personal song of choice: in my room, by insane clown posse.
i've seen so many rayman edits to this song, it now has him written alll over it. fuuuuuuckkkkkkk. do i write smut? (probably). just take this for now.
| tw:: foul language, raymesis/j, my own hcs, self indulgence, (heavy?)angst, they're all struggling, this is not proof read.
[ a/n:: we need more rayman. i'm still new to writing fanfics(aside my horrid watpad {i forgot how to spell it} phase.) forgive my errors and i hopefully plan to write more of him. he haunts my nightmares(lovingly). i'm ill rn, and wrote most of this in a sleep deprived craze for more rayman. first time writing these characters-- forgive me. ]
(soh/game)rayman.
i feel like he'd be the type to randomly pinch you especially when he feels like he's being ignored, or when you're 'busy'.
he always does it when you least expect it. sitting on the couch, scrolling on your phone/reading a book? pinch. getting something to drink? pinch. stargazing? pinch.
loves the little reactions he gets from you. giggles over it. i bet he kicks his feet too.
definitely the type to swipe food from your plate when you're not looking, then gaslight you about it.
you're missing a potato wedge? nuh-uh. you're crazy. how dare you assume that your handsome, loving, amazing boyfriend would ever steal from you. the betrayal...(he did it.)
i like to think he enjoys hand kisses. random thought, but i dunno. i think he'd like to kiss your palms as a source of reassurance, and of course receiving the same affection back would probably give him a heart attack. in a good way of course.
or when you're a bit stressed in public and hold onto the back of his hoodie. like slightly holding onto the fabric where it's almost unnoticeable. probably the cutest thing you could ever do in his eyes. (that or giving him a lil kiss.)
silly things aside, he stuggles a lot. his failures that haunt him day in and out, he's scared to know how long it takes before he fails you too.
simple mistakes can lead to him getting stressed or overwhelmed as he doesn't leave any room for his 'failures', even with something so simple as accidentally knocking something over, breaking stuff, etc... he truly believes that you are one mistake away from leaving him.
he tries to be forgiving of all things with consideration of course, but often times it backfires. he has a naïve view that everyone can, and will change. he wants to believe that they will change for the better, even if the person chooses not to change, or to change for the worse. he blames himself when things go south because of that, he wants to give someone a second chance, but sometimes do they really deserve it? he tells himself he should know better by now, and it was all nothing but wishful thinking. very forgiving for others, but the rules don't apply to himself.
be patient with him, and reassure him whenever you get the chance. he really needs it.
his sleep schedule is the most horrendous schedule you will have ever seen. it's teetering between a full on coma, or staying awake for days on end. he loves taking naps, but sometimes he just can't-- he has work to do. remind him breaks are necessary. force him to sleep when he needs it. for his naps(comas), i don't know. cry? if there's one thing that'll wake him up is the sound of you in distress.
rayman is a sucker for pet names. he will be a puddle of goo in you're hands.
you're in another room, and he's just lounging about. the next moment you're calling for him, needing his help with something? he's right there. like right behind you.
lives for simplicity. babe, baby, sweetheart, honey, hun/hon. consider whatever you need done. he's so whipped for you.
he's also pretty good with pda. again, the pinching. public, private, it doesn't matter. that cute little pout on you're face is something he'd kill for.
personally, i prefer the earlier games personality traits as opposed to (i believe)origins. i do enjoy the childish behavior, however i do believe his immaturity does have a limit. (living for soh!rayman.)
definitely the type to crack the funniest jokes at the worst times imaginable. it's his secret talent.
that, and hitting you with a one liner when you're both faced with a terrible situation. except that one liner is just so good-- you have to at least give him credit for that.
huge soft spot for sentimental gifts. always putting them somehwere safe, and when enough time passes, he likes to go over each and every one. reminiscing about all the little things.
raymesis.
[middle child energy.]
'a hot tempered psycho who's looking to destroy rayman's reputation'. not my words-- it's the wiki's.
with canonical anger issues under his belt(?), he's a bit more brash than the other two. when realizing he may like you, he may turn against you in almost violent ways. but, he hesistates everytime. always missing by a hair.
it takes him a while before he'd able to ever consider that maybe being vulnerable is okay-- just this once.
suprisingly a tad bit cautious of 'being nicer' to you, but he's trying his best.
raymesis is a thing-a-majig with a serious identity crisis.
i like to think that the some of the 4-5 vers. of the evil clones of rayman are just him having multiple 'phases'. it's fun to think of.
on a more serious note: he often feels like he's nothing but a lesser-- a shadow of the heroic rayman. maybe he looks up to him in a way, and finds jealousy in how he can just...keep going. how he's able to be so open, and forgive other so easily despite their past transgressions. he finds it unfair: why is it so difficult for him, but so easy for rayman. he's a clone of him, sure an evil clone, but a clone nonetheless. that's where the deep, dark spiral comes in.
linking to that he struggles to be nice, vulnerable, or open with you. he's supposed to be an evil clone of some heroic figure, and yet he's falling over himself because of you. in his own way, he gets extremely upset-- it pisses him off. he tries to be mean to you, but he can't bring himself to do so. he's supposed to be a 'bad person', but hurting you makes him seem like more of a monster than a villain.
this will all take time for him to process, the best thing you can do is be patient, listen to him rant, and just try and be there for him.
you have definitely mellowed him out, just a bit. he's still an asshole to rayman/j.
they're more like bickering siblings who never get along.
do not expect 'family(?)' dinners to go well.
i feel like mr.dark and the nymphs have serious beef with eachother. wwe smack downs every 'family(?)' dinner. always bet on the nymphs.
wouldn't it be cute for the nymphs to treat raymesis like their son too? just adopting him one day without him knowing? scolding him for lighting that one house down the street on fire?
raymesis doesn't like christmas trees.
there seems to be a reoccurring joke in the descriptions that claim raymesis is 'ugly' despite the fact he's a near clone of rayman. this always leaves him in a puddle of confusion with his confidence always shot. please tell him he's pretty once in a while-- he won't accept the compliment, but he'll think about it for days.
he's not used to praise, and can't take compliments. poor buddy.
he definitely bites. a lot.
of course he's a little more careful with you, he still bites now and again. i feel like he's an agressive lover. wanting to squeeze the life out of things he finds 'cute' without ever admitting it.
he has a purple tongue. that's kinda cool. i like to think he probably has a tongue piercing too? i feel like he's the type.
definitely plenty of pent up feelings that he has a hard time expressing.
but pda? oh yeah. lives for it. his hands always has to be on you in one way or another. get's all agitated, and sulks when you pull you're hand away from his to pick something up, or to rummage through your bag. how dare you-- you owe a huge apology.
pet names; babe/baby, sweetheart, creature, mine, stupid/idiot(lovingly). he's very silly with these.
he has a hard time believing you'd ever choose him compared to the hero, rayman. with time maybe he'll learn you love him, and choose him because he's your first choice.
(superiority complex.)
he may not be the best person, but he's at least willing to learn to be better in his own way.
ramon.
can we all agree on the amount of trust issues this man has right about now? good.
after the betrayal with eden whether you've been in his life for years or not, he finds it hard to put everything out in front. it'll take him some time to rebuild trust after what eden did. and no, him needing to rebuild the trust has nothing to do with you! (i mean that in a good way.) you did nothing wrong(unless you did) in his eyes but, he used to believe eden was his everything. and with that, eden took everything. he worries that with time they'll take you too.
give him reassurance, quality time, the whole mile. remind him you're not going anywhere.
while cuddling in bed(couch, etc) probably the type to refuse to let you go to the bathroom because he doesn't want to let you go.
honestly, very romantic.
he loves fruit, and chocolate covered fruit too.
will buy you some, but steals a few pieces when you're not looking. he's sneaky like that.
also known that he likes sushi, but i feel like he probably has beef with the conveyer belt things. probably a bad experience, or he's mad at it for no reason.
i think he likes habatchi. it's very entertaining.
he's the type to tell the most outrageous stories out of the blue. he's the absolute king of 'i used to know a friend'.
probably kept up with everyone's drama as the news host. stays awake at night thinking about it sometimes.
y'know when someone tells you a joke and you don't get it at first? this is him figuring out what they meant at like 2:30 am.
another terrible sleep schedule. like absolutely horrendous.
he probably has nightmares about his time as a news host. thinking of the lies he used to spread. how much each one impacted someone elses life.
wakes up in a cold sweat. ends up focusing on you're calm breathing, and tries to match it. eventually falls asleep, not before firmly pulling you close to him. even when you wake up, you'll never escape his grasp.
on an alternative route, if you did wake up, he's extremely apologetic. tries to usher you back to sleep. now you're both awake munching on some food watching some shitty trash tv, criticizing why she choose james over percy.
he's not keen on pda. he worries for you're life. it's already a risk for you to be with him-- what if eden sees?
pet names too, but more casual with them behind closed doors. definitely married-couple-core. sweetheart, brat when he's being a pain, or play fighting. hon/hun, baby when he's literally attached to you're hip.
has frequent chronic migraine. enjoys just burying his face into you're stomache and just laying there while you're doing whatever your doing. like a cat.
enjoys the comfortable silence between you two, but small conversation is just as nice.
has guns. you broke a lamp. doesn't let you touch no more./j
he actually prefers you have a gun on your person at all times, even in the comfort of home. you'll never know what could happen when you can't protect yourself.
| the end.
