#AND MOST IMPORTANTLY I FUCKING LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND AND I LOVE HOW SHE SUPPORTS MY WEIRD DYKE GENDERFUCKERY

[butchdykekondraki]

sorry (not sorry) for flooding dash with dykery . look at my lesbianism boy

[nishiyako]

After A Long Day (NSFW)

Paring : Kenji Sato x Reader

Tags : Doggy style, Vaginal penetration, Make outs, praise , after care, Fluffy ending, Reader has some type of long hair, established Relationship, Kenji has some sort of complex.

Summary : After a long day of work, Kenji comes home to his lovely girlfriend with a surprise, merch she got of his jersey. Seeing his name and player number on you does wonders to his already inflated ego.

Kenji Sato was everywhere, his face and name of hundreds of billboards and products, it dose something to someone's ego.

He loved the support from fans, the attention from media but most importantly, he loved coming home from a long day of interviews, events, and partiess to you.

Simple and lovable you.

He parked his bike outside before entering his mansion, placing his helmet and keys on the dinner table before seeing you sitting in the living room on your phone while the TV was running.

He made his way over to you, your eyes looked up from your phone screen to see him suddenlt infront of you, you can't lie that you got a little startled but you were more happy he was back before it got too late,

He bends down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead, tucking a stray strand of hair away from your face in the process. He sits beside you as he unzips his biker jacket, "whatcha' watching?" He asks, wondering what's got you so focused this late at night, throwing his jacket to the end of the couch promising himself he'll clean it up later, throwing his arm around your shoulder, pulling himself closer.

"It's a tie between the TV and my phone if I'm being honest" you giggled placing your phone down, you met his loving gaze, placing your hand on his chest, softly kissing his cheek "how was your day sweetheart?" You asked softly, almost as a way of apologizing on you being so voided.

"Good, busy as always." He said like he was waiting for that question all day, meeting your hand on his chest, moving it, holding it while it rests on his lap "Well, it was mostly interviews and shooting for promotions for the team, after that we had a few drinks."

You listened intently as he got into the details of his day, complaining mostly. Giving your thoughts and opinions whenever he asked.

"That's about it. What did you do the whole day?" He asked after wrapping up his day, "Nothing really, just watched TV and cleaned up here a bit, " you said plainly before you stood up from the couch.

"Something I ordered came in the mail though," you said with a smile on your face. "Yeah? What is it?" He asked, as your smile peaked his intrest.

You took his hand, pulling him over to the bedroom, perverted thoughts alredy entering his mind, thinking you probably ordered some slutty liengre and wanted to show him.

You sat him down on the bed as you escaped into the bathroom, asking him to wait for a moment as you closed the door.

As soon as that door shuts he alredy started imagining what you're gonna walk out wearing, probably wearing something tight and strapy, an idiotic smile alredy appearing on his lips from picturing you in something that small.

But he remembered you weren't the type to get something like that, maybe a new dress? Something light for summer. His past thoughts still lingering no matter how cute the dress would be, imagining just lifting it over your hips and fucking you dumb.

His hands covered his red tinted face from just imagening it, sexual frustration just from you keeping him in suspense, "Ken? You ready?" Your voice through the door snapping him back to reality "Huh? Yeah, yeah." He said, a slight stutter from his voice.

You creecked the door open, as he took a deep breath, he opened his eyes.

You wore an oversized jearsy with his team's name on it, it looked simple enough, He thought it was cute, swing you show support for his team, practicly his second family.

Until you turned around, moving your hair to the side and there he saw it, a big 7 and his last name on your back.

You couldn't miss it either, it was right there, black bold lettering on the thin white fabric. You walked closer to him as his eyes were fixated on the way it hugged your body and how your thighs were peaking of out of the fabric just bearly.

Straddling his lap as he still couldn't find the strength to move a muscle, until he did.

His shaky hand going under the jersey, rubbing your bare hip, as you kissed him, your hands running through his hair as his hands creeped up your thigh looking for some panties to pull down, truely a perfect way to end his day he thought.

A giggle exits your mouth as he pulled away from the kiss, a puzzled look on his face before he felt you push him down on the bed snapping him back to attention suddenly, your mouth alredy leaving marks on his neck eagerly, seeming like the both of you werent even on the same wavelength.

"You arnt gonna find something down there, I'm not wearing anything" you whisper nonchalantly before continuing to attack his neck with kisses and love bites.

Basically hinting the fact that you're weren't wearing panties.

"You planned this didn't you" he breathed out

Is eyebrows widen in suprise, he takes a mintue sinking it it before accepting his fate before he layed back with stupid smirk, enjoying the free hickies while he undid his jeans.

In a few minutes you found yourself under him, the jersey just slightly above your midriff, his eyes widened. Holy shit, you really weren't wearing anything under that.

His signiture grin on his face as he pulled down his jeans just above his thighs, he swore he saw hearts in your eyes when you felt him press against you.

He had a feeling you've been pent up for a while, he was just too busy to do anything about it, until now ofcourse.

You felt him pick you up and made you lay on your stomach, pulling your hips right against him, feeling him throb in-between your legs, so close yet so far from where you realy wanted it, you felt his hand grip onto the flesh of your hips.

He leaned down, closing the distance between you two, his chest right against your back and his lips millimeters away from your ear "Feel that? All for you babe." He said in a husky tone, right against your ear, a grin on his lips after hearing a whine come out of your mouth hearing those words.

Your body jolted, feeling something familiar prod inside you, His mouth still right against your ear, not changing a single thing. you heard his breath hitch everytime he gets deeper.

Your body shivered from the feeling, you've missed this. You've both missed this.

He held your hands over your head, pressing them against the bed sheets as he gently bucked his hips, moving carefully feeling how tight you were around him yet taking him so well.

He was taking it in, fucking his perfect girlfriend, having her perfect voice loud enough to echo around the house, thanking his perfect self he got a place far from anyone else.

He got to have you, all to himself, after a long work day, wearing a jersey with his name on it.

With his name on it.

He let's go of your hands remembering something, one of them holding you by your hips, rutting in and out of you while the other one tucks your hair to the side of your shoulder, revealing the back design of his last name and player number on your back.

Shit, he felt so egotistical and narcissistic but this was better than any kind of liengre or sundress you could ever buy.

Looked like a scene from a wet dream he could've had.

You felt him pick up the pace, started moving aimlessly yet his tip kept rubbing the perfect spongey spot inside you. Your voice started raising, getting louder than it always was, not like you could say anything from your fucked out state.

His muscles started to tense, getting lost into he feeling of being inside you, spitting out praise.

"You're doing great baby," or "you look so fucking good for me." He'd coo, with just saying how much he loves you, and parts of you like how your hair was a mess, how perfect it looked when his cock would disappear inside you, or just worshiping your ass.

And most importantly that desperate arch on your back, only making it easier for him to hit that sweet spot over and over again.

The room being filled with the sound of moans, skin slapping against skin and the creaking of the bedframe. Laser focused on the overwhelming feeling of your walls around him, fluids dripping down your thigh, staining the bed sheets.

"Fuckk, Kenji, Kenji!" you cried out, making him stutter in his thrusts, hearing his name escape your lips a few times.

Hundreds, thousands, even millions of fans have cried out his name but nothing was quite like that one.

He kept going, this time with quicker, more feverish thrusts making you start to babbel words, "Whyd you stop?" He teased "cmon, who do you belong to?" He said, a sinister laugh following his remark.

"You" you breathed out still being thrusted in and out to, "names baby, I'm gonna need names." He said in a faux pity tone, you didn't even have to turn around to know he had the biggest, dumbest smile on his face right now.

You melted in his grip, you moaned his name again with more passion, feeding that ego of his. Knowing only he was the one making you feel like this, the leg trembling, spot hitting, eye watering kind of sex.

With his player number and last name on your back, he was thinking of finnishing inside and starting a family alredy, making you really his.

But that would be a bit too much to baby trap you, he knew you weren't going anywhere.

Seeing his last name on your back just drove him crazy, sining in the thought that one place, one day, that's gonna be yours too.

He wakes up from his baby fever trance to your voice "Fuck, Kenji... I'm so fucking close" you curse out, your hand meeting his, his other one continually making you bounce against him.

His spare hand layers over yours, holding it against the bedsheets, as he closes the distance once more, his lips right against hers, "Go on, you've earned it." He says before buying his face into the crook of your neck.

At that moment, you started seeing stars

He feels your walls tightening around him and you moan out his name for the final time. Seeing your body tense up and legs shake for him was something he would never forget the feeling of, knowing how good he made you feel never gets old.

His thrusts slow down as you come down from your high. He pulls out stroking his shaft a few times to the view of your fucked out body, using the white opaque liquid as lube, spilling his warm seed onto your curves, some hitting the new jersey by accident.

"Shit, you might want to wash it now." He laughed, you were too tired to make a comment on him alredy cumming on your new jersey.

Minutes pass, maybe around an hour. You see your loving boyfriend bring you your favorite tea "still sore?" He asked, "just a bit.." you reply back.

Now in a new pair of clothes and him snuggling up to you in bed, turning on the TV and putting on both your favorite series.

Truley, the perfect way to end both your days.

●●●

A/N : Haven't posted in a hot minute, I know. Sorry to my followers, I know this is something new, but I swear the bnha fics r coming, there somewhere in my files 😭

A/N : Those who've read in in the first 13 hours actually pointed out there was a typo, so thank you for that <3. I'll try to spell check more diligently since I mostly only write late at night <33

[astonmartinii]

a spoonful of sugar part two | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem chef!reader

cheffing it up all over the calendar, here we go again

PART ONE | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | MY SMALL BUSINESS

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 201,844 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: we're in JAPAN 🇯🇵 WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !!! yeah suzuka is cool and all but more importantly - SUSHI TIME and my oh my that spread is glorious if i do say so myself

view all comments

user1: oscar babygirlism is so real

landonorris: HOW DARE YOU GUYS INVITE ME OVER FOR DINNER AND SERVE THAT

yourusername: boo fucking hoo, i've had enough of your whining buddy

landonorris: OSCAR STOP HER SHE'S BEING MEAN

oscarpiastri: i mean i would take the home-cooked meal from the professional chef but that's just me

landonorris: stop shaming me :( i can't help it :(

yourusername: okay stop being dramatic, you can comeback from your hiding place i made chicken sushi as well

landonorris: oh thank you 😊

oscarpiastri: when i came in as the YOUNGER teammate, i didn't think y/n and i would be babysitting you

landonorris: you guys love me really

user2: i think y/n might have the patience of a saint

user3: i think i would die happy if i got a sushi spread from y/n

yukitsunoda0511: personally offended i was not invited :(

yourusername: nooooooooooo yukiii :((((( - i'll bring left overs ?

yukitsunoda0511: yes please (i'm much nicer than lando)

landonorris: when will the slander end?

oscarpiastri: i'm personally offended that any time y/n is visiting ME she ends up cooking and looking after all of you :(

yourusername: i love you the most though

oscarpiastri: hehehehehehe

user4: this relationship is so precious to me actually

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 1,094,558 others

tagged: landonorris & yourusername

oscarpiastri: over the moon to get my first podium in f1 in my rookie season. p.s. get yourself a girlfriend that gives you a candy bouquet to celebrate your podium

view all comments

user5: oscodium i know that's right

mclarenf1: we don't think that's in your meal plan, but we'll let it slide for just this once

yourusername: damn right you will 🔫🔫🔫

oscarpiastri: okay no threatening my team on a post about my podium

yourusername: i guess they're fine (FOR NOW) (the next time i see team orders it's on sight)

mclarenf1: ... does this mean no more pasta parties? :(

yourusername: get my boy his first win and pasta for life for all of you

user6: the way y/n and oscar's mum both fell into each other when oscar crossed the finish line

user7: they're so real for that

user8: y/n is REAL wag representation, i too would go FUCKING mental if my boyf got a podium i would also be spraying champagne all over the garage and crying my eyes out

yourusername: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I'M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU MORE, THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS SUPPORTING ME - and looking after my mum after you caused a stampede in the garage

yourusername: hold on nicole is just as crazy as me

oscarpiastri: my two favourite women EVA

user9: when you're besties with your boyf's mum >>

landonorris: congrats oscahhhhhhh - how does one procure one of these bouquets?

