#Like how much it would suck to be this thing

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's the most fucking frustrating for me about arguing with climate change deniers is the sheer fucking scope of how much it matters. sweating in my father's car, thinking about how it's the "hottest summer so far," every summer. and there's this deep, roiling rage that comes over me, every time.

the stakes are wrong, is the thing. that's part of what makes it not an actual debate: the other side isn't coming to the table with anything to fucking lose.

like okay. i am obviously pro gun control. but there is a basic human part of me that can understand and empathize with someone who says, "i'm worried that would lead to the law-abiding citizens being punished while criminals now essentially have a superpower." i don't agree, but i can tell the stakes for them are also very high.

but let's say the science is wrong and i'm wrong and the visible reality is wrong and every climate disaster refugee is wrong. let's say you're right, humans aren't causing it or it's not happening or whatever else. let's just say that, for fun.

so we spend hundreds of millions of dollars making the earth cleaner, and then it turns out we didn't need to do that. oops! we cleaned the earth. our children grow up with skies full of more butterflies and bees. lawns are taken over with rich local biodiversity. we don't cry over our electric bills anymore. and, if you're staunchly capitalist and i need to speak ROI with you - we've created so many jobs in developing sectors and we have exciting new investment opportunities.

i am reminded of kodak, and how they did not make "the switch" to digital photography; how within 20 years kodak was no longer a household brand. do we, as a nation, feel comfortable watching as the world makes "the switch" while we ride the laurels of oil? this boggles me. i have heard so much propaganda about how america cannot "fall behind" other countries, but in this crucial sector - the one that could actually influence our own monopolies - suddenly we turn the other cheek. but maybe you're right! maybe it will collapse like just another silicone valley dream. but isn't that the crux of capitalism? that some economies will peter out eventually?

but let's say you're right, and i'm wrong, and we stopped fracking for no good reason. that they re-seed quarries. that we tear down unused corporate-owned buildings or at least repurpose them for communities. that we make an effort, and that effort doesn't really help. what happens then? what are the stakes. what have we lost, and what have we gained?

sometimes we take our cars through a car wash and then later, it rains. "oh," we laugh to ourselves. we gripe about it over coffee with our coworkers. what a shame! but we are also aware: the car is cleaner. is that what you are worried about? that you'll make the effort but things will resolve naturally? that it will just be "a waste"?

and what i'm right. what if we're already seeing people lose their houses and their lives. what if it is happening everywhere, not just in coastal towns or equatorial countries you don't care about. what if i'm right and you're wrong but you're yelling and rich and powerful. so we ignore all of the bellwethers and all of the indicators and all of the sirens. what if we say - well, if it happens, it's fate.

nevermind. you wouldn't even wear a mask, anyway. i know what happens when you see disaster. you think the disaster will flinch if you just shout louder. that you can toss enough lives into the storm for the storm to recognize your sacrifice and balk. you argue because it feels good to stand up against "the liberals" even when the situation should not be political. you are busy crying for jesus with a bullhorn while i am trying to usher people into a shelter. you've already locked the doors, even on the church.

the stakes are skewed. you think this is some intellectual "debate" to win, some funny banter. you fuel up your huge unmuddied truck and say suck it to every citizen of that shitbird state california. serves them right for voting blue!

and the rest of us are terrified of the entire fucking environment collapsing.

[hitomisuzuya]

SOMNO WITH ADVENTURINE AND HYBIRD SCARA ARE MY TWO ABSOLUTELY FAVORITE THINGS I AM DRIPPING. DROOLING. BOTH GOD WE NEED BOTH

(Separate) Hybrid! Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Degradation. Scaramouche receiving. Scaramouche in heat. Collar and leash. Aventurine x fem!reader. Consensual Somnophilia. Smut. Cunnilingus. Mention of alcohol.

I have been meaning to write these for awhile😭 Aventurine's part is kind of long.

Scaramouche

Catching Scaramouche fisting his cock, lost in the unbearable heat and ache of his rut is what landed you in the position you are in now: on your knees, a collar around your neck with a silver chain leash attached, and taking Scaramouche's cock down your throat.

The links of the chain leash scrapped together as Scaramouche's hand tightened on it, you'd flattened your tongue on his cock in such a way as you sucked that it made his cock pulse hard on your tongue. Groaning, he yanked on the leash, lazily thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. Holding your head in place while he enjoyed the feeling of your throat.

"What a good little slut, letting me use your throat like a fleshlight," His ears flicked, moaning huskily as he pushed his cock into your throat. Your eyes widened, coughing and gagging as you adjusted your breathing. His thighs shook feeling your velvety throat spasm and convulse around his cock.

He ate up the adoring, teary look welling in your eyes as he degraded you. "You little whore, you've thought about this, haven't you?" He said shakily, looking down at you with a predatory smirk.

It would've been a struggle for you to nod with his cock stuffed in your mouth. Instead, you vibrated a long, happy moan on his cock, drool pooling from your mouth and rolling down his cock. You shivered feeling a hand tighten on your hair, shifting restlessly realizing your panties were wet and clinging to your throbbing clit. You slowly rubbed your thighs together in an attempt to gain some relief.

The smirk on Scaramouche's face widened. It flat out looked like you were teasing yourself. He relished in the fact that you were getting off on him using your throat however he pleased. He pulled on the leash again, using your hair as leverage to bob your mouth up and down his cock.

Your worshipping tongue lapping and curling, warm and wet on his cock sent him closer to the edge. His hips rock to pump his cock in and out of your mouth, forcing your mouth down onto his cock randomly to feel you choke on it.

Scaramouche let out a shaky whimper hearing you muffle submissive sounding moans on his cock, his fingers stroking through your hair before pulling on the leash again. "Swallow it all, pet," He hissed as cum spilled into your mouth, "Swallow it all and beg to be bred."

He was getting drunk on the power he had.

He is the hybrid, and yet you wore the collar instead.

Aventurine

Being Aventurine's secretary, it was common for you to travel with him, even if it was on a job that would demand months of his time. As much he enjoyed always having you at his side, there were certain meetings he couldn't bear to expose his sweet, doting secretary to.

Even moreso now that sloppy, drunken kisses were becoming more frequent. Kisses that he could still taste your mouth on his tongue long after he'd reluctantly pulled away.

It wasn't helping your case either that you were the walking cliche: hopelessly in love with your boss. You knew Aventurine was meeting with people that he considered a bit too unsavory, and that made you anxious. Anxious that couldn't take notes for him, or get him something that he needed.

You were anxious without him.

And Aventurine immediately sensed that. It was easy for him to see it in the way you sent him the occasional text telling him to text you if he needed anything. How sweet of you to offer to make lunch for him and bring it to him. When you sent the third text asking if he needed anything that he decided to video call you.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" You asked, your eyes searching his multicolored ones. Eyes that never failed to steal your breath away.

Aventurine chuckled. You just looked so cute he couldn't help but tease you a little. "What? Are you anxious without me?" He pulled his sunglasses down his nose some.

"No, I.." You looked away from your phone screen shyly, a deep blush coating your cheeks. Your heart shook that he saw right through you. You struggled to find your next words, shifting restlessly a little on your bed.

The shy little noises you let out made Aventurine chuckle again. "Alright, alright, I'll stop," He moved his sunglasses back up his nose. "My secretary is displeased. What to do? What to do?" He tapped his chin once thoughtfully for moment. "Tell you what, help yourself to anything in the hotel bar. Just start a tab."