[a/n: sorry it's a little short, but this is my first time writing for these three. addiction is strong, don't do rayman kids.]
I’ve noticed how there’s barely any Reader X Ramon hurt/comfort SFW fics! Can you write one?
-@raymans-boyfriend
OK I'll try :3
💥Ramon x reader hurt/comfort 💘
Summary: you get mildly injured and Ramon has to take you to safety
Tw:mild injury angst but with comfort
It was a heavy rainy night and the police sirens echo threw the street ramon was carrying you as he runs threw the dark ally until he finds an abandoned apartment building they both went inside and he took Into one of the rooms and placed on the bed
"Ow..."
"Shhhh it's alright honey we're safe now"
He went started to find an aid kit and went back to you he puts on your bruises and stich up your bullet wounds after that he gave you some water
"Feeling better sweetie"
"*sniff* a little..."
"Are you crying?"
"I..it just hurts really bad and I'm scared e..everything just s..suddenly went wrong...*sniff*"
"Shhh it's okay I feel the same way too things will get better once we get out of this hellhole~"
"O..ok.."
"It's time to sleep babe It's getting late~"
As he started to kiss you on the fourhead and whispers sweet nothings to you the pain slowly faded and you can finally sleep peacefully
Author's note: this is the best I can do I hope yall liked it :3
Dolph : My life isn’t as glamorous as my wanted poster makes it look like
------------------------------------------------------------------.Ramón/Dolph : bitches b like “im baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches
HERE YOU GUYS CAN HAVE THIS 200 FOLLOWERS SPECIAL LIKE I PROMISED! It’s too short for my liking but yeahhh… And I may not have finished the ending. I leave it to you my dear readers how it ends~
A/N: You can think of this as an AU, not from the series.
Pairs: (I never mentioned much but you can think this story as) Bullfrog x Reader x Ramon
1K words
I’m not giving you guys any summery but warnings instead to make it a bit more mysterious here: Huge angst, blood, dead bodies, death, description of dying, etc.
Taglist: @blorbostation @eateableworm
Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?
You had cleared out everyone in this section of the secret unit, a small mistake had gotten you noticed, there was nothing else to do, thankfully you both were successful nevertheless. “I guess we can finally move on, huh?” You panted and sighed in relief. Ramon nodded in agreement, "Let's go get the documents and get the fuck out of here." You laughed tiredly at this, “Yes, I'm dying to get home. This job was one of a hell, the most tiring and annoying thing I've ever participated in. I wonder what Bullfrog is doing on his side?” Your eyes spotted a movement among the bloody bodies, a wounded guard raising his gun and aiming at Ramon about to shoot, your eyes widened in fear, he was supposed to be dead.
You gasped, “Ramon watch out!” Realizing the danger, you acted without thinking and pushed Ramon out of the man’s sight. A huge bullet explosion echoed through the building, you couldn’t make a sound or had any control over your weak limbs, your eyes blurred in pain, it all followed by the sound of your name being shouted and more bullets. You found yourself on the ground, all you knew was that it hurt so much and that you were having trouble breathing. When Ramon turned you towards him you saw the pain in his face. You choked, “R-Ramon—“ you could taste the blood in your mouth.
“It’s okay, It’s okay, I got you. Y-You’ll be fine!” That was a big lie, you could see it in his teary eyes. He saw the hole on your back, the bullet pierced through your back, reached to your lungs and then came out from your chest. He used pressure on your chest and kept repeating the same things, “You’ll be okay. I promise.” Your breathing was quick and sharp, your chest hurted a lot, you weren't able to get enough air into your system. “Ramon—“ You gasped, “I-I don’t want to die.” You choked out, your tears streaming down from your cheeks as you gripped his hand in your panic. Ramon shook his head quickly, “I won’t let you die I promise!” You both knew there wasn’t a way out for you this time. Even knowing this he continues lying for you and you continue believing in him. Your breathing become shallow and it was more and more difficult for you to properly have fresh air, you were suffocating. And when you come to the point of barely breathing, you squeezed his hand with the last strength you had. “Ramon I—“ He stared at you, waiting for a continue, wanting to hear what you need to say but you said nothing else, he saw the last breath leaving your lips, saw the lively glint in your eyes vanishing, felt your hand going limp, you laid motionless on the ground, your blood covering the grounds, your blood on his hands, the metallic smell all around him. He wanted to protest, yell, make chaos out of this unfair station but… he only sat there and stared at his hands, silent tears leaving him.
Bullfrog spun around, restless. He was getting more worried that they were not showing up. This shouldn’t have taken this much of their time… right? He halted to a stop. His lips curving into a smile when he spotted Ramon. He sprinted at him but slowly came down to a stop, his smile quickly vanishing. His eyes quickly searched around, he turned and looked… but there was no trace of you anywhere.
He holds himself back, his hands clenching. He cleared his throat to inform Ramon that he was there. Ramon only stopped, didn’t lift his head, didn’t look at him, didn’t even give him a little glance. This made him panic even more. He tried to calm his restless mind as he opened his mouth, “Ramon… Where…?” He stopped himself when Ramon finally looked at him, he felt something died in his chest when he saw his expression. A choked sob escaped his throat, his hands shaking. He somehow knew it even before he showed up, he was praying to everything that this is just him being just worried.
“Ramon…” He started again, “Where are they?” He whispered, this time trying to be a bit more brave. Ramon shakily stepped back and glanced at where he came from. He didn’t even pick up the documents. It didn’t meant anything anymore. He just left… after killing everyone in it.
Bullfrog glanced at where he was looking at but they were too far away to even see the facility, but he knew what that meant, his eyes widened and without a second thought, he was gone, sprinting towards the same direction he come from. Ramon clenched his hands, looking after him. He didn’t want to go back but he couldn't bear the thought of losing someone again, so he quickly went after him. Nothing left from that place but ruins.
Bullfrog grunted in tears as he lifted a heavy stone and threw it aside, and frantically continued digging through the concrete pieces, his hands bleeding from all that excavation. Ramon didn’t look nor dared to help him out in his desperation. He already knew what was under it. But he was also confused about something, it's been hours since...
“Merde.” He hissed and grabbed the last big piece, using one last force, he lifted it up with a frustrated yell and threw it aside. He found… nothing. Once again, his attems and efforts come out empty. Where are you?
He dropped down on his knees, defeated and exhausted. He didn’t even know if he wanted to see your wrecked self under all the concrete. But he did wish to find you and at least bring you to a place where you could rest in peace. “No… Non, s'il vous plaît, non. Pourquoi ça devait être toi? Tu avais beaucoup à vivre. Nous avions beaucoup de choses à partager. S'il vous plaît, n'y allez pas ! Ne nous quitte pas. S'il vous plaît, ne le faites pas…” He rambled to himself as he slammed his hand on the ground, causing the wound to become even worse but he didn’t care. His shoulders shook as he sobbed silently.
“Where are you?” Ramon mumbled. He wasn’t sure anymore. The only thing he thought was certain was your death.
A/N: It’s too short for my liking but yeahhh… And I may not have finished the ending. I leave it to you my dear readers how it ends~
A/N: You can think of this as an AU, not from the series.
Pairs: (I never mentioned much but you can think this story as) Bullfrog x Reader x Ramon
1K words
I’m not giving you guys any summery but warnings instead to make it a bit more mysterious here: Huge angst, blood, dead bodies, death, description of dying, etc.