oscarpiastri: hands off pal 🤨

landonorris: i just want CANDY STOP ACCUSING ME OF STUFF

yourusername: oh so now you want my food ....

landonorris: why are you ganging up on me ??? I'M JUST A CHILD ???

user10: i love watching oscar and y/n ganging up on lando

logansargeant

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 309,788 others

tagged: yourusername & oscarpiastri

logansargeant: category is: thirdwheeling - the food is a definite plus

view all comments

user12: the real best trio in f1 ... sorry 2019 rookies

alexalbon: logie bear beating the unseasoned allegations... i am impressed

logansargeant: i am cultured?

yourusername: logan had no choice, he was eating what i made him

logansargeant: but i liked it!

yourusername: you did, i'm a proud mother

alexalbon: what are the chances of me and james getting some of the y/n food, we deserve it more than mclaren

yourusername: name the price...

user13: i love how oscar and y/n have collected so many drivers this season despite being the youngest

oscarpiastri: not even finished my first season and we've accumulated so many "children"

logansargeant: don't have a gf who is such a good chef if you didn't want to babysit me

yourusername: we can't help it we're mOTHER

oscarpiastri: 💅

charles_leclerc: @oscarpiastri did our post podium dinner in aus mean nothing? you're neglecting your 26 year old child

maxverstappen1: classic treatment of the eldest girl 😔

yourusername: you guys done being dramatic?

charles_leclerc: one second

charles_leclerc: YOU'RE JUST THE SAME AS EVERYONE ELSE, PICK ME UP AND DROP ME - USERS !!!!

charles_leclerc: okay done :)

oscarpiastri: ok... idk what the fuck is going on here

maxverstappen1: we want food [bangs cutlery on imaginary table]

user14: oscar going from being the shy one on the grid to wrangling charles and max is killing me

user15: him and y/n have the grid wrapped around their finger

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 730,844 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: this is everything you have ever deserved

view all comments

user18: i am going to throw myself on the track and let oscar run me over and put me out of my misery

oscarpiastri: i love you so much, couldn't do it without your support

yourusername: NUH UH you're SUPER DUPER AMAZINGLY FAST and i am lucky to be here to witness you :)

oscarpiastri: okay.... but no more passing out in the garage

yourusername: i'm just a girl 🎀

oscarpiastri: my girl x

yourusername: YOUR GIRL (i've seen the tiktok edits BACK OFF)

user19: the way the other team members and teams let them have their moment was so cute

user20: zak brown pushing her to the front to be able to see him on the podium... maybe i don't hate him as much as i thought

user21: her taking ten billion photos while crying her eyes out was so cute

yourusername: they're all blurry 🧍🏻‍♂️

maxverstappen1: i guess you're the only one i'll tolerate outshining my championship win... congrats oscar!

oscarpiastri: thank you max :) also thank you to gp for giving y/n an ice pack

yourusername: gp got his name on a piece of cake

maxverstappen1: what about my cake?

yourusername: i guess i can spare another slice for you

oscarpiastri: we can give you a whole cake tomorrow if you let me win tomorrow?

maxverstappen1: nice try dude

yourusername: you haven't tried it yet

oscarpiastri: it's laced with crack (literally, DQ coming fast)

maxverstappen1: ????

yourusername: we jest

oscarpiastri: or do we?

user22: is gp another person they've collected?

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, logansargeant and 1,094,873 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: no one else i'd rather celebrate with

view all comments

user23: they don't know it yet but they're actually my parents

user24: yeah, yeah oscar won a race woo BUT MAMA DROP THE RECIPE FOR THE THIRD SLIDE LOOKS LIKE IT BANGS

yourusername: i'm so unbelievably proud of you oscar, crying in the club right now

oscarpiastri: i didn't know the shower was also called the club (i can hear you crying and though i'm grateful you are this happy for me, it's getting slightly concerning)

yourusername: i just can't contain my excitement for you and it's turned into tears HAPPY TEARS

oscarpiastri: my mum can hear it from her room as well

yourusername: can't believe i'm being shamed like this

landonorris: will you cry this much for my first win

yourusername: nope, actively praying against it

landonorris: WHAT ??? OSCAR STOP HER SHE'S BEEN TOO MEAN THIS TIME

yourusername: i only want oscar to win every race from now until he retires soz buddy

oscarpiastri: idk that sounds like a good deal to me lando

landonorris: @yourusername i hope you drown in your tears

user25: well that escalated

danielricciardo: proud of you baby aussie !!! how can we get some aussie bbq in the paddock as celebration @yourusername 🤭

yourusername: someone get me a grill asap

danielricciardo: okay max it's time to stop being selfish, let oscar win another race so we can get more bbq i'm homesick

maxverstappen1: that's cute and all but FUCK THEM KIDS

yourusername: well no bbq for you then

maxverstappen1: you and oscar love me really

oscarpiastri: ???

user26: the way y/n tussles with these men kills me

user27: at this point get her a microphone and get her on that grid walk

mclarenf1

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,024,550 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, landonorris & yourusername

mclarenf1: y/n delivered the pasta party she promised (admin is now in a food coma no more posts for the rest of the day)

view all comments

user28: the way we all thought this was a joke... i am now unwell

user29: dead ass the cutest thing i've ever seen

yourusername: thank you for having me besties, thank you for giving oscar a fast car and i hope you all actually make your flights in your pasta-induced naps

mclarenf1: that carbonara has me snoozing up a storm

oscarpiastri: (we nearly missed our flight)

landonorris: worth it, that pasta banged

yourusername: why thank you everyone i am blushing

yourusername: but real talk when does all this pasta translate into team orders in oscar's favour

mclarenf1: i don't think that's in my job description

landonorris: ...

oscarpiastri: well....

yourusername: you're making me look like a bad person 😭 i just want oscar to have the best possible time ever

oscarpiastri: i love you <3

landonorris: ugh... i guess that's cute

user30: i have never been more jealous ever in my life and it's over PASTA

georgerussell63: i am mobilising the GDPA against this. it's either pasta for ALL of us or NONE of us

yourusername: bring back seb you big wet wipe

georgerussell63: EXCUSE YOU!

charles_leclerc: i am an honourary italian and i am quite frankly offended i was not at least offered the left overs

oscarpiastri: but this was my special pasta party for my sprint win :(

georgerussell63: don't try and use that very cute and wholesome excuse with me mister, we have been robbed of pasta

yourusername: you queens are so dramatic i can't

user31: this sport is so unserious, they wouldn't protest over the conditions this weekend but pasta is where they draw the line 😭

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 621,945 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: if you're at COTA come on down to my bbq station it's mr america (@logansargeant) approved

view all comments

user33: miss ma'am is really raising the bar for all wags at this point

user34: who else is doing up masterchef at the track

logansargeant: i can confirm it is very good

yourusername: i knew there was a reason we love you logie bear

logansargeant: the ribs were so good you should honestly get an american passport

user35: guys i went and omg IT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD + y/n was so fucking nice and said all proceeds are going to helping disadvantaged children get into karting

user36: my heart is so full i love them

maxverstappen1: slowing me down by making me have bbq i see how it is

yourusername: no one forced you to eat it buddy

maxverstappen1: well it's steak and mac and cheese ur dumb if you think i'm NOT fucking it up

yourusername: you got me there

danielricciardo: that was scrummy

charles_leclerc: petition for this to be here every week

georgerussell63: this just makes me more angry about missing out on pasta

user37: oscar is so much stronger than me cause if i had y/n i'd be asking for an absolute feast all of the time and would not stick to my meal plan

oscarpiastri: my favourite person doing her favourite thing <3

yourusername: you're my favourite thing

landonorris: keep that to yourself

yourusername: i can't love my bf now?

landonorris: that man is a child keep it PG

oscarpiastri: you made it not PG

yourusername: stop forcing your agenda on us lando

landonorris: i can't win with you people

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, yourusername and 803,884 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: first season done. proud. ready to eat like a king

view all comments

user38: i don't think i've ever barked in response to a picture of food

landonorris: where's mineeeeee :((((((((

oscarpiastri: season is over mate. y/n is back to being mine and mine only, we're hibernating in aus

landonorris: selfish

yourusername: let us eat our sushi in peace this off season

user39: oscar ready to keep y/n to himself what a king

oscarpiastri: tired of sharing my gf :( i know she's the bestest ever but still i was getting separation anxiety when she was stolen to make food for george

georgerussell63: no regrets

yourusername: you were always a king, but i'm ready to treat you like royalty

oscarpiastri: right back at you, queen

yourusername: all the food WE want all off season

maxverstappen1: okay guys we can hear you

charles_leclerc: this is no way to talk about your 27 year old children honestly

landonorris: i'm calling childline actually

yourusername: feel free girl, kiss my ass cause you won't see it for months

landonorris: GASP!

oscarpiastri: that's been brewing, stop asking y/n to make you chicken dippers bro

landonorris: :(

yourusername: regardless of all the tomfoolery and the stray cats (drivers) we've picked up, i'm so proud of you oscar - here's to an even better year next year

oscarpiastri: thank you, my love. couldn't do it without you. i love you.

yourusername: i love you too osc

fin.

note: heyyy?? yeah i've kinda gone missing in action. i am working on the last two WIPs but i am so busy and my writers block is so bad i had to revisit an old fave lol. hope yall enjoy !

[onlyangel4]

pls pls pls 💗💗

write a smau with a very unhinged down bad carlos sainz girlfriend. who sexualises everything about carlos but she's got a serious job like a vogue editor or smth, so she writes about him and people can actually SEE how down bad for him. "are u objectifying me mi amor" " i always objectify u boyfriend" like I need unhinged carlos x girlfriend who need to jump each others bones everyday plsss 🌶️🤪😩🤲🏻🤲🏻

unhinged. cs55. smau.

carlos sainz x girlfriend!reader

in which carlos' girlfriend can not keep her horny thoughts to herself, even in a professional environment

faceclaim: simone ashley

f1wags

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 76,192 others

f1wags: vogue editor and carlos sainz' girlfriend y/n y/ln has arrived to the australian grand prix. "after a week off looking after carlos i managed to convince my boss to let me have this weekend off so i could support him post surgery. but i will be writing about this", y/n spoke in an interview

view all 3,291 comments

user1: omg y/n covering the grand prix this bitch is gonna be so horny

user2: she looks so fucking good

user3: i bet carlos' jaw dropped when he saw her this morning

y/ninsta posted a story tagging lizakoshy and terrycrews

written: carlos was busy resting for today last night. so i had a wild night quoting white chicks with two of my favourite people.

carlossainz posted a story

written: my good luck charm is here

y/ninsta posted a story

written: he sure is getting head tonight

carlossainz posted a story

written: i have never been happier

vogue

liked by y/ninsta, carlossainz, scuderiaferrari and 2,391,119 others

vogue: we may live to regret this but this months issue includes a very special segment written by our very own editor y/n y/ln. the article covers what it is like to be a wag in a world full of online criticism, how to deal with being long distance from her boyfriend at times and most importantly that very special win in australia.

view all 91,822 comments

y/ninsta: be warned this article is not for persons under the age of eighteen

carlossainz: next time can i write a horny article about mi amor

scuderiaferrari: y'all are brave our pr team will not let her say a word in interviews

user4: i can't fucking wait to read this

y/ninsta posted a story

written: me and daisy just wanted to let you know that my vogue article is out now!

carlossainz

liked by y/ninsta, charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 1,321,809 others

tagged: y/ninsta

carlossainz: since the love of my life decided to write an article all about how hot i am i wanted to remind you that she is 100x hotter. love you carino

view all 51,218 comments

y/ninsta: this post just got you some brownie points

carlossainz: just wanted to show the world my pretty girl

user5: they are so in love it makes me sick

user6: the hottest couple on the grid

user7: both of them using their massive platforms to be horny for each other is such a slay

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

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@stinging--nettle

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@pear-1206

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@charlesgirl16

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@jess-wither

@callsignwidow

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@kaorisakamotofan

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@jetless

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@blushmimi

@kodzuvk

@mochimommy2002

[seethesin]

i hate that i love you

pairing: Shane McCutcheon x F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, established friendship, cheating, hatefucking, fingerfucking, service top!shane, power bottom!reader (mdni, 18+)

a/n: this is my angst attempt. as per usual, i have to add smut to it. still rubbing my brain cells together for some fluffy ideas. enjoy :)

"I can't fucking believe you, Shane."