"A-A tab? But.." You started to protest, but Aventurine hushed you, shaking his head. The teasing smile never left his face.

"The tab is on me. Relax a little, and I'll come check on you later," Winking, he hung up before you could protest any further. And a drink or two would surely sooth your nerves.

Much later that night, Aventurine let himself into your room. You hadn't answered the door when he knocked, nor did you answer when the lobby called up to your room to let you know he was on his way up.

Closing the door behind him, he saw why. There you were, passed out cold asleep on the bed. There a few empty glasses of your preferred choice of alcohol on the table next to the bed.

Aventurine sat down on the corner of your bed, his eyes wandering over your sleeping form. Oh, you probably didn't mean to let him see you like this. You'd fallen asleep on your back in only your panties, your shirt hiked up a little over your stomach.

You looked twice as delicate as you normally did. He moved closer to you on the bed, hesitantly reaching his hand out to touch your thigh. He gently prodded his fingers into the soft flesh, marvelling at how pliable your thigh felt. His gloved hand wandered up your thigh, keeping his eyes carefully trained on you for signs of you waking up.

Aventurine froze hearing you sigh softly in your sleep, stirring a little. His hand hovered over your thigh, close to your panties. He let out a soft sigh of relief when you did wake up.

"Aventurine," You said softly, sighing again in your sleep. His breath hitched in his throat as he took he off his sunglasses. How cute. Were you dreaming about him?

Your legs had moved apart slightly when you'd shifted in your sleep. You'd been so anxious all day, wound up so tight. His name sounded so pretty coming so dreamily from your even prettier mouth.

What would his name sound like if he made you moan it?

Call it a gamblers greed gripping him as used two fingers to push your panties aside. Why not give you something sweet to dream about? It was the least he could do given just how much you doted on him. When he shared those deep, drunk kisses with you, he could always tell your feelings for him were just on the cusps of spilling from your lips.

Aventurine pushed the tip of two fingers inside of you, biting back a groan as your juices started to soak into his gloves. He let your pussy soak into the material a little more before he raised them to his lips. "Just a little taste," He murmured, slowly licking his fingers.

A shiver danced up his spine. You tasted nothing short of divine to him. His tongue lingered, curling around his fingers to savior the taste before he carefully moved between your legs. Laughing shakily, he somehow knew just one little taste wouldn't be enough.

Aventurine's tongue dipped greedily between your folds. He struggled to swallow back moans, licking the shape of your pussy. He slurped quietly on your cunt, swirling his tongue around and around your clit.

Your body started to subconsciously react to pleasure in your sleep. Soft moans started to sound from you, only fueling the greed of his tongue. He pushed the tip of his tongue inside of you, rutting his now pulsing cock into the mattress feeling your pussy clench around it.

"Shit, I'm getting hard," He mumbled drunk into your cunt. He hastily took one of his gloves off, pushing two fingers inside of you as he scooped your clit into his mouth to suck on. "Just a few more minutes, sweetheart. Your moans sound so pretty," He fucked his tongue into your pussy with new vigor hearing you moan his name.

[dmitriene]

simon riley with a mommy kink, it's simple, when everything get's too much, suffocating him as if stuck in between tapering walls, and hiding under ghost's identity doesn't help anymore, he turns into a little boy.

back into his young years where he missed his mom, always too alone, having no one to address to, pour all the gnawing throughts and vile things that keep stalking him, instead ending up swallowing it back, curling up into himself, even through it's chokes him.

it was a routine for simon, something he was used to, learned to cope with it despite the breakdowns, the bubbling nausea from himself, the ringing in his head, what he thought he would never change, until there's you.

he doesn't know what exactly happened, how to explain it, all the sharply bubbling feelings, tingling in his fingers, hot flashes all over his body, but these are your touches on his bare, leper skin and soft words of endearment whispered in his ear.

you were all that softness that he wanted for so long, pleaded under his breath with hushed whispers when he was a little boy, wanting nothing but a warm chest to lean into, someone to soothe him, coo at him.

you do it all, calling him your sweet boy, something so silly that makes him melt, turn into a gooey puddle in your soft arms, face pressed into your supple breasts, the need to be cared for and touched carefully turns into something more.

carnal, in the way simon wants to possess you, hear all those praises without end, let your hands explore his naked flesh, all scarred and bulky, sometimes making him remember things he shouldn't.

making him crawl to you like a baby, needing his mommy, which he indeed needs, because only you have the power to shoo everything that haunts him, letting him carve himself into you, his meaty cock sheathing itself into your soft pussy, sucking him in, letting simon burrow his face into your neck.

he turns into something different from himself, huffing and puffing into your sweaty flesh, slurring broken moans of — “pleas', mommy, pleas'„ as you coo in his ear and pat at the crown of his head, letting him lose himself in you.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[hoejosatoru]

Suo likes teasing you under the table when you’re out with his friends <3

A gasp escapes your lips as your boyfriend’s fingers slip under the hem of your skirt, brushing against your clothes cunt. You look at him, but his face is neutral, calm.

“Everything okay?” Nirei asked, noting the flustered look on your face.

“Yeah I’m f-fine,” your voice caught as Suo pushed your underwear aside. He pressed on your clit, making you shift in your seat.

“Are you sure?” Suo asked, a teasing undercurrent to his voice. “You’re a bit flushed.” He gave you a slick smile, one that would look normal to Nirei and Sakura. But you could read into it, heat pooling in your tummy as you realized what he was planning.

“It’s just hot in here,” you replied, as calmly as you could. Too calm for Suo. He slipped a finger inside you, feeling the wet warmth of you suck him in. A smirk played at his lips. You were enjoying this and he was absolutely going to tease you about it later. But you didn’t care, you just wanted to be the good girl you knew he wanted you to be.

“Feels cool enough me,” Sakura commented. Suo was curling into your g spot now, making it hard to breathe normally.

“Did you hear about the fight Sugishita got into recently?” Suo asked casually, as if his fingers weren’t buried inside you. It made it hotter, somehow, the way he was fucking you with his fingers while carrying on a totally normal conversation with his friends.

Suo turned things up a notch, pressing his thumb into your clit. You gripped Suo’s thigh, trying to steady yourself. His eyes flickered over to you briefly, drinking in the sight of you trying so hard not to cum all over his fingers in front of his friends. Too bad that is exactly what he wanted to do.

“Are you sure you’re okay, y/n?” Nirei questioned again, eyeing you skeptically. You were certain you looked a little crazy. Flushed, breath ragged, on edge.

“I-I’m ff-” you pretended to clear your throat to stifle a moan. “Fine. Just a little thirsty.”

“Here baby, have my water,” Suo slid you his glass. You obliged, happy to have something to occupy your mouth. Suo, of course, used the opportunity curl his fingers faster into you. Water dribbled down the side of your mouth as you tried not to cry out. “Careful, you’re getting yourself wet,” Suo teased, his voice syrupy.

It was all too much, Suo playing with your cunt, his words that were dirty to your ears only, his friends watching, oblivious, but one wrong move from catching you. Suo sensed you were close and rubbed harder circles over your clit.

You tilted your head down, biting your cheek to prevent yourself from moaning as the pleasure surged through you. You couldn’t hide how your orgasm shook your body as your pussy fluttered around him.

“Jeez, I really don’t think y/n is okay,” Sakura huffed, “you should really take her home.”

