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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 3 days

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Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 3

Part 1: Linked Here | Part 2: Linked Here

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out, Smut

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, hand job, lemon

Link to My Master List

You wake up slowly to the feeling of warm sunlight heating your face. Damn! You think, I forgot to close my blinds again before bed! This is a bit of a bad habit of yours – training has been so harsh lately, you often fall asleep before you can even begin to perform your nightly wind-down routine. The sun feels nice across your face, but it’s also a bit too warm and becoming borderline uncomfortable.

You sigh, too tired and comfy to get out of bed to adjust the blinds. Instead, you shift and roll over onto your other side. Unexpectedly, you bump into something hard and solid. You panic for a moment, unsure of what the obstruction could be. Did you get a new plushie recently? Begrudgingly, you flutter your eyelashes and let the soft early morning light hit your eyes.

Oh, shit. Shoto Todoroki?!

Memories of the day before come rushing back in a stampede – moments in time tripping over each other as your brain scrambles to assemble a map of how you got into your current situation. You quickly remember the kiss, Endeavor’s bombastic arrival, the lonely library, and Shoto’s late night confessions. Your cheeks heat up as you recall how quickly your clothes had melted away as things with Shoto had turned hot and heavy.

You look up into Shoto’s soft face. He’s tucked in on his side, his face buried into your pillow. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look so relaxed. His pale skin and angelic features seem to sparkle in the morning light. You think back to all that he had confessed to you the night before – his troubled childhood, his estranged parents. You reach out to stroke his face, tucking a lock of bright red hair behind his ear. He sighs in his sleep, leaning ever so slightly into your gentle touch. Your heart squeezes. This poor, beautiful boy’s life has seen a deficient of kind touches.

You scoot closer to him in the bed, reaching out to gently wrap your arms around your sleeping classmate. He leans into you, unconsciously welcoming the embrace. He yawns softly and seems to wake up a bit.

“You’re so soft.” He moving to get a better hold on you, his large hands moving to cradle your hips. He smiles into your shoulder and pulls you into a more comfortable position, planting a sleepy kiss on your collarbone. He rubs a gentle, comforting circle into your lower back as he drifts back off to sleep.

You spend a few moments carding your fingers through his dual toned hair, listening to his gentle breathing. You notice the way that the hand on your lower back is slightly hotter than the rest of his body, and how great it feels against your training-stiff muscles. You feel your body relax into the touch. The hand resting on your hips, however, is refreshingly cold. You wonder if Shoto has ever thought to use his quirk for healing – his gentle touch is perfect for treating angry muscles and exercise injuries. He’d be an amazing physical therapist.

Your tired brain envisions a sexy doctor version of Shoto – tall and grown, a stethoscope draped around his strong shoulders. He will be such an amazing hero, but you wonder…if Shoto had experienced a normal childhood, would he aspire to be something different? There is so much potential in him - if his father hadn’t pressed so much on him, would he still want to be a hero?

You noodle on this question as you drift back to sleep, your body relaxing into Shoto’s temperate hands.

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Your alarm blares at 6 o’clock AM, jolting you from a sound sleep. You’re still wrapped up in the cocoon of Shoto’s strong arms, his face nuzzled into your chest.

Carefully, you extract an arm and reach to switch off the alarm. You gently wriggle out of your classmate’s warm embrace. You slide off the cozy bed and pad across the carpet to your desk, stopping to take a long sip from your sticker-covered water bottle.

You grab a small hand mirror from the shelf above your desk and use it to examine your face – you’re surprised to see that even after the late night spent talking with Shoto, you look well-rested. Your hair, however, tells a different story. Your bedhead is absolutely out of control, and you grab a brush to quickly tame it. Once the knots have been brushed out, you throw your hair up into a loose ponytail and turn back to face your bed.

Shoto must be a deep sleeper, because in the 5 minutes it’s taken you to tame your hair he still hasn’t stirred. He’s wrapped up in your comforter, looking warm and comfortable. You hate that you’ll have to wake him soon for class. Begrudgingly, you move towards the bed to get him up.

“Shoto…” You coo quietly, hoping to rouse him gently as you pull down the comforter. “It’s time to get up - ” You stop midsentence as your eyes run their way along Shoto’s body. He’s resting on his side, his white hair splayed across your pillow. His expensive looking sweatpants hang from his muscular frame in a way that’s so sexy that you take a mental photo to revisit later. But what’s really got your attention is the way that Shoto’s baggy sweatpants gather and pull around his prominent morning wood.

You bite your lip as you take in the image – Shoto’s hard dick is outlined perfectly against the grey fabric. Fuck. You’ve never seen a penis this close before. Even through Shoto’s loose fitting pants, you can tell he’s big. The soft fabric doesn’t leave anything to the imagination – you can see the way his long shaft ends in a soft, mushroom-shaped tip.

You climb onto the bed to get a closer look, glancing up at Shoto’s face to ensure that he’s still fast asleep. You shift a bit and lean in, wondering if the hardness is uncomfortable. Your mind instantly goes into the gutter, and you remember how good it had felt the day before to grind against Shoto’s rock hard length. You feel a spark in between your legs at the thought. You imagine rolling Shoto onto his back so you can straddle him. It would be so easy to line up the tip of his cock with your clit and -

You shake your head to clear it of the absurdly horny thoughts that are flying around in your mind. You only have an hour and a half to get ready for class, and any sexual experiments you want to perform with Shoto are going to take time. You want to take this slowly! Maybe!?

You check the clock on your phone again. Maybe you can spare just a few minutes for some exploration? You’re almost certain that Shoto will agree. You set a quick alarm for 15 minutes from now before placing your phone back on the night table. You then shift a bit closer to the sleepy hero-in-training and reach out your hand to touch him.

Experimentally, you trace the very top of your fingertip along the length of it – from base to tip. You feel it twitch slightly as you reach the top, and break out into a grin.

You ghost your fingers across the outline of his cock a few more times, feeling it become harder with each pass. You’re so entranced by the outline of his thick member that you don’t notice when Shoto begins to stir.

He groans softly as you let your fingers wander across his dick again. His eyes flicker open and he blinks sleepily. You quickly snatch your hand away from his nether regions, blushing furiously at being caught.

“Sorry! I just…well, I couldn’t really help myself…” You trail off weakly, ashamed. He blinks at you, expression unreadable.

“You can keep going.” He says in a gravely voice. He reaches down to take one of your hands, and brings it back to his pants. “It would feel better if you gave it a firmer grip.”

“Oh.” You say, shocked at how cool he is with this. But then you remember that for as sheltered and formal as Shoto is…he’s also just a horny teenage boy. You let him position your hand and grasp. The material of his sweatpants is loose, and you are able to wrap almost your whole hand around his cock through the material. You tighten your hand ever so slightly around him and he turns his head to groan into the pillow. You lightly squeeze your hand again, this time moving your fingers down a bit.

“So…” You say somewhat awkwardly as you continue to feel him up through his pajama pants. “Did you sleep well?”

Shoto’s face is still buried in the fluffy pillow, but he cracks open an eye and looks back at you. He’s giving you a disbelieving look.

“You’re hand is on my penis…and you’re asking me how I slept? Don’t you think we should talk…sexier?” His voice drops an octave at the last word. You gulp.

“I’m new to this! I’m trying to be considerate!” Your fingers flutter nervously and Shoto lets out a soft, strangled sort of noise at the contact.

“Well I appreciate the consideration then. I slept well, thank you. This bed is very cozy. And you make a comfortable sleeping partner.”

You feel your face warm at the words. You drink him in – he’s got sleepy eyes and his body is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen it. You wish that you could stay in this bed with him for hours and just talk and touch and kiss…

Then you remember you’re on a tight timeline before class starts.

“Shoto…” You say, voice low. “I think it would feel even better if you let me go under your clothes.”

All Shoto can do is nod and look at you with wide eyes. You scoot closer to him, placing a hand on his chest so you can roll him over onto his back. He looks so beautiful like this – vulnerable and open.

“Mind taking these off?” You tug at the waistband of his sweats.

Shoto reaches down to slowly slip the waistband down his narrow hips. His erection springs forward – hard and beautiful. You take him in – his cock is longer than you expected. It has the same aristocratic pale skin as the rest of his body, becoming the tiniest bit darker at the tip. He looks like he’s carved from marble – all muscles and smooth pale flesh. You marvel at the way that his cock stands at attention, settled stiffly against defined abs and a light red happy trail.

“Oh, Shoto. You’re gorgeous.” You smile in satisfaction as Shoto’s soft cheeks bloom red in reaction to your praise. You reach out and trace your finger up the base of his cock. The skin is silky smooth – not at all what you were expecting. You wrap your hand around his hardness and give it an experimental jerk. Shoto’s eyes close at the contact and his head falls back into your pillow with a quiet thud.

“Does that feel good?” You whisper, jerking at his dick again. All he can do is nod silently as you continue to fist his dick slowly. He moans a tiny bit when you focus your energies on his leaking tip. You roll the precum down his shaft, using it to lubricate your hand as you continue to run it up and down his cock.

Shoto looks like he’s in heaven – his expression is laced with pleasure and the muscles of his stomach and abs quiver with gratification as you work at him. He’s splayed out before you like a Greek god, defined pale muscles glowing in the early morning sunlight. You find your mouth is practically watering at the image. You lick your lips and take a beat to clear your mind. You’ve never known yourself to have any sort of oral fixation, but at this exact moment you can’t think of anything more appealing than taking Shoto’s cock in your mouth.

You lean down, mouth open and ready…

A sudden rapid knock on the door stops you in your tracks. You hear Mina and Hugakure being noisy on the other end.

“Y/N! Let’s gooooo!” Mina whines, continuing to knock. “You promised you’d help us get some training in before class!”

You tighten your grip on Shoto’s cock in surprise, he lets out a soft grunt in response.

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no!

You recall with a start that you had promised to go down to one of the training gyms with the girls to get in some early morning quirk training. Mina has been begging you to show her the Ultimate Move you’ve been developing, and Hagakure has been asking for some tips on her new light refraction move. You look over to your desk and see your navy blue UA gym uniform folded and ready from where you’d laid it out the day before.

Your eyes meet Shoto’s in a panic. He’s looking back at you with unabashed lust – his eyes half-lidded. You feel like he should be freaking the fuck out right now, but then you realize that your hand is still wrapped around his incredibly hard dick.

You think quickly, brain scrambling through a lusty haze.

“Mina! Toru!” You call out, hoping they can hear you clearly through the door. “I’m not feeling that well this morning – I’m sorry! Can we rain check and hit the gym tomorrow morning instead?”

A pause.

“Are you okay, girl?” Hagakure calls back, concerned. “Would you like us to come in and help you?

“No I’ll be okay! I think I just need to sleep in a bit, I have a bit of a headache from studying so late last night. I’ll see you in class?”

As you’re talking, you slowly start to stroke Shoto’s dick again. His eyes widen and he continues to hold your gaze with his intense mismatched eyes. You see him bite his lip hard to keep in a moan.

“Okay, but don’t be late for class Y/N! Besides – I have some hot gossip to share! You’ll never believe who has a crush on you!” Mina teases through the door. You feel Shoto twitch in your hand and you move to increase your pace. Who would have known he was such an exhibitionist?

“A crush on me!?” You call back in mock surprise, reaching out your free hand to cup Shoto’s cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the gentle touch. “Well now I’m dying to know!”

“You’ll have to wait until lunch!” Mina warbles, carefree and completely unaware of the X-rated scene going on behind the closed door.

“Ugh fine!” You pretend to sound exasperated. Mina and Hagakure share their goodbyes and feel-betters through the door before leaving for the training gym.