Who were you kidding? You knew her; this was inevitable.

Monogamy was uncharted territory for Shane. There was a reason she was so hesitant to commit to any romantic relationship when the opportunity presented itself. When things got stagnant, she got fidgety. Her eyes wandered and before she even knew it, she was leaving a trail of broken hearts and crushed egos in her wake.

As one of her closest friends, you understood how Shane operated. You've come to accept everything that came with her. Each night there was a new woman in Shane's bed and each night you were kept awake by the constant reminder that what you wanted would always be out of reach.

From the beginning, the lothario's charms never worked on you. According to Alice, you were impervious to the Shane test since they met you. Whether it be your strong will or grounded sense of self-worth, you refused to be wooed by the shaggy-haired ladykiller you now shared a house with.

But as your friendship deepened, pesky feelings began to brew in the pit of your stomach. Unlike the women she slept with, your friendship allowed you to see Shane in a three-dimensional light. Her fierce loyalty to her friends, immense love for those close to her, and unwavering determination to meet her goals dragged you further and further down a rabbit hole you weren't prepared to venture through.

You despised the way your heart would hammer in your ribcage anytime she flashed a genuine grin your way. You hated how meaningless touches made your stomach flip and your breath hitch. And you loathed sitting through any conversation that included Shane fucking a woman that wasn't you. But no matter how frequently you recognized your feelings, you could not pursue them.

You heard those women when they left your house. A switch flickered on for most of them but the ones who didn't realize soon enough were left devastated. There would be no next time. There were no feelings to talk about. It was just about the sex.

Shane needed to stay your friend.

So you did what you did best; you swallowed your feelings and shoved them down deep into your gut. This was an act of self-preservation.

It didn't take long for you to find someone else. She was sweet, compassionate, and most importantly, could commit to a relationship. It was what you needed and what you couldn't get from Shane. You've been dating steadily for a month now. A blissful, healthy month may you add. You had even introduced her to your friends who were thrilled by the new addition.

Except Shane.

Any time you brought your girlfriend along or even mentioned her to Shane, her mood did a one-eighty. She was uncharacteristically colder, more aloof, and found any excuse to leave you sooner than necessary. Saying it hurt would be putting it lightly. You expected Shane—as one of your closest friends—to support you the same way she did for Alice, Bette, and the rest of the ladies. Was your happiness less important to her than everyone else's?

Apparently so.

Tonight, you were coming home from Tina and Bette's house. They had asked you if you could watch Angie and naturally, you agreed. As you made your way up to your front door, it opened on its own, revealing your girlfriend. She was in a wrinkled dress, had unkempt hair, and smudged makeup across her face. The two of you locked eyes and she visibly paled. Like a deer in headlights, she froze, lower lip trembling. Without a word, she ducked away from your sight and hurried away. Looking into your house you saw Shane sitting at the kitchen table, hurriedly closing the clasp of her belt.

This instigated the current screaming match you and Shane were currently participating in.

"She didn't tell me she was seeing anyone!" Shane yelled, elbows digging into the hardwood table as she cupped her head in her hands. You paced around restlessly, gritting your teeth before snapping your attention back at her.

"I've brought her over here before, Shane—you met her numerous times already! Were you too busy shoving your tongue in her cunt to notice?"

Shane's lips mashed shut at your response, eyes trained on the floor. She had no response and you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you threw your hands up.

"You don't even fucking care," you breathed, pulling the chair across from her out so you could sit down. "Why do you not fucking care?"

"I'm sorry," she starts, and no, no she is not sorry. If she was sorry, she wouldn't have done this to begin with. Shane wouldn't have fucked your now ex-girlfriend—she finally decided to try calling you by the way, not like you were going to pick up now—in your own house.

"Bullshit."

Your anger churned in your gut and seared up to your throat like bile. The rage triggered your buried feelings for Shane, melding them together into something that made you physically sick. Right now, you hated yourself more than Shane. This was a grave offense and here you were, wanting nothing more than to crush her face between your legs. You wanted to yank her by her hair, part her lips, and shove yourself down until she was gasping for air. Digging half moons into your palms, you stared daggers into her head.

"Why did you do it?"

Shane is silent, but you can almost feel the gears turning in her head. She wants to say something, but she refuses.

"Shane."

Nothing.

"Shane, look at me."

She obeys instantaneously, jerking her head up to meet your gaze.

"Why did you do it?" You ask again, each word staccato as you wring your hands into fists.

"She wasn't good for you." she finally replies and you laugh in disbelief.

"So what is good for me, Shane? Is being cheated on good for me? Is my friend taking part in that good for me too?"

"No—"

"Then why did you do it?" Your voice slides an octave higher, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. You can feel your throat begin to close as a stray tear rolls down your face. Quickly, you brush it away.

"Because I love you."

That does it.

The dam in your chest breaks and you finally cry. Shane is stunned, plastered to her seat as she watches you rack into sobs. Gently, her hand slides forward on the table, finding your hand. You recoil as if she slapped you and she retreats back to her side of the table.

"No, fuck you; you don't get to say that to me." Not when you spent all this time getting over how you felt about Shane. You couldn't go backward.

But a sick, nasty part of you reveled in the proclamation. It was warped validation that everything you've felt for her was reciprocated. It satisfied you in a primal way and your stomach twisted itself into knots over it. Not even bothering to filter out your rampant thoughts, you ask her the question burning on your tongue.

"How did you fuck her?"

The silence after you spoke was deafening. Shane's eyes are wider than saucers.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

She looked at you like a cornered animal.

"I—" you get out of your chair, stalking around the table before standing in front of her. Glaring down at her, your hands find themselves on the arms of her chair. You lean in slowly—predatorily—before speaking again.

"Show me, Shane. Since you love me so much." Your voice cracks from crying, but the venom drips from every word.

Shane's throat bobs as she swallows. Her hands are on your hips, dragging you forward. You're already working on the button of your pants, unzipping swiftly before shoving them down your knees. Your underwear comes off soon after and both garments are abandoned on the floor.

Cautiously, she beckons you forward. You comply, lowering yourself into her lap. Your cunt brushes against the rough denim of her jeans and you refrain from groaning. An arm hooks low around your hips while her dominant hand worms itself between your legs. Her digits find the wet slick of your pussy and she glances up at you.

You nod.

She plunges two fingers inside of you. Your walls immediately adjust to the intrusion, stretching deliciously. The moan escapes your lips and you teeter in Shane's lap. Your lips meet the junction of Shane's neck and you bite down roughly. Smoothing the newly forming bruise with your tongue, you sneer at the way Shane hisses.

"Faster."

She adjusts her wrist and immediately hastens her pace. Her fingers are like a piston, thrusting in and out. They curl against the spongy wall of your pussy and you throw your head back, breath shaky. Your hips swivel in rhythm with her thrusts, taking every ounce of pleasure Shane willingly gave.

The edges of your vision begin to darken as you feel the heel of Shane's hand rub against your clit. You gasp, rutting aggressively into her touch as she continues fingerfucking you. Your hands thread themselves in her hair, pulling down to expose the curve of her neck. Moaning, you leave a trail of hickeys down her throat, smirking at the way her face contorts in painful pleasure. She curls her fingers inside of you at just the right angle and you finally cum with a shout.

Your body goes rigid as your knees buckle into her sides. Bobbing on Shane's fingers, you don't stop until the high of your orgasm subsides and reality comes crashing down around you. Swiftly, you pull yourself off of Shane's lap before disappearing into the bathroom to clean yourself up. You return a few minutes later, sliding your underwear and pants back on.

Shane is still glued to her chair. Her fingers are still coated in your slick and she has not made the effort to wipe them off yet. She stares at you numbly and you begin to walk towards the front door.

"I'll be gone by the end of the week, Shane. Then you can fuck whomever else you want in here."

There will be no next time. There are no more feelings to talk about. It was just about the sex.

Shane could no longer be your friend.

[futurecorps3]

Hobie Brown partying with latina!reader<3

Masterlist<3

SUGGESTIVE!!! MDNI GO AWAY OR ILL BITE YOU

I’m already giggling about this shit and haven’t even started it 🤭 just picture that emoji cause that’s how i look rn. This is written from my perspective which is from a mexican living in Mexico going to 100% mexican perreos!!!

-It took a while to convince him to be honest

-Don’t take it the wrong way though!! He’s supportive and go ahead, perrea hasta el suelo but it’s just not his scene

-He’s not a reggaetón hater, he believes every type of music has a merit to it!! BUT ITS JUST NOT HIS SCENE

-Hacerle ojitos was enough to convince him lmao

-“Mi amor please! I want you to meet my friends” You whined, looking up at him all dressed up for the party that started in about thirty minutes. How could he say no when you were looking so pretty? “Shit ‘aight” He muttered, leaving to do his makeup as you kissed his cheek sweetly

-Now when y’all get there

-HE’S ASTONISHED TO SAY THE LEAST

-Yeah sure, mosh pits were crazy and the pubs he frequently attended were also wild but seeing

-People making out with a stranger then the next, some couple basically fucking in the couch next to the door, a girl downing shots like there was no tomorrow, besos de tres, and most importantly; el perreo.

-My man gets shy n shit like he holds your hand. pls help him no entiende nada

-Your friend approaches you with two plastic cups with some golden liquid that didn’t even reach the half of the cup. “Hey Hobie! Nice to meet ya’, my name’s Martha. Tengan, para ambientarse and getting the party started for you two!”

-Hobie thought it was dumb to drink so little of something, even more when he saw how effortlessly you downed your shot. “What’s this shit?”

-Tequila. It was Herradura. Now he knows why you pour so little for a single shot.

-HE WAS WHEEZING, SPILLING HIS GUTS OUT AND ABSOLUTELY BAFFLED BECAUSE HOW DID YOU DRINK THAT WITHOUT EVEN FLINCHING?????

-Your male friends definitely laughed a bit at that, pero en buena onda, they know how important Bee is to him so they’d never be mean to him hehe

-“Ay cabrón, Martha le dio tequila?” One of your friends say while laughing, his arm rounding your boyfriend’s tall figure “Sí, no soportó” You laugh back, kissing Hobie softly

-Your friends got to know him, silently questioning his intentions and stuff but not like they’re your parents. They mean well!! They just want their friend to be happy with this new dude, and some of them are men, so they definitely know how shit they can be

-“So this is what usually happens?” He asks, looking around as he takes it all in “Yup” you nod, popping the ‘p’ and smiling “I love it”.

-He found it all very freeing; no one judging, everyone moving as they pleased and drinking like hangovers weren’t real. No labels, no consistency. Just fun.

-Then… your friends pulled you to the circle to dance

-And he was done for.