Suo grinned, “That’s a great idea”

[etherealstar-writes]

I WANNA BE YOURS | WOSO X READER | PT 16

pairings: woso x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: sixteen

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

felt lotte 😔

neev you went to a wsl match and to an arse-nal one of all ?! i thought you were a chelsea supporter y/n 😔 how could you do this to me bae

kyra who the hell would be sane enough to support chelshit?

elton PLS

willybum CHELSHIT HAHAHA

neev are we seeing this rn sam @ samtheskippa the disrespect

sam the skippa kyra lillee cooney-cross

kyra erm mum, save me @ stephy

stephy i ain't getting involved in this

kyra 😔

meado oh my lord

tom holland's twin i have a concussion y/n ✌️ twinning

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ want me to come over and we can watch movies i'll bring ice-cream

tom holland's twin pls do 🙏

stairway why is lotte getting special treatment? i sprained my ankle the other day

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ sucks to be you

elton are you seriously still mad at us for accidentally giving you a concussion

the imposter aka y/n ❤️

neev i'll make it up to you with nandos i'll pay 🙏

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ okay

willybum that's all it took for you to forgive her? nandos?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ hey, nandos is fire 🔥 only ppl with taste can understand

mccard real

kyra real

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ and i can never stay mad at you guys for long

the REAL karate kid yayyy

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ but tillies are still my number one

willybum NOOO

kyra YESSS as you should 💪

the REAL karate kid okay but you support arsenal yeah? 🥺🙏

neev NAHH chelsea 🤍💙🥺🙏

brightness chelsea 🤍💙

flaming hot chelsea 🤍💙

sam the skippa aye up the blues 🤍💙

elton NAHH yanited 🔛🔝

earpsy yesss ❤️🖤

zelem ❤️🖤

turner ❤️🖤

hempo it's actually mancity thank you very much

lani ayeee

esme yess

chloe that's right

kyra nah y'all are absolutely delulu it's fairly obvious y/n should support ausenal we're superior 💪

wilybum you mean arsenal 🤨 ❤️🤍

kyra yeah that of course 😁 ❤️🤍

the REAL karate kid ❤️🤍

meado ❤️🤍

tom holland's twin ❤️🤍

mccard ❤️🤍

ford ❤️🤍

stephy ❤️🤍

stairway NAH WHAT THE FLIIP WE HAVE MOST OF THE ARSENAL TEAM HERE THIS IS UNFAIR

neev YEAH UNFAIR FR

cha cha i was gonna suggest spurs ....

willybum OH HELL NAH

the REAL karate kid NO

elton ABSOLUTY NOT

cha cha okay okay geez

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ i think i should remain unspoken about this topic before things get more out of hand ....

neev NAH this is an important life decision y/n

rusty metal wait y/n barca will welcome you with open arms

willybum THEY AREN'T A WSL TEAM LUCY

rusty metal i thought it was just clubs in general 😔

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ barca is lookin very convicing ngl and i most def support ausenal (and lotte) 🇦🇺✊

mccard technically i'm an honorary aussie so do i count in ausenal 👀

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ of course

neev i thought we had a connection y/n 😔

willybum why not lionessenal 😔

meado that is a terrible name

the REAL karate kid fr

willybum sue me for tryin why don't you think of something better then

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ nahh doesn't hit the same as ausenal

willybum i liked it better when you didnt know who we were and supported me 😔

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ that isn't very cash money of you willybum

ona you should come to barcelona y/n!

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ anything for you ona 🙏

stairway nahhh come support bayern in germany 💪

kie barca is superior actually

rusty metal that's right!

willybum they're overrated

kie you did not

ona added la reina

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ MOTHER ALEXIA EKBHFlkuweqBFQLUEB NO WAY OMG IVE PASSED AWAY

neev HELP the alexia putellas being added to this gc was NOT on my bingo card this year 😭

ona alexia, leah williamson just said barca is overrated

willybum deleted a chat

willybum i don't know what she's talking about alexia you're amazing

la reina thank you? your nickname is ... creative

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ alexia will you adopt me?

la reina what?

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ what? erm you are insanely peng oml

ona i thought i was peng 😔

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ YOU ARE

ona then you need another compliment for her

kyra alexia is very mother actually

cha cha she is fr

neev seconded

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ but steph is mother for me 🙏 alexia is literally la reina, my queen 😩

stephy what in the world are you guys talking about 😭

rusty metal wait what am i then?

neev grandma duh

rusty metal i shouldn't have asked 😭

ona grandma lucy hahaha

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ ona i'm packing my bags rn coming to barca right away for you

ona i shall be waiting

willybum i can't believe we're being forgotten about 😔

kyra no one cares lord farquaad

willybum you pest 😒

willybum changed kyra's name to pest

pest wow

willybum suits you very well

pest that's not gonna stop me from pestering you, willybum you do realise that

willybum steph control your child

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ but i never did anything 😔

willybum NOT YOU ALSO SINCE WHEN HUH? 😭

stephy do you have a problem with my children, williamson?

willybum erm no

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ mother, kyra is hogging your favourite son from your favourite daughter

stephy kyra give calvin back to y/n

pest wow i'm the neglected middle child i guess 😒

the imposter aka y/n ❤️ L

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

not me finally posting another crappy chapter 🤭

[sunarc]

cock worship w suna,,, *walks away*

A/N: This is so nastyyyyy I like it 🌚

tw: oral(male receiving)

This is his favorite way to see you, on your knees, mouth full drool seeping down the sides of your mouth while you struggle to take him. You were pleading so much just to have your mouth stuffed. He couldn’t deny you, hell he’d be damned if he missed an opportunity to see you on your knees tear streaked face gurgling on his cock.

“You're so pretty like this” his eyes stared down at you mesmerized by the sight before him.

You sat on your knees completely naked, chest covered in his cum. If he was being honest his legs were growing weak from how many orgasm you had pulled from him but each time you begged him to let you keep sucking. It was as if you needed him, as if not having him in your mouth gagging you with his length would be the death of you.

“You’re so needy” he groaned as he threw his head back

“You were on your hands and knees begging whining for my cock and now you can barely even fit it in your mouth” he chuckled as he watched your mouth form a wide ‘o’ shape just to fit the tip in.

It was as if you were in a trance. Your eyes were blown wide and the only thing on your mind was hearing him call you his good baby for taking all of him.

“That’s it just a little more baby i know you can take it deeper” his groans were so deep.

Any other moment you probably would’ve whined about how big it was, how you could barely fit it in your mouth but the way his words sounded so desperate as if needing you to fit his whole cock in your mouth sent a wave of determination through your body.

You felt your breath slowly slipping away as you slid him deeper and deeper moaning around his member. His pleasure was your pleasure. You looked up at him watching as his body trembled softly the deeper you took him. You bobbed your head slowly wanting to tease him just a bit.

“Faster baby… now” his demand came out in a weak breath.

You loved how easily you could make him lose his mind.Sloppy wet sounds filled the room mixing in with his grunts and groans of pleasure. His hand gripped your hair tugging you up and down on his cock.

“So fucking good, so wet, so perfect” his whimpers were soft barely heard over the sounds of him plunging his cock into your mouth.

“Fuck- i’m so sorry for how im about to abuse this pretty mouth of yours doll”

Before you could respond his hands were gripping the sides of your face holding you in place as his cock plunged in and out of your mouth at a sloppy pace. His balls slapped against your chin but all you could focus on was how deep he was going.

“Shit, shit, shit taking my cock so fucking well” he voice was shaking.

He was close and you could tell from the way he could barely contain the string of curses mixed with your name that fell past his lips.