“Drink some water, Y/N!” Hagakure advises you as you hear their footsteps recede down the hallway. You continue to work at Shoto’s thick cock, you’re practically salivating as you look down and revel the way he twitches under your gaze.

“They’re gone.” You whisper unnecessarily.

“Yeah.” Shoto takes a shaky breath. He lifts his hand to fold over your own against his face. His palm is warm against the back of your hand, and you can’t help but wonder at what he can accomplish with those long, capable fingers.

You grin, leaning in close to the half-hot half-cold hero-in-training so that your foreheads almost touch. You part your lips to let out the faintest whisper: “It’s just the two of us now…baby.”

Shoto’s breath hitches. The intoxicating combination of getting handsy in front of your classmates plus the unexpected term of endearment prove to be too much for poor Shoto, because he cums in an instant. You feel the orgasm roll through him, starting at the base of his balls and moving up through his dick as you stroke him through it. He lets out an impossibly soft moan as he watches sticky white fluid flow across your tiny hand.

You’re both a bit shocked at the sight – you’ve never seen a man cum before and it’s a little different from what you were expecting. You didn’t realize it would be so damn easy to send Shoto over the edge like that. You continue to stroke at him until he winces from overstimulation. He places a hand over your own in a silent plea for you to stop.

“I’m so sorry Y/N – um, do you have a towel or something? Sorry.” Shoto is tripping over his words as he searches desperately for something he can use to clean up the sticky situation. His forehead is creased in embaressment. You lean in and kiss him soundly, trying to shut him up.

“Hey, calm down it’s no big deal. My goal was to make you cum!” You spring up off the bed, holding your sticky hand aloft and at a distance from yourself as you walk to your closet. You quickly open the door and swipe a fluffy blue clean towel off of the top shelf and throw it in Shoto’s general direction. You avert your eyes as he wipes down his dick and stomach. You grab a clean washcloth to use on your own sticky hand.

“I’m sorry. I never imagined doing this with another person, let alone someone that I like and admire so much. It feels like I’m defiling you in a way.” Shoto says, a note of concern bleeding into his usually flat tone. You turn back his way to see him shimmy into his grey sweatpants with grace only a Todoroki can muster.

You laugh out loud at his word choice. “Shoto, if anything I’m the defiler and you’re the defilee. I literally woke you up by stroking your dick. Please do not feel bad about what just happened. It was a learning experience – and a damn hot one at that.” You waggle your eyebrows, attempting to break the tension. This draws a smile out of Shoto. You now notice that his cheeks are still flushed from his orgasm and his hair is 25% messier than usual. You move back to your desk and toss him a hot pink hair brush.

“Fix your bangs, hot stuff. Our classmates will definitely know that something is up if you show up to History lessons with that wild sex hair.”

“It’s not sex hair if we didn’t actually have sex.”

“What do you call what we just did then?”

Shoto pauses, unsure if you’re asking him a trick question.

“Well…sex is only when you have penetrative sex, isn’t it?” He asks tentatively, blushing.

“Actually, that’s not totally true! Sex can be defined a ton of different ways. The way we were taught sex growing up and in school is super black and white. Sex and sexuality are more of a grey area than anything else. Think of it more as a spectrum of sexual acts! There really aren’t any rules aside from needing to gain full consent from someone before you dive in.” You rattle off, regurgitating knowledge gained from years of scrolling on Tumblr and Scarleteen.

Shoto’s eyes widen a bit more with each sentence you blurt out, looking almost abashed. “I’m embarrassed to say I’ve never thought much about it. That’s a very new way of thinking for me. It sounds like I need to do some Googling.”

“We can talk through it more too. I can show you what I know so far and we can learn together.”

“I’d like nothing more.” Shoto says, his tone characteristically flat but tinged with warmth. You smile at him, reaching up to continue smoothing across his hair. The two-toned locks fall gracefully across his face softly. The early morning light bounces off his delicate skin in a way that just makes him glow. You appreciate the view for a moment, basking in the wonder of this boy and his perfect genes. After a moment you shake your head to clear your thoughts, realizing that there’s a more pressing matter at hand that needs your attention.

“Now let’s sneak you out of here. You want to go out the window, or…?”

No, Shoto does not want to climb out the window. He’s feeling shaky and unbalanced from his first partner-induced orgasm, and so he doubts that he’d be able to muster the coordination needed for an early morning fire escape climb. Instead, he has you poke your head out your doorway and confirm that the coast is clear before he rockets down the hall and back to his own dorm room. He waves over his shoulder at you as he goes, his face breaking into a rare grin as your eyes lock.

You smile to yourself as your alarm blares – the 15-minute timer you had set is up.

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

A half hour later you’re feeling refreshed in your recently pressed UA school uniform. You stride down the school halls with a spring in your step and a smug grin on your face as you replay the mornings’ events in your thirsty-ass brain. You made Shoto Todoroki cum with nothing but your hand! You giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny, Y/N?” A light voice says brightly from behind you. You snap back to the present and whirl around to see Uraraka following closely behind you. You try not to blush.

“Oh, nothing! I’m just in a good mood today. The, uh, weather seems to be particularly nice.”

Uraraka’s smile falters a bit at this comment on the weather – it’s been a temperate 60 degrees for the past month with little variation. She looks like she suspects something is up. She raises an eyebrow and chooses her next words carefully.

“Are you and Hagakure cooking up some crazy secret party again?” She asks slowly, a suspicious look overtaking her cute features.

Back in the Fall there had been an attempt at throwing a raucous party behind Mr. Aizawa’s back. The underground hero turned teacher had been off campus for a rare overnight mission, leaving Mr. Vlad King in charge of both Classes A and B.

You and your dorm-mates had taken advantage of the lapse in guardianship to throw a party in the common room. Just as things had started getting interesting (Mina had somehow acquired a bottle of wine and was going to pass it around so that everyone could try a sip), Monoma had tattled to Mr. Vlad King about the party. Monoma’s jealousy surrounding Class 1A truly knew no bounds, and he was determined to ruin the boisterous event before it could even begin. Vlad King had shut down the party so quickly that your group had only made it through he third song on Hagakure’s “Class 1A Party Playlist.”

When Mr. Aizawa had returned, he had greeted your class with a long, disappointed lecture. You remember the way your cheeks had burned with embarrassment as he called out the party instigators: you, Mina and Hagakure. Following the failed party, Aizawa had set a weekend curfew requiring Class 1A to be in their individual bedrooms by 10pm. The entire class was still furious about this – up until now they had enjoyed free reign over the common area at all hours of the night. Video game tournaments and late movie nights had been the norm. Fortunately, your classmates hadn’t really been too mad at you, Mina and Hagakare for planning the party. In truth, everyone had been looking forward to the secret event. Also, you and your friends had bought everyone dinner and lead tutoring sessions for a month in order to apologize for the new Aizawa-imposed curfew.

You bring yourself back to the present, realizing you haven’t yet answered Uraraka’s question.

“What!? No way! Although it’s been a few months since we last tried to throw a party under Aizawa’s nose…maybe he’s been lulled into a false sense of security, making this the perfect time to strike!” You fake an evil laugh and make a mental note to mention this thought to Hagakure and Mina at lunch. The three of you have been dying to re-attempt the illicit party. You had recently watched an old American 80s movie together and learned about an American game called “Spin The Bottle.” The three of you were longing to try it with your classmates.

“Nooooo don’t get us in trouble again!” Urararka looks horror-stricken at the mischievous gleam in your eye. “I miss our Saturday midnight movie nights! Mr. Aizawa said that if we all do well on the upcoming joint training session with Class 1B, he might consider lifting the curfew!”

You grin at her evilly. “I can’t help that I’m a chaotic force!” You cackle like a witch and rub your hands together diabolically, making Uraraka laugh.

“You’re so silly! If you do decide to throw another party…just pleaseeee don’t get caught this time.” She holds out her hands in a praying position, imploring you to avoid getting an earlier curfew slapped onto Class 1A.

“Deal.” You say as the two of you reach the door to your classroom. “And I think I have an idea of how we can make sure we don’t get ratted out this time around.”

“Whatever it is, leave me out of it!” Uraraka says, waving you away to your desk. “I have enough on my plate already between this month’s new combat training moves and our latest calculus test.”

You laugh and give her a thumbs up as you sit down at your assigned seat. You pull out your notebook and planner as the rest of the class slowly files in. Uraraka may seem like a goody two shoes, but you know that if there is a party, there’s no way in hell that she’d miss it. You know the gal well enough at this point to recognize that she would have FOMO to the max if she skipped an forbidden party (especially if a certain green haired classmate would be attending said party).

After a few minutes, Hagakare and Mina stumble into the classroom, both looking exhausted and a bit worse for wear.

“Jeez! What happened to you two!?” You ask as they both slump into their seats.

“Why does she look so well rested!?” Hagakare says suspiciously, pointing at you. She turns to Mina, a sharp edge to her voice. “Wasn’t she supposed to be sick?”

“I took some Advil.” You hum out.

Mina looks over at you, unconvinced. “Must have been some great Advil – you’re practically glowing.”

“I caught my second wind for the day.”

“Girl it’s only, like, 9 AM.” Hagakare says, her voice laced with fatigue. “And Mina and I just spent the last hour cooking up some special moves. It definitely took a lot more of our energy than we were expecting.”

“Any good developments?” You prompt, hoping to steer the pair away from discussing your supposed “sickness” in more detail.

“Hagakare’s light refraction technique is really coming along.” Mina chimes in, dumping her books unceremoniously on her desk and grabbing a hot pink fuzzy pen from her backpack. “And I’m working to increase the viscosity of my “Acid Man” move. It’s slow-going, but I think I’m on the right track.”

You beam at Mina, she’s been working so hard lately on her special move. She’s been trying to grab as many free hours at gym possible to spend more time practicing.

“That’s awesome! I feel like you’ve made so much progress lately. I’m sorry again I wasn’t there.” You drop your voice down to a whisper. “Listen guys – I have something we need to discuss at lunch today. I think that it’s time to activate Operation: Spin The Bottle.” You waggle your eyebrows at them meaningfully.

“What!? Really?” Hagakare perks up, turning her body in a motion that clearly showed The Invisible Girl was trying to gauge the expressions on yours and Mina’s faces.

You shush her. “We’ll talk later at lunch!”

It crosses your mind that maybe you want to tell Mina and Hagakare about your…situation with Shoto Todoroki. They are your best friends after all – and you want them to giggle and gush when you recount the sweet words he’s said to you, and the way he’s kissed you so soundly that your head spins just thinking about it.

But, no. This is a private affair at the moment. Everything that’s happened so far should stay between you and Shoto until the two of you decide together that you want other people to be in the know about your canoodling.

Speaking of Shoto…your half-hot, half-cold classmate enters class right before the bell. It’s unusual – typically he’s in his seat and ready for class 10 minutes before. He looks well groomed – his uniform is perfectly ironed and free of any creases. His hair is brushed and perfectly styled. His mouth is set in its typical hard line as he crosses the room to take his seat.

You try not to let your eyes linger on Shoto for longer than is necessary. Some of your classmates are intensely perceptive, and you don’t want to give them any reason to suspect a romantic affair between you and Todoroki. You’re embarrassed by the way you’re drawn to him like a magnet – you actively need to will your head to stay turned towards the front of the classroom. He’s so devastatingly beautiful and you just want to stare and memorize the dip of his chin, the thin line of his cupid’s bow…

Mr. Aizawa enters the classroom and gives his students a dark glare.

“Good Morning, class.”

“Good Morning, Mr. Aizawa.” The class choruses back.

“Before we get started today, I have a quick announcement. I’ll be out of town this weekend for an undercover mission with a few other Pros. Nothing to worry about – but I will be gone all of Saturday and Sunday. Vlad King will be in charge of the class while I’m gone. He’s going to keep a close eye on you all in addition to his own class.”

