c'mon."

You rolled your eyes. "Carmy, it's just us."

"Ok, but-but, now you have your spit all in that."

"Doesn't the heat cook it out?"

Carmen scoffed, eyes rolling before pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, I-I can't believe you just... Now you got your germs all in my sauce."

"My germs?" You gawked, eyeing him carefully. "You don't want my germs now?"

"Not in my food." Carmen hummed, lips pressed to hide his smirk. He was a little wound tight, a little too strict about things he shouldn't be especially in the kitchen with you. He couldn't help it, and he was glad you found it amusing.

You scoffed loudly. "Please, Carmen. You act like we've never kissed before. You've had my spit in you all the time." You glared at him playfully.

Carmen couldn't help the blush he felt rising in his chest, heart hammering away lightly. "Yeah, but wasn't in my food."

"I think you'll be alright." You dismissed, setting the spoon down on the cabinet. Another twitch of his eye when there was a spoon rest right there.

"I hope so. Hope you don't have any germs-"

"-If I have any germs, they're yours." You eyed him knowingly, smug at the way he blushed.

"Watch it." Carmen pointed at you playfully, turning to wipe the counter with his rag, tossing the spoon in the sink. He waited a beat. "Get a clean spoon next time, please."

You laughed. "Oh my God, Carmen! You have literally eaten my ass before and this-"

"-Hey!" Carmen snapped at you through a feigned sternness that faltered with his glowing cheeks. You giggled, leaning back against the counter to watch him, all flustered and fighting a smile. "That's even more of a reason I don't want your germs in my food."

"More like your germs." You muttered, jumping back up on the counter, hips shuffling back to press your back to the cabinets.

"Easy." Carmen's eyes cut to yours, a stern look that had you flushing, tummy flipping with that familiar heat. "Don't get me distracted in here. I'll have you step out."

"Heard, Chef." You nodded exaggeratedly.

Carmen wasn't sure why he blushed hearing you say it, cock twitching behind his zipper at the words. "Get over here and help me stir this, please. Don't want it to burn. I'm gonna chop these cherries up."

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Hi darling! You' ve done incredible works! Could you please take a request for Raymond Smith with competency and size kinks?

Thank you for reading this 🩷🩷🩷

Thank you so much!

For once, I am so fucking happy with this but I really hope you like it. No pressure tags @yourwinchesterbros @rayslittlekitten @youflickedtooharddamnit

Masterlist

Roll Your Own

Contains: Cannabis use, competency kink, size kink, oral sex (f receiving) P in V, fluff.

1.6 K words

Ray is good at everything he does

You watched as Ray carefully picked the flower away from its stem, placing it in the grinder before sealing it and twisting the top with practised, precise movements. Seconds later, he was softly sprinkling the finely ground herb on the rolling paper. Meticulous fingers placed the filter at the end and finally rolled the joint tight before he slid it in front of you. "There you go, Love."

He made his with the same precision, with the added addition of tobacco from a cigarette, and you sighed. "That shit will kill you know?"

He chuckled warmly and shook his head. "There's plenty of stuff that's going to kill me, and a good, old fashion fifty fifty is not one of them." He reached out, squeezing your knee lovingly before flicking on his lighter and lighting your joint, then his own. His eyes remained on you as you inhaled, and he waited until you puffed out a lung full of smoke before speaking. "Good?"

You nodded. "You always rolled good joints, even if you complain about the new school nonsense I like."

The weather was warm enough that all you needed to be comfortable was a blanket over your lap and Ray sitting next to you. He slung his arm around the back of the bench and over your shoulder, pulling you close as the smoke blew away in the wind. "This is nice."

He smiled. "Yeah, it is." You leaned into him, somehow, whether it be the way he dressed or the way he carried himself, he managed to make himself look so much smaller than he was. In truth, he was broad and tall, with all lean muscles and coiled strength, and without all the trapping of high society dress, he was an intimidating large man. "You look lost in thought." He had pressed his nose to the side of your face, breathing in the scent of your shampoo as he spoke.

"I'm just thinking about how hot your are with your shirt off, and how I'd kill for some hot chips." It was getting close to dinner time, the lights around the barbeque turning on as the sun set over the hill.

He sighed and pressed his lips to your temple. "I can get you some hot chips, then we'll see about the other thing."

He stood up and stretched out his hand, pulling you to your feet before walking you to the kitchen and sitting you on a stool at the bench. Everything happened like a dance, the cutting board came out, then the knife out of its block and the potatoes from their bag in the cupboard. He liked showing off, a small smile gracing his face as he cut the potatoes into perfect, even lengths while the oven preheated, knowing you were watching with wrapped attention at every movement of his long fingers.

"See something you like?" He was a smug bastard when he wanted to be.