“I’m gonna- fuck you better swallow every drop you understand me” he words came out as a deep growl.

His movement halted with his cock so deep in your mouth you could feel the tip of your nose touching his pelvis. He was trembling as loud groans left him while he emptied his hot seed down your throat leaving you no choice but to swallow.

“You're draining me doll, I'm not gonna have much left” he chuckled breathlessly.

He pulled himself free from your mouth allowing himself to catch his breath. You stared up at him with a blissful smile still desperately needing more of him.

“Just one more time please”

How could he ever say no to his baby?

Characters:

Suna, Atsumu, Daichi, Kuroo, Zoro, Ace, Ony, Connie, Toji, Nanami

[holylulusworld]

My annoying sexy neighbor

Title: My annoying sexy neighbor

Written for @buckybarnesbingo (Round 6)

Card: B004

Square Filled: C3: free space - Neighbor AU

Ship/Main Pairing: Neighbor!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: voyeurism, daydreaming, objectification of Bucky Barnes and his metal arm, a lil fingering, light/implied smut (unprotected)

Summary: Summer is extra hot this year.

Word Count: 1,3k+

Written for week 4 of @buckybarnesevents: Free Week

Prompt filled for: 2023 @buckybarnesbingo (expired): B2: “Get off my lawn”

Prompt filled for: @sebastianstanbingo: Square 2: “I bet all our neighbors can hear you.”

Prompt filled for: Navy and Roo’s slumber party presents bingo @the-slumberparty (expired): crush

You hate him. You can’t even describe how much you hate him.

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky to his friends. The worst neighbor ever.

It’s his fault you hate him.

Not because he’s a bad neighbor. No. He’s friendly, a little cocky maybe, but very helpful. If you’d have to describe his character, you’d say he’s a kind guy with a good sense of humor. Bucky offers to mow your lawn, help you with your trashcan, or fix your fence.

You hate him because he slowly makes your resolve crumble to never fall for a man again. Especially not the hot kind of man. You know, the kind of man wanting you to fling your panties across the room and suck him off without even knowing his name.

He makes your life so much harder. Before he moved in across the street, you came home from work and had time to relax. Sometimes you indulged in watching the rerun of old shows.

Now you must race home to not miss him working out, bringing out the trashcan, or mowing the lawn. Whatever Bucky does, he does it shirtless. You get lucky if he wears more than the shortest shorts you ever saw on a man.

If only you could say “Get off my lawn” and forget about him. But you have this stupid crush on your sexy neighbor.

Just like today. You raced home, almost running your trashcan over when parking your car because he was mowing his lawn while shaking his ass.

That bastard dared to wave at you and call you a pretty doll! How dare that man to tease you with his perfect abs on full display!

Sweat was running down his chest, and he did the worst thing possible.

Bucky killed the engine of his mower, jogged toward you, and emptied a bottle of water over his head. Water ran down his body and you had no other choice but to watch it wander down to his shorts. Fucking tight shorts… The fabric left little to nothing to your imagination. “That” was on full display, and you could tell, it was big.

“Hey, doll,” the fucker grinned as your eyes were glued to his artificial arm. A beautiful piece of technology. He once told you it was custom-made, and that he can feel everything, even though, it’s not made of skin, flesh, and bones. “How was work?”

“Boring and…hot,” you swallowed thickly. Your throat was suddenly too dry, and your panties soaked.

“Hot?” He laughed at your predicament. Bucky didn’t miss the way your eyes roamed his body. He had hoped that today was the day you finally broke. “If you are hot,” he stepped closer to run his metal index finger over your cheek, “you can come over and cool off in my pool. I just cleaned it.”

“I-I,” you would kill to swim, but being around Bucky in only your swimsuit was something you tried to avoid. He invited you over more than once to cool off.

“We can order food,” he smirked at you, already grabbing your hand. “Come on, doll. Don’t make me beg. I don’t want to swim alone. We can have a pool party.”

You considered his words. For a second you wanted to chicken out and come up with an excuse. “I promise to wear swim shorts.”

“Okay,” you finally said, defeated by your neediness. “Let me get the trashcan inside and have a shower. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Let me handle the trashcan,” he flashed you a smile. “I’ll be waiting for you after I took care of it and put the mower away. I can mow the rest of my lawn tomorrow.”

You took your time and checked your appearance in the mirror more than once. It wasn’t in your plans to draw too much attention toward you. So, you wore a light summer dress over your swimsuit and hastily made a salad to have an excuse to visit Bucky. The ladies in the neighborhood love to gossip.

“Doll,” before you got the chance to knock Bucky opened the front door. He glanced at the salad but said nothing. “No food before swimming.”

“It’s for…uh…later,” you stammered, still unsure if it was a good idea to come to Bucky’s place. “If we get hungry after swimming.”

“I will order food, doll,” he purred and shamelessly wrapped his metal arm around your shoulders. You shuddered at the sensation of the cool metal against your heated skin. “You’ll get all you desire.”

Bucky had no clue that your heartbeat quickened, and you felt like your legs were about to give in as he guided you through his house. “Oh gosh! I forgot a towel,” you tried to talk yourself out of this bad idea.

“Doll, I got more than enough towels,” he pecked your cheek. “I got all you’ll need before, during, and after your swim.” Bucky flashed you this irresistible smirk again. “How about you get comfortable, and I put the salad in the fridge and change into my swim shorts.”

“Sure,” you almost whined when he dropped his metal arm from around your shoulders to leave your side. He threw a look over his shoulder to look at you right when you turned around yourself to glance at his wide back and ass.

“Go ahead, Y/N. Get comfortable,” he chuckled and walked a little faster to reach the kitchen and change clothing. Bucky couldn’t wait to get in the pool with you.

You looked down at your body to check on your swimsuit. Just like Bucky suggested, you got into the water to cool off. Or maybe to hide that you soaked your swimsuit.

“I see you already got comfortable,” Bucky winked at you before he jumped into the pool, splashing water in your face. You shrieked and giggled because he grabbed you by your waist to press you against the pool wall. He smirked when you shuddered in his embrace. “Let’s get you even more comfortable.”

His lips claimed yours before you could ask him if you saw right. You moved your hand between your bodies to feel him up. “Doll, you’re naughty,” he purred against your lips.

“You are the naughty one, wearing no swim shorts, Mr. Barnes,” you smirked while stroking his cock. “You invited me for a swim and come here, wearing nothing but a smirk.”

“Baby, tell me you’re not wet and we can swim or,” he kissed you again, greedily shoving his tongue inside your mouth. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to do this to you?”

“No,” you dropped your hand from his cock to wrap your arms around his neck. “Do you know how long I wanted to do this to you?” You slung your legs around his waistline to slowly grind against him.

“Fuck…baby…”

“Louder!” You rubbed yourself against his aching cock, making your sexy neighbor groan loudly. “Louder!!”

“Fuck! I wanna fuck you!” He wildly jerked his hips.

“I bet all our neighbors can hear you,” you teased, all the while rolling your hips. “What about you show me how much you want to fuck me?”

He hastily shoved your swimsuit aside, exposing your cunt to his greedy fingers. “You know that you’re mine from now on. None of the other lonely guys can have you.”

Bucky worked your swollen bud with skilled fingers. Of course, the bastard knew how to make you even more desperate for his cock.

“Bucky,” you whined and whimpered. “Please.”

He silenced your moans with his lips, sealing your fate while replacing his fingers with something better. Bucky slipped inside, ignoring that you groaned against his lips because of the wide stretch.