-Seeing how you moved your hips in circles (something he was now sure was sort of a generic gift) changed his life forever

-You danced with your girlfriends, making a line of grinding and twerking from time to time. Some of their boyfriends reaching out to dance with them

-“Holy shit” Hobie muttered, entranced by how you ass moved in those shorts “Yeah, it’s something else” One of your friends who was now friends with Hobie (bonding over playing vodka beer pong) answered.

-“Try to dance with her man, I know you’re foreign and stuff but I don’t think Y/N/N would mind teaching you”

-His feet take him to you before he knows

-“Want me to teach you, love?” You shout so he can hear you over the music, and he just nods with a smile, holding your hands

-“Your work is just moving with me with your hands on my hips, look at Martha and her boyfriend”. He noticed how your best friend’s boyfriend kept a tight grasp on Martha’s hips, going down with her and up again if she did.

-Hobie replicated his moves and soon he got the hang of it

-Big, ring-clad fingers holding your waist tightly as he loosened his hips and felt your ass grinding against his crotch. You can feel how his tall figure looms over you, towering your smaller frame and you love it.

-As he gets more confident, he starts pulling you closer, kissing your neck from time to time and pulling away for a bit so you can scream some lyrics with your friends and then go back to him.

-It's safe to say he has a boner, yeah

-To you? It felt like an absolute dream! Imagine him grinding behind you to some track of Un Verano Sin Ti as he sings along to some of the chorus’s lyrics <3

-You got wasted, danced the night away, he perfected his spanish and you accomplished your dream; ver a Hobie Brown, el punk, perreando.

˚ · • . ° .

TAGS: @kirbyskisses @angeliquecherie @cowboycurtis56 @backyard-bear @lilacspider @gktyo @katsukiswrld @elusive-honeydew @solanawrld

I'm actively ignoring my full inbox to write this so it better not flop. HERMANAS lemme know if u like it and leave in the replies what else would you like to see from hobie with a latina reader

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[lonelylonelyghost]

Re-watch of The Spirealm. Episode 11

Watching over. Guarding his dreams.

I took notice only during the re-watch and reading the original novel, but Nanzhu really acts differently inside and outside the Doors. While inside he's as cheeky and dramatic as inhumanly possible, in the real world he's very subdued and in his The-Ruthless-Boss-mode. The only thing that is the same is the way he looks at Qiushi.

(X)

(don't want to waste precious screenshot space for this loser, you know who I mean)

Ugh, not this guy again... At least now he's not with that poor lizard. When I was watching it for the first time I was confused as to why they seem to obscure his face constantly. But then I got it - the twist was genuinely surprising.

"Aren't you gonna explain to your parents?"

"No need. We're not that close."

.... /_ \

It's never not heartbreaking when the people that theoretically should always give their support to you are not that.

Wu Qi!!! 🧡 The bestest friend there is!!!!

Ohohoy, one of my favourite sub-arcs has arrived!!!

Zhuang Rujiao! Fashion sense - immaculate

I completely forgot about this little interaction! Surely nothing bad happens to any of them and they will stay together forever, completely mentally stable🙂

"I mean, Ruan-ge has concentrated all his attention to the newbie Zhuang-something. Don't you feel upset? No matter passing the Door or knowing him, you came first."

This👆 was the part that convinced me that the show creators were completely insane. Like, Obsidian members taking turns and asking Qiushi if he was jealous of the newbie? It's not even framed as a professional competition! They're asking him, point blank, if he's upset that Nanzhu pays attention to the other person. The most het person to ever het the Earth would suspect that something's up here.

And Qiushi's reaction. He's maybe oblivious, but more importantly, he doesn't have any expectations of being treated as anyone special. He has always been abandoned, be it for selfish reasons or "the greater good", so why would this time be anything different? He was the newbie, got his experience, now there is a new person to take his place. He's not even sad, he's accepted and made peace with this part of human nature a long time ago.

Damn. No wonder this show messed me up so bad

Meanwhile, Nanzhu is trying his gay best to reassure Qiushi that he's the one and only, while also being cryptic as fuck

THE BOOP!!!!!!!

The affection, unable to be suppressed anymore and demanding at least some kind of release, culminating into the most adorable gesture possible!

aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

And the object of that affection, wondering wtf is wrong with the people around him lately

Also, in every shot with Yi Manman he's eating something. Continuity points. Everything is fiiiine :)

Oh, he's PISSED. How dare she take away his time with Qiushi with that stupid spy mission

They are straight up torturing this poor girl, and enjoying every second of it

"So, who is better, Baijie or me?"

"But you are the same person!"

Nanzhu, internally: Marry me. PLEASE. Right. Fucking. Now.

I NEED MORE SCREENSHOT SPACE ON POSTS GODDAMN IT!!!!🤬🤬🤬

"Don't kill her don't kill her she's my client I'll need to dispose of the body there will be too much blood and this coat is my favourite plus Qiushi will be upset don't kill her how dare she talk to him this pen looks sharp enough her neck is thin and breakable keep it together don't kill her"

Nanzhu, most definitely

Ah, they didn't show what's happening in this Door, just the moment before going back into the real world. I was confused as hell for a sec here

"You're in your twenties, but you haven't had a girlfriend. That's tragic when you think about it."

And then you see him gearing up for the next sentence:

"But don't worry. If you really can't find a girlfriend, you can always find a substitution."

And then this dumbass: "Substitution? Maybe a cat?"

What did I do???? 😧

And that's why I love him so much

[azurlily]

Day 7 of 31 of the yandere month May challenge. These two yanderes work together well, so they're pretty scary.

Also a reminder to everyone this is the last month you can request a specific type of reader for free. After this month it becomes commission work. Ask any questions in either DM or on my asks/requests.

Your boss has been giving you a hard time. Vi and Caitlyn hear about and are not happy, they make the night all about you.(they also deal with your boss)

Yandere!Vi and Yandere!Caitlyn Kiramman SMUT

"I dont fucking care! If it's not done by Friday, you're off the team! Got it!?"

You nodded your head, got you hate this man. He's the embodiment of everything you hate. He stands there and glares at you before turning away in anger, you hear him mumble about 'idiot' while he walks away.

Slowly you turn around, turning your head up to stop the warm water dripping down your face. You walk out, it was the end of the day and Friday is only 2 days from now. You can work on the project at home, you hope your lovers would let you pay attention. They like to distract you from work.

Once your home you realise you see two coats, two pairs of shoes, and most importantly two women in the kitchen. Upon hearing the door close both women look up, a set of grey and a set of blue eyes look at you. The hold nothing but adoration, love, happiness, and kindness. Both of your girlfriends love you so much.

So it brought them both pain when you break down crying. Tears spill down you face, warm tears, refusing to stop. Vi is the first to run to you, she picks you up and holds you. She brings you into the kitchen, her face went from one of love to one of pure disgust.

Vi always has some sort of snark, smile, or relatively happy look on her face. Of course that's only for you and Caitlyn. Now, oh right now, she's absolutely pissed, and not afraid to show it.

"Honey? What's wrong, are you okay?"

You didn't say a word, it took you a good second to finally regain the ability to properly think. You push yourself off of Vi, Vi herself had switched back to a smile. She doesn't want to frighten you, poor you.

The three of you sit down and start talking. You explain what's been going on, specifically with your boss. You know that Caitlyn has more than enough money to support you and Vi, and she's never abuse that. You just wanted to be able to do things, and having a job was the best way. Your job wasn't always this demanding, it's your boss that's the problem.

While you were talking you didn't notice the slow changes in both Vi and Caitlyn's faces. They couldn't look at you properly, not right now at least. Both girls had one goal currently, and that was to kill you boss. How dare he yell at you!? Does he not know who you are, who your lovers are? They could ruin him with a snap of their fingers.

"G-girls. I'm going to go call someone real quick."

Vi didn't say anything else and stood up. She walked into the bedroom and called Jinx. The two have been having a good relationship so far. Their bond growing stronger, and therapy is helping too. While you sat on the couch and let Caitlyn coddle you, Vi was calling her sister for a favor.

"Hey, hey yeah. Yeah I need a favor, someone hasn't been all to kind to [name] I was wondering if you could deal with him. No- no I don't care what happens to him. Kill him if you want, just make him understand not to hurt her. Yeah, yeah I'll give you his info in a second."

Caitlyn had so many ideas stewing in her mind, how dare he. How dare your moronic, disgusting, disrespectful boss, EVER yell at you. Men like him need to be put down, maybe cut their balls off, like you would a dog or a cat. Teach him a lesson, he obviously doesn't see a goddess when it's in front of him.

Vi walks in with a smile, she had a good- great idea. You poor thing, you've been hurt so badly by your boss. You need all the love and care both of your very willing girlfriends can provide.

Vi sneaks over to Caitlyn with a smirk, whispering her plan into her ear. An equally devious smirk appears on Caitlyns face. Oh this, this is going to be fun, very fun. Caitlyn smiles sweetly at you, she gives you the smile that tells you many things. That she loves you, that she adores you, that she'd kill for you, that she want to fuck you so hard it hurts.

You assumed the latter was her choice.

"Sweetie, why don't you go undress in the bedroom, hm? Vi and I will be there soon, we're just going to grab a few toys."

Caitlyn stands up and give you a small peck on the lips before leaving with Vi. To large smirks on their face as they walk away. Their entire plan is to fuck you so raw you can't go to work, then when you do, your boss(if he's even alive) will have a whole new personality.

You walk to the bedroom, your face burning. Other parts of your body started to burn too, burn with need, with want. You didn't realise how pent up you were until now, god this was frustrating for you. You know your lovers, they love to tease.

After about ten minutes Caitlyn and Vi walk in. Vi has her boxers on, she also has a belt with a harness attached to it. The entire thing makes it look like thin, black(stylish) suspenders. Caitlyn though, oh she's wearing baby blue lingere. It looks so soft and pretty, you want to tear it off her, so very badly.

"You look so cute princess! I'm glad you were smart enough to only wear a bra and panties, if you wore anything else, well I would more than likely tear it!"

Vi always sounds so enthusiastic right before sex, you know it's her way of showing her interest. It's just scary sometimes, I mean the look on her face and the way she's talking are two very, very different things. She sounds happy, sweet, and kind, she looks like she wants to fuck you in front of hundreds of people and let them call you dirty things for her amusement.

"Mhm. Indeed, our beautiful little wife has learned, finally. I'm glad I dont need to worry about Vi destroying all your clothes anymore. Now, how about you lay back for us."

It wasn't a request, no instead it was a command. Caitlyn runs a tight ship, and you've learned bratting off only fucks you over further into the future. Not that it matters, you find it fun. You tilt your head and ask her to make you. A smile- dark, a dark smile finds it's way to her face. Caitlyn walks to you, she gently grabs a handful of your hair and pulls. A warning, she's warning you.

You know, you know all about her warnings. First a hair pull, then she'll bite your neck softly, lastly she grab you by the throat. Not roughly, but not soft either. You look up at her with faux innocence, you tilt you head in an attempt to feign innocence. You hear a deep growl from behind you, Vi. She's getting impatient.

Vi is the easier one to please out of the two, she just wants to make you scream. That's isn't hard to do, you just have to hit the right spots.

"I advise you to listen to Caitlyn, just because this night is about you doesn't mean we wont remind you how to listen. Dont test."

You decide it's best to save the brat for another day, you know their doing this to make you feel good. You told them everything, you're not surprised they had this cooked up. You nod slowly, you watch Caitlyn pull back, only for her to push you onto the bed. You lay back, spreading your legs and moving your arms above your head.

You know how they like it. You watch Caitlyn move and sit in a chair, it has gold trimmings and is a satin red. Vi smirks, this is how it goes. From now on, the words 'Vi' and 'Caitlyn' don't exist. It's daddy, and mistress. Honorifics, the things you call them by as a reminder of how they own you.