You had cleared out everyone in this section of the secret unit, a small mistake had gotten you noticed, there was nothing else to do, thankfully you both were successful nevertheless. “I guess we can finally move on, huh?” You panted and sighed in relief. Ramon nodded in agreement, "Let's go get the documents and get the fuck out of here." You laughed tiredly at this, “Yes, I'm dying to get home. This job was one of a hell, the most tiring and annoying thing I've ever participated in. I wonder what Bullfrog is doing on his side?” Your eyes spotted a movement among the bloody bodies, a wounded guard raising his gun and aiming at Ramon about to shoot, your eyes widened in fear, he was supposed to be dead.
You gasped, “Ramon watch out!” Realizing the danger, you acted without thinking and pushed Ramon out of the man’s sight. A huge bullet explosion echoed through the building, you couldn’t make a sound or had any control over your weak limbs, your eyes blurred in pain, it all followed by the sound of your name being shouted and more bullets. You found yourself on the ground, all you knew was that it hurt so much and that you were having trouble breathing. When Ramon turned you towards him you saw the pain in his face. You choked, “R-Ramon—“ you could taste the blood in your mouth.
“It’s okay, It’s okay, I got you. Y-You’ll be fine!” That was a big lie, you could see it in his teary eyes. He saw the hole on your back, the bullet pierced through your back, reached to your lungs and then came out from your chest. He used pressure on your chest and kept repeating the same things, “You’ll be okay. I promise.” Your breathing was quick and sharp, your chest hurted a lot, you weren't able to get enough air into your system. “Ramon—“ You gasped, “I-I don’t want to die.” You choked out, your tears streaming down from your cheeks as you gripped his hand in your panic. Ramon shook his head quickly, “I won’t let you die I promise!” You both knew there wasn’t a way out for you this time. Even knowing this he continues lying for you and you continue believing in him. Your breathing become shallow and it was more and more difficult for you to properly have fresh air, you were suffocating. And when you come to the point of barely breathing, you squeezed his hand with the last strength you had. “Ramon I—“ He stared at you, waiting for a continue, wanting to hear what you need to say but you said nothing else, he saw the last breath leaving your lips, saw the lively glint in your eyes vanishing, felt your hand going limp, you laid motionless on the ground, your blood covering the grounds, your blood on his hands, the metallic smell all around him. He wanted to protest, yell, make chaos out of this unfair station but… he only sat there and stared at his hands, silent tears leaving him.
Bullfrog spun around, restless. He was getting more worried that they were not showing up. This shouldn’t have taken this much of their time… right? He halted to a stop. His lips curving into a smile when he spotted Ramon. He sprinted at him but slowly came down to a stop, his smile quickly vanishing. His eyes quickly searched around, he turned and looked… but there was no trace of you anywhere.
He holds himself back, his hands clenching. He cleared his throat to inform Ramon that he was there. Ramon only stopped, didn’t lift his head, didn’t look at him, didn’t even give him a little glance. This made him panic even more. He tried to calm his restless mind as he opened his mouth, “Ramon… Where…?” He stopped himself when Ramon finally looked at him, he felt something died in his chest when he saw his expression. A choked sob escaped his throat, his hands shaking. He somehow knew it even before he showed up, he was praying to everything that this is just him being just worried.
“Ramon…” He started again, “Where are they?” He whispered, this time trying to be a bit more brave. Ramon shakily stepped back and glanced at where he came from. He didn’t even pick up the documents. It didn’t meant anything anymore. He just left… after killing everyone in it.
Bullfrog glanced at where he was looking at but they were too far away to even see the facility, but he knew what that meant, his eyes widened and without a second thought, he was gone, sprinting towards the same direction he come from. Ramon clenched his hands, looking after him. He didn’t want to go back but he couldn't bear the thought of losing someone again, so he quickly went after him. Nothing left from that place but ruins.
Bullfrog grunted in tears as he lifted a heavy stone and threw it aside, and frantically continued digging through the concrete pieces, his hands bleeding from all that excavation. Ramon didn’t look nor dared to help him out in his desperation. He already knew what was under it. But he was also confused about something, it's been hours since...
“Merde.” He hissed and grabbed the last big piece, using one last force, he lifted it up with a frustrated yell and threw it aside. He found… nothing. Once again, his attems and efforts come out empty. Where are you?
He dropped down on his knees, defeated and exhausted. He didn’t even know if he wanted to see your wrecked self under all the concrete. But he did wish to find you and at least bring you to a place where you could rest in peace. “No… Non, s'il vous plaît, non. Pourquoi ça devait être toi? Tu avais beaucoup à vivre. Nous avions beaucoup de choses à partager. S'il vous plaît, n'y allez pas ! Ne nous quitte pas. S'il vous plaît, ne le faites pas…” He rambled to himself as he slammed his hand on the ground, causing the wound to become even worse but he didn’t care. His shoulders shook as he sobbed silently.
“Where are you?” Ramon mumbled. He wasn’t sure anymore. The only thing he thought was certain was your death.
Alright here's the warnings: if you're under 18 please preserve your childlike innocence 😂 and vacate the premises.
🌺 Pairing: Ramon Arellano-Felix x Y/N
🌺 8.9K words
🌺 A hot new drug is popping up all over Tijuana and rookie cop y/n is the first on the scene. What happens when she's trapped in close quarters with the wild Narco Prince Ramon.
Warnings: 🌺 Sex!Pollen, dubious consent, enemies to lovers in you squint hard enough, p in v sex, oral female receiving, drug use, violence, canon violence, drug induced sex!craze.... Ramon is a wild man, he’s hot I’m not sorry for my actions :) (stop making evil characters hot if you don't want us simping.)
The stakeout started off like every other. You, Daniel, and a mountain of used-up coffee cups stacking up in the center console. It was getting later and later with no changes. Daniel had brought some late-night dinner while you polished off your fifth cup of coffee. You had been following this group of narcos from a warehouse in the industrial part of town, then to a smaller distribution building across from a storefront. The beat-up cop car disguised as a normal, everyday vehicle was becoming your home. These stakeouts seemed to become more and more common these days as this new problem grew.
Next to the bodega sat a club, pulsing neon light out into the street, bass rattling the windows. A long line stretched down the block—cheap silk shirts, gold chains, loud laughs. Low-level foot soldiers. You could smell it from a mile away. Your mission was just reconnaissance. Chief needed as many leads as possible, so you and Daniel had been sent on a wild goose chase.
Daniel had stopped talking hours ago, slumped in the driver’s seat with his eyes shut, while you stayed locked on the warehouse door, still hyped up from the lack of food and overdose of caffeine. Your pulse stayed elevated, nerves tight, body humming as you watched.
You watched everything.
Even as a rookie, you had an eye for patterns. That’s why the sergeant paired you with one of his best. Quick study, he’d said with praise after your first few missions at his side. You planned on climbing fast. This was your life.
Your radio clicked to life.
“Y/L/N, someone’s coming,” the lieutenant warned.
You slapped Daniel awake in your excitement.
He yelped, sloshing coffee all over his lap. “Jesus—what?!”
“Look.” You pointed through the windshield.
The car rolled past slow.
Red Mustang.
Your stomach dropped.
You knew that car. You’d memorized it in surveillance photos, grainy footage pinned to corkboards back at headquarters.
Ramón Arellano Félix.
There was no mistaking him—his tall, muscular frame, long wavy hair, and of course the loudest damn patterned shirt you’d ever seen. Of course, it was only buttoned halfway. Kitty sat beside him, relaxed, with his arms hanging out of the side of the vehicle.
Seeing them in real life felt strange. Like something out of reach had finally fallen into your hands.
You grabbed the radio. “I have eyes on Ramón Arellano.”
You didn’t even give Daniel a second to shove his coffee-soaked napkins into the cup holder before fumbling for his gun stowed in the driver’s side door. He grabbed his walkie before darting after you.
Daniel was already fumbling for his weapon. “Y/N is going in—send backup.”
You were out of the car before he could stop you.
“This wasn’t the plan,” Daniel hissed, jogging after you.
“We never get opportunities like this,” you shot back.
“We were just supposed to observe!” Daniel sneered as the men prepared to bust down the door. He sounded nervous.
“We will never get this close ever again!” you replied, flicking the safety off your weapon before stepping in behind the soldiers.
Daniel just grunted, watching the men line up the battering ram.
“I promised Chief I wouldn’t let his rookie get hurt on her first stakeout.” Daniel also prepared his gun. “Don’t do anything stupid. Let the men handle it.”