You held onto him and slung your legs tighter around his waistline for dear life.

“I bet all our neighbors can hear you,” he groaned against your lips. “How about we give them a good reason to talk about us from tomorrow on?”

Tags in reblog.

[abrisaber]

Stolas what the actual FUCK do you mean "when have I ever talked down to you?" Did I fucking hallucinate all the times you've referred to Blitzo as "my little imp" Was Blitzo supposed to suddenly realize that all your insistent sexual advances towards Blitzo that he was only accepting so he could keep his fucking job were suddenly romantic advances? Why is the show trying to treat Stolas like he's "the bigger person" when for 99% of his relationship with Blitzo he's been the one playing the role of instigator? Why does the show try to make Blitzo feel like complete shit when the entire original point of his character is that he feels like shit because he's treated like shit. You're telling me that NONE of the DOZENS of people know his history? Trauma isn't an excuse but do you REALLY THINK that all of these people would still behave in such petty and cruel manners towards Blitzo is they actually knew how he felt? Do you ACTUALLY THINK that these people would be 100% in support of Stolas as the "freshest ex" if they knew that Blitzo fucking Stolas was the only way he'd be able to keep his fucking livelyhood??

This show is doing all the right things for the wrong reasons. I don't think Blitzo is in the right at all, but I cannot STOMACH the way the show is treating him like he's the bad guy when he's been through so much shit and NOBODY FUCKING CARES. NOBODY CARES ABOUT HOW HIS MOTHER DIED IN A FIRE THAT EVERYONE BLAMES HIM FOR??? NOBODY CARES ABOUT HOW STOLAS'S BOOK WAS THE ONLY WAY BLITZO WAS ABLE TO MAKE A LIVING IN THE FIRST PLACE??? Absolute fucking insanity. This show sucks.

[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.

[chocolatebutterfly881]

♡ 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔽𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 ♡

(Pt. 4 of Yan! Mean Sorority Girl x Fem! Reader)

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

——————————————————————————

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ who has been more and more clingy around you. Ruining you and Ashley's friendship has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to her. Since then, she practically follows you everywhere whether you are at home with your family, if you are at the grocery store, hell even if you're at the doctors she's right there.

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ who has moved out of the sorority house and practically has been staying with you.

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ who sulks every time you force her to do her assignments.

"But whyyyyy? I would make a really good housewive!"

She would whine every time then look away whenever you tell her how much she sucks at cooking and cleaning.

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ who practically became a part of your family. Your family became use to her being around and see the two of you as friends since she puts on an innocent act.

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ who is completely different behind closed doors. She would always find herself clinging to you in your bed or if you're cooking in the kitchen when your family isn't around.

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ who sometimes trails her hand to your shirt when your sleeping and slip underneath to cup your breasts. She would hump against your thigh when she would latch her soft plump lips to your nipple, being gentle so you did not wake up.

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ the next morning act like nothing ever happened as she would show you tiktoks or some post her "friends" would post and trash on them.

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ who would literally play any games that you play all because she didn't want you to play with anyone else.

"(Name) I don't know how to move. Why do people play Roblox when it's a kids game."

She would grumble every time you would get ahead in those obby games or those horror games.

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ who starts to learn any of the drama you watch on your free time whether it was K-Drama, other friend drama, or whenever you would watch Lolcows. She acts like she knows what you're talking about but she really doesn't.

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ who literally gets jealous if you have pets and give them way more attention than her. She would always glare at them before giving you a smile.

"Yeahhh...they're so cute..."

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ who literally floods your camera roll with selfies and mirror pictures while you're busy doing whatever. She would go through your phone as well.

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ while she was looking through a friend's messages when she found out that you were a lesbian...she felt her heart thump and she quickly left you and your friend's chat.

Yan! Sorority girl*ೃ༄ who saw you standing there at the doorway and gave you an innocent smile.

"Sorry I needed your phone to find mine!"

[oh-starstarstar]

PLEAAAASE POLY MARAUDERS JEALOUS SMUT 🙏🙏🙏

oh, i'd love to write that so fucking much.

i'm already getting ideas, they would be so rough.

here's the thing, they would be so shocked by your audacity. you probably flirted with someone else as a joke, but it isn't so funny to them, after all. it'd be a LONGGG night for you.

their hands would be all over you; roughly grabbing your tits, slapping your ass, choking you, and so would their tongues. filthy mouths roaming your bodies, kissing, licking, biting and sucking on you.

<remus3, with his anger issues, would be the first to slam you against the door. he'd probably intimidate you (and secretly james and sirius) with how he would tower over you and stare you down for a few moments before actually fucking you. he wouldn't yell, no. he'd simply talk to you so slowly that answering him would be tough because you're scared of him. he won't be as rough as he is during the first moon, but surely he would still have his biting and scratching tendencies. he'd probably fuck you hard—leaving the foreplay to sirius and james, who are more than willing to comply. he wants to see you in that fucked out state, you know? shaking, crying, and all ;)

<sirius3 would definitely either edge, or overstimulate or BOTH, for a long time. he'd love to slap you—on your face (only if you are into that), on your ass, on your thighs, wherever he can get his hands on. he would have you choke on his dick, coming at the sight of your tears. he would have you grabbing onto remus and james for mercy (not that they'd give it to you) with how rough he'd be. with rough, one thing very specific about him; he's really mean. and that's on usual basis. so good luck if you're sensitive, ok?

<james3, oh james, i can't imagine him being angry. he would become slightly pissed at you, but at the sight of sirius torturing you, his slightly sadistic side would surely come to play. of course, he would still smile at you and coo at your sobbing face; perhaps that is the torture itself. naturally, being surrounded with so much rage and roughness, you'd turn back to that gentle giant who has you seated between his legs, asking him for mercy. and he'd simply laugh, saying, "awh, i know, i know," while caressing your hair, treating your whines as the stupid babbles of a baby.

oh, and i wrote that bc i'm gna have to keep you waiting on the actual thing till, like, the first week of july. exam szn, sorry babes

[farfromstrange]

Thumb v Printer | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Your clumsiness keeps Matt on edge at all times. Like when you cut your thumb on a printer.

Warnings: None. (Maybe slight description of injury for those of you who are squeamish). Tooth-rotting fluff.

Word Count: ~1k

A/n: This did happen to me. It's healed now, but a piece of my thumb was missing for like a week and it wasn't fun. All because I had to print my sources for an essay and the paper got stuck. Smh.

Read Me On AO3!

If a stranger came up to you and told you, “I smell blood,” it would be more than enough to make you run for the hills. Sharing a home with Matt Murdock though, you have heard stranger things. 

You turn from your spot on the sofa, putting your laptop aside for a moment to greet him. “Hello to you too,” you answer casually.

He tilts his head in your direction. His nostrils flare. You know better than to question it. He’s wearing the same suit he left your shared apartment with this morning, his tie only loosened slightly to allow him some air to breathe. The last streaks of sunlight filter through the window, enveloping him in an ethereal glow. He’s so beautiful, but he doesn’t allow you much time to admire him as he stands in the hallway, his hands propped up on his hips as though he is about to lecture you on criminal law before the Civil War.

“You opened the first-aid kit,” he states. “What happened?” 

It’s an astute observation, you have to give him that. “Oh. Yeah.” You chuckle. “I just cut my finger on the printer, that’s all.”

He stutters for a moment, almost like an old engine. “You… I’m sorry, what?”