You watch Vi pull something from a box she had with her. A bright red, 8 inch long strap on. She looks between you and the strap, she sees the reaction on your face. Nothing but pure horny bliss, that's what she likes to see. If she saw that you were scared, she would have used a smaller one. One that would better fit you and your interests.

Vi attaches the strap to her, that's what the harness is for after all. She takes a few steps to you, she puts gets on the bed, her hips cornering you. You lay spread out, and she lays on top of you, look down. She takes your hands and cuffs them together, she. The harness has a belt attached to it, the cuffs were attached to the belt. Vi grins, she loves seeing you helpless, seeing that you need her.

You look over to Caitlyn, she's staring you both intently. She wants to see who will react first, if you say something, or will you meekly open your legs and let Vi have her fun. Caitlyn shakes with anticipation, making herself wetter than before. At some point Vi cant take it anymore, she grabs one of your legs and puts it over her shoulder. She dips the straps tip into you, nothing more, just the tip. She wants to see you shake, shake in pleasure, in pain, she wants to see all of it.

You jump and shake at the sudden intrusion, you body feels amazing and Vi just looks at you. She watches you twitch and shake as she slowly slips in and out ofr your pussy. She wants to see every reaction, every movement. Vi can't get enough of seeing you like this, she needs it, she becomes feral thinking about all the things she's going to do to you. Her pace quickened, hips starting to jam closer and closer to your. She needs this, badly.

Caitlyn watches you two with intense excitement. She loves seeing you like this, and it wasn't like she isn't getting any please out of this two. She had put a bullet vibrator in Vi, and she had a vibrator on herself too. She has the controls to Vis and hers, she turns Vis up by 1 and watches her shake. Caitlyn can see just how much shes getting off on this, and it makes her shiver thinking about it.

"Vi honey, if you want to cum at any point tonight, you're going to have to make our darling scream. I want to hear it loud and clear. Got that?"

"Mm, y-yes ma'am. Make her scream so I can c-cum."

Vi is absolutely losing it right not, her hips keep slamming into yours. No matter how many times you shake and spasm, your entire body is under her control. Vi on the other hand is under Caitlyns control, she knows Vi is chasing her oragsm, and hell get it. As long as Caitlyn gets to hear you scream. Vis thrusts get more and more manic, she's shaking, helping you into your orgasm, while chasing her own. God she needs it, so badly.

Your breath starts to shake more, you and Vi had changed positions a while ago, you are on your back and Vi has you holding onto her for dear life. You start scratching down Vis back, be it the pain of pleasure, you can take if anymore. You start crying and mumbling incoherently, you don't know what you're saying, and neither do Vi or Caitlyn. All that matter is you being absolutely destroyed, and you look oh so close.

"Vi, baby, I want you both to cum with me. Hold on just a bit longer babe, and Vi, I'll turn the vibe up."

You didn't know if you could hold on, it just felt so, so good. How the hell are you going to hold back like this!? At this rate you'll start breaking rules, one of those being don't cum unless given permission. You start hitting Vis back, hoping she slows down. You need her to or you wont last any longer, although you know Vi isn't going to listen. Even if you could talk properly, which you cannot.

"Fuck- cum! Both you of y-you, fuck!"

Permission, that's what you needed, and finally you were given it. Your body convulses against Vis, who does the exact same. You to shake and rock against eachother. Slowly you both come down from your highs. Caitlyn turns the bullet Vibrator off and turns hers off too. Vi slowly pulls out of you, she sees your freshly fucked face and almost laughs. You look so cute, all dumb like this.

"You both did so well for me, but now. Vi honey, please move. It's my turn to torture [name] body, and I intend to work thoroughly.

You look at her in your blissed out state, you should have known. Both if them want your body, they just like to take it in different ways.

[coff-in]

insect anon leaving their own coffin to ask: how would Ashley and Andrew (and your ocs!!! i want to hear more about them) react y too sibling [reader] dying because of their fault? like for example, in the scene where they are in the motel (?) and they go out because a hit man is trying to kill them, they accidentally leave [reader] behind and then they come back to find [reader]’s corpse

notes from coff-in: eheh! u wanna see my little guys react to the horrors :3 thank you, insect anon (also... what type of insect are you? u never said)

this is all assuming that sibling [reader] is close or well liked by the graves siblings. i mean... if they let you live after you escape then they must love you <3 ofc, ofc

andrew would be very distraught. it's such a preventable loss too, all it would've taken was a extra 10 seconds or so to tell you to leave the motel. he should've dragged you out, should've done anything to prevent this... instead he's having a panic attack in front of your corpse. it's hard for me to gauge how he would go about handling your death. we haven't really seen him react to a death of a loved one before... besides nina, but that was less of her being a loved one and more him being scared of getting caught committing murder, you know?

i can't see him completely moving on from your death. i don't think he would kill himself (not yet at least)... he would probably try to get you back from the demon/entity, maybe promising to sacrifice a number of souls to lord unknown when he/it appears at the hidden cult club. the way he handles your death would also rely on which route they go down.

ashley sees the vision and knows you're going to die. she's may or may not be directly responsible for your death. she's paniked too. this was NOT supposed to happen. she would try to bargain with lord unknown to get you back, too. for the most part... no matter what... she's mad. she's mad at the hitman for killing you, mad at the soda company for sending him after you, mad at their mother for leaving them in that fucking apartment in the first place... but most importantly, she's mad at herself. this is her fault.

decay would see andrew killing ashley and himself to join you, wherever you are after you've died. his resentment is definitely heightened. ashley has taken everything from him; his girlfriend, his parents, you. she has fucking ruined every single chance he had at a normal life... what's the point of trying to continue on? at least with this, you'll all be united again. the big happy family he deserves, without pain and consequence.

in the burial route... i mean they're still sad. hm. i think they'd take the time to mourn you properly. maybe on the bridge with their parents, or somewhere else (they don't want you to be remembered next to their parents, they actually love you, come on now) they still joke around with each other and the mood is lighter maybe.

i'm sorry if i seem apathetic in this. i'm not the best at mourning loss.

now it's time for my ocs reactions! wowie! i'm writing this for them separately, so that it's andrew, ashley, my oc, and then the [reader] as the graves sibling unit:

alexis would be bawling his eyes out. his role is supposed to be the pillar everyone leans on for support, he's the father that takes care of his siblings. having one of them die... it's heartbreaking. he's the oldest, he practically raised you like you were his own child. he's beating the shit out of the hitman (um, in his head after the hitman has died since... you know) after that, he's way more possessive and protective of andrew and ashley. they're all he has left of his family... he can't lose them. he won't lose them.

amber... is shocked. definitely shocked... okay, i'm pretty sure i can't hide it anymore, let's talk about amber for a minute. amber is obviously removed from the rest of the graves family. they're the black sheep of the family next to ashley. one thing that sets them apart is their nature. it's not wholly 'human'? idk if i would call them a tar soul like ashley (ashley is her own special cocktail of fucked up girlbossing that no one can replicate in my mind) but they do have bond or interest of the entity/lord unknown. they would find and succeed in getting you back. sure you're not the same as before maybe... but you're back right? almost as if nothing happened.

death to them isn't exactly trivial, but it's not a high concern to them. they assure you that something like this won't happen again. they're willing to pay the price to ensure that is the case.

amy breaks down. she's silent at first, quiet and muted. she's always been quiet and put away. she had to as to not stir up trouble for her family. but eventually... pop! she screams and thrashes in andrew and ashley's hold as she wrecks the room. what's the point in holding back, it's all ruined anyway! she wishes it was [the hitman] she was tearing into. she wants to feel his skin rip and bleed under her nails. once her rage passes over, she just sobs... curled into a ball on her knees, kneeling next to her dead sibling. it's not fair. it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair! it should've been her! he should've killed her, not her you! it's like nina all over again... what did she do wrong to have you leave her?

andrew and ashley may not be able to reach out to her. she's so curled into herself that she can't hear anyone else outside. there's one less person waiting at home for her... it would make her more quiet and volatile. she already struggles with suicidal thoughts and ideation. it would tear her apart, having to choose to continue living with andrew and ashley or joining you in the afterlife. andrew and ashley have each other, don't they? they've always had each other! but you're all alone out there... she can't leave you alone, can she? what should she do? what would a good sister do?

aria would be upset. her reaction may depend on if you are her favorite or not, as she does pick favorites (the devious little woman she is): if you're her favorite then she's bloody furious, wishing she could kill that hitman a thousand times more, if not then she's sad, possibly even suggests eating you as a way of keeping you with them forever. either way, you were her beloved sibling and she's sad that she lost you. it's been a while since i wrote for anything devious but her reaction would be more along the lines of this post if you were her favorite. she'd be quiet and depressed after your death and her moving on from your death would also depend on which route gets walked down.

in decay, she's willing to nuke the entire family. she's lost one, her favorite, might as well bring the rest of her family along! things are already falling apart anyways. in burial, she'll put her feelings to rest. she loved you, she loves you, and she'll always miss you, but she needs to move on. she still has andrew and ashley there with her

a. vomits. they vomit and cry like a big baby because they are a big baby. the shake and cry and have tears and snot drip down their face until andrew and ashley snap them back into reality. crying isn't going to solve anything. um... they're just a big baby in my head. your death frazzles them completely and they look at andrew and ashley for guidance on how to handle the situation. this gives them nightmares. the fact they left you behind and that you died because of them! it's their fault... they could never move on from that.

they would struggle with fact that they're responsible for your death. their responsibility. their fault. their impact on the world... is that you're gone.

thank you for asking about my little guys <3 i love traumatizing them... it's always more emotional and impactful in my head tho :/ i hope this gives you some idea of their personalities at least. i wanna make sure that they're all different in their own way.

----

coff-in

[queer-reader-07]

few things bother me more than people saying that it’s “dumb” or “intentional ignoring” or “impossible” to have interpreted crowley and aziraphale’s relationship platonically.

and look i could go on about all the things that do point to romance but enough people have done that so i’m gonna defend myself here and explain why i read them as platonic for so long and why i think it’s perfectly reasonable to have read them platonically.

and a disclaimer that all of this is from my perspective and my opinion. so if i make a statement as though it’s matter of fact, know that i’m speaking from my perspective and just can’t be bothered to preface every sentence with “in my opinion…”

and it mostly boils down to one thing: their love reflected the love me and my friends have for each other.

so no shit i interpreted them platonically because they looked like my real life platonic relationships!!

i’ve talked at length about how i think there’s a specificity to the way queer people love. i think there’s something special about the way queer people show love, especially platonic love.

here’s the thing. i’ve been mistaken as my best friend of 16 years’ girlfriend more than once. i’ve been mistaken as one of my other best friend’s partner so many times her friends were genuinely shocked when she got a boyfriend because they thought she was dating me.

i understand the whole “being so platonically in love that people think you’re also fucking” situation. i unironically live that situation on the regular. so naturally i assumed that’s what was happening with aziraphale and crowley.

my thought process was basically this

1) they love like i love (specifically, crowley loves like i love). therefore, they’re platonically in love.