You try to keep yourself from grinning – this timing is too perfect!!

“That being said…” He levels his gaze on you, Mina and Hagakare. “If I hear word of any of you causing trouble, there will be swift punishment. I’m not above lowering the curfew to 8pm on weekends.” He grins at the mass of horrified looks he gets in response.

“We’ll be good, Mr. Aizawa – we promise!” Sue calls out from her desk. Kirishima nods vehemently in agreement and Kamanari whispers, “I miss movie midnights.”

You try not to make eye contact with your friends so as not to give yourselves away.

“I’m expecting a stellar report about my class’s behavior when I return.” Mr. Aizawa scowls at the room at large before cracking open a textbook on the teacher’s podium. “Now let’s dive into our first lesson of the day.”

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

A few classes later, it’s finally time for lunch. You and the rest of Class 1A file into the hall and down to Lunch Rush, chattering about the latest assignments and Mr. Aizawa’s upcoming absence.

“Mr. Aizawa is so cool!” Midoriya gushes to Ida and Uraraka towards the back of the group. “I don’t know how he juggles being our teacher and a Pro. I wonder what kind of undercover mission he’s got planned that will only take the weekend.”

“It’s true!” Ida chimes in enthusiastically. “Mr. Aizawa is an incomparable hero – UA High School truly does not disappoint when it comes to its faculty and staff!”

You tune out the rest of their conversation and move forward to link arms with Mina and Toru.

“Can you believe that Mr. Aizawa is going away this weekend!?” You whisper excitedly to your two closest friends.

“For someone who woke up sick this morning, you sure are chipper.” Mina groans, rubbing at her tired eyes with her free hand. “I need some coffee before I can be excited about anything.”

“Agreed!” Toru sighs. “Mina - we pushed ourselves a little too hard this morning.”

You file into the cafeteria and get on line at one of the food counters. You grab a tray and scan the menu board above you to make your selection. The Food Hero Lunch Rush serves you up a few piping hot dishes that smell so incredibly delicious that your mouth starts to water.

“I’ll go grab us some seats!” You call over your shoulder to the girls, walking blindly in the direction of your usual table.

You’re not paying attention to where you are walking, because suddenly you collide with another student and you feel yourself start to tip backwards . Everything is suddenly moving in slow motion as you watch your lunch tray fly up into the air as you’re falling back, back, back…

You close your eyes and brace for the impact, your brain scrambles to remember the lesson Miss Midnight taught you about the proper way to fall and land without injury. But everything is happening so quickly and your panicking mind can’t seem to remember the lesson.

Suddenly – you stop falling. You feel a sturdy arm support your back, a warm hand cradling the back of your head. You slowly open your eyes and realize that it’s Shoto. Shoto caught you inches before you hit the ground and protected your head before you could hit the ground. After the events of the past 24 hours his touch feels familiar and safe. Your body instantly relaxes as he holds you.

You blink up at him in wonder, a soft zing of adrenaline pulsing through your veins. His eyes burn into your own with a fierceness you can’t quite decode. His gaze darts quickly to your lips and then back to your eyes. Oh, shit. He’s thinking about kissing you. Right here, right now. You’re in a cafeteria full of UA classmates, faculty and staff and yet all you can think about in this adrenaline-filled moment is throwing your arms around Shoto’s neck and bringing his mouth to yours. In this moment, all you see is Shoto and his fierce mismatched eyes.

“Y/N! Are you alright!? I’m so sorry! I wasn’t lookin’ where I was going.” You snap back to reality and center yourself. You’re in a crowded cafeteria at school. You bumped into someone and tripped. Your lunch went flying and is definitely laying somewhere in a sad, inedible pile. You look over Shoto’s shoulder and see that the person you bumped into was Honenuki from Class 1B, who is now furiously apologizing from behind Shoto.

“Oh my goodness, that was so clumsy of me! So sorry Honenuki!” Your face flushes in embarrassment as Shoto lifts you back onto your feet. His hand is burning, and you see that his face has a scarlet tinge to it as well. All you can think of right now is that just a few hours earlier, he was cumming in your hand. The way his eyes seem to widen a bit as he looks down at you confirms that he’s thinking about the same exact thing. You feel yourself getting turned on just thinking about it.

“Try to be more careful, Y/N.” Shoto mutters, his tone sounds almost angry as he turns away from you and begins to clean up your spoiled lunch off the ground.

“Thanks Todoroki – sorry about that, man!” Honenuki says as he steps forward to sizes you up and ensure there are no injuries. Shoto gives Honenuki one of his quiet nods of acknowledgement.

“I was so zoned out listening to my zen playlist, I didn’t even see you coming.” Honenuki says apologetically, pointing to his ear buds. “Sometimes the cafeteria gets a little overwhelming for me so I like to cancel out the noise with music. I guess I need to be a little more aware of my surroundings.”

“No harm done!” You say reassuringly, embarrassed as Shoto sweeps the rest of your lunch into the trash. He nods again at you both then walks back towards the table he is sharing with Midoriya, Ida and Uraraka. He doesn’t look back. For a moment, you feel a pang in your chest – could Shoto actually be mad at you? After such an intimate morning spent together, the silent treatment is the last thing you’d expect from him. But then again – this is Shoto. He’s not great at expressing his emotions, and he’s likely trying to keep up the appearance that the two of you aren’t close in order to preserve some privacy. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming your nerves. Last night you were overthinking his text messages, and now you’re getting anxious about him literally saving you from a bad fall in the middle of the cafeteria. You repeat in your head that everything is fine, and if the way you made him orgasm this morning is any indication – Shoto is pretty smitten with you.

“Can I replace your lunch?” Honenuki asks, gesturing to the long line behind Lunch Rush’s food station.

“Oh, no, that’s alright!” You assure him, reaching into your pocket to grab your wallet. You flip open the small daisy covered case and realize there are no bills inside. Crap! You forgot to run to the ATM this morning before class. Your stomach rumbles audibly. You look up at Honenuki, your face burning.

“Come on.” He smiles (or you think he’s smiling. Born with a mutation that developed his face without lips, Honenuki has a permanent grin on his face) and nods towards the line. You follow him over and promise that you’ll pay him back the next day. He’ll hear nothing of it.

“It’s my fault your lunch ended up scattered across the cafeteria. No need to pay me back.” The two of you take up a place at the back of the long line, and you watch Toru and Mina grab seats at your usual table out of the corner of your eye. They’re looking over at you curiously, no doubt wondering why you’re chatting with Honenuki. You’ve met the Class 1B student on several occasions, mostly for joint training programs between Classes 1A and 1B, but you’ve never had the chance to speak with him 1:1. He’s always given off a cool, chill vibe that you find endearing.

“So what kind of music are you listening to?” You look up at him as he fiddles with his phone to decrease the volume of his ear buds.

“A lot of George Harrison lately. I’m really into 60s and 70s music right now.”

“I can send you some, if you’d like.”

“Oh – for sure!” You say cheerfully, always happy to make a new friend and hear some new jams. Honenuki seems really pleased with your answer for some reason.

“Here.” He holds out his phone, opened to the “contact” application. “Add your number. I’ll trade you – a song for a song.”

“Deal.” You say, punching in your digits. At this time, you’ve reached the front of the line where Lunch Rush replaces your spilt lunch with an equally yummy looking selection. You grab your fresh tray and move to walk towards your friends.

“Thanks Honenuki, I really appreciate it! And sorry again for being so clumsy.” You smile back at him before making a beeline for Mina and Toru.

“No worries, Y/N.” Honenuki waves as you scamper away. “And make sure you send me a good song!”

You slide into your seat with a sigh.

“What the heck was that!?” Toru shrieks, waving her arms around in a flurry of uniform sleeves.

“Looks like someone’s gotta crush on you, Y/N!” Mina winks at you and motions to Honenuki.

“Oh! Oh nooooo we were just talking about music. He bought me lunch to replace the one I’d dropped.” You say, embaressed.

“But you got his number, didn’t you!?” Mina claps her hands together. “This is absolutely perfect! We can try to rig spin the bottle so that you can kiss Honenuki!”

“How can you kiss someone without lips?” Toru muses aloud as she starts to dig into her lunch.

“Wow that’s pretty insensitive Toru!” You say admonishingly.

“No she’s got a point. We’ll need to strategize ahead of your big kiss with Class 1B’s chilliest student.” Mina grins deviously.

“Oh my God, drop the obsession with Honenuki! I promise I’m not interested in him that way. He’s just really nice!”

“Then who are you interested in, hmm?” Toru teases, pointing her chopsticks at the table across the room that holds Midoriya, Ida, Ururaka and Shoto. “Ida, perhaps?”

You and Mina laugh. “He’s not really my type.” You say kindly, glancing over at the table to watch Shoto take an elegant bite of soba. “I go more for a mysteriously handsome aesthetic.”

Mina gives you a Cheshire cat grin. “Ohhhh I know the perfect pairing for your spin the bottle partner then!” She cackles and you wonder if she’s figured you out. You glance again at Shoto and your eyes connect. You feel like a magnetic current is running between the two of you, pulling your energies together and bridging time and space.

“We all know who Mina’s ideal spin the bottle partner would be!” Toru declares loudly with a snort. “Mr. Tall Red and Handsome!” With her invisible hand, she gestures towards their left where Kirishima is wolfing down a bowl of rice next to a stoic looking Bakugo.

“Toru! Oh my God! Shhhh!” Mina waves frantically as she tries to quiet down your friend. It’s no secret amongst the three of you that Mina has been pining over her middle school classmate Eijirou Kirishima for the past year and a half. She’s been flirting with him and dancing around the edge of asking him out for months now.

“Oh yeah, Mina. What’s your game plan for when you get Kirishima for spin the bottle? Are you gonna kiss him…with tongue!?” You make a show of waggling your tongue at your friend and she gives you a mock look of disgust.

“Okay, so I know who Y/N is going to kiss and who I am gonna kiss…but what about you Toru? Who should we manifest for your spin the bottle debut?” Mina takes a delicate bite of her lunch as she poses this momentous question.

“The real question is…who won’t I kiss!?” Toru laughs almost maniacally, wiggling in her seat. It’s moments like this you wish you could see the expression on her invisible face – you’re sure it would be absolutely menacing. You and the girls laugh together and continue to babble about ideal “kiss” pairings across Class 1A.

“Oh! That reminds me! I’ve got piping hot tea to spill, y’all.” Mina pushes aside her empty bowl and leans on her elbows towards you and Toru conspiratorially. “Sero told me that he saw Todoroki sneaking back into his dorm room this morning.”

Oh, shit.

You scramble to compose your face into a look of shock – but not too shocked! Just the right amount of shocked! For a moment, you wish you had an invisibility quirk like Toru so you could mask your facial reactions.

“And you guys know that Todoroki is so by the book - he always abides by curfew. So where do you think he was!? Training? Studying? Having a covert love affair?”

Toru gasps dramatically. You almost choke on your rice at this last musing from Mina. From across the dining hall you see Shoto shoot you a look, clearly concerned. You avoid his stare and level your gaze at Mina. Her eyes dart over your face questioningly. “What do you know Y/N!?” She practically demands.

You push aside your rice bowl, taking a moment to compose yourself.

“Well…I saw his dad visit yesterday. Actually – I met his dad. It looks like he put Todoroki through training hell for most of the evening. I wouldn’t be surprised if he spent the night catching up on homework and studying since his dad took up all of his time yesterday.”

“You met Endeavor? The Flame Hero!?” Toru all but jumps out of her chair.

“Yeah, I did.” You try to keep it light on the details, no need to back yourself into a corner.

“What was he like!?”