You scoffed. “The men?” You couldn’t believe he would say something like that. “Fuck you, Ramirez.”
Before Daniel could respond to your anger, the soldiers busted open the door with one strong swoop. You’d have to bar this conversation for after the raid. One by one, the soldiers swarmed into the building. It wasn’t a mere second before there was open fire. You heard the yelling before you saw anyone, but when you did, chaos exploded.
Gunfire ripped through silk and concrete. Narcos scattered, firing wildly without much thought. White powder burst into the air as bullets tore through plastic-wrapped bricks of cocaine. You stayed tight behind a soldier, gripping his vest, moving forward with trained precision.
Through the smoke, you saw them.
Ramón and Kitty bolted for the stairs.
“Up there!” you yelled.
Daniel fired, dropping a man at two o’clock.
You broke from the main fight and chased them up the stairs, not waiting for anyone to follow. You couldn’t lose them. Not now.
“Y/L/N!” Daniel yelled, chasing after you.
Halfway up, Kitty leaned out and opened fire.
Daniel slammed into you, shoving you flat against the wall as bullets sparked off concrete. He fired back, forcing Kitty to retreat.
“Go!” Daniel barked.
You took the last flight two steps at a time, praying they didn’t escape. You got to the top and looked around, not seeing any bright patterns or flashy guns.
Gone.
They’d vanished into a maze of rooms.
“Divide,” Daniel ordered.
You took the south hall.
The gunfire downstairs echoed, relentless. You cleared rooms one by one, weapon raised, breath shallow. The waiting was worse than the shooting. Your nerves vibrated, caffeine and adrenaline tangling as you peered into every room, expecting to find one of them with their weapon trained on you.
Then came the last door.
You adjusted your grip on your government-issued weapon, demanding your hands calm down.
Then—
A gunshot.
Daniel’s cry ripped down the hallway.
You spun around to look, saying a prayer he was okay.
Kitty had clipped him—shoulder. Non-lethal.
Thank God. Relief hit fast and sharp.
Then more narcos flooded the stairs like a goddamn anthill.
Before you could even register what was going on—Ramón opened fire.
Barely missing by a mere inch. You yelped and shot back clumsily, hitting a bag full of hot pink dust stacked on the far wall to his right…
Pink dust exploded into the air.
Ramón froze.
The look on his face made your blood turn cold.
The room filled fast with the hot fuchsia pink, glittering dust, making you cough.
You raised your gun again, but before you could demand he drop his weapon—
BOOM—
Your body was thrown back on impact.
The grenade ruptured the building all at once, a violent, concussive force that left no time to react before the ceiling came down like an avalanche, concrete screaming as it sheared free from the beams above.
You barely had time to gasp before you collided with something solid—warm, unyielding—arms wrapping around you as the floor buckled beneath your feet.
Flashes of gold and tanned skin passed before your eyes.
The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, but whatever you hit broke your fall just enough to keep your skull from cracking open.
Another rumble tore through the structure, deeper this time, and the room tilted violently as the foundations gave way. Gravity dragged everything sideways.
Gold flashed in your peripheral vision.
Ramón rolled with you, twisting hard, his shoulder slamming into your ribs as he shoved the two of you out of the path of a falling slab of concrete that crashed down where your head had been a heartbeat earlier.
You clung to him without thinking.
The world finally stilled.
Dust choked the air, thick and suffocating.
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
Then you turned your head.
You were far too close—your chest pressed against his, your fingers fisted in silk and muscle that you absolutely should not have been touching. His breath was hot against your cheek, uneven, his body tense beneath yours like a coiled spring.
Like an unspoken agreement, you both jerked apart at the same time, scrambling to opposite corners of the ruined room.
You grabbed your gun and fired blind into the dust.
He returned fire just as clumsily.
Concrete fragments stung your face as a bullet tore past your head and buried itself in the wall behind you. You moved instinctively, heart hammering, adrenaline screaming through your veins.
He stopped firing first—conserving ammunition, just like you.
You could hear his Gucci loafers crunching over rubble as he prowled through the smoke, controlled even now, every movement deliberate.
A flicker of motion.
You fired again.
“¡Chingada madre!” he barked.
That was when the dust changed.
The gray debris blooming in the air shifted, almost unnoticed at first, before it took on a sickening neon pink hue. Hot fuchsia powder erupted from the ruptured bricks along the wall, glittering as it floated, thick and completely unnatural.
You coughed as it coated your tongue, the sweetness immediate and overbearing, settling deep in your lungs before you could stop it.
Ramón fired again toward the sound of you, but his shot went wide. You dodged, keeping distance, swatting uselessly at the air as the powder clung stubbornly to your skin and uniform.
The building dust began to settle.
The pink didn’t.
It hung there, suspended, drifting slowly upward instead of down.
Your gaze followed it to the high, narrow windows near the ceiling.
Vents.
Ramón finally caught your position and fired again.
He missed—but the shot clipped your weapon clean out of your hand.
You yelped as it skidded across the floor, the sound echoing too loudly in the enclosed space.
Your heart sank.
Defenseless and staring down the barrel of Ramón’s pistol.
Ramón narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger—
Click.
Empty.
The two of you stared at each other across the room, breathing hard, the air between you thick with dust and something far more dangerous.
You both mirrored the other like twin tigers ready to spring into a fight.
You drew your knife and flipped it in your grip, muscles tight, ready for him to lunge.
He watched you for a long moment, then slowly, deliberately, tucked his gun back into his waistband.
“We don’t have time for that,” he said, voice low, irritated, like the idea itself offended him.
You didn’t move.
He turned his back to you anyway and went to the collapsed entryway, digging uselessly at concrete and twisted rebar with his bare hands, jaw clenched as if brute force alone might bend the building to his will.
Your eyes tracked the pink powder drifting upward again—back to the vents.
Tucking your knife back into its holster, you bent down and grabbed another brick, ignoring the way your arms already burned. Cocaine first. The solid ones. The safer ones.
You stacked them carefully, jaw clenched, teeth grinding as you tested their weight and balance.
One.
Then another.
You used your knee to brace the bottom layer, palms slick with sweat as you shoved a crate closer to stabilize the stack. The gunfire outside cracked again, closer this time, then farther. It was hard to tell how much time had passed. Seconds. Minutes. Everything blurred together under the hum in your ears.
You stacked another brick.
And another.
Your vest felt heavier with every movement, pressing down on your chest like it was trying to suffocate you. You paused, hands on your thighs, breathing through your nose. The air tasted wrong. Sweet. Too thick. You swallowed and went back to work anyway, ignoring it all.
Across the room, you heard Ramón shift.
You didn’t look at him.
You stacked higher, stretching onto your toes now, fingertips brushing dust from the cracked plastic wrapping. The pile wobbled. You swore under your breath and adjusted it, heart pounding as more pink residue smeared across your hands.
You wiped your palms on your pants. It didn’t help.
Another brick slipped slightly, knocking loose a thin spill of powder. It puffed into the air, glittering faintly as it drifted. You froze, holding your breath, waiting as a wave of warmth simmered in your core.
Not all at once, though—just a tightening, like the straps on your uniform were too tight. A heat blooming low in your stomach. You shook it off and kept stacking.
Your arms were shaking now from exhaustion, and something else.
You paused again, leaning against the wall this time, forehead pressing briefly into the cool concrete. When you lifted your head, you frowned at the stack.
Had it always been that tall?
You couldn’t remember how many you’d moved.
Behind you, Ramón cursed softly. Not sharp. Not angry. But very frustrated. You risked a glance.
He was no longer digging at the rubble. He’d stopped pacing too. One hand braced against the wall, the other dragging through his hair, shirt darkened with sweat.
His breathing looked… off. It was becoming more and more strained.
Good, you thought bitterly. You hoped whatever this was was making him miserable too.
You turned back to the bricks and kept stacking, but your attention snagged anyway… to his shoulders, his hands, the way his body moved. The thought landed hot and wrong, enough to make your stomach twist, and you forced it back where it came from.
This was Ramón Arellano Félix.
Knowing that should have been enough to kill the feeling, no matter what your body insisted on doing.
Time dragged. Or folded in on itself. Your thighs burned from crouching. Your fingers felt clumsy, numb at the tips. The stack leaned again, forcing you to tear it down and start over lower.
When another puff of pink dust bloomed from a cracked brick, you coughed hard, chest tightening as the sweetness flooded your mouth.