His worried expression fades into something else entirely. You know that look all too well; he’s confused—so confused, in fact, that he forgets how concerned he was a minute ago.

“I cut my finger on the printer,” you repeat, shrugging. “Happens.”

“I’m gonna regret asking you this, but…how?”

“Well, I was printing some documents earlier, and the paper got stuck, so, I had to lift the top and get in there, right?”

He nods. “Right.” 

So far, it sounds plausible, but he knows you. Matt is well aware that your clumsiness manages to exceed his in many ways, and you have gotten yourself into predicaments in the past that he still hasn’t wrapped his head around. Sometimes, shit happens to and around you, and he has to accept that. He never fails to try though, which is kind of endearing, in a way. It’s something you have gotten used to over the years; he has to ensure you’re okay or he can’t find a moment to rest.

“I wasn’t wearing my glasses,” you confess, “so I had to put my face as close as possible to see what I was doing. Anyway, the paper ripped and since my position didn’t allow for any traction, I accidentally got my thumb caught on a sharp edge because if I’d pulled my hand out I would’ve hit myself in the face.”

A moment of silence passes. The wheels in Matt’s head visibly turn. He fidgets with the waistband of his pants, still processing. Eventually, he asks, “What?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry for not cleaning up. I was busy trying to fix my thumb and the printer.”

“I’m not… sweetheart, I’m not worried about the mess. I’m worried about you.” Matt slips the glasses off his nose and places them aside. 

“I’m okay,” you tell him. But are you, really?

“You sure?” He bridges the gap between you, tugging at your hand to run his fingers over the bandage; the cut underneath screams in protest. “Let me check.” His hazel eyes focus blankly at the space where your nose is, but it feels as though he is staring into your soul. 

“Matt…” You try to stop him, but he swiftly unpacks the injury. 

He sucks in a sharp breath when the scent hits him. You wonder what it smells like; blood, definitely, and maybe some of the ink you accidentally got into the wound before disinfecting it. His thumb gently inspects the area around it, trying not to hurt you. Matt can’t help but shake his head again; it doesn’t take much for him to realize that it isn’t just a tiny cut. 

“Jesus,” he curses under his breath. “Feels like you’re missing some skin there.”

You try to make light of the situation. “Maybe we’ll find it the next time one of us prints something.”

His jaw clenches. You’re not in pain anymore, and your fight with the printer did not lead to a life-threatening injury, but he can’t stand the thought of you being hurt, not even for a second. 

“I love you,” he says, “but you’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” It’s not as endearing as it usually sounds.

“Huh.” You huff. “That’s saying a lot, considering you’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m blind,” he retorts, eyebrows raised to his hairline. He’s standing there, expression suggesting he thinks you have officially lost your mind, and it rubs you the wrong way.

You retract your hand, glaring at him with all you’ve got. “And I’m extremely short-sighted!” You don’t have to yell for him to feel the intended sting of your tone. 

His hands find their way back to his hips like a condescending mother. “Why weren’t you wearing your glasses?”

“Because,” you say, “I accidentally got coffee on them this morning and forgot to put them back on.” Your confidence falters halfway through though, realizing it doesn’t work well in your defense. Especially not in an argument with a skilled lawyer such as your boyfriend.

You love his caring nature more than life, but sometimes he treats you like a child who needs saving. Your heart is racing in your chest, and perhaps that is why he stops before you can make an argument out of a simple cut on your finger. It’s not worth it.

“I… you know what,” Matt caves, and his biceps relax, “I’m not even going to ask.”

You nod, albeit not triumphantly. You didn’t exactly win this battle of wits. “Yeah. Probably for the better,” you answer, chin held high, but it’s of no use.

You got defeated. By a printer. 

His lips curve into a soft smile. “C’mere.” He leans in, his nose brushing against yours. He smells of his cologne, paper, and coffee—like home. And he probably tastes like what he had for lunch or maybe the water he gozzled before heading home, but there is always a slight tinge of something indescribable when he kisses you. 

Before your lips can finally touch though, he halts. Matt sniffs, licking his lips and tasting the air. “You smell like ink,” he says. 

Your eyes narrow. Asshole. “Thank you. That’s…should I pour bleach into my mouth to accommodate you, Murdock?” you snap, pushing away from him.

Instead of begging on his knees for forgiveness—a dramatic notion you would not be opposed to—he laughs. Matt Murdock has the audacity to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he breathes out between giggles. “I’m sorry. Hey!” He tugs at your arm once more. “At least let me hug you. Please.”

You pout. “I’ll bite you.”

“Please don’t.”

“I might.”

He brings you into his arms with little resistance from your end, guiding your head just above his heart. So you can hear him. Feel him. Smell him. “I love you too,” he murmurs against your hair. 

You bury your face in his chest. It’s unfair how comfortable he is. “Hm. You’re lucky you’re irreplaceable,” you say, but it lacks conviction.

Matt clicks his tongue. “You’re so nice to me.” 

“You started it.”

“That’s fair.” Grabbing your chin, he tilts your head back up. “I still love you.”

You can’t bite back a smile this time, purring, “Oh, I know.” 

That’s never going to change, you know. And you love him. All of him, all the time, and unconditionally. 

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart

[yourfavepookiebear]

Hii, can i make a request? Yandere and self aware twisted wonderland please?

So the characters could hear the player after some time, although it is very difficult unless you pay attention, they actually don't know the appearance of the player!

But yeah, yandere Heartslabyul with a player who's pretty expressive? Like whenever something frustrates them they'd almost always curse out loud, when something makes them happy and satisfied they'd yell out a "Yes! Oh my god bro", etc

Okay so basically a player like me (and many others), cool, got it. (Im panicking I suck at writing for heartslabyul) I fucked up at ace's part idk what to write for him

God the old hag is waking up

Rushed asf

Riddle Rosehearts

You're pretty easy to read, at least on the terms of mood and emotion, which could be considered a good thing for him ?

At first he didn't believe it, because how could the player be anything but perfect ?

But then he realized that you don't need to be emotionless to be perfect.

Now this vaguely depends on whether we're talking about before OB or after OB Riddle, but if it's after OB then he doesn't mind it much

In fact, he likes hearing you mumble in frustration whenever you lose or see something irritating, it makes him...melancholic, in a way. Because these are all the signs that you're pretty normal just like them, you feel. It reassures him sometimes, to know that.

It's pretty cute and funny to him, but he won't show it

Hates that you show that side of yourself to others, he wants to be the only one to see this, but alas..not much can be done.

At least, not within the rules.

Cater Diamond

A bit like Riddle, it's sorta funny for him. God he wishes he could tease you, but he can't because of the damn programming..

Will definitely sneakily film it or record it he can't pass up on such an opportunity !

Depending on his mood he may or may not post it as well, but most likely on his private account

Can't have anyone else seeing such a cute thing, can we ?

Trey Clover

Now this is a bit complicated (more so than the others)

He wouldn't show it on the outside ofc, but he finds it endearing. (everyone does.)

May or may not crack a little smile when he sees you jumping in joy (or banging your head on the wall in frustration)

Doesn't care what others think about it, he will listen to your little outbursts with all ears.

And if anyone dares to comment about it, they better get ready for hell.

Deuce Spade

Doesn't really know what to think about it,

Ofc like everyone else he loves to hear you jump in joy or excitement, but frowns when you whine or complain about something

You deserve the very best !! If he could, he'd do anything to make you happy, just to see your little smile

God he wishes he was with you, but he can't...except-

Right, maybe draconia could help him with this.