You nodded. "Yes, delicious carbohydrates."

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip turning up into a smirk. "What did you call me?" There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as the chips entered the oven, and he was walking over to you with a swagger in his step. "They'll be ready in forty minutes, how about I get some wagyu out of the freezer too?"

You nodded and placed your hand on his cheek. "I would like that." He leaned down and kissed you, his beard scratching your skin as his lips sealed on yours. He pulled away, brushing a stray hair from your face as he looked down at you lovingly. You craned your head and pecked his jaw. "You know what else I'd like?"

He smirked, his face lightening up as he shook his head. "Dinner before dessert, Love"

****

Dinner was lovely, Ray had once again outdone himself, everything was perfect. The quiet moments like this were the best parts of the day, with him stealing glances at you every time he thought you weren't looking. You talked about your day and Ray his, and with dinner done, you moved to the couch. It didn't take long for you to climb onto his lap, and he smiled into a kiss as you pushed his mustard yellow sweater off his broad shoulders. His hand found your face, and he fiddled with the buttons on your shirt, each one popping open with care.

He used his body weight to lift you off him and spin around, taking your hand and leading you up the staircase, stopping to press you into the railing so he could kiss you. It was only a short intermission, but it left you breathless nonetheless, and by the time you were through the threshold of your shared bedroom, you were ready to sink to your knees.

He stopped you with a smirk, and you raised your eyebrow. "What gives?"

He ran his finger down your sternum and leaned in close, his lips bumping yours as he spoke. "I want dessert."

You blinked. "But…"

He shook his head. "No buts, get on the bed."

You huffed, but you couldn't hide your smile. "You are a terrible husband, depriving me like this."

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed, lifting your hand to his chest to lay over his heart. "You wound me."

You use the excuse to remove his button down. "Yes, and you deny me."

He shook his head as he stripped off the rest of your clothes and walked you backwards towards the edge of the bed. "I could never deny you anything." He was gazing down at you with such deep affection that it almost hurt. "Can I put my mouth on you now?"

You nodded, laughing as you pulled back with you onto the bed. He kissed his way down your body, stopping at your breast to give each one attention before continuing on his journey. His massive hands ran down your legs, lifting them up on his solid back as he settled on his belly on the bed. He kissed the insides of your thighs, each kiss soft and reverent as he made his way closer to your core.

He licked you from entrance to clit, and you gasped out his name as your hips bucked. He stilled for a moment, throwing one forearm over your hips so you couldn't twitch away and wiggling down so he was keeping your legs apart with his shoulders. He began in earnest when he knew you couldn't shift away from his seeking mouth, closing his lips around your clit while his other hand reached up to play with your breast, and despite the lack of his weight on your body, you felt utterly covered by him.

He was moaning like you were the one getting him off, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you with each pass of his tongue. The edge inevitably appeared, and you lifted your hand from his hair to cover your mouth to avoid what would have been a wail, then everything stopped, and he was looking up at you with both expectation and concern. He lifted his arm off your hip and reached up, wrapping it around your wrist as he brought it downwards. He pressed his wet lips to the very centre of your palm before placing it flat on the bed and smiling softly. "Don't hide anything from me."

He didn't give you time to respond, returning right back to his mission with even more vigour this time. It didn't take long for the peak to crest again, and you found yourself falling into what seemed to be endless bliss as he licked you through it. He gave you a moment to catch your breath before pulling away and wiping his face with his hand. "Thank you, Love."

You reached out, rushing to free him from his pants, pushing them and his boxers down in one go before spreading your legs to accommodate him. His lips found yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist as you reached down to grab his cock so you could guide it inside you. Without the help of his fingers, it was a stretch, and you buried your face in his neck as he took over when you got too overwhelmed.

It must have been a lot for him too, because he was wrapping his arms around your body and lifting you up to sit in his lap, your chest pressed to his as he slowly rocked his hips upwards. He pressed his forehead to yours as you shared a breath, his eyes locked to yours as he picked up the pace. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on."

You felt so close to him like this, his considerable arms wrapped around you as he held you tight. You could feel his body rippling with each movement until he adjusted again and one hand left you back in favour of rubbing your clit. "Come on, my Darling, I can feel how close you are."

Your teeth latched on the meat of his shoulder as you came, pulling him with you as his rhythm faltered. You stayed like that for a time, catching your breath while his lips lay on your temple. Eventually, you parted and he pulled you with him as he laid down, brushing your sweat stuck hair from your face as you rested your head over his heart. "That was lovely."

He smiled lazily. "Yesn it was." He rubbed your nose with his, then kissed you. "I love you."

You took his face in your hand, and he fought the urge to nuzzle into your palm. "I love you too Ray."

Fin