“Fuck,” you muttered, swiping at your face.
“Don’t touch those,” Ramón snapped suddenly, sharper now. Too late. He sounded strained too.
You straightened, breathing fast. Your vest felt unbearable. You tugged at the straps, fingers fumbling.
Across the room, Ramón pressed his forearm to his mouth, eyes dark and focused on nothing. He looked like he was fighting something internal. Just like you were.
The room felt hotter.
You stared up at the narrow windows again, vision swimming slightly as the pink dust drifted lazily toward the ceiling, slipping through the vents one glittering breath at a time.
You stacked another brick.
Then another.
And somewhere between one breath and the next, you weren’t sure anymore whether you were trying to escape or just trying to stay upright.
Eventually, you stopped.
Not because the stack was high enough, but because you were done pretending it mattered. There was no way in hell those bricks were going to hold, and you were getting so very tired.
You lowered yourself onto the bricks you’d built, the plastic crackling faintly beneath your weight, and let your arms hang loose at your sides.
Your chest rose and fell too fast. Sweat slicked your spine beneath the vest. The room hadn’t changed, no matter how hard you worked. It was still sealed and fucking hot.
Across from you, Ramón paced.
Not aimlessly. Measured. Back and forth like a caged animal testing invisible walls. He ran a hand down his face, jaw tight, nostrils flaring as he sucked in a breath he clearly didn’t want.
He tried the rubble again, shoving at it with his shoulder this time, then slammed his palm into the concrete when it didn’t give.
“Chingada madre,” he muttered, sharper now.
You watched him from your perch, detached now from the situation.
His movements were losing their precision. His shirt clung to him. He kept adjusting his stance, rolling his shoulders like his own skin didn’t fit right anymore.
He wanted out. Desperately.
So did you.
But there was nowhere to go.
When he finally stopped pacing, he leaned forward with his hands braced on his knees, breathing hard, eyes blown dark as they flicked to the dust hanging in the air and then to you.
Neither of you said it.
You didn’t have to.
You were cooked.
He stopped pacing so abruptly it made you look up.
“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he said, voice low and flat, eyes cutting to you… like he was deciding whether to hit something.
You lifted your chin and waved to the failed staircase of cocaine. “I’m trying to get us out.”
“No,” he replied. “You’re making noise.”
You scoffed, shifting on the bricks. “Sorry my impending death is inconvenient.”
His jaw ticked. He huffed through his nose.
“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars,” he said suddenly.
You blinked. “What?”
“Ten,” he glowered at you. “American. Cash.” His gaze locked on you. “If you sit down and shut the fuck up and stop touching shit for five minutes.”
You stared at him in disbelief. “You’re trying to bribe me?”
“I’m trying not to kill you,” he corrected calmly. “And you’re driving me fucking crazy.”
You laughed once, sharp, then coughed. “I don’t want your money.”
“That’s what you all say,” he muttered, turning away again. “At first.”
You rolled your eyes.
You finally snapped.
“What the hell is it?” you demanded, pushing yourself upright on the bricks. Your voice echoed sharper than you meant it to. “I can tell you're scared of it. What is this shit?”
Ramón slowed, then stopped altogether.
For a second, you thought he might ignore you—that he’d let the question hang in the air like the dust itself. Instead, he turned his head just enough to look at you over his shoulder.
“Pulse,” he said.
“What the fuck is Pulse?” You tested the word on your tongue.
“What the fuck is Pulse?”
He looked at the pile of pink, spilled powder. “An aphrodisiac.”
You raised a brow. “Like Viagra?”
He shook his head once. “No. It’s much worse.” He stood slowly and walked over to the scattered bricks, nudging them back against the far wall with his boot—deliberate and careless at the same time. “It strips everything else away. Fear. Logic. Loyalty. You forget about everything except sex. You want to fuck, or be fucked. That’s it. That’s how it’s designed.”
“You guys are insane.” You shook your head in disbelief—there’s absolutely no way. “How much did we ingest?” You almost didn’t want to know the answer.
“More than enough.” He dragged a hand through his hair, irritation flickering across his face, like this was an inconvenience rather than a crisis.
The heat wasn’t just physical anymore. It had started to slip into your thoughts, rearranging them in quiet, unsettling ways. You told yourself it was the chemicals. That whatever pull you felt wasn’t yours… not really. It had been forced into you.
And still, your eyes kept drifting back to him.
You knew exactly who Ramón Arellano Félix was. The violence. The bodies. The way his name carried weight even among men who pretended not to care. Knowing all of that should have made him untouchable. He’s a goddamn kingpin.
Instead, a bitter thought surfaced: of course it would be him.
If Pulse really stripped everything else away like he said—fear, judgment, morality—then there was something cruelly ironic about being trapped with someone who looked like danger incarnate. Broad shoulders. Easy confidence. A presence that filled the room without effort. The drug didn’t invent desire; it exposed it, leaving you nowhere to hide.
You hated that your body reacted before your conscience could catch up. Hated that some small, traitorous part of you kept noticing him anyway.
If what he said was true, this wasn’t temptation.
It was exposure.
And unfortunately for you, he was undeniably attractive.
You couldn’t even lie to yourself anymore, despite the shame and embarrassment.
“How long until it wears off?” you asked, checking your watch.
He shrugged. “Depends on the dose… hours.”
“Hours!?” you screeched. The hot flashes were getting stronger, heat crawling up your cheeks and down your neck. You had to sit.
“You need to keep calm. Or it will hit faster,” he said flatly.
You were so uncomfortable you barely registered the way he was watching you. “How much longer?”
His eyes dragged over you, slow and assessing, not hungry yet—calculating. “Judging by the looks of you?” he said. “Not long.”
You groaned, tugging harshly at your collar. You prayed someone would come for you. You prayed Daniel and the federales were still alive, that someone was looking. You let out a strained laugh, imagining the chief chewing Daniel out if you ever made it back.
If only he knew the extent of it.
A drug like this on the streets would be devastating.
~
Time blurred at some point when the sensation refused to ease. The hot burning and antsy-ness turned into unbearable need.
Ramon reclined against some fallen rubble like a dystopian throne, while you lay across the bricks, only able to think about relief.
You could feel your body betraying you. You rubbed your legs together, savoring the tiny sensations from the friction of your pants.
But it wasn’t enough. You were fucking scared if this was only the beginning. Your body was already morphing to the demands of Pulse, and it terrified you.
Psyching yourself out, you didn’t decide to stand so much as feel compelled to—a sudden, irrational need to move despite the dizziness rolling through you. When you pushed yourself upright, the room tilted, and you realized Ramón was already on his feet too.
Your knees gave. You slid down the wall, breathing too fast, starting to feel a little out of control of your body and your muscles. You kept telling yourself it was just your anxiety.
Your skin burned now—not arousal, but a feverish heat. Your head swam. You tugged at the vest again, fingers clumsy as they started to feel numb.
He must have seen something, because suddenly Ramón moved.
Not rushed. Not panicked. He crossed the room in a few strides and tried to catch you, but you shoved him back in a spike of panic.
“Get the fuck off of me!” you snarled. You wanted nothing to do with him.
He stood there, unfazed, with his hands up in surrender, watching you as you gulped down air, feeling your system be hijacked by the drug.
He watched you fall into a panic…
His presence was unsettling, and you felt like a scared animal. If you could bare your teeth and hiss at him, you would, but you settled for stumbling backwards against the wall and using it as support while you forced your body to calm.
“We have two options,” he said, trying to still his own breathing. “We ride it out and hope we survive the dose, or we fuck it out of our systems and get it over with. But it’s not going to go away without a fight.”
You rolled your eyes. Of course. He’s clearly struggling just as badly as you. He just wants to get his dick wet…
“I’m serious. I’d rather we make a decision now before we forget how to speak,” he urged, showing cracks in his stone-cold demeanor.
You growled. “Stay the fuck away from me.” You gripped the wall as another lashing of fire emanated through your bones. “Don’t touch me.” There was no way in hell you were going to give anything to this fucking monster—least of all your body.
You spent a year and a half cleaning up the trail of bodies he’s left behind. The thought of being with this man made bile rise in your throat.
He nodded and adjusted his posture. You could tell he was uncomfortable. It was getting to him.
Unfortunately for you, he was close enough now that his cologne was wafting in your direction, making your knees finally buckle, and you tumbled to the ground. He caught you, bracing you against his thigh, forearm solid behind your back.