Ace (I forgot his last name)

Oh well.

Seeing how expressive you are, he would definitely sneak in a few teases in his dialogues.

You know that cheeky smile of his ? Yeah, that's the one he has

Unlike a few others, he doesn't care if you're jumping in joy or in sadness, all he cares about is hearing you, seeing you..

Don't worry, soon enough, you'll be right next to him. So if you one day wake up to find yourself locked up in a room, just know that he means no harm

He can't help but wonder what you look like...ah, no use thinking about that since you'll be here soon.

This sucks ass ngl, my writing is trash right now but whatever

I did better than I thought since it's been a few months since I last wrote anything

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[r0-boat]

I had a thought

How would the kings or nobles (preferably Belial & Jjyu, Eligos, Gamigan, Leraye, and Ppyong) react to an MC who is absolutely CRACKED at claw/crane machines?

Like, just wins every single prize and empties the machines

(Is Ppyong considered a noble? Idk I like that red lumpy looking potato tho)

🦩 anon

Oh absolutely I would consider Ppyong as a noble though I don't know if you want the human version or the lumpy potato So I'm just going to do the lumpy potato and it can be a platonic thing

I will do the nobles you have listed there! Because I feel like the kings and the nobles would be a little too much!!

Anyways without further ado

Whb various react to crane claw master mc

Crane claw machines work differently in hell than in the human world. But even with the less scummy practices of these claw machines It was still relatively difficult to get a prize.

Ppyong

But not to you, who was so used to the limp and rigged claws of the machines back home. The Crane claw machines in hell were practically a cakewalk. The red lump devil stared at you with wide, gleaming eyes as you bagged every toy you wanted with ease. He almost wasn't sure you were human; you were some kind of superhero! He tried to tell everyone about your super human skills, so he did...

Your skills came in great handy one day when he got himself stuck in a crane claw machine. You didn't have to crane claw him out Satan could have just destroyed the entire box...

Belial is okay at the crane claw machine, but he's not that good. He first found your secret skill when the two of you were out and about on one of your special dates when it was just you and him. He signed or wrote that he wanted to win you something. After winning you a plushie of a horned cat, He got a glimpse of your skill when you used one plushie to knock another down, getting two and one.

Belial

His lips parted for a second, trying the process because he knew crane claw machines were hard and even harder on Earth. It was not just an accident. Your moves were calculated.

He beamed when you told him that one was for him and the other was for Jjyu, who sadly couldn't make it because of his anger management class. His eyes lit up when he saw a Candy Crane claw machine. The two of you won every piece of candy from that machine before walking home with your goodies.

Crane claw machines are almost unheard of in Tartaros because the thought of losing money with no gain was nearly appalling. So when Eligos was walking through the streets of Gehhenna with you on the way to Tartaros and Saw that machine, He looked confused; it was a machine he had never seen before. And when you told him what it was and what it did, he was even more confused. Why would anyone want to risk their money for a possibility they won't get anything in return?

Eligos

Even though the fabric of the plushies was cheap, and these plushies in particular were cheaply made, You saw him eyeing a pink bunny. Why not? You put in some of the money that man would sometimes gift you and play. You smiled as you fumbled a bit, pretending not to pick up the watched in all punching his teeth every time you failed, before finally, you picked it up, which he excitedly gasped an excited 'yes!' slipping out of his mouth.

Holding the bunny in his arms Eligos now understands the appeal of these machines.

Gamigin SUCKS at crane claw machines! And there's not a lot of them around in Paradise Lost to test his skills since as the ruler of Paradise Lost, Lucifer thinks they're unnecessary and a waste of money and time. "If you want something that bad, you could just buy it at the store."His adoptive Big brother would say. The Young Dragon thinks that Lucifer doesn't get the thrill of winning a prize that you want so much!

Gamigin

You were on a whole another level. As you easily and quickly one three toys in one claw. He was speechless, Even though you moved so quickly each move you made seemed calculated. And you looked so serious too staring into the glass, calm and focused. Oh please teach him, oh great claw master! Teach him your secrets!

Extremely good at Crane claw machines. He has a good eye and is a lot smarter than what he lets on. So when he's bored he usually goes to an old arcade with games from either Earth or old games in hell when he's bored.

Leraye

He likes your skills and he wants to challenge you to a crane claw battle. Whoever wins the most stuff wins! The winner has to do whatever the person says for a day. And of course you win crane claw machines on Earth were much harder than green car machines in hell and he stood no chance. He is now other than your friend and lover your crane claw rival He shall get better and beat you one day and then shower you with the gifts he had one.

[artdcnaldson]

beyond ready to match your freak on this, sick and twisted, i luv it >:)

i think this is the night he finally cracks a little... youve been rilling him up for so long at this point, lying to him, ignoring him, purposely making him jealous, hes had enough of this little game. especially when he notices you didnt even bother with panties under your skirt...

so there you two are, in his bedroom once again. his cock is right there, right in front of your face, you can basically smell his musk from where you're sitting. whining at him when he's telling you to beg for big brother’s cock. its so dirty, you really should be disgusted by this, but hes so intoxicating like this. something is different in his eyes from last time you two where sitting like this. theres a desperation in his eyes, like hes begging you to push him into the deep end.

suddenly he's telling you that if you beg real pretty for it, he might let you touch him... oh boy... why did he say that, he'll regret saying that in the morning. but for now he's too occupied with the dirty, depraved prayers slipping from your lips. if patrick could hear them now he would be sick to his stomach, honestly what's wrong with you both??? making his sweet little sister call art her big brother and beg him, on her knees, to let her touch him?? but neither of you are thinking about that at all.

i think, after reveling in your praises, he lets you move closer. tells you to take care of his balls while he jerks himself off :(((( he still wont let you touch him with your hands tho. but maybe he lets you come off the floor, instead he sits against the headboard and lets you lay between his thighs, making such a mess on his sheets. even while lost in pleasure and depravity, art keeps insisting that this doesnt mean that he'll ever fuck you. this is for him, not for you. he doesnt believe you when you tell him youd never tell anyone, youre too much of a slut to keep it to yourself. maybe he'd even rest his pretty cock on your face while youre sucking his balls :(((( makes you beg him to slap your face with it :((( so mean of him!!!

-🐞

GODDDD thank you for matching my freak <3

“Say it and I might let you touch me. If you beg pretty enough— if you’re a good little sister.”

And you know how bad it is when the words slip past your lips for the first time. Know it’s fucked up to fantasize about. But you’re so wet it’s dripping down your thigh where you sit between his legs. Patrick is so far from your mind, reality is a hazy blur around whatever the fuck exists outside of Art’s dorm room.

Because you he was like a brother earlier, just to make him mad, and now he’s making you eat your words. It’s the worst thing he’s ever asked you to do, just the sheer taboo of it all. It’s all fake, you remind yourself, and you want him so bad you’d do anything.

“I want my big brother’s cock.” It makes you shiver, makes your cunt clench around nothing, needy, desperate. You whine, grind against your heel. “Need it so bad. I’m so wet, Art, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

He laughs, revealing his teeth as he smiles wide. But there’s nothing warm or sweet about it. Just cold, cruel pleasure. “Yeah? You want big brother to fuck you so bad, huh? You stuff that pussy full of your fingers wanting it.”

You nod, and fuck, he’s so close you feel dizzy with want. Just want to open your mouth, take him into your warm, wet mouth, get him nice and wet.

“Say it again.”