You scowl, recalling all that Shoto had shared about his complicated relationship with his father the night before. Fuck Endeavor and his poor attempt at fatherhood.

“He seemed kind of like a jerk, to be honest.”

“That’s not surprising.” Mina chimes in. You’re relieved to see that she has moved away from the topic of Todoroki’s potential “covert love affair.” “A lot of what I’ve read about him online makes him sound like kind of an asshole. He’s not exactly known for being a warm and fuzzy hero with the way he interacts with the public.”

“That’s true – I heard that recently he saved a civilian from a factory explosion, then yelled at the man because he was wearing an All Might t-shirt.” Toru adds in a scandalized voice.

Mina snorts at this. “Inferiority complex, much?”

You laugh, finally back at ease. There’s no way any of them could find out about your illicit hookup session with Shoto. You two had so carefully covered your tracks. You snip and quip at each other for a few more minutes before you finally turn the conversation towards the most important topic at hand.

“Okay, girls. Let’s talk Operation: Spin the Bottle. How are we gonna get this secret party off the ground this weekend? What did we learn from last time?”

The girls latch onto the new conversation topic with fervor.

“I think we should make cute decorations!” Toru volunteers. “And we should remix our last party playlist to include the biggest radio hits from the past month.”

“Those are great ideas! I also think we should wait until Mr. Aizawa is officially gone before we start spreading the word about the party.” Mina says thoughtfully, sipping from her green tea drink. “As for our mistake the last time around…the biggest problem was Monoma.”

“Oh don’t worry – I have a plan to take care of him.” You say, rubbing your hands together like a cartoon villain.

“Oooo – Y/N, I love it when you get diabolical like this!” Mina giggles, sweeping her dirty dishes onto her tray and rising from the table. It’s time to go back to class for the second half of their school day. The three of you agree to chat through your plan in more detail later on.

You deposit your dirty tray at the correct receptacle before filing back to the classroom with the rest of your crew.

Ida, Midoriya, Uraraka and Shoto walk next to you in the halls. You and Shoto walk side by side, each immersed in conversations with your respective groups. Toru is explaining the latest makeup trends from Tokyo to you and Mina, while Midoriya and Shoto are deep in a conversation surrounding provisional licenses. You can feel the burning heat of Shoto’s body next to yours as you move through the crowded halls. It’s loud and chaotic as students bustle to and fro, rushing to their afternoon courses. For the briefest moment, you feel Shoto’s pinky brush against your own. You feel a shock of electricity run through you at the contact. You can’t help but smile. What a sweet little secret you have!

You file back into Classroom 1A and see that Mr. Aizawa is already stationed at the teacher’s podium, awaiting your class’s arrival.

“Alright, alright. Take your seats.” Mr. Aizawa says in a bored tone.

Izuku Midoriya raises his hand. He doesn’t wait for the teacher to call on him before he blurts out: “But sir – don’t we have combat training this afternoon?”

A murmur of confusion ripples through the class. Typically, this would be the point in the day when Mr. Aizawa would give you all access to your hero costumes and tell you to go to the locker rooms to prep for the combat portion of the coursework.

“Midoriya, please wait to be called on before addressing me in a classroom setting.” Mr. Aizawa reprimands quickly, but there’s no tone of annoyance in his voice. At this point in your academic journey with Eraserhead, you know that he’s just a stickler for rules and loves order.

“Sorry, sir.” Izuku squeaks out, sinking in his chair a bit now that he’s been called out in front of the entire class.

“That’s a good question. I realize that there’s an important lesson we’ve been neglecting to teach you here. Now that you’re living in the dorms, it feels more pressing than ever.”

Ida’s hand shoots up in the air at record speed.

“Yes, Ida…” EraserHead says in a bored voice.

“Sir, UA has such a strict and well-planned curriculum. What could possibly have been “neglected” by the faculty and staff?”

Aizawa smirks at Ida as if the young Engine hero has made a particularly funny joke. He looks out at the class and takes a deep breath before his next statement:

“This afternoon Recovery Girl and Midnight will be joining us as we discuss a crucial topic. I’m going to walk you through an Intro to Sex Ed.”

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

Part 4 is already in the works, my loves!

🔥Link to My Master List🔥

Thanks so much for reading - I hope you're enjoying the story so far. You all were so excited for an update, it spurred me on to write up this 20 page update! Holy Cow! The next chapter I have planned out is going to be super spicy and a little silly (I feel like you all have been digging that combo so far!?). Let's see what happens next to our dear Shoto x Reader pairing! 👀

Lol maybe I should come up with a better story name than "Shoto's First Kiss." When I started this as a one shot I did not expect this story to take off the way it did! Thanks again for reading and feel free to check out my other spicy works on The Master List pinned to the top of my blog!

XoXo, Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

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polyestercleaner · 3 days

Note

hello! Can i request dom Joost and sub reader with s degradation kink?

Thanks for the request >U<♡

|Summary:You had an argument with joost and instead of leaving you end up fucking.

|Content Warning⚠️: P in v, fingering, degrading, joost being a little rough on reader. Argument turns to sex if that's not your thing.

You've never been good at controlling your anger or your pain. Always letting those tears slip past your eyes when you couldn't make someone know what you feel, when you realize that maybe, no one will ever get you. "I thought you'd be there." You've asked joost to come by to hang out with you,

you wanted to show him some cool stuff You've done for your work. But instead he ditched you and went out with his friends. You felt hurt. Rightfully so. "Oh come on I'm sorry it's just... I mean is it that big of a deal schat?" He never raises his voice at you. Never. But tonight you felt like if you tried to get your point across any further he's gonna snap. And you won't like it. He never hits you.

Ever that's not who he is and it never will be. But he does get pissed much like any other person. You cross your arms as you walk towards your bed, sitting down as you look at him. He's starring at you, standing with a confused expression. He shrugs. "So what now your just gonna be pissed forever? I'm tired of this. I'm tired of you-I mean. I just can't right now" your eyes go wide as you register what he says. "Come again?" "NOT like that.You know that. I just don't get how it's a big deal."

You scoff at him. He's so ignorant sometimes you just wanna punch him. "I've never missed your concerts or when you get an award. I know im not at as high status as you, but I still achieve stuff." He groans as he turns away from you. "Oh fuck off here we go again with the status" your tears continue to fall as you grip the sheets underneath you.

How could he. You got up, walking towards him. Forcing him to look at you. He hates to see you cry and you know that. He rolls his eyes. But you knew he meant that as a way to get his eyes off of you. "Whats wrong with you" "Listen I AM sorry but I'm just trying to understand you here? How can I fix this ja? What's up whats going on I just don't get you sometimes." Anger is expressed in many forms, and you've been there in every form. Punching things. Yelling. Screaming and crying into a pillow.

But you've never done this. You pull him by his shirt and kissed him, your lips and his attached as you made out with him, he hesitated for a minute before kissing you back. Usual kisses with joost are soft, their sweet and sensual. But this was a kiss of pure hunger and anger. Your hands roamed his shirt as you helped him pull it off, exposing his chest as he slowly pushed you back towards the bed, shoving you ontop of it as he watched you quickly take off your skirt and shirt, your bra following along leaving you in thigh highs and your panties.

He hovered over your body as you made out on the bed. His mouth traveled everywhere on your body. Your neck. Your tits. Lapping at your nipple as he gently puts pressure with his teeth. You gasp as you both continue eating away at eachother roughly, "let me show you how sorry I am. Being all fussy and rude." He shoved your panties to the side before teasing your pussy with a finger, "wet enough for me yeah? You slut. All that fighting got you this horny? You like seeing me pissed? God your pathetic"

His words got to you. Making you even wetter by the second You groaned in response to the feeling of his finger sinking into your pussy, another finger following along, his pace was harsh and fast, his fingers long enough to hit that little sweet spot you never seem to reach to. You whimpered as you threw your head back, your hand grabbing at his wrist, you weren't pulling him off, you just wanted to feel a bit of his flesh since he was hovering over you. Simply watching with amusement.

"Your all gooey on the inside, need my cock inside of you liefde? Yeah?" You nodded quickly as you continued whimpering out his name in such a needy manner, your hips rolling to gain friction each time u felt his fingers slam fully inside of you. "Close.. m'close" you whimpered as joost kept starring at you. Nodding before speaking up. "Yeah? So close right? You wanna cum? You wanna cum around my fingers? Well..." your eyes widen as you felt him pull out of you. Leaving you empty as you watched him unbuckle his pants. "W-wha..." he smirked at the dumbfounded look you had on your face. He pushed himself between your legs before shoving his cock inside of you, joost usually gives you time to adjust.

To take in his features but neither of you were up for that. You tried your best to hold back your moan. If he was gonna tease you this way you were gonna atleast try to aswell.. he looked at you confused. A stiffled whimper leaving and he could immediately tell what you were doing. "Whatever your doing it won't work, you know how much I make you feel good. Just accept it. That's what you get for acting like a cunt."

You didn't care how much he insulted you. You loved every bit of it and you knew he didn't mean it, he knew it aswell. He gripped your hips before slamming his cock into you. His pace rough and harsh as you continued to try and stiffle your moans, "Let's see how well you hold up." He continued pounding into you. You threw a hand to your mouth as you stiffled the noises that urged to come out.

Letting a whimper slip by every now and then but ofcourse it wasn't pleasant enough as hearing your noises loudly. He frowned at you. Watching as you continued to try your best to tease him back. Whatever your technique was it was failing. You squint one eye shut as you suddenly felt joost pull out and slam back inside of you,

skin against skin noises echoing through the room. That was enough to break you. You let out the loudest and most lwedest moan you've ever let out. Shrieking as he began laughing at what you did.

"God you just never fail to be pathetic sometimes schat" he kissed your forehead before placing his hands underneath your arms and pulling you into a gentle hug as he grunts in your ear. You on the other hand, lost it all. All you could think of was joost. You couldn't even be mad anymore. He continued fucking you as you felt your orgasm approaching you.

You shrieked and whimpered like your life depended on it. Suddenly with a string of "Ah! Ah!" Noises you felt him cum inside of you, your orgasm taking over you, everything flashing white as you let out a pathetic helpless whimper. Your clit pulsing and burning as you held joost. "Dont let go...wait" you held him as he panted into your ear.

You heard him gently speak. "I'm sorry.. really liefde. I promise I'll be with you when you need or want me next time." You nodded. Shutting your eyes closed as you both took in eachothers embrace. Panting and grunting as he slowly pulls out of your pussy....

|THANKS FOR THE REQUEST YHEHE O_O

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munson-blurbs · 3 days

Text

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader) ♫Flip Flopped Edition♫

♫ Summary: What if Eddie and Heiress met well before the events of Living After Midnight? Or, seven-year-old Eddie accompanies Wayne on a trip to New York, where he encounters a special little girl. (1.6k words)

♫ CW: mentions of parental neglect, drinking, poverty

♫ A/N: Part of the Flip Flopped event! Be sure to participate and/or support those participating!

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult ♫ Young Eddie credit to @/fefemunson on Twitter

March 1973

Frantic knocking at 2 AM could only mean one thing: trouble.

Wayne Munson wiped sleep from his eyes, stretching his legs with a groan. The knocking became louder, accompanied by an all-too familiar bark.

“Wayne, I know you’re home! Open the damn door!”

Al’s words slurred together, the pounding continuing over it.

“Christ Almighty.” Wayne shoved his feet into worn slippers, the soles scuffed down to nearly nothing. He yanked the door open, unable to mask his anger at this early hour. “What the hell do you–”

He stopped short, gaze dropping down to the little boy at his brother’s side. Seven-year-old Eddie was just as tired as Wayne; his eyelids drooped and he swayed back-and-forth on the trailer’s steps as his body fought sleep. His pajamas were two sizes too small, and Wayne could only guess that no one had bought Eddie new ones since Elizabeth died. Nor did he miss the child’s bare feet, certainly freezing in the chilly night.