2) weird, everyone on the internet is convinced they’re dating. something something everyone values romantic love over platonic love

3) well whatever they’re still platonic in my heart

and it stayed like that quite literally until i watched episode 6 of season 2. and you can tell me i was being oblivious all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that i genuinely believed they were platonic. queer platonic? sure. but definitely not romantic.

i saw all the witty quips and banter between the two of them and didn’t read any sexual or romantic tension, i read friendship. i saw aziraphale damsel in distress-ing himself on the regular so crowley could save him and thought “well it’s the only way he can spend time with crowley. checks out”. and i saw the bandstand breakup and the burning bookshop and “you told my only friend to shut his mouth and die and i did. not. care. for it.” and aziraphale so desperately trying to shield crowley from the horrors of the world and obviously i saw love. a love that is deep and profound, yes. it just never read romantic to me because i would do and say all of those things for and to my friends.

one of the few things i will never cease to find joy in is my friendships. i will ALWAYS love loving the people close to me, i will ALWAYS support them, and most importantly, i ALWAYS want to protect them. even when i know what is going to happen is inevitable, i don’t want to see them hurt. i want to shield them from the cataclysmic experience of the human condition and only have to experience in the moments of joy that await them. i don’t want to see the people i love hurt or in pain or jaded by how fucked up the world is.

because i already am those things. i am jaded by the world, i’m constant falling into the pit of cynical despair that the state of the world can manage to throw you down. and i know how fucking hard it is to pull yourself out of that place, to find hope and move forward and allow yourself to even enjoy the love and support you do have in life.

and the last thing i ever want is for the people i love dearly to experience those things.

so yeah. i related hard fucking core to crowley and the way he loves aziraphale SO. FUCKING. DEEPLY. and of course i read it platonically because it’s platonic for me. so deeply platonic in the best way.

and i could go on about how a lot of this stems from how much i value platonic love. how much i don’t adhere to social norms of love and how people express love. i will loudly proclaim my love for my friends, because i love them. i’m in love with them. but that doesn’t mean i want to date them or kiss them. and that makes perfect sense to me, and if it doesn’t make sense to you. well then, idk what to tell you.

this is longer than i intended but my point is that it hurts seeing people who act like those of us who did genuinely read aziracrow as platonic the first go around are stupid or that we chose to ignore the romance.

because, to me at least, it always felt like people were calling the way i love stupid or that i’m actually ignoring my “real” feelings

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

What makes you think Azula was lying about hurting Suki? She took her clothes and somehow knew Sokka was her boyfriend and already traumatized about losing his first love

I mean, the episode itself basically screamed "AZULA IS LYING! SHE'S A LYING LIAR WHO LIES!" during that scene was a pretty good hint. She was fighting the Gaang to prevent them from going to finding her father before firebending came back, "warned" them about a trap waiting for them where Ozai was (which we know was bullshit), and only then does she suddenly go "By the way I have your girlfriend as my prisoner and she thinks you failed her!" to hurt Sokka - aka the one who was telling Aang and Toph to just ignore everything she said.

We literally see a few episodes later, and sure, she's in prison, but she's clearly not hurt. And more importantly, during their escape, when Suki says this is a rematch she had been waiting for, she is focused on TY LEE and on not letting her hit her once - which could suggest Ty Lee was the one to take down all the Kyoshi Warriors, with Chi blocking, like she did with the Terra Team in Ba Sing Se.

If Azula had done anything beyond just capturing and maybe taunting her over the defeat, don't you think Suki would have wanted to at least punch her in the face or something? Hell, she's more mad at Zuko than at Azula, since he burned her village.

Not to mention, Sokka taunted her in Ember Island Players over losing to Azula, and Suki just looks bothered by the mention of the defeat, not like she's reliving some terrible trauma. The writers could be insentitive at times, but I think even they wouldn't do something like "This character was tortured/raped in prison and her boyfriend makes fun of her for it."

As for Azula knowing Sokka and Suki were a thing, he LITERALLY told Ty Lee about it at the end of season 2, when she's trying to flirt with him. Plus I can totally see Suki going "My boyfriend is friends with the Avatar, and they'll kick your ass and save me" after her defeat.

(Seriously guys, "Dude that is friends with the Avatar and openly supports him is dating the leader of a group of warriors that also supports the Avatar openly" is not exactly top secret information that Azula would need to torture people to find out about).

Also I don't think she show is implying she knows about Yue and how much it affected Sokka. There's a literal war going on for longer than Azula has been alive, Sokka's home was one of the areas the Fire Nation attacked the most, and he has been traveling the world for months, meeting a ton of new people - it's practically mathematically garanteed that he lost someone at some point. Plus "I captured someone you care about and they lost all hope" is the kind of shit that would upset ANYONE, even if they never lost someone before that.

As for the whole "Azula stole her clothes" thing: The Northern Water Tribe stole clothes and armor of Fire Nation soldiers and the Gaang did the same thing in book 3, and Zuko was also made to wear inmate uniform like Suki. "This character had to take this off at some point" does not mean "They were abused while changing clothes."

For fucks sake people, we see Hakoda humiliate the warden and only be sent to his cell, we see guards mocking Sokka for wanting to beat up a prisoner (who just happened to be the traitor prince) as they see that as "new guy trying too hard" aka that's not something that usually happens in the boiling rock, and even the cooler is a punishment for picking up a fight not a place to throw prisoners in randomly. The ONE torture session we see in the boiling rock happens because an escape plan was discovered - and AZULA was the one to stop it, before she even knew what the hell was going on.

("But she visited Suki in the comics and it was implied that Suki was being starved!" Retcons don't fucking matter, we literally see in the show that Suki was fine, just sad to be imprisoned and away from everyone she knew. She was not tortured.)

Azula is no saint, but this "theory" that she tortured or raped Suki is nothing but fans being oddly fixated on the idea of this kids show secretly being Game Of Thrones.

[littlerune]

is this a safe space to ramble about my headcanons for andruil & ghilan'nain

i think it's boring if all the evanuris are just evil for the sake of evil, so in my headcanon, andruil is basically just a bored nepo baby. she doesn't actively participate in the blood magic, slavery, etc. but she does benefit from it by virtue of being the daughter of the most powerful people in the world. (or rather she does participate a bit but it's more like, "well, this is just what everyone does/how society works :/" rather than "rahh im so evil and greedy and i love to hurt people etc".) she's that rich kid who never got a job and spends her entire life travelling the world while ignoring the atrocities of her father. she hunts bigger and badder quarry to keep her mind off how bad everything around her is (and, more importantly, that she could try to do something about it but only at the risk of her cozy lifestyle.) hunting is the one thing she excels in, so it's the one thing she takes pride and joy in.

at first, ghilan'nain isn't the absolute monster she is in veilguard. she was just a brilliant scientist who maybe did a few kinda fucked up things, but nothing to the extent of what we see in horrors of hormak. she's just like "science brings progress, and sometimes we must do bad things to make progress happen." she definitely supports animal testing. andruil falls for her because she's sorta everything andruil is not (self-made, engineering, innovative). "look at my hot smart scientist girlfriend isn't she amazing 🥺" andruil introduced her to elgar'nan, and elgar'nan saw the potential in ghilan'nain. the evanuris elevated her in society because they saw the crazy shit she could make and wanted it for themselves, and this opened massive new doors for the kind of crazy (horrible) shit ghilan'nain could do.

i have two divergent paths i could see their relationship going. when ghilan'nain heard andruil was hunting in the void, she encouraged her to go further to see what kind of whacked out shit andruil could find for her experiments. wanting to appease her girlfriend, andruil went so far as to discover the blight and brought it back to thedas (or maybe ghilan'nain was part of creating the "armor of the void" that ultimately drove andruil crazy??)

alternately, seeing her girlfriend become the same kind of political monster as the rest of the evanuris, andruil fell into a depression and used hunting in the void as her manner of escapism, which ultimately results in unleashing the blight.

additional random headcanons about andruil (i think about her a lot): she was the first "born" of the evanuris (i.e., not a spirit creating a body for themselves) and because of this, she was a weaker mage than the rest. as such, she took up the bow and became a skilled archer. elgar'nan is deeply disappointed in her, seeing her as a failure. this makes the blow even heavier when he accepts ghilan'nain to the evanuris, because he likes her more than his own daughter.

[chirayen]

your clingy bf, Sae

note:fluff and expect wrong grammars sorry ㅠㅠ ㅠㅠ

Sae loves to play soccer ever since he was a child. He is known as the best player in the world. Sadly, his soccer career will come to an end.

So, instead of practicing to play for his last game that will be held next month. All he do was to be clingy to her girlfriend.

"Let go of me, Sae!" she said as Sae is hugging her tightly.

"You're so warm, babe" Sae said.

Her face turned red when Sae said that, and most importantly, hearing his deep tone voice makes her heart beat faster and louder.

As Sae let go of their hug, she felt relieved

"Go to your practice" she said while looking at Sae.

"I prefer to be with you" he said while intertwining their hands.

She couldn't help but to smile. As they're taking their time to have a lovey-dovey moment, Sae's teammates suddenly called.

"Where tf are you, bro?" his friend Kaiser said.

"Spending your time with your girlfriend again? What a loverboy" his other friend Aiku said.

"Shut up" Sae said as he immediately ended the call.

"Your friends already need you" she said.

"They can play without me, they're also a pro player" he said.

"Better than you?" she said as she locked her gaze with Sae's. He got speechless as she said that, his face was emotionless. He feels like he got deaf after what she said.

"What the fuck?" he said.

"O-of c-course, y-you're better than t-them" she nervously said as she don't know what's going on with his boyfriend mind. I'm so dumb. I shouldn't said that.

"I'll prove you that I'm better than them" Sae said as he immediately stand up from their bed and pack up all the things he need to bring to their training.

"Good luck on your training!" she said

Sae murmured "I will" it's not that loud but she still knows what Sae said as she read his lips.

After how many weeks has passed, their training is finally over. They need to prepare themselves as the game will about to start. As they entered the court, Sae's eyes was travelling the whole court as he's looking for his girlfriend.

Is his girlfriend there watching?

of course, she is always there supporting his boyfriend, Sae

As she noticed that Sae is looking for someone, she immediately waved her hand and raised the banner she made for him. And Sae finally saw the one he's looking for and smiled at her.

The game already started and the score is 4-3. Anf it's Sae who scored all the goals. Now, they only need 1 more goal to win. The battle is so intense that even the viewers are feeling nervous and excited at the same time. Goal! Unfortunately, it was the other team who scored the goal. The scores are now 4-4. All the players suddenly feels the tension and they're really playing their hearts out. Sae got the ball, and he just need to kick it at the goal. Suddenly, he got blocked by the other team.

"I know you got passed at me before, but, I won't let you go of now, Sae" his rival said.

"Oh, really?" Sae said. He proved himself that he can still get passed of him, and so, he did.

"Know who's your looking down to" Sae said and immediately kicked the ball to the goal.

So, did they win?

Yes, they did.

Goal! The people who were watching started to scream their lungs out. This is it, it's finally over. All the hardworks he did is worth it. He really proves himself that he can win, no, he will win his very last game. Sae started to look for his girlfriend, again.

What happens to his girlfriend?

She knew that his boyfriend will win. She believed in him.

As she is standing there, she didn't realize that there was a tear in her eyes falling from her face. She can't help but to cry, why? She witnessed all of this, from the beginning until the very end of his last play. She can't believe her boyfriend got this far.

Sae couldn't find his girlfriend as he was passed through by a reporter. "Ahh, fuck interview. I just want to be with my girl already."

"May I interview you Mr. Sae?" the reporter asked.

"Yeah, sure" Sae said.

"What did you feel about your very last game of yours?" reporter asked.

"I feel relieved and happy because I can't believe that I'll go this far. It was a very exhausting but fun journey. And, of course, I would like to thank everyone who supported me until the very end. Without all of you, I would be nothing." he whole heartedly said.

" Are you really sure about retiring? and why? " reporter asked.

"Yes, because I want to spend my life with my girlfriend."

The crowds cheered up as they were shocked about what Sae said. The best player in the world have a girlfriend?!

"It looks like they're all shocked. Well, I'm proud to say that I do have a girlfriend. She's one of the people who supported me the most, she's always there right by my side, and, I'll love her forever." he said while chuckling. He can't believe he's saying this in the middle of an interview. But, he don't regret it, more like, he's proud of it. He's so happy that he can finally tell the world that his girlfriend is only for him.

"I love you, babe" Sae bravely said.

As she heard what Sae said, all she can do is to cover her face because of shyness. Her face is starting to look like a tomato. As she takes off her hand on her face, she saw someone familiar. It was his boyfriend, Sae.

"W-what are you doing h-here?" she stuttered.