You whine. “I want you so bad. Need big brother’s cock inside of me— wherever you want, Art. Just want to make you feel good. I want to be a good little sister.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Just hearing you say it makes him dizzy. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. He readjusts, sits against his headboard and you whine when he moves away from you.

“C’mere, lay down between my thighs, but no touching.” So you do— obeying easily. Your hands are pinned beneath your stomach, you look up at him with wide eyes, just begging for direction.

He starts jerking off again, so close that you can hear every slick pass of his hand. And you feel so left out, almost want to cry with need.

“Be a good little sister, suck on my balls while I make myself cum.”

He might as well have offered you the whole fucking world on a platter. You don’t give him time to change his mind before your mouth is on him, laving the soft skin of his sack with slow laps of your tongue.

You moan, loud and debauched, because it’s everything you’ve been wanting so bad. It’s the taste of him, salty and heady on your tongue. And the feel of him pulsing in your mouth, twitching and needing release. You grind into the bed, finding a tiny amount of friction in the balled up duvet beneath you.

He groans when you suck one of his balls into your mouth, when he feels your moan vibrate against him, nearly cums on the spot. This is supposed to be fucking degrading, but he can see you grinding your bare, sticky cunt onto his blankets. Your mouth is so hot, so wet— your lashes rest against your cheeks, you look so fucking content between his thighs with his balls in your mouth.

He wonders if there’s anything he could do at all to curb your incessant lust for him. Slapping you hadn’t worked, incidental as it was. Ignoring you only drove you to whore yourself out to other boys. He doubted there was anything on the planet that you wouldn’t do, any way you wouldn’t debase yourself for him.

Jesus Christ. He should tell Patrick. He should come clean, explain how fucking bad things had gotten. It would’ve been better if he’d just fucked you once to begin with, now if he tells Patrick he has to reckon with… this.

“Can’t believe you’re fucking getting off on this,” he mutters, even as he strokes his cock to the sight of you, humping his bed and sucking his balls into your pretty wet mouth. “This is supposed to be for me, not for you. Doesn’t fucking change anything either. I’m not fucking you, not ever.”

He holds his cock over your face, presses it against your nose and forehead. You whine, nuzzle against it like you’re a fucking puppy. It makes his cock pulse, the sheer neediness.

He hears your soft pants, the debauched moans as you grind into the bed. Keeps jerking himself off against your face, bucking his hips, lets his cock glide against your soft skin.

“Beg for your big brother’s cum, honey.” You sob pathetically, hump the bed harder, faster, desperate in your need for release. He slaps his cock against your cheek, makes you whine. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Art,” you whine. “Need it. Need it need it need it.” You mouth at his balls, your moans all choked and strangled as you get closer. It’s so pathetic, so fucking hot he can’t help himself. He cums, making a mess of your hair, of your face.

The sound he makes, the feel of his balls drawing up, pulsing on your tongue, it’s enough to drive you crazy. You cum hard, tears slipping down your cheeks as you pathetically grind against his duvet. You keep lapping at his balls, let his dick get soft, rest flaccid against your face.

He pushes you off after a while, mutters something under his breath about how gross this all is. How fucking desperate and depraved you were.

It pisses you off. You’re the one with his cum drying on your face, in your hair. It’s not like you were the one who was getting off on being called big brother. I mean, you were getting off on calling him that, certainly. But you didn’t bring it up. That was him. He was just as fucking bad as you were.

So you steal his shower, don’t fucking talk to him as you grab your shit. He, chewing on his cuticles as you shove past him, heading for the door.

“Where are you going? It’s, like, two in the morning?”

You laugh. So now he wants to play at being the protective friend? “Fuck you, Art. I’m sleeping in my own room.”

He lets you go, tries to ignore the pang of longing. Whatever. Maybe you finally learned something.

[mattypattypinky]

Anxiety (Inside Out 2) Insecurity Headcannons

(romantic)

I feel like she'd be extremely self conscious about a lot of things about herself, actually.

She would be anxious about her physical appearance, I think, as well as who she decides to hang around. She wants to make good impressions with everyone in HQ.

Some things I think she'd be anxious or embarrassed by about her own physical appearance is her overbite. She probably got it from sucking her thumb in her sleep, or nibbling at her fingertips or where her nails would be. I mean, I'm sure she already had one, but I feel like her anxious stims and sleep sucking might have made it worse. Not to mention her mouth is so big, and so is her head. Her head is proportionally much larger than her very scrawny body.

I think she would be genuinely slightly stressed about how not-pretty she is compared to the other girl emotions. I mean, a majority of the girl emotions in HQ are pretty in conventional ways, and even Ennui fits some sort of beauty standard, but I feel like she would think she doesn't fit to that standard.

She'd be anxious about her proportions, her overbite, her hair, her eyes. Everything. But not necessarily because she is envious of the other emotions, and wants to look like them - but moreso because she is worried that she is not on the same level as them in any way, beit physical or strategical.

I mean, she heavily idolizes Joy, and wishes to be a good leader like her.

I feel like she would compare herself to everyone around her...

Which may be why she takes it so quick to make Riley do a similar thing. Overcompensate to get along with the Fire-Hawks, because she herself thinks overcompensation is a successful tactic to "fit-in" to peers.

I feel like if she had a crush on someone it would definitely be no different. She would compare herself to them, and ultimately try to be more like them.

She would adopt some of your body language, or try to mimic it, subconsciously.

She would also adopt things that you were interested in. If you liked certain things, or specific emotions in HQ, she would make an effort to learn about them or get closer to them.

She would want to be in your social circle,

and if you had a specific type in a person, she would try her best to cater to it.

If you liked more confident people, she would... try. To be confident. Even if she failed, she would try. <3

If you liked people with curly hair, or straight hair, she might use a hair curler or straightener... Borrow it from disgust, in attempt to do her hair the way you like it.

If you liked taller people, she might get high heels. She wouldn't know how to use them, though. She'd be very clumsy in them.

If you were into controlling people, she would try to be moreso, though constantly nervous and apologetic in attempt and hopes to not go too far - however if you liked people who were more to themselves, and let loose - she would try her best to seem like she doesn't care, even though she does.

Realistically, I feel like she'd naturally be more in the middle ground. She can be jealous controlling and clingy, but it's subconscious. If put on the spot she'd be really anxious about doing so intentionally, or have trouble attempting to stop her habits of being such a control freak about things she cannot control.

If you told her it's okay to be herself, she would claim that you're 'too sweet', but she wouldn't believe it until like, the 100th time of you saying it.

She'd be... extremely easy to fluster. If you complimented her, especially the points in which she saw as a flaw, she would get super nervous and avert her eyes, probably giggle, or squeal. She'd probably accuse you of 'not meaning that...' whenever you do.

You compliment her overbite, tell her it's cute - Tell her that her hair is adorable the way that it is, or that her body is an adorable and quite fun proportion... And suddenly she's a giggly mess!

She might even accidentally have a voice crack or two.

I feel like it would genuinely mean the world to her if you told her she was perfect the way she is. I think it would genuinely be on her mind for hours, days, even MONTHS after you claiming that for the first time.

One step at a time, you would help her be more confident about the way she looks, sounds and acts. She would start to accompany her 'flaws' with your compliments, she may even start to like them herself because you like them so much.

The thought of her getting a bit gleaming grin due to your compliments on her teeth.

Of course, it wouldn't be you alone, - she is part to thank for her own confidence boosting, as she is changing her own perspective. But you definitely would help.