Wayne tried to keep his voice even as he spoke again. “What’re you two doing here?”

Al’s chuckle held more venom than a snake bite, and Wayne grimaced as his brother said, “I got a few errands to take care of. Need you to watch the kid.” Translation: we got evicted again, none of my friends will take me in with Eddie in tow because he’s a liability, and I’d rather get high with them than spend time with my son.

“How long’re these errands gonna take? They’ve got me driving out to New York in a coupla hours.” Wayne only had a few years left until he was too old for trucking and the plant would stick him with factory work, and though he wouldn’t miss the long days and nights on the road, he’d certainly miss the higher salary.

When Al shrugged, Wayne knew any further questioning would be useless. He looked between his brother and his nephew, then at the clock on the wall. He’d need an extra cup of coffee or three if he was going to survive this ordeal. “Yeah, I’ve got him.” He scooped Eddie into his arms, the boy’s gangly limbs going limp as he finally gave into exhaustion. “I’m gonna be gone for three days at least.”

Al said nothing in response, tossing a black garbage bag into the trailer. “That’s all his clothes. Gotta be washed. I’ll be back.”

Then he was gone, leaving Wayne with Eddie in his arms.

“All right, kid,” Wayne murmured, though Eddie slept too deeply to hear him, “we’re gonna get a little bit of shuteye and then we’ll hit the road.”

He carried Eddie into the bedroom and laid him down on the mattress, resting his curly-mopped head on the pillow. Wayne’s fingers snagged on a knot as he combed them through the boy’s hair, and Eddie woke up with a start. Worry flashed across his pallid face as he failed to recognize his surroundings.

“You’re okay,” Wayne reassured him. “You’re with me now, alright? Uncle Wayne’s got ya.”

Eddie nodded and fell back to sleep, tucking his legs to his chest protectively.

Wayne watched him, listening for the tiny nose-whistle that came with each sleepy breath. He stood up, careful not to let the creaking mattress wake his nephew, and padded out to the living room. The couch would serve as his bed until Al returned—if that ever happened.

Eddie didn’t say much of anything for the first three hours of their twelve-hour ride. An hour in, he said he was hungry, so Wayne pulled into the nearest twenty-four hour rest stop and ordered a burger and fries. The paper bag was transparent with grease, but Eddie gobbled down the fast food like it was a delicacy.

Wayne didn’t ask how long it had been since he’d eaten. He didn’t think he could handle the answer.

“Uncle Wayne?”

The sound of Eddie’s voice caught the older man off-guard.

“Yeah?”

“How come my dad doesn’t work with you anymore?”

Because he showed up plastered no less than five times and got canned, Wayne thought bitterly. After Al showed up in Hawkins without a penny to his name, Wayne set him up with a job at the plant. He knew his brother would let him down, but part of him had hoped that he’d changed.

He fought to keep a neutral face now as he answered Eddie’s question.

“Wasn’t a good fit.”

Eddie nodded, smart enough to know that it wasn’t the full truth and wise enough to not pursue it further.

Wayne cleared his throat. “‘S gonna be a long ride,” he said, “so you let me know if you needa pee or somethin’. Don’t be waitin’ till the last second.”

The sun rose higher and higher, but the conversation stilled. At a few points during the ride, Wayne forgot that Eddie was seated next to him.

Around hour five, Eddie spoke again.

“Can we listen to music?”

Wayne nodded, leaning over to flick on the radio. Static poured in, both Munsons wincing at the irritating noise. Finally, a crisp song trilled from the speakers.

Be so, they'll be so lonely, baby They get so lonely They're so lonely, they could die

“This good?” Wayne grinned when Eddie nodded. He sat back in his seat, adjusting the brim of his cap. “Your mama liked Elvis, too.”

One corner of Eddie’s mouth turned up in a sad smile at the mention of his mom, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t even mention whether he’d heard the song before.

There were few times in his life that Wayne felt obligated to fill a silence, but this was one of them. “Music’s a powerful thing, y’know. Heals the broken parts of us.”

Eddie scrunched up his nose. “How?”

“Beats me. But all I know is that when I need a pick-me-up, nothin’ works better than my favorite song.” Wayne took his eyes off of the road for a second to look at his nephew. “You got a favorite song?”

“Mmm…this one.” Eddie gestured to the speakers. He was so tired that he may have given the same response to a commercial jingle, but there was no denying the subtle tap-tap-tap of his forefinger against his window, keeping time with the beat.

“Yeah?” Wayne grinned. “Well, let’s turn it up, then.”

Both Eddie and Wayne were thoroughly exhausted when they finally arrived in New York. Traffic was inevitable, especially once they crossed into New Jersey. Despite a multitude of stops to stretch, Wayne still felt soreness panging in his back and neck after unloading the machinery at a factory in Queens.

Sighing, he glanced at his watch: just after seven P.M. If he was traveling solo, he’d rest for a few minutes in a truckstop parking lot, but Eddie needed a bed. The poor kid had been schlepped around enough with his deadbeat father; he deserved a comfortable place to lay his head.

Wayne remembered seeing a small motel just down the road, the vacancy light burning bright. He looked at his nephew and shifted the truck into ‘drive.’ Spending a couple of bucks that he didn’t have would be worth it if it meant Eddie got a good night’s rest.

Eddie stood beside Wayne as he shelled out the crumpled dollar bills to the man behind the desk.

“Just the one night?”

“Yup,” Wayne said. “Got anything with two beds?”

The man nodded, plucking a key from the top row. “It’ll be room four. Straight down the hall and on the–oof.” He winced and glanced down. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for bed, young lady?”

“I did!” A tiny voice chirped. “Just wanted to say good night.” A young girl, right around Eddie’s age, peeked around the corner. Her eyes widened when she saw another child standing before her. “Hi! What’s your name?”

Eddie blinked a few times, registering that she was talking to him. “Um, I’m Eddie.”

The girl beamed and twirled around, the edges of her yellow nightgown billowing outwards. “Do you wanna be my friend?” She didn’t wait for him to answer before plunging ahead. “My mommy’s gonna read me a story. You should listen to it with me!”

She laced her fingers with Eddie’s, tugging him along to her room. “It’s about a boy who doesn’t wanna go to sleep, so he imagines a world full of monsters. But not really scary ones. Fun ones. They’re called ‘wild things…’” The sound of her voice tapered off as they turned the corner.

The man behind the desk looked at Wayne and laughed kindly. “Looks like our kids hit it off.”

Our kids. Wayne didn’t want to correct him, and not only because he couldn’t think of an easy explanation for his nephew accompanying him on this trip. “Eddie could use a friend,” he said instead, offering the man a smile in return.

“Maybe they could be pen pals or something.”

“Yeah.” Wayne nodded, clutching the key in his hand. “Maybe.”

He walked down the hall, passing his room, until he heard the little girl talking again.

“See? I told you the monsters were fun!”

And then, beautifully, a laugh. Eddie’s laugh. Genuine and filled with all of the joy that a young boy should have.

Wayne made a mental note to ask the girl’s mom for the title of the book, vowing to check it out of the Hawkins Public Library as soon as he and Eddie returned home.

In a world where people like the little girl existed, people who had some premonition of those in need of friendship and then doused them in love, Eddie might just be okay after all.

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98

@squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia

@kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock

@ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975

@yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts

@mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank

@sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles

@the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl

@fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #lam

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faithshouseofchaos · 2 days

Note

Hello, this is my first request. I hope i did it correctly. If not, I'm sorry ! What about a alex albon with the tik tok trend where the girl ask their boyfriend to leave the room while they change clothes .

The reader asks alex to leave so they can change, and he gets all pouty and clingy!

“Dramatic?Me?Never?” — Alex Albon x reader

Fluff

Word count — 632

This took me two days to write I think I finally got something I like 😭

There was one thing Alex grew up learning and that was to respect women and their boundaries. It came with the territory of growing up in a house full of women. It’s one of the reasons why you were attracted to Alex.

Lately you’ve been getting these videos on your FYP on TikTok where wives and girlfriends ask their significant others to leave the room so they could change their clothes. The videos were funny and adorable watching the various reactions of the golden retriever boys. After a while you eventually decided to try this trend out with Alex.

“Hey Alex?” You ask sweenow that your phone was set up to record his reaction.

“Yeah baby?” Alex asks, looking up at you softly smiling and settling his phone down on the bed.

“Can you get out so I can change?” You asked.

He was scrolling through TikTok on his phone, resting comfortably against the pillow as a soft smile tugged on his lips. Hearing your voice calling out to him, he looked up at you, his expression instantly tender and affectionate.

Alex smiled as you asked him to leave so you could change. He let out a playful sigh, clearly feigning reluctance. "Do I have to?" He pouted slightly, giving you a puppy-dog look.

Despite his obvious reluctance, Alex knew he had to respect your request but he enjoyed playfully bantering with you. He slowly got off the bed, making a show of how much he didn't want to leave your side.

"Can't I just cover my eyes?" He continued to tease, a cheeky glint in his eyes. "I promise I won't peek."

“I’m sorry baby but I need you to get out of the room” you said trying not to laugh .

He took a couple steps away from the bed but lingered near the door, trying to prolong the moment. His eyes never left you, a mixture of feigned disappointment and genuine curiosity visible in his expression.

"I'll miss you while I'm gone," he joked, his voice carrying a hint of exaggerated sorrow. Alex chuckled at your insistence, but that didn’t stop him from trying one last plea. He paused at the door, his hand on the doorknob. With a comically dramatic expression, he looked back at you, his eyes widened, and his bottom lip jutting out.

"But baby," he started with a faux-whine, "what if I get lonely out there without you? It's a very cruel world in the hallway."

“Oh my god Alex you're so silly” you replied laughing at his reaction.

Alex smiled, his fake pout melting into a joyous grin as he heard your laughter. Seeing you laugh at his antics always made his heart swell with happiness. He leaned against the doorway, the playful pout morphing into a cheeky smirk.

“Hey, I’m serious here,” he feigned mock offense, trying to keep his amusement in check. “You have no idea what it’s like. It’s a lawless wasteland out there.”

“Your dramatic you know that”

Alex chuckled, his smirk growing wider as you called him dramatic. He dramatically placed a hand on his chest, feigning hurt feelings.

"Dramatic? Me? Never," he protested, his eyes sparkling with laughter. "I'm simply conveying the deep and profound pain of being exiled from your presence," he continued dramatically, clearly enjoying the banter.

“You know that I’m messing with you right?” You ask, looking at him.

Alex's playful facade melted away, replaced by a warm smile. He knew you were just being playful, so his exaggerated performance was equally just for laughs.

"Oh, don't worry," he assured, chuckling softly. "I'm fully aware you're messing with me. I'm just giving you a taste of your own medicine, sweetheart."

He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms, with a lighthearted glint in his eyes.

#alex albon #alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #alex albon x y/n #aa23 #aa23 x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #f1 x y/n #formula one x y/n #formula one x oc #faiths inboxes📥📨

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winstonsns · 3 days

Note

Hi ml! I saw that you did cuteness aggression for the greasers platonically and I loved it! I was just wondering if you could maybe do Dally Winston with a really smiley reader whose smile like literally lights up a room, and a smile he loves and he gets cuteness aggression from it? This can be a fic or just head cannons if you want! Thank you so much beautiful!

then he kissed me (request)

authors note: i’m glad you like my cuteness aggression hcs!! sorry this is kinda choppy but slow at the same time. thank you for requesting this, it was super fun to make so i hope you enjoy 💗

dally x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: cussing, slightly suggestive, unintentional aggression

you awoke from your deep sleep, a loud ringing noise coming from your nightstand. you sighed, the ringing still continued so you turned to your side and moved closer to the side of your bed.

you wondered, ‘who could be calling me this early?’ it was seven in the morning, you wanted to get up around ten so you could make some sweets for the gang.

after some pondering, you carefully picked up the telephone, groggily mumbling, “who is this..?” you then heard a distinct but gentle laugh coming from the other side of the line.