"I came here for you" he said while smiling.

"Why did you said that?" she asked.

"Said what?" he confusedly asked.

"T-that I'm your g-girlfriend" she stuttered while saying.

"Can't I? Anyways, where's my gift? I won the game" he teasingly asked.

"Hmmm, should we cuddle when we get home?" she asked. She knows that Sae loves to cuddle, so, why not?

"Hell yeah, you know how much I love cuddles". he happily said.

"Hey, what's that on your lips?" Sae asked.

"What is it?" she asked.

Sae immediately kissed her. She was shocked about what he did that she turns into a tomato again. Sae let go of their kiss and teasingly smiled at her.

"You're turning red" sae teasingly said.

"Shut up!" she said.

"Let's go home and start cuddling" Sae said.

"I love you, Sae"

"I love you more, baby"

[ronanceisintheair]

Nancy burst into a fit of coughs, she definitely added way too much seasoning, some might say that's not possible. Her watering eyes and searing throat said otherwise. Especially when they didn't seem to mesh well.

She hastily filled a glass with water, gulping down several mouthfuls without a breath in between.

But now that Nancy's throat was no longer severally aching she could focus on the hot tears that sprung to her eyes.

"Fuck!" She hissed, slamming the cup on the counter, not caring how the water sloshes a bit too much and splashes onto the counter.

"Nancy, what's with all the noise?" Karen enters the kitchen, and when she sees the tears in her daughter's eyes she's pulling her into a warm hug, "what is it sweetheart?"

Nancy took a deep breath, "I wanted to make a special dinner for Robin and surprise her after work...but I guess third times not the charm," she tried to laugh it off, it was probably foolish; crying over an unsuccessful cooking recipe.

But it wasn't about the food. It was about Robin.

"Cooking isn't easy, it takes a lot of trial and error. Just because you haven't gotten it right yet it yet doesn't mean you won't, Nancy."

Karen looked at the open cookbook, "sometimes you can be so hard on yourself, you know that? Why don't we start over? Figure it out together."

+

Nancy took a few deep breaths, her hands were sweating the whole drive to Robin's, several times she found herself wiping them on her skirt.

It wasn't perfect, not like her mother's own cooking, Nancy insisting her mother only Be a guide for her in the kitchen.

Afterall, this was supposed to be something special from her to Robin.

Nancy worried her lip as she got out of the car, slamming the door and rounding the vehicle so she could get the Tupperware from the passenger side.

She heard the gentle creak from the Buckley family home: a small quaint home with overgrown foliage, rusty debris in the yard, and most importantly her girlfriend standing in the doorway.

"Nancy," Robin greated face alight as she walked down the worn stairs, "I told you, you didn't have to cook." There was a gleam in Robin's eyes though, meeting Nancy at the car with her hands full.

"It was no big deal," Nancy laughed, though some of the falsification bled threw. "I had some help from my mom." She cleared her throat, pulling her eyes at from Robin.

"You're amazing," Robin closed the car door, "I can help carry something, my mom's not home, thankfully, so it's jus-"

Nancy could feel those hot tears at the back of her eyes again, pinching them shut,

"Rob, I tried my best...I really, really, did but if you don't like it we don't have to eat it." Nancy took in a shaky breath, opening her eyes once more, "we can just order pizza or something...I can drive and get you something you actually like...I just don't want to ruin tonight."

"Hey, hey...Princess," Robin's voice was gentle, one hand moving under Nancy's to support the food while the other wiped away a few tears Nancy couldn't keep from falling.

"It's okay, you could never, and I mean never ever, ruin my night or my day or my anything. Your mom is like a culinary mastermind but that shit isn't easy Nance. I love and appreciate that you did this for me, for us."

Robin took the Tupperware and placed it on the hood of the car, "come here. Come here," she pulled Nancy into a tight warm embrace, kissing the top of her head, "no tears. Not tonight. I love you Nancy Wheeler."

[ppersonna]

keep me warm - jhs | m

cause you keep me and nice and you keep me warm. wanna feel you on me, can't wait to get back there again - texas sun,  khruangbin

✹ summary- camping is always a great time when you’re with your friends, but even better with your boyfriend, hoseok.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- jung hoseok x reader

✹ word count- 3.9k - she’s a short lil quick dip ;)

✹ genre- smut. lol thats it. cant say there is much plot here besties!!! but there is big brother namjoon, brothers best friend hoseok, established relationship!!!

✹ warnings- explicit smut, cockwarming, dirty talk, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (be smart pls!), sex in a tent, a little exhibitionism???, fingering, finger sucking, creampie, lil bit of cum play but not really, hoseok is a dirty dirty boy and i love that about him tbh

✹ a/n- helloooo. i’ve been sitting on this and finally finished it!! thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner and beta reading and general support. i was inspired to write this fic when i went camping but pls be warned that sex in a tent is not as sexy as this fic makes it seem 🤕 ILY BESTIES!!! lemme know your thots!!!

The annual Kim Family camp out is an event you haven’t missed since your seventh birthday when you had chicken pox. It’s an outing that has gained notoriety among your friends, a monumental yearly occasion that takes months of prep in advance. What started as a simple camp out with your parents and your older brother Namjoon has become an event with extended friends and family members and significant others involved. Your parents handed down the event to you and your brother, claiming their older age keeps them from being able to keep up with “the youth” for an entire weekend, instead preferring to join for a big cookout dinner, then head back to the comfort of their tempurpedic mattress and functional plumbing back at home.

Not that you minded.

This year was different. Your cousins, Taehyung and Seokjin, would join with Tae’s girlfriend Maggie. Your childhood best friend Jimin would attend as well, bringing along his lover of the month, a tall and leggy brunette. Namjoon invited his best friend Yoongi, who brought along your mutual friend Jungkook. 

And most importantly, 

Jung Hoseok would be there. Your boyfriend.

Hoseok is no stranger to the Kim Family camp out. He’s been attending since he was sixteen after meeting Namjoon in high school jazz band and instantly becoming friends. You can vividly remember the older high school boy making sure you never felt left out in a group of gangly teenagers—bringing you along on hikes, and fishing, and general mischief.

It’s where you first fell for him.

Every year after that, you pined for Hoseok from afar at every outing. You’d lie awake at night in your shared tent with Jimin, desperately wishing the body next to you was Hoseok, wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm in the forest's chill.

Your relationship with Hoseok flourished after high school, when he was unknowingly in your chemistry class in college. Hours were spent pouring over textbooks together, cramming for exams and practice labs with a familiar friend.

Then came the coffee dates, the movie nights, the dinners. Hoseok went from an occasional study buddy to someone you talked to hourly.

The day he kissed you is a day you’ll never forget. 

Soft lips pressing onto yours over a bubbling beaker of magnesium, his hands cupping your cheeks as he drew you in so close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Be mine,” he whispered. “Please, be mine.”

And you’ve been his ever since.

“Aish! Don’t burn my marshmallow, ___!” Namjoon scolds you, jerking your long stick away from the fire as he sits next to you. “I hate burned marshmallows.”

Annoyance bubbles up in your throat as you roll your eyes at your brother.

“I wouldn’t have to do this for you if you knew how to roast a marshmallow without starting a wildfire.”

Namjoon, ever the strong-headed big brother, glares at you. “That was an accident and you know it.”

Hoseok chuckles beside you, resting a hand on your leg as you murmur expletives about Namjoon and a certain stick under your breath.

“I’ll eat your burned one, babe,” he says with a smile. “I love your burned mallows.”

Hoseok’s charm is a balm to all your wounds. He easily melts the ice around your heart and soothes your frayed nerves with a simple look.

“Thanks, Hobi,” you reply. 

“Please, no talk of my sister’s mallows,” Namjoon winces. “It’s bad enough you’re dating in front of me. In front of my salad.”

Namjoon doesn’t mean it. He knows how deeply you love him, and he trusts Hoseok not to hurt his one and only sibling. But it doesn’t mean he’s not above rubbing it in your face that he was Hoseok’s friend first.

Jungkook laughs from where he’s sitting, roasting a hotdog over the crackling flame on Jimin’s lap (“There weren’t any seats left!”). 

“At least he’s not tossing her salad in front of you.”

Yoongi slaps the younger man’s hotdog out of his hand and into the fire, making Jungkook whine and pout petulantly.

“Don’t be gross,” Yoongi scolds and Namjoon nods at his friend in solidarity.

Hoseok smirks and licks his fingers clean of the sticky marshmallow. “Besides, we didn’t bring nearly enough lube for any anal play tonight.”

“Hoseok!” Namjoon screeches and you bashfully bury yourself into your sweater. The rest of the group explodes in laughter while your brother holds his head in his hands, lamenting the day you two met.

Hoseok pulls you into his lap, grinning as he kisses at your ear while maintaining firm eye contact with your brother, eager to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

While you’re relaxing into the warmth of your boyfriend’s body and enjoying the laughter of all your closest friends, Hoseok nips at your ear and whispers gently.

“I love you.”

“I’m so cold.” A shiver wracks through you as you burrow down deeper into your sleeping bag. The night air becomes increasingly frosty and you can easily see your breath in the dim light from the moon. “It wasn’t supposed to be this cold.”

Hoseok scoots his bag closer to yours, rubbing over the meshy material in an attempt to warm you.

“I thought about bringing another blanket before we left…,” he sighs. “But Namjoon told me I was being ‘a boy scout’.”

You bark out a frigid laugh, teeth chattering as you try to snuggle into the warmth of Hoseok’s hand.

Pleadingly, you ask. “Can we share? Maybe if we zip the sleeping bags together we can make one big extra-large sleeping bag?”

Hoseok nods. “Good idea.”

He quickly gets to work as soon as you unzip your sleeping bag and move off of it, allowing him to take it and zip the two bags together. He spreads it back out over the soft padded bed once it’s completed and he slips into his end before beckoning you over.

“Come to me, my little popsicle.”

The fabric swishes and slides as you move into the combined bag, wrapping your cold limbs around the warmth of your boyfriend’s body.

“Holy shit, you really are cold,” he exclaims with a grunt when your ice-cold hands seek the toasty expanse of his toned belly. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.” Your apology is anything but apologetic as the high temperature of Hoseok’s body quickly oozes into you. “You feel so good.”

A moan slips out of your lips, pleased at the warmth that your boyfriend radiates as you seek every spot on his body that radiates heat. 

“Hold on,” he whispers. 

Quickly, he rids himself of his shirt and tugs at the hem of your own.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You gasp as the icy air billows under your shirt. “Why would I get naked right now?”

He huffs. “Trust me?”

He kisses the pout on your lips, then pulls away with your shirt in his hands.

“Skin-to-skin contact is the easiest way to warm someone up. Body heat, you know. Textbook boy scout stuff.”

He twists your body around to spoon into him, back pressed against his ultra-warm chest, making you gasp once you feel the radiating heat spreading across you.

“Oh…” you sigh as you sink into his embrace. “You were right.”

Hoseok smirks as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in the nape of your neck—lips pressing gentle, warm kisses to the column below your ear.

“Told you so.”

Your body instinctively presses further into his body, desperate for the warmth that the human-heater seems to emit. His breath hitches as he feels your ass press hard against his lap, cock stirring at the proximity.

Hoseok’s hands run up and down your arms, warming each inch of your skin with his palms. He spreads heat wherever he touches, and your eyes flutter closed as he works his gentle, warming massage into your frozen skin. He is the epitome of sunshine, both in body and demeanor, always able to brighten the coldest chills with one look, one touch. 

When he’s satisfied that you’re thoroughly warmed where he’s worked, his hands move from your arms and shoulders around to your belly and up to your chest. You feel like mush under his grazing touch, gasping and biting your lip as he tugs gently at your perky nipple. It’s a live wire to his cock. 