He rushed forward, grabbing you, grip iron-tight.
“Stay awake,” he ordered. Shit. He smelled so good. It smelled better than the Pulse floating around in the air. You didn’t even notice him grab your chin and shake your head.
Your vision blurred, unable to process his close proximity. All you could feel was your panicked breathing and his traitorously pleasant warmth.
“Breathe,” he said, thumb pressing hard into the base of your neck. “Slow.” You couldn’t help but bare your neck, invitingly, the longer he touched you.
He counted under his breath, low and steady, forcing your breaths to match his as he felt yours race under his skin.
“You’ll pass out,” he said quietly. “Choke on your tongue.”
The pressure eased just enough for the room to steady as you met him breath for practiced breath.
“There,” he said. “Again.”
Ignoring his coaching, you whined in annoyance at the tightness of your bulletproof vest. The garment had become obnoxiously confining, and you were feeling desperate.
Your hands clawed at the tough fabric, wanting nothing more than to get the fuck out of this tight thing.
“Take it off,” he said curtly. “Now. It’s just going to get worse.” He swiped his forehead with his sleeve, arm wiping away his own sweat.
You ripped it free from your body and sagged, sweet relief crashing through you as cooler air hit your skin.
Ramón looked back—once. His jaw set. “Damn,” Ramón mumbled, staring at you. You felt him take a deep breath.
You didn’t even care; you were just relieved to feel a bit cooler.
“All lady cops look like that?” he asked, voice gruffer now.
“Hey,” he snapped when you didn’t respond. “Eyes open.”
“Arellano…” you whispered, unable to find the previous strength in your voice. Your body was betraying you.
His head lifted immediately.
“Are we going to die?” you asked, voice breaking. “It hurts.” You winced, feeling sharp pains low in your body. You felt empty.
Something shifted between the two of you.
He swore under his breath and lowered you carefully to the floor, keeping you upright, grounded.
“Stay with me,” he said, palm firm against your overheated forehead. “Fuck.” You were ridiculously hot under his fingers.
Your hand caught his chain and pulled weakly.
He froze.
For a long beat, he didn’t move at all.
Then—slowly—he leaned in.
That was the moment his control started to fracture, and he shot back up, pushing himself away from you once again and leaving you on the cool concrete floor.
You felt your chest tighten and you whined, still feeling constricted from your remaining clothing.
Ramon backed up, trying to shake his thoughts. His hands began to quiver as the undeniable throbbing constricted his pants.
“Jesus—” He forced himself to the other side of the wall, trying to put distance between the two of you like he had just touched fire.
He wasted no time ridding himself of his shirt, which didn’t help your situation at all.
You could feel your heartbeat everywhere just staring at him.
Fuck.
Even his damp skin looked perfect. You cursed him. You cursed him with everything you could think of. He used the shirt to wipe away the sweat building on his face, trying to stay sane and not look at you. He forced himself to stare blankly at the wall, trying to remember himself.
You closed your eyes and drew your knees up into a ball, feeling it burn through you in a sinful wave.
Why the hell did you just do that?
Why the fuck did you just try to pull him in?
Mindlessly, you started going at the buttons on your shirt, feeling like you were going to melt away if you didn’t find some sort of relief. The heat. The ache. The desire… It was a deep pulse in your core now. Steady and unrelenting.
No longer caring if the narco prince saw you naked, you yanked the wet uniform shirt off, leaving you in your lacy bra that literally no one ever got to see.
While you tried your hardest to keep your eyes off of him, for your own sake, he didn’t try nearly at all anymore.
He all but gawked at you, liking the way your slicked-back hair was beginning to loosen up from all of your fussing and sweat began to slide down between the valley of your breasts, now freed from your utilitarian uniform.
He swallowed thickly, trying to remain in control. But he knew it was slipping. He knew it would happen eventually, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try.
He cleared his throat and clapped himself in the face, coming back to his senses. You were a fucking cop, for Christ’s sake. His sworn enemy.
“Fuck!” You writhed, feeling another wave hit. You flushed with need.
He shot his head up a bit too eagerly, making your body thrum nervously.
You whimpered, crumbling to your side, feeling like your bones were melting. The urge to touch yourself became too strong. You forced yourself onto your back to stare up at the ceiling.
You were losing your grip on control and slipping deep into your subconscious, primal mind.
Somewhere in Ramón’s less rational side of the brain, he felt the urge to crawl over to you again.
He fought it as long as he could, knowing you’d gladly slit his throat with that knife on your waist.
However, after too many beats of stillness, he peered back over at your motionless figure. You’d gone still… too still.
A sudden rush of uncharacteristic concern forced him to his knees, where he crawled his way through the rubble to take a look at you.
“Princessa?” he asked, nearing your trembling body. Fuck. He didn’t like the way you were looking. Your skin was glistening with sweat, and your chest rose and fell with sporadic little breaths. He could only imagine what he was looking like in this moment. Probably not much better.
Deciding you both needed to get the fuck out of here and get help, he rolled back onto his heels to stumble over to your pile of discarded clothing.
Grabbing for your vest, he saw your name tag and damaged radio. You also had an empty candy bar wrapper tucked into a side pocket, along with a voucher card for a local coffee shop the precinct visited often. He fumbled with the radio, trying to see if it would work, but the dial was stuck between channels and the body of the device dangled by a few surviving wires.
It was dead.
With no shot of life support.
Returning to your position, he pushed you over, ignoring your pained cries, as he rummaged through your pockets. You tried pushing him away, but he was too strong. Reaching into your pants’ side pocket, he pulled out your badge and identification card.
“Relax,” he muttered under his breath, ignoring the way your hands couldn’t help but try to seek him out.
Officer Y/N Y/L/N.
Your apartment address, precinct identification, government clearance. He took the little leather folder and ran his thumb over the golden police badge, knowing he’d never get close to seeing one of these ever again.
He sighed and shoved it back into your pocket.
Your hands were seeking his skin, your eyes blown wide as you blinked up at him owlishly.
“Y/N?” He leaned over you and placed a clammy hand on your feverish forehead. You moaned as his skin made contact with yours. You rolled onto your back and threw your head back, baring your neck to him.
“Shit.” He couldn’t help it. It was definitely the drugs in his blood, but you looked so perfect.
So small.
It sent an unwanted jolt through his body, making him shudder.
The fiery cop who was going to shoot him was gone, and instead a woman lay in front of him.
A very high, very horny woman lay before him.
When you didn’t feel him touching you, you reached for his chains, yanking him down to you.
He didn’t resist at all this time, but he couldn’t help but take control. You were pinned in an instant, too lost to the drug to care anymore.
His touch felt like a soothing balm to the fire smoldering under your flesh.
You didn’t care about anything besides feeling his skin on yours. You’d die without it. You were convinced.
When he did oblige you, it felt like heaven. Truly. Everything about Ramón was intoxicating. The way he towered over you had you dripping onto the concrete. He was so big in comparison. You purred as his hands touched you shamelessly.
They touched and squeezed every part of you he could get his hands on. Your lacy bra didn’t last long, nor did either of your pants.
He tore them off effortlessly as any remaining shred of control of his snapped, his irises blown wide.
You couldn’t help but touch him. He smelled so good it made your toes curl. You just wanted the scent in your nose.
The expensive cologne filled your senses along with the sweet floral smell of whatever plant made up this seductive drug. You wanted to run your fingers through his fluffy hair, but he kept you planted to the floor with one big hand while the other began to open you up.
He knocked your legs apart with his knees, ignoring your little protests and squirming.
His free hand ran a knuckle through your slit, feeling just how soaked the drugs had made you, and it felt like the breath was knocked out of him when he realized you were dripping all the way to the floor.
“Arellano!” you suddenly groaned. “It hurts!” You pushed back against him, but he sat back on his heels to tear off his belt and fling it somewhere before shoving his boxers down just far enough.
“I know, princessa,” he mockingly cooed as he pulled his Versace boxers completely off and pumped himself a few times, staring at your dripping core with a lust-filled gaze. You nearly choked on your own gasp as you realized how genuinely massive he was. His cock was beautifully tanned like the rest of his body, with perfect thick veins and just the right amount of girth—you knew you’d be struggling to fit him inside.
But your patience exploded. He was taunting you with relief without acting, so—you cried out.
“Fucking do something!” you growled, and he shot you a challenging look.
Hmm. Someone didn’t like being told what to do.
You stared back at him in too much agony to give a shit.