“awh, doll… did you just wake up?” dally asked, a slightly teasing tone to his voice. you smiled at the nickname, one he would call you often. you missed being in the warmth of his arms, as you were the night before.

you replied, “mhm… i miss you, dal…” he chuckled softly, knowing you would always act like this. always missing him, somehow even when the two of you were together.

“miss you too, sweetheart… say, uh, me and the guys are gonna be hangin’ at the curtis house, ‘round two, you wanna come?” he asked, secretly hoping that you would be there. at the moment, he dreaded to be apart from you. he wanted to be with you as soon as possible.

you thought for a second and appreciated your boyfriend was considerate enough to invite you. you then gasped, “aww, you wanna see meee? i’ll go then, i wanna see you too!” blushing at the thought of the two of you physically being together.

dally smiled at your comment, when he first met you, he didn’t exactly love how happy you always were. he later grew to love it, you had changed his mindset and he started to look forward to every day in the future.

“i got some errands to run, doll. i’ll let you go back to your beauty sleep.” he replied, not quite answering your question although you already knew the answer.

you sighed, “okay, thank you. don’t do anything that’ll get you in trouble. love you, handsome.” you always loved to compliment dally, it’d obviously boost his ego, but he wasn’t even aware that he was completely wrapped around your finger. he was head over heels for you.

“mm… can’t promise anything. look forward to seeing you, doll. go to bed.” he hung up, you put the telephone back on the stand and sighed. you set your alarm for ten in the morning, still wanting to make sweets for the gang.

you turned once again to sleep on your back, closing your eyes and calming down, thinking about what could happen at the curtis house. you had a hard time falling asleep, you turned to your other side to see the dip in the bed where dally once was. moving over to his side, you curled up into a ball, falling asleep only a few minutes later.

a recognizable beeping sound filled your ears, the sound of an alarm clock. you turned to your side, eyes still closed when you reached your arm to press a button and turn the alarm clock off.

you kept your eyes closed for a few more minutes, still not fully awake. you then opened your eyes and put your cheek on your pillow, staring at the wall.

you slowly sat up in bed and swung your legs over the side. gently brushing hair out of your face, you stood up and stayed there for a few minutes, not yet ready to walk around.

when you were, you began to walk to the bathroom, opening the door and walking in. you picked up your toothbrush and turned the water on, placing it under and turning the water off, once again. pulling out the toothpaste out from drawer, you put some on your toothbrush and began brushing your teeth.

after two minutes, you took the brush out of your mouth and spit out the toothpaste. you rinsed your mouth out with water then rinsed your toothbrush. you placed it on the countertop and walked out of the room.

you walked down the hallway to the stairs, going down step by step. once you were downstairs, you began to take flour and other ingredients out of the pantry. once all of them were on the counter, you began to make chocolate cupcakes for the gang.

you mixed the ingredients together and poured the batter into individual cupcake sections after lining each one. you put the cupcake pans into the oven, timing it to bake for twenty minutes.

as it was baking, you made chocolate icing to put on top of the cupcakes themself. you thought of dally, how you missed him dearly and you wanted him to love the cupcakes you were making. when the timer beeped, meaning the cupcakes were done, you stopped the timer with a button and opened the drawer, grabbing mittens. once you put them on, you opened up the oven and pulled the cupcake pans out, you gently placed them on a rack to cool down.

because the cupcake icing was done, there was nothing else to do besides wait for the cupcakes to cool off. while they were cooling down, you put a vinyl on to play, a single made by the crystals. ‘then he kissed me,’ it was called. it reminded you of you and dallas, how he could be so cold to others but was an absolute sweetheart to you.

as the music was playing for a few minutes, you looked at the clock, it was around eleven. you hovered your hand over the cupcakes to see if they were the right temperature, heat wasn’t radiating off of them. you grabbed a piping bag and put the icing into it, icing each cupcake individually.

in order to finish it off and make it look perfect, you took a small container out to the cupboard. it was filled with pink, red and white heart shaped sprinkles. you grabbed another container next to it, one that was filled with bigger pink sprinkles, shaped like bows.

you sprinkled the hearts onto the cupcakes, making sure they all looked nice and equal before putting it down. you then poured the bigger bow sprinkles into your hands, in your opinion, each cupcake only needed one because it was larger than the other sprinkles. you individually placed the bow sprinkles on the frosting, getting some on your fingers and licking it off.

you then backed up from the counter and looked at it, satisfied with your work. you bent down to get a big container, putting it on the counter and placing the cupcakes in it. you left one for yourself, taking off the liner and eating it. you were surely pleased with how it tasted and how it looked, you just hoped the gang would like them too.

grabbing a lid from the cabinet, you put it on the container and opened the fridge, putting it on one of the shelves. you looked back at the clock, it was around 11:40. you had around an hour and a half to rest before you had to get ready to go to the curtis house.

in that hour and a half, you finished a book that you’ve been wanting to read again. when you glanced to the clock, it was around 1:10, you closed your book and placed it in your nightstand.

you then get up from your bed and walk to your dresser, opening the drawers and pulling out a shirt you know dally likes. grabbing bottoms of your choice, you pick up some white socks that would look good with your heels.

you began to get dressed. as you were brushing your teeth, you walked outside your bathroom to once again, check the clock. it was around 1:40, almost time for you to drive to the curtis house. when you were done brushing your teeth, you walked downstairs and to the kitchen. you opened up the fridge, gently taking out the cupcake container and placing it on the counter.

you then walked to the entrance of your house, grabbing your heels and putting them on your feet. as you walked back to the kitchen, you grabbed the cupcake container and your keys.

walking outside and therefore exiting your house, you locked up the house and continued walking to your car, parked in the driveway. you unlocked your car, opening the door to the drivers seat and putting the cupcake container in the passengers seat.

as you began to drive in the direction of the curtis house, you saw your boyfriend seemingly walking to your house. your eyebrows furrowed, wondering why he was here.

he looks in your direction as you pull over, closer to him. he leans into the rolled down window and puts his hand on the roof of the car, “hey, baby..” smiling at you sweetly.

you smiled at him back, blushing once again at the nickname and asking, “why are you here, hun? it’s not exactly safe for you to be in a soc neighborhood. don’t want you to get hurt, dal… no one’s following you, right?”

he mumbles at the beginning, “worried about me, huh, baby..? don’t think anyone’s following me, and if someone was,” he leaned in closer to your face, lips only a few inches apart, “i’d beat the shit out of them, you know that.”

looking up at him, you order, “get in.” gesturing to the passengers seat, you grab the cupcakes container and gently place it in the back seats.

he states, “yes ma’am.” and walks around the side of the car, opening the door and sitting in the passengers seat. he notices how the seat is perfect for him, his legs aren’t as cramped as they used to be.

you state as you begin to drive, “pushed the seat back for you ‘cause you used to complain about it so damn much.” he rolled his eyes, smiling and gently placing his hand on the hem of your shirt, fidgeting with it.

at a stop light, you’re behind a few cars when dally leans over and softly grabs your face, turning it towards him. he kisses you gently and continues to go back for kisses, him initiating contact until cars behind you start to honk.

the light has already turned green, you pull away from the kiss and drive to the curtis house. the two of you arrive at the house, you park your pink car nearby, trying to somewhat hide it though obviously failing. dark colors are all around, the odd one out is a light pink mustang on the side of the road.

you get up out of your car, opening the back door and picking up the cupcake container and carrying it. dallas is right behind you, making you jump and he chuckled because of you. you lightly bump his shoulder, mumbling, “shut up.”

he gently grabs the container from the bottom out of your hands, beginning to talk to you and asking what’s in the container. you state, “oh, they’re chocolate cupcakes! pony and soda are always talking about chocolate cake, so i guessed they’d like chocolate cupcakes too! decided to bring some for the whole gang.” you smile up at your boyfriend.

he smiles down at you, “ain’t you a peach? you’re too sweet for me, doll.” he loves how sweet you always are, you always thought of others before yourself, wondering if things were safe before letting yourself and others do something. too good, too pure for him. all of your kindness made people attracted to you, romantically and platonically. he was so glad the gang accepted you right away when he told them the two of you were dating.

you continue to talk as your boyfriend looks at you, love apparent in his eyes. he opens the door up for you, letting you walk in first. loudness quickly fills your ears, two-bit exclaiming, “the fuck? dally’s opening doors for people, being a gentleman? since when?”

your boyfriend closed the door behind him, “since y/n came along, dipshit.” he replied. darry, two-bit, soda and steve greeted you and dally as the two of you came in. as you walk to the kitchen, you gently take the container out of dally’s hands, thanking him for carrying it. you then place it on the counter, johnny and pony immediately swarming around to see what you have.

“hey, y/n, whatcha got there?” johnny asks, pony agreeing and greeting you too. you smile at the both of them, dally’s hand moving to your waist, rubbing soothingly up and down.

you softly reply, “oh, it’s just chocolate cupcakes. you guys can have some if you want, it’s for all of you—“ you paused, really looking at johnny and asking, “oh, johnny, what happened to your cheek? are you okay?” you’re concerned, he had told you it was a few socs who beat him up, rings cutting his face.

as dally listens in on the conversation, observing you the whole time, he feels a sense of aggression while you were concerned for johnny. he doesn’t know how to describe it, he doesn’t want to actually hurt you, but he needs to find a way to relieve the emotion he was feeling.

so he grips your waist a little harder, pony looking at the point of contact and whispering to johnny, “think we should leave. they’re gettin’ a little handsy.” causing his friend to also look at the point of contact, he grins and looks at dally. “we’ll be in the livin’ room.”

the two walk away chuckling with each other while you don’t know why they left. as soon as the two of them turn their backs, your boyfriend kisses you on the cheek then to the lips. he slightly pushes you towards the counter, continuing to kiss you.

“you’re so adorable, baby… so important to me…” he mumbled in between kisses, your hands on his chest. you wince at the pain on your waist, mumbling, “dal, you’re hurting my waist a bit. little softer, hun.”

he softens his grip at your command, whispering an apology. the two of you were interrupted by darry loudly stating, “hey,” trying to get your attention, “you do that, you go back to your damn house.”

you look back, sensing dally was trying his hardest not to physically hurt you. the both of you chuckled at the interruption, you leaned into your boyfriend, tilting your head up to get a kiss from him. this time, the kiss was soft and passionate, savored.

once the two of you pulled away, you were once again, interrupted, this time with many boys running into the kitchen to try the chocolate cupcakes.

#the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #dally winston x reader #dallas x reader #the outsiders dally #dally winston #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston oneshot #dallas winston fluff #winstonsns

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probablyintensemuses · 2 days

Text

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.

#armando aretas #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life #armando x reader #armando aretas x reader #hot #fic #angst #smut #bwwm love #blackoc #fanfiction #fanfic #jacob scipio

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kirishwima · 6 hours

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Ohhh pookie i meant to say like they get mad (maybe yell) at her and she starts crying and starts ignoring them for a week i love angst BOOKIE 😩💔🗣️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️❗❗❗❗‼️‼️‼️

+ shiu kong & toji they fine ass mfs 😩‼️

not u putting Mahito up there looking SO YUMMY (pls. i know hes an asshole but he's my guilty pleasure)

anyway, I love this kinda angst, and I've already written a kinda-adjacent smau, so...here's a drabble instead!

JJK guys arguing with you when you tell them you crashed their car

Gojo is pissed. He runs his hand through his hair, and not even his blindfold can protect you from the seething glare he shoots your way.

"You what?!"

You try to explain it away-it was an accident, you didn't mean to, it won't happen again! But you know that though the guy has a dozen different sports cars, the one you borrowed was his prized possession, one he only let you drive because it's you, and well, you're his other most prized possession, in a way.

You expected him to be irritated, to maybe say a word too many while fueled with anger.

What you didn't expect was the yelling. The cussing, all of it reaching a deafening crescendo when he, exasperated, huffs out;

"God, can't you do anything right?"

It felt like the world came crashing down on you, tears welling up in your eyes before you even realized it. Satoru saw that, of course he did, his anger that was boiling and spilling over now freezing cold, his hands reaching out towards you, hovering at your sides.

"Wait I don't-I mean I didn't mean it like that-"

But it's too late, as you shy away from him, wiping tears with closed fists.

He's never been good at comforting you, never knows what to say...he can usually take your mind off of whatever upset you with silly jokes and his trademark humor, but what can he do when he's the cause of it? He simply doesn't know. So he pulls away, lets his hands drop to his sides, mad at you partly, yes, but most of all mad at himself for taking a petty argument too far.

He doesn't talk to you for days. Grabs his pillow and heads to the spare bedroom before you can even suggest doing so yourself, will use the excuse of missions to stay away from you, anything he can do to give you space. He doesn't know how to fix this, you've always been the one urging him to talk about his feelings in this relationship, to stop repressing all he has to say, but without your guidance he's just a lost boy, hurt and uncertain.

He doesn't know what to do-so he does what he does best. Repress, and suppress. Even if the guilt eats him up from the inside.

Geto doesn't say anything at first. He looks to the scratch on his car, arms crossed over his chest, as you helplessly try to explain how it happened, standing right beside him with a pleading look.

He only listens to you half-heartedly, for the most part lost in his own mind, trying to repress the anger threatening to push out of his chest, red and bubbling up to his neck like a witch's cauldron over heat. He knows how scary he can be when he's mad, and as upset as he is with you, the last thing he wants to do is scare you.

"Suguru please...talk to me?" you ask him, meek and quiet and all he can do is offer you a side-eyed glare, expression icy cold.

He doesn't say anything-instead turns and walks away, leaving you to stand there by yourself, tearing up at the thought of him leaving over this. He didn't say a word, nothing-does he just not care enough to argue with you? Was this the final straw in a long list of stupid arguments you've been having lately?

For a week, he barely talks to you. There's nothing but silence between you when you're both at home, though that's a rare occurrence in itself, most of his time spent outside the house-presumably to stay away from you. You buy paint to fix the scratch on the car, only to find out he's already gotten it fixed, without telling you.

For a couple nights you slept in the same bed, backs turned to each other, even if it got uncomfortable, even if your whole body itched with the need to turn around and bury your face against his chest.

He thought he was protecting you by acting this way-he had no clue it'd drive a wedge even further into your relationship.

The third day you got out of bed when you thought he was asleep, grabbed your pillow and a blanket and slept on the couch. Yet somehow in the morning, you woke up in bed again. This kept happening for a few days, though neither of you ever brought it up.

Suguru wanted to talk to you, fix things-he wanted to so bad, but the thought of you potentially looking to him with disdain, or even worse-with fear in your eyes, was too much for him to bear. So he stayed away. He'll continue to do so, unless you make the first move.

Nanami sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose-like a father tired of having to scold his child. And he plays the part, makes you feel so small as he chastises you over the mishap, his tone never rising, not really, though irritation quite clearly seeps into his voice.

"Kento, I know I made a mistake-" you start, trying to show him your point of view, but he quickly shuts you down with an annoyed glare.

"A mistake would be one thing. This is just plain stupid."

And you feel your very heart clam up, seeing the man you love assess you so coolly. He doesn't say much else after that, merely that 'he'll get it fixed' before getting up, leaving you alone in the living room, your knuckles turning white with the way you dug your fingers onto your lap to keep from screaming.

He's not exactly...distant, but he's definitely colder in the upcoming days. Nanami's never been a fan of PDA, so on the surface, things look relatively normal. But at home? He avoids your touch expertly, like he would when maneuvering away from a cursed spirit's attack, he sleeps on the very edge of the bed-yet stubbornly continues to sleep in the same bed as you, toying between the lines of anger and care that has you pulling at your own hair.

You'd think he'd be more mature-he has that vibe about him, is always so responsible. And yet he never knows how to handle his own emotions, especially not when it comes to you. He'll have dinner ready for you on the kitchen counter when you get home from work, yet he won't take a seat and eat with you like he usually would. He'll do the laundry when it's his turn to do so, expertly fold it and store your clothes at their exact usual place, yet won't have a single conversation with you on the matter. He's the best roommate you could have-but as a boyfriend, that's a whole other story.

You know he cares, deep down he still loves you...but he's stubborn, always has been, and won't breech the topic unless you do, first.

Toji is a dick.

He really is. He lent you his car, the best up, old Honda Civic with the rearview mirror missing, the one he's crashed about a dozen times. Yet when you 'fess up to him that you scratched it, he gets so mean.

"You're a dumbass, don't you know how to fuckin' drive?!" he yells, and yells, and yells. Even with tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, he doesn't stop, keeps at it-until he raises a hand to emphasize his point, and you flinch.

He knows he's an asshole. He does, but for you to think he could ever hurt you...he freezes, arm slowly dropping back down, finally quiet.

Toji doesn't know how to apologize. He's never had to before, more used to leaving a difficult situation than bother facing it. But he doesn't want to leave this, leave you-so he stays there, a long moment, noticing the tears in your eyes, the way you avoid his gaze.

He doesn't know why he acts this way, he fucking wishes he did. He knows he loves you, knows he cares so, so much, so why? Why does he act like a feral dog, when he wants you to be his leash so badly?

You're the one that walks away first, turning your back as you exit the room, slamming the door behind you. And for his part, he lets you, afraid he'd bare his fangs and bite if he followed you, even if he doesn't want to. He's left every good thing he ever found in his life, knowing that if he'd stay he'd mess it up, break it beyond repair.

God, he hopes so desperately he didn't ruin you, too. Perhaps he should leave. Before it's too late.

#asks #jjk #jjk drabble #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk angst #i love writing arguments heheh 🥰#sorry i didnt write for shiu to be completely honest i didnt really feel like it lol

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junosmindpalace · 3 days

Text

GEMINI BIRTHDAY BASH!

🎧 it's so sweet, knowing that you love me.

synopsis: celebrating their birthday...w/ the hq gemini men!

pairing(s): timeskip/present!hajime iwaizumi, koshi sugawara, shoyo hinata

content: references to 2024 dates but doesn't need to be strictly speaking (iwa's is more 2021), food (in suga's and hinata's), very short and brief angst(?), otherwise all fluff and fun!

total wc: 3.6k

a/n: it was my birthday a few days ago (june 17th) and i thought i would celebrate by writing for some gemini characters! i know shoyo is a cusp but i wanted to write him too </3 also this was my first time creating a graphic please be nice i am aware its a little plain </33

HAJIME IWAIZUMI: JUNE 10TH

The clock in your living room reads 11:55 in the evening; Hajime’s birthday is five minutes away.

You both have work in the morning, so you should be in bed sound asleep. Everything has been done as normal; the whole nighttime routine of eating dinner (that you insisted on making) together, showering, brushing your teeth. Except instead of completing the routine by cozying up in bed, you’re cozying up on your living room couch, the light in the kitchen on, and the blue light from the TV keeping your tired eyes in a trance.

Hajime’s arm is lazily outstretched over your shoulders, your fingers intertwined with the hand that dangles beside your head. His other arm is bent sideways on the couch pillow, head against his fist as he watches through bleary eyes the movie in front of him. Though your eyes are trained on the action on the TV, your ears don’t process the mumbling that pairs with it, too engrossed in your low conversation about each others’ day.

“—and Hinata wanted something more to do for himself, so I’ll be reviewing his progress and seeing what I can do. Seriously, the guy is a monster at times. Sometimes it’s hard to believe I’m really looking at him, with how far he’s come since his high school days.”

“They all seem to be of another caliber now,” you replied somewhat drowsily, yet no less engaged.

“They’re intense, that’s for sure,” he sighs, bringing his head to rest behind the cushion and leaning closer toward your own. “But they’ve always been like that.”

He’s completely unaware of the time and date approaching as he drones quietly about the day he’s had. He notices, on occasion, your glances up at the wall where your clock was located, and thought you were anxious to get to sleep.

“Hey,” he nudges your knee with his own. “you wanna head to bed?”

“Hm? No, no, not yet. Keep talking, I wanna hear.”

Upon your insistence, he obliged reluctantly, resuming his chatter for a little while longer as you hum and nod.

He feels comfortable like this, with your head against his chest, body snuggled close to his side, the low hum of the TV, the dim light. He, for a moment, finds his eyes gently closing unconsciously. You wait for him to continue his explanation at a pause, but are only met with the quietness of the TV. A slight stir prompts Hajime’s eyes to open immediately, and he shifts a little as he takes in your face, peering up at him through small eyes.

“Haji.”

“Mm?”

“You sleeping?”

“M’not.”

You placed a hand on his chest as you turned your body to look at the clock. It now reads 12:04 in the morning. You rub your eyes and reach for the phone on the coffee table in front of you, and when it blinks to life, it blinds you with the time and the new date.

June 10.

“Ugh, put that away,” Hajime groaned as he turned away from the straining light on your phone, lolling his head to the other side against the couch cushion. You quickly slid it back onto the table, and then collapsed again against your boyfriend’s chest, hugging his middle tightly and digging your chin into his chest as you looked up at him with a wide smile.

“Happy birthday, Haji.”

His eyes reopen slightly, and he angles his head toward the clock to view the time for himself: 12:05.

He tucks his chin in so he meets your gaze and the sweet, tired smile on your face, and finds one of his own, tired yet tender, slowly propping up the apples of his cheeks. So that’s why you had been eyeing the clock, all for him and his silly birthday. Of course it would be you who remembers his birthday before he even does. You were sweet and thoughtful in that way.

“So that’s why you wanted to stay up a little longer, huh?” His tone is a faux annoyance for only a moment before his arm around your shoulders curls a little tighter in endearment, and he knocks his forehead against yours, gently and playfully, as you let out a short giggle at the gesture. “Thank you, baby.”

“What do you wish for?”

“To get some rest,” he yawned as he pulled away, going to sit up from the couch.

“Why would you say that? Now it won’t come true!”

Your weight on his lap and arms now thrown around his neck anchored him to the couch. He gives you a deadpan look as a hand finds its way rubbing gently up and down your lower back, while the other slowly snakes itself under your legs.

“Oh, I’ll make it come true.”

You squeal when he sits up and scoops you up in one swift motion, and you throw your head back in quiet laughter as he walks the two of you to your bedroom.

“Haji, you know, it's your birthday. I should be the one carrying you.”

He snorts, and shakes his head. “ It’s my birthday, right? I get to do what I want.”

KOSHI SUGAWARA: JUNE 14TH

Sugawara was dejected when he realized he had to work on his birthday.

As if the universe was taunting him, this year it fell right on a Friday, just one day off from the weekend.

If he were honest, however, it wasn’t too much of a bother. He mentally groaned about it the evening before and morning of, but all in all, his birthday was a fleeting thought in his mind. Work and everyday busyness replaced the thought with lesson plans and mental preparedness to handle a classroom of young children after an exhausting week.