He smirked, flashing you a K9. “I thought you didn’t want me touching you.”
“Fuck off, Arellano.”
He raised a brow, unable to hide the ironic smile on his lip. “Not likely.”
Then he surged forward, and you were engulfed in the intensity that was Ramón Arellano Félix.
First, his scent was everywhere. It even drowned out the floral perfume. Then came his unforgivable hands. They demanded everything. He held your leg up and out of the way as he lined up his thick cock with your quivering entrance. When he surged his hips forward, you were suddenly filled and stretched to the brim, making you scream and clench your fingers around his hand.
He responded by tightening his grip on your hand as you struggled to take him.
He bit back a groan, feeling you spasm and shake as he thrust all the way in.
“Ahh!” you whined, clenching your thighs around his hips, feeling so damn overwhelmed.
“Fuck, mamita,” he swore into your hair. “You’re so tight.” He experimentally thrust, feeling your clenching muscles as he damn near struggled to stay inside. You were clenching down on him so strongly he let out a grunt when he pushed back in.
Your warmth was just too damn good. Ramón couldn’t resist picking up a more punishing pace. He ignored your whimpers and moans as he rutted into you, wanting to feel more. The sensations were so intense you both urged against one another.
Once he felt you start to roll your hips into the motions of his thrusts, he released your hands and surrounded your neck with his hands like a collar.
With your new freedom, you scrambled to run your hands all over him, desperate to feel his skin, his muscles, his strength. His body was wrung tight with cables of toned muscle. You raked your nails down his back, desperately clawing into his flesh as he fucked you brutally against the concrete.
You felt his hand tighten in response, making you moan and clench down on him as pleasure surged through you at an alarming intensity.
You whined and writhed, feeling yourself get close. It must be the effect of the drug, because you’d never come this fast before. He felt you fluttering around him and reached down to rub tight little circles on your swollen clit, making you push against him in overstimulation. He didn’t let up, not until you seized up and tightened impossibly around him and dug your nails in until you were certain he was bleeding.
He lowly growled, feeling you tip over the edge of pleasure and cry out pathetically as the orgasm overtook you entirely.
He knew the drug would make it feel three times as powerful for you, and he knew he was getting close as well.
Once you stopped tensing and finally relaxed in his hold, he sat up and flipped you over, drawing your hips up enough to meet his own before he pushed back inside, returning to your perfect warmth.
He hummed, feeling the deliciousness of your body squeezing him even still.
You didn’t have the energy to fight back against his onslaught as he continued to pummel you, now with one knee bent and planted at your side, making the angle even deeper and his thrusts even more efficient.
“A-ar—” you whimpered.
He hummed, not paying attention to your sad attempt at words.
“R-Ramón—” you moaned, making him huff.
His name sounded so good on your lips. He brought a hand down on your ass, giving it a harsh smack that made you scream.
“Mon!” you cried.
“Fuck.” He sped up his pace, urging you forward to brace on the debris. “M’gonna cum, mamita.”
You just babbled useless nonsense, feeling his cock spasm inside you before he gripped your hips in a brutal grasp, no doubt leaving bruises. He pulled you back onto his cock before letting out a primal growl as he pumped himself deep inside you.
He continued tiny thrusts, prolonging his pleasure, while you drooled all over yourself and the floor, completely numb with post-orgasmic bliss.
You were both swimming in endorphins as Pulse amplified those feel-good chemicals.
When Ramón finally pulled out, you were in hysterics.
That burn returned, and you were back to spreading your legs, desperate to have him filling you again.
His erection never went down—not even after the mind-numbing orgasm. He remained fully hard and aching for more.
He flipped you back onto your back, wanting to have you again the same way as earlier.
But you had other plans.
The ache demanded more… deeper…
You sat up, trying to urge him onto his back to ride him, but he snapped and used his domineering size to force you back under him. His hand snaked up the back of your scalp and fisted the hair there, forcing you back down to the ground.
You protested and tried to push your hips up, but he pinned them down with his own and tightened his grip on your locks. You moaned, liking the feeling of him controlling your head like that. A sinful part of you enjoyed his dominance.
He leaned forward, leering. “Behave.”
The single word sent a chill down your spine, and your body went lax. You looked up into his eyes, feeling yourself melt into the depths of his dark brown gaze.
You couldn’t help but follow his lead. He wasn’t going to have it any other way. His hand buffered your head from the rough floor while he teased his tip into your folds.
You moaned as his tip entered, fidgeting for more.
“Behave—” he growled.
You huffed and spread your legs, letting him have his way.
When he was satisfied after spreading himself around your pulsing opening, he tilted forward, entering you slower and more deliberately.
He lowered down onto his elbows, swallowing your whimpers as he picked up a slightly lazier pace. He was so fucking lost in the feel of you he couldn’t help but push his nose into your hair, taking in your scent. His grip on your strands tightened, just like your legs around his waist.
Ramón pumped into you, leaving not an inch of your skin untouched. He massaged and squeezed every bit of you, causing any strength to leave you. You went lax under him, giving in to the sensations and pressure of having such a massive man inside of you.
His cock was better than any toy you’d ever tried.
And fuck…
It had been way too long since your last hookup. It had almost made you forget it could be this damn good.
Or maybe it was just this good.
Maybe Ramón was just better…
You cracked your eyes open, staring at his chain dangling in your face as his own expressions conveyed his pleasure. His eyes were closed, scrunched together, as he lowered his head into your neck to mouth at your pulse point.
You moaned and shivered as he found that good spot and latched on.
You could feel him sucking harder and harder, knowing he wanted to leave his mark. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to give a shit, as long as he kept dragging his thickness through you.
You found yourself carding your fingers through his hair, scratching up his scalp and making him shudder.
His hair was so soft. You continued to mindlessly play with it, feeling your body begin to tighten and little waves of spiked pleasure course through you.
“Fuck,” you cried out into his skin. “I—I’m gonna cum.”
He unlatched from your neck and looked down at you with a wild look, like a man possessed. “Fucking cum, princessa.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I need to feel it.”
His hot breath fanned your face and neck as you leaned back, tilting your head toward the ground and exposing your neck. He dove in to lick and bite the other side as you began to constrict around him.
You gripped his biceps in a bruising grasp as you finally came around him with a loud moan.
He choked back a growl, feeling you get impossibly tight around him as he quickly followed after you, his thrusts stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside you.
He muttered something, but you couldn’t hear. You just closed your eyes and relaxed into his grasp, feeling yourself drift off.
~
RAMON’S POV
Her smell was so damn intoxicating.
He very carefully released her and watched as she melted into the floor, completely fucked out, and the sight of it left an odd, tightening pressure in his chest he didn’t recognize.
The room was still spinning with delirium, but he managed to hunt down his boxers and pull them on, along with his shirt. Hesitating only a second before covering the little cop with it. He told himself it was practical. He didn’t like that it felt like more than that.
He rubbed at his eyes and shoved his wet, sweaty hair back from his face as he sat on his haunches.
Fuck.
He couldn’t help but stare at her.
She was so—pretty.
The thought irritated him the second it surfaced. Too soft. Too close to something he didn’t have use for.
Too pretty to be a cop.
He felt some unfamiliar, primal need to surround her, to keep her warm, and that alone was enough to put him on edge. The idea of some other man coming in here, touching her, disturbing her, made his blood heat with a slow, possessive anger that didn’t feel quite sharp enough.
He couldn’t understand what the fuck was happening to him, but he didn’t resist it either and that bothered him more than anything.
He laid down next to the sleeping woman and gently lifted her onto him, creating a buffer between her and the cold, filthy floor. He told himself it was temporary, necessary even, just to make the thoughts go away.
Still, he pressed his nose to her hair again, breathing her in. Her feminine scent flooded his senses, sent a chill crawling down his arms. She was better like this. Softer. Pliant.
He found himself picking up her hand, turning it in his own, just to see what it felt like. Hers was so much smaller than his, and once again that annoying sensation of possession bloomed—heavy and slow—in his chest.
It wasn’t lust.
That realization unsettled him. He’s never seen a woman like this before. Strong. Brave. So naturally beautiful.
His chest filled with something dangerously close to pride when she cooed in her sleep and nudged closer, pressing her nose into his skin like she belonged there and it settled her.
That scared him.
He leaned back against the slanted concrete and closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe through it.
He knew she would need more. He’d seen it. That’s how pulse worked—frenzy, then sleep, then another wave of frenzy, over and over until the Pulse burned itself out of your system.