He hoped, at the very least, however, that you would recognize the oddness of the day, do a little something to acknowledge it. Maybe a small cake or a nice breakfast. Maybe a little present. Hell, just a small, intimate murmur of a happy birthday accompanied with a sweet kiss would elevate his heart. Yet every time he looked on at you, you were preoccupied with preparing yourself for work, just as Suga was. No fancy breakfast was prepared, no gift sat on the table by the door, and the only kiss he was able to snag was a hurried one on the cheek as you wished him a good day, and headed out the door and into your car.

So Suga’s birthday was not off to a great start.

But again, it’s only a birthday. He almost feels a little dumb, getting all worked up over it, especially as an adult. So he makes the most out of the day as he always does with his kids and their lively attitudes, plus the wind down time and lack of work reserved for Friday’s brightens his special day from the dejected morning he experienced earlier.

Little did your boyfriend know of the plans you had in store for him.

As humble as Sugawara attempted to be about his birthday, you knew that he liked having it acknowledged. He was appreciative of any and all kind birthday gestures, from simple greetings to thoughtful presents. And you wanted your present for him to be thoughtful. Memorable. Surprising, exciting, and able to convey the sheer amount of affection you hold for him, though you doubted that any gesture could entirely convey such a thing. But your mission this year was to sure try.

You had taken the day off to get everything under way. Pick up a nice cake you ordered a few days before, with Suga’s favorite flavor of icing and batter, along with a neat and heartfelt Happy Birthday written on top in cursive.

Once the cake was tucked away in your fridge, your next stop was a party store. Perhaps you may have overdone it with the decorations, you had thought to yourself when you examined your two (full) shopping bags as you walked back to your car, but there was just so much to choose from, and you were sure Suga would like it all! Banners, balloons of impressive and wacky sizes and shapes, streamers, confetti, party poppers; you couldn’t pass up a single thing, not when you imagined his enthusiasm over each one.

Your final stop was for restocking on foods and drinks. Besides the cake, you bought a couple of bottles of fancy alcohol (the one’s he’ll often eye and make fun of how posh they sound), a couple of his favorite snacks and beverages, and the like.

By the time Suga arrived home from work, he’s exhausted, yet somehow invigorated by the idea of seeing you. He lets himself into the house with his key, letting out a tired I’m home, heart picking up when he spots your shoes neatly organized in the genkan, and joins his own beside them as he pads further into your home toward an alluring smell.

The light is low in your living room. It’s enveloped in a yellow glow compared to the blinding bright white that startles him awake and strains his tired eyes in the morning. The first thing that comes into his line of sight, besides you, already in comfortable clothing with your back turned and managing something on the table in front of you, is a neat and beautiful cake on the coffee table in front of your couch.

Your living room is full of more animated color than usual; batches of balloons occupy the corners and a few are scattered, some hovering aimlessly, on your floor. A Happy Birthday banner hangs from above the threshold into the room. Suga, once the initial shock and surprise wore off and was able to fully comprehend that it was all for him, felt that he may burst into tears.

You hurriedly turned around upon sensing a new presence in the living room, and gasped when it was none other than your boyfriend, briefcase in hand, and staring dumbfounded at you and the sight of your decorated living room.

“Ko! I didn’t expect you to be home this soon!”

“Traffic was sparse.” He managed to get out past the lump in throat, but once he realized how stupid he appeared, he shook his head in an attempt to feign nonchalance. “So! What is, uh…what’s all this?”

Your brows shot up, and you gave him an exasperated smile before walking over to him. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” you said slyly, wrapping your arms around his neck, with Suga immediately reciprocating with a hand to your back. “I was still setting up some stuff because I was under the impression that I still had some time before you came home.”

“Oh, so you wanted me to get stuck in traffic, is that it?” He teases in a faux annoyed tone, but it’s quickly betrayed by the smile that immediately stretches back over his face.

“In this instance, yes!” You laughed, grinning yourself when he began to pepper kisses all over your neck and face, curling his arm around your waist to keep you secure against him. You laughed breathlessly through the assault, attempting to push away the ticklish sensation. But Suga’s energy had just been replenished fully, and his heart elevated the highest it ever could.

“It’s perfect, all of it. Thank you.” he halts his assault to mutter against your skin through his lovesick smile, and it brings a grin to your own lips as you bring him in for one final kiss on his lips, one he immediately attempts to deepen.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh as you pull away when he whines and chases after your lips. “Now that you’re here, let’s sing!”

He laughs too, letting you drag him further into your living room, abandoning his briefcase by the wall as he sat himself down on your couch, and you came over with the lighter you were previously fiddling with to light the candles on the small cake.

All he could think about as you sang to him enthusiastically was how giddy he felt, and how lucky he was that he was spending his birthday in such a manner with you. And when he blew out his candles, the wish at the forefront of his mind was to spend many more birthdays with you in this manner

(and maybe a new car).

Even as you shooed him into the bathroom to change into more comfortable clothes as you cut yourselves slices to enjoy by the TV, and afterward retreated to bed, he muttered, “I’m still mad that you tricked me, by the way.” as the two of you closed your eyes.

Which earned him a swat to the chest.

SHOYO HINATA: JUNE 21ST

Shoyo absolutely cannot deny the fact that he’s had a great birthday since the moment the sun rose in the sky.

His special day began with an influx of texts and calls from family and friends to wish him a happy birthday, and use the opportunity to catch up with him. Nearly every moment of his morning was taken up by a different phone call that he took as he prepared himself for the training he had that day. When he arrived at the training center, his team immediately pounced on him, greeting him with enthusiastic cheers and a round of singing.

And while he can almost say his birthday was perfect, with all the texts and calls he received and the thoughtful birthday treatment, his one and only regret was the fact that you weren’t there to celebrate with him.

His birthday this year happened to coincide with travel for upcoming tournaments, which unfortunately meant that you wouldn’t be celebrating alongside him in person. But just because you weren’t there in the flesh to hug him tight and sing loudly in his ear, it didn’t prevent you in the slightest from doing whatever you could virtually to make him feel good on his special day.

At least, he had hoped it wouldn’t.

He had picked up your call eagerly on the day of his birthday, and grinned from ear to ear as you sang to him loudly and exaggeratedly. When you finished your song and exchanged all your morning pleasantries, to his absolute dejectment, you had informed Shoyo with a guilty tone that you would be unable to call or text for the majority of the day.

“I’m sorry, Sho, something suddenly came up for work, and I’m going to be swamped. I’ll call you tonight, I promise!”

The disappointment he felt was tremendous, yet he easily covered it up with an understanding nod and reassuring words that he’d stay up to catch your call. It wasn’t like he was really expecting your schedule to be free the entire day so he can call and text whenever. Besides, he was miles away from you; it would be selfish for him to expect that your schedule would be all free for him when his wasn’t.

So Shoyo made the most out of his birthday without you, and there wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t grinning. Enjoying delicious meals, being on the receiving end of all sorts of enthusiasm, excitement and birthday traditions from friends, family, colleagues and fans alike; each kind birthday gesture lifted his heart to Cloud 9.

The day concluded, after practice in the training facility when the sun began to die out in the sky, with Shoyo’s team insisting that they treat him to a celebratory dinner at some nice restaurant with some excellent international cuisine, allowing him to get a small taste of home. And Shoyo’s stomach was starting to churn, and it wasn’t like he was about to pass up a free meal…

The company took cramped spots in a booth inside the restaurant, bringing a few spare chairs to form a full circle around the large, polished wooden table jutting out from the wall. The setting sun meant that there was still some time before the restaurant could anticipate a more busy dining area.

Shoyo was spoiled with trays of meat, bowls of rice, and all sorts of other cuisine that he sampled from the plates of his colleagues. By the time the sun had nearly fully disappeared beneath the horizon, each one of their appetites was satiated, full and content with their meals.

As if Shoyo’s birthday couldn’t get any better so late into the day, it was about to become complete in the most unexpected and perfect way imaginable. Though the team was full, they could spare the appetite for a dessert, the most fitting conclusion for a birthday: because what’s a birthday without a cake?

Shoyo’s team accompanied him home with eager conversation, yet strange occasional whispers among themselves. Perhaps all the celebration was all a little too much?

When they arrived in a large group by his front door, Shoyo took notice of poorly hidden sly smiles and eager eyes from the teammates across from him, exchanging them among themselves as he fiddled with his keys.

He’s the first to step inside the dark room, calling out to nobody in particular an I’m home!, as was routine for him to do. His heart suddenly stops, however, when he hears a voice answer.

“Welcome back!”

His teammates burst out into chuckles and giggles. “Ah, it looks like our dessert is here!” One of them nodded his head toward the living room.

When Shoyo makes his way reluctantly further into his apartment, initially confused, his furrowed brows immediately relax when he turns on the overhead light, and he feels as though the breath had been stolen from his lungs and hitched in his throat.

At first, he thinks that perhaps he’s gotten a little homesick being without you, his special person, on his special day. He’d been thinking of you in intervals at every peak of his day. Surely now his exhaustion is crashing down on him, making him see things?

But your eager grin and short laughter as you took in his shocked expression tells him otherwise. You were here, in the flesh, standing right before him--

He all too suddenly finds himself squeezing you tight in his arms, and you immediately reciprocate with one hand coming around his neck, collective aww’s and teasing ew’s going round at the affectionate sight.

“Hold on there, Shoyo, the cake!”

He quickly steps away when he suddenly feels an object collide gently with his side, and he only partially lets you go as he steps back to look at a box you were holding in your other hand. You grinned at him.

“Surprise!”

He doesn’t dare let go of your hand even when you set the cake down and urge him to take a seat on his couch, taking an electronic candle you had bought on your way to his apartment and placing it at the very center. His entire team begins to sing to him once more as they crowd around him on the couch and around the table, this time with you joining in standing beside him, and his smile feels almost painful with the way it doesn’t falter for a second.

When the song ends, a round of cheers go around the table, and you remove the candle to place it in a napkin. You turn toward each other, and you place a hand on his shoulder as you lean down to give him a kiss on his temple and mumble a more quiet, personal happy birthday.

And just as he was about to lean over to capture your lips in an enthusiastic kiss, let thank you after thank you fall from his lips for such a grand surprise, all for him, you grabbed hold of his head, turned it back toward the cake, and shoved his face right into the center of it.

Gasps and cheers alike went around the table, and the rest of his team laughed at the bold and sudden gesture. He could hear your own soft laughter as his face gradually emerged from the cake, and the shrills and hollers from his teammates grew louder as they took in the sight of the icing and chunks of cake sticking to various sides. They continued to bark out laughter as he wiped the chunks away from his eyes, staring at them on his fingertips before turning toward you, hiding a smile behind your hand as you mouthed over it an I'm sorry.

Shoyo rose silently halfway from his seat, leaned over toward you, and before anyone could properly call on what he was about to do, smeared the cake on his hands onto your own face, and a new wave of audible surprise and amusement went around the table.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

“I hear you, Shoyo,” one of his teammates hovered over his seat as he took a large chunk of the cake with his bare hands, and immediately smeared it onto his colleague beside him. “You look better like this, anyway.”

The table erupted into chaos, with the remainder of the unassualted teammates running away from the assault.

“Quick, scatter, before they get us too!”

“Oh, you aren’t escaping that easily!”

Running, breathless laughter, and shrills of alarm rang out in a chaotic symphony throughout the apartment, but amidst the chaos, only you and Shoyo remained by the couch side by side, hunched over laughing at each other’s ruined faces. Despite the ruined cake, the madness in his home, and the icing running down your faces, Shoyo’s heart thrums with love and happiness, and he steps forward to cup your cool cheeks and halt your giggles by capturing your lips in a deep and (literally) sweet kiss.

Now, perhaps, Shoyo could say his birthday was perfect.

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