He’d let her rest… for now.
In this brief moment of clarity, his gaze drifted to the half-assed pile of bricks the little cop had started stacking. Then higher—to the windows. It would be a ridiculously tight squeeze, but there was a walkway up there.
He could stack them higher than she ever could.
That could be his way out.
He knew her men would reach her first. They don’t leave their own behind.
And there was no way in hell he’d be caught like this.
He should run. He should go now, while she was still docile.
A beat passed.
Then another.
And he didn’t move.
Instead, his mind betrayed him with things he didn’t want—curiosity that felt invasive, domestic thoughts that didn’t belong to him. Thoughts of his brother. His brother’s wife. Stability. Normalcy.
He could keep you safe.
The idea slid in too easily.
He could keep you safe. He could keep you away from the danger of this world. His money could buy anything. He’d keep you in his many mansions. Which ever one you liked. One kid. Maybe two… or three. You wouldn’t be able to leave his side. You’d be guarded and protected. Never having to worry about a damn thing. He’d take care of it.
His grip tightened around you before he caught himself and forced his hands to loosen.
“What the fuck,” he muttered, blinking hard, genuinely shaken by how vivid it all felt.
You made a small mewl in your sleep, and his attention snapped back to your face as you shifted, hips rolling unconsciously, searching for him even as you slept.
His body responded instantly.
His hardening length pushed traitorously up against his boxers.
You were waking up.
He rolled the two of you just as your heavy eyes fluttered open, the pull roaring back into place.
He’d take care of you—
No.
He needed to.
And that realization unsettled him more than the drug ever had.
~
Y/N POV
You woke to shouting.
Boots scraping over concrete. Men yelling, scrambling up toward the second story.
You jolted upright from the nest you’d made for yourself, heart slamming as the haze cleared and reality rushed back in all at once.
The warehouse.
Ramon.
Pulse.
Your legs barely held you as you stood up. Everything hurt but mostly the deep humbling ache between your thighs. Your skin felt wrong, too sensitive, too exposed, like something had been stripped away and not fully returned. Your mouth was dry, your head pounding, your stomach churning with a hangover that felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced.
There was a hollow ache beneath it all, sharp enough to make you draw a breath you hadn’t meant to.
And then you noticed it— You were alone.
The realization made your heart sink. You turned slowly, scanning the concrete, the corners, the place where his body should have been. The absence pressed in on you, heavy, and disorienting.
For a moment, panic flared—not fear exactly, but something close to loss. You felt empty?
That didn’t make sense.
You told yourself it was the drug. Pulse. A chemical trick, you must have dreamed that all up after passing out. Hallucinations didn’t fade cleanly. They left impressions. False memories. The idea that he’d been there—close, tangible—started to feel slippery, unreliable. You weren’t even sure you remembered his touch.
But the room looked… disturbed. The bricks stacked higher than you remembered. The space beneath the window cleared just enough to make your stomach drop.
The vent was open.
He’d been awake.
Clear-headed enough to move.
Clear-headed enough to leave.
The thought that he’d gone without you—without a word—stung in a way you didn’t expect.
“Y/N?!” Daniel’s voice echoed through the rubble.
Your breath hitched. “Daniel?!” You ran to the blocked doorway, palms slamming against the concrete. “I’m in here!”
“Jesus Christ!” he shouted back. “We thought you were dead!”
“I’m trapped!” Your voice broke despite yourself. “I’m right here.”
“Hold on—we’re getting you out.”
You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. Your hands shook as you turned away from the door and scrambled to pull yourself together, heart racing like you’d been caught doing something wrong.
You only had your uniform shirt dropped over you like a cape.
Your bra. Your pants. Your uniform shirt.
Your panties were gone.
You froze.
Heat crept up your neck, sharp and humiliating, followed by a colder thought you refused to acknowledge… did he?
You dressed anyway clumsily telling yourself it meant nothing.
Pulse did that.
It took over your mind. Simple as that. You weren’t in control and that wasn’t your fault.
“Daniel?” you called, holstering your damaged gun.
“Yeah?”
“There’s a new drug in here,” you said quickly. “Something strong. Be careful.”
A pause. “You okay?”
You swallowed.
“I… think so,” you said. “It’s hallucinogenic.”
“Alright. We’ve got hazmat coming in.”
It took a long time. Too long. When they finally cleared enough rubble, men in protective suits poured in. Daniel followed, mask on, eyes scanning the room like he expected something to lunge out of the shadows.
He took in the damage. The collapsed ceiling. The bricks of pink powder stacked like an altar beneath the high window.
“What the hell happened?” he asked searching you over for any injuries.
You hugged your arms around yourself. “I chased Ramón. We got trapped when the building collapsed. We both ran out of ammo.” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “We passed out after exposure.”
Daniel frowned. “You said you hallucinated?”
You nodded slowly. “I thought he was here. With me.” Your stomach twisted. “But he’s gone.”
Daniel exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “We searched all night. Thought he took you.”
“He didn’t,” you said, a little too fast. The certainty felt thin, rehearsed. “I was here the whole time.”
Daniel studied you, like he wanted to ask more but didn’t know how. Finally, he nodded. “Let’s get you home.”
As they led you out, you didn’t look back at the window.
You didn’t look at the bricks.
And you definitely didn’t let yourself wonder why part of you felt strange now that he was gone.
~
Three Days Later
The chief gave you a week off after tearing Daniel apart for letting you go off on your own after a dangerous Narco.
Officially, it was for procedural failures.
Unofficially, no one wanted to ask what you’d been subjected to with that much pulse in your system.
You didn’t want them to.
You were pouring a second cup of coffee when the knock came to your door and you set down the pot to go check.
By the time you reached the door and checked the peephole, the porch was empty.
You opened it anyway.
That’s when your foot hit the bag.
It was heavy.
It was blue and filled with so much tissue paper. The tag read “To Officer Y/N Y/L/N”
You pick up the bag and nearly dragged it inside. Once you closed the door, you bent over and started plucking out the paper.
Your heart dropped.
Cash.
Racks of it.
Your name was written neatly on a yellow envelope.
Officer Y/N.
Inside was a singular Polaroid.
Your stomach flipped violently.
Your panties—your panties—held up between two fingers. Ramón’s grin was lazy, smug, like the whole thing amused him.
“You forgot something.”
His little note was written on the bottom of the picture.
Your hands trembled as you dug through the bag.
Ten thousand dollars.
Another note, wrapped around the bills.
“For behaving. —R.A.”
The humor of it didn’t land.
What landed was the realization that he knew.
Your address.
Your name.
Your current location.
All of it.
You stepped onto your porch, pulse roaring in your ears, scanning for movement. For the flash of red paint. For a silhouette leaning against the railing.
Nothing.
That was worse.
The silence pressed in, heavy and watchful.
Ramón Arellano had found you without trying.
And he hadn’t needed to stay.
Your stomach twisted as the truth settled into place.
Ramon kicks his shoes off and drapes his body across yours on the bed, his legs and arms dangling off. You can tell he's tired, which he didn't get often. You guide his head higher up, to your chest. He let out a big exhale then holsters himself up to view your face.
"Hi princesa." He smiles warmly and your heart beats a little faster. You've been a sucker for his smiles since day one.
You reach out and pinch his cheek. The two of you developed a bunch of cute little things over the months. Whenever you pinch his cheek now, Ramon shakes his head and growls, shaking his hair as he does. It's a cute silly little thing you share and one of the many things you know you'll miss about him once this comes to an end.
He's been coming home late, sometimes when you're already sleeping so your sex life hasn't been too active. Not that you mind, you rather hide under a big shirt right now and snuggle. it's actually working in your favor.
"you're too cute Mon." You gushed, moving your hands to his hair.
The moment your fingertips meet his scalp, he moans as he always does. One of the easiest ways to soften Ramon or make him melt, is the play with his hair.
Ramon closes his eyes, savoring your touch, "How was she today? I checked on her a few minutes ago, she was asleep.”
“Good, she needs it. She's the same. Ate a little though, like two bites of a sandwich."
“It's a start,” when his eyes open again, they nearly take your breath away. Beautiful deep brown eyes that regard you with so much softness you could cry, “thank you baby, for being there for her.”
Emotion floods your entire body, and you pull him into a hug. Words escape you right now, you hope the way you hold him and press you lips to his say all the things you can't form into words. …
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