“Fuck,” he groans as he feels himself harden. He kisses at your shoulder as he continues to palm at your chest, taking the fullness of your breasts into his whole hand and massaging it gently.

“Hobi…” you warn, feeling the desire between your thighs build. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

He chuckles against your skin, breathing hot air over your neck and shoulder, tightening his grip on your nipple for a quick pinch that makes you squeak.

“Who says we can’t finish?”

His voice is low—that deep, sensual tone that sets your tummy aflame with desire. His dick is pressed against your ass, twitching with need as it thickens in his pants.

His hand moves from your chest, rubbing soft, sweet circles on your stomach as he warms the cool flesh around your belly button, before traveling down to where your sleeping pants sit low on your hips.

“We c-can’t,” you meekly attempt to fight back, remain strong, but the warmth of his body and the need growing within you is quickly winning your internal battle of morality. “My cousin is next to us.”

Hoseok smirks as he slips underneath your pants, hand diving in between your thighs to rub at your soft mound. He’s close, so close to slipping inside of you, and you squeeze your eyes tight at the overwhelming urgency you’re feeling for his fingers inside you.

“You think Tae and Maggie are fast asleep right now?” He asks. 

As if on cue, you hear soft giggles coming from the next tent over, giggles that sound suspiciously like Taehyung’s girlfriend.

“Tae is really not that funny,” Hoseok says as he nibbles at your ear. “Let me warm you, baby.”

He seeks your consent, desperate to make you feel good but not willing to further his actions. 

“Mmm, maybe just a little more.”

His fingers seek purchase further, finally diving into your folds. He gasps into your ear as he feels how wet you’ve become from his ministrations, stroking gently up and down your slick slit and circling over your clit.

“Fuck, look at you,” he nearly whines into your ear. “So wet for me.”

“Please, Hobi,” you whimper. You’re not sure what you’re begging for, what you need, but all you want is for him to not stop, never stop. 

“You want me to keep going, don’t you?” He asks, teasingly circling the pad of his finger on your swollen clit. 

Unable to use your words, you nod. The light pressure on your clit has your thighs trembling and Hoseok thrills at the palpable desperation you’re feeling.

“Are you going to be quiet for me?” He asks, slowly moving his finger down before breaching into your channel. “Can’t be waking up the entire camp.”

Using your hand, you clamp over your mouth as your boyfriend's finger fucks into your hole, slowly and achingly gentle but with purpose. A shiver runs down his spine as he watches you try to hold yourself back. You’re not normally quiet—he makes it his mission to get you to whine and cry and yell his name as loud as he can when you’re at home. But the thrill of keeping you quiet while he sinks himself into you makes his body hum with want.

“Good girl,” he cooes as he introduces another finger inside you, scissoring you open with his lengthy digits. “Better stay quiet for me or I won’t let you cum.”

He quickly removes his fingers from your channel, making you whine behind your hand, which he silences with a soft tut.

“No complaining. Be good.”

He continues his journey to disrobe you, sliding off your pants and panties. He throws them to the other side of the tent where your luggage lies, no care about you wearing them the rest of the night. He follows suit with his own pants, swiftly pulling the material off his legs and allowing his throbbing cock to spring free. You desperately want to touch it, feel it in your hands and in your mouth, but he keeps you facing away from him, cock fully out of your reach.

“Such a perfect little ass,” he murmurs to himself as he admires your backside before sliding back into the big spoon position. The feeling of his hot, hard length against your bare ass makes you mewl with desire, teasingly rubbing against it.

“Fuck, Hobi,” you gasp as he slips his hands back to the apex of your thighs, scissoring into you again and warming his icy fingers in the heat of your cunt. 

“Shhh,” he reminds. “Let me give your mouth something to do, yeah?”

He pulls his dripping fingers from within your walls and brings them to your mouth. You eagerly open wide, obedient and desperate for something to take your mind off the growing neediness your body is throbbing with.

Watching you suck your own wet slick off his fingers makes Hoseok’s cock ache with need. The tip is weeping with pre-cum, as if crying out to bury itself within your walls and never retreat. It twitches as your tongue swirls over his digits, teasing him and reminding him how well you can suck his cock.

“Shit, baby,” he gasps. “I’m going to bust right now if you’re not careful.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and uses the spit-slick hand to lift your leg enough for him to line his cock up at your hole.

“You want to warm my cock for me, baby?” He nips at your shoulder as he rubs the bulbous head along your slit. “God, I want to be in this pretty little cunt all night. Can you keep me warm tonight?”

“P-please, baby,” you gasp as the tip prods at your entrance, threatening to breach. He preemptively moves his free hand back to your mouth, covering it gently to help keep your noisy mouth muffled. 

“Such a polite girl.” Hoseok’s lips skim over your neck and ear, nibbling at your lobe as he finally, blessedly, spears himself into you. 

“Fuuuck,” he whines as he drops his forehead against your soft hair, shuddering as he buries himself to the hilt. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Nothing compares to the feeling of Hoseok sinking himself into you. It’s like the first time, every time. He clings to you desperately, as if he wants to bury his entire self in between your thighs and never retreat. Being connected to your boyfriend like this, not knowing where he ends and you begin, is the most dazzling aspect of sex. Your heart beats in overtime, breath short and heavy, as he holds you like you’re his only worthy possession in life.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t withdraw his cock and plunge back into you like his body is begging him to. He wants nothing more than to roll you onto your stomach and fuck you until you’re screaming his name for the entire national forest to hear, but he doesn’t. 

“Mmm, Hobi, please,” you whine against his palm, kitten licking the flesh there to encourage him to move. It almost works, almost spurs him into action, but he remains flush against you and unmoving.

“Just trying to keep you warm, baby,” he teases. “Skin-to-skin contact.”

He can feel your body tense and shake around him, core tightening as you’re desperate to feel the friction you desire. It makes Hoseok nearly growl into your ear, clutching you tighter in his grasp.

“Now you want to fuck me?” He teases into your ear. “I thought you were tired?”

A pathetic whimper is the only response you can muster. You’re desperate for more, aching for his thick cock to thrust in and out of you. His hand slips down your body, caressing each inch of your skin before landing on your clit, circling the nub teasingly.

“I bet you could cum like this,” he breathes as he slowly swirls his finger. “With my cock stuffed inside you.”

He’s right—your body is already reacting to the stimulation and you can feel your body clenching around his unmoving length deep inside you. It’s prodding you in just the right spot that makes you keen, core desperate for some movement. His added touch makes you whine into his palm still covering your mouth.

“That’s right, baby,” he praises as he bites at your earlobe. “Such a needy little pussy, so desperate for me you could cum just from feeling me inside you.”

The pressure rises, stomach tightening as you feel your body near the edge of bliss. You can feel your thighs trembling as Hoseok whispers and nibbles at your ear, fingers working your clit with just the right rhythm to make you see stars.

His finger swirls with delicate speed, playing you like the nimble musician he is.

“Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already about to cum for me.”

Holding back your desperate moans, your eyes nearly roll back in their sockets as you feel your body build closer and closer to the blissful end that it craves. Having him buried deep inside you with none of the delicious friction is driving you crazy, and the speed of his fingers on your clit makes you keen for anything he can give you. You’re so close, so *fucking close* to your climax that your vision blurs.

Suddenly, the telltale sound of another tent zipper opening rips through the relative silence of the campground and Hoseok stills his finger on you.

“Shhh,” he warns, lifting his head to listen carefully. 

The sound comes from your left, Jungkook’s tent, and you squeeze your eyes tight and whimper into Hoseok’s palm at the ache in your belly. Jungkook stumbles around the campground before he makes his way out, and Hoseok smirks as the footsteps get quieter.

“That was close, baby,” he says as his finger teases over your throbbing clit. “We don’t want Jungkookie to find his friend like this, don’t we?”

You shake your head, body trembling as his finger provides not-enough stimulation on your tortured clit.

He keeps quiet and continues his feather-light touch, pleased at the unexpected orgasm denial and the way it makes your cunt clench around his cock as if coaxing it to give you what you need most.

“You better not be loud,” he warns. “You don’t want to ruin our fun, right?”

Agonizing moments later, Jungkook’s footsteps return and he zips himself back into his tent and quickly heads back to sleep. He remains stilled inside you, listening intently for any sounds of the others awakening.

After minutes of desperate silence and your needy cunt aching for your boyfriend to move, he rolls you onto your stomach with him on top, cock still buried deep within you.

“You’ve done so well,” he praises as he leans down and licks a fat stripe on the back of your neck, making you shiver. “Take your reward like a good girl.”

Without warning, Hoseok grips at your hips and starts a brutal pace, fucking you fast and hard while staying quiet. It feels so good, better than the feeling of him being still inside you. Nothing can compare to his thickness spearing into you, stretching you wide. The ridges of his cock feel like heaven from the position he has you in, and you can feel the stimulation building upon your ruined, curtailed orgasm from earlier.

He quickly rams a piece of the sleeping bag into your mouth, forcing you to be quiet as he nearly impales you open, burying himself as deep into your womb as he can before retreating and thrusting in for more. You can tell he’s close by the way his movements lose finesse, the way his hands grip your thick hips as if he’s grasping a lifeline. 

“Gonna fill you up,” Hoseok whispers harshly, his voice taking on the rough edge that makes your body react. “You want my cum, baby?”

Your mouth is full, but your head nods quickly and you arch your back to let him reach even deeper inside of you, desperate to get yourself and him off simultaneously.

“Shit,” he groans as he feels your body accept him even further at this new angle, your ass high in the air. He grips it, enjoys the way the flesh jiggles in his grip and with each thrust. “Cum on my cock, baby, please.”

Hoseok doesn’t beg, hardly ever, so when he’s desperate for your release, you’re equally desperate to give it to him. As he pounds into you, taking full advantage of your prone body and lifted hips, the dam holding back your climax finally erupts, making your walls quiver and squeeze around his cock and forcing you to bury your face as far as you can into your sleeping bag to muffle your whines.

He wishes he could hear your screams, wants to hear the way you cry his name out as your cunt milks him, begs him for his own end. Another round of thrusts and he feels it all snap, cock pulsing out hot spurts of cum into your eager and waiting channel.

He pulls out of you, loving the way his cum follows him out, dribbling out of your spent pussy weakly. He lifts a finger and scoops it up, pushing it back into your juicy walls and nearly whining as he feels it wet and sopping with his release. You’re pulling the sleeping bag from your mouth, panting hard from your own release and turning around to look at your boyfriend, hips wiggling.

Hoseok smiles fondly at you, removing his finger from your walls and rubbing the smooth skin of your ass.

“Are you warm?” He asks with a smirk, knowing by the sheen of sweat on both of your bodies that you’ve successfully warmed up in the bite of the chilly night.

He flops down beside you and pulls you in close, snuggling into the sleeping bag while kissing your face gently.

Hoseok’s cock is still hard, still aching even after a release and you’re quick to grasp it in your hands, finally getting a grip on it for the first time tonight.

“Better keep you warm all night like I promised, huh?” You smile sleepily as you lift your leg to allow him entrance to your center yet again. “Keep me full all night please, baby?”

He is loath to deny you, and the wet heat of your used pussy feels like heaven. He holds you closer, pulls you in tight as he buries his cock as far as he can go, before kissing you sweetly once more.

He knows he’ll wake up in a few hours, dick throbbing with a need to take you for yet another round, but for now, he revels in the warmth and love and safety he feels when he’s connected to you in nearly every way.

“By the way, I love you too, Hoseok,” you whisper to him after a few moments of silence, recalling to the sweet whispered words around the campfire.

Hoseok smiles as he closes his eyes, body and soul in pure bliss.

And when Namjoon complains in the morning that he could hear the sounds of his little sister getting railed, Hoseok will let him know he ensured you didn’t suffer from hypothermia—that it’s his job as boyfriend to ensure you’re kept safe,

and always kept warm.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

A/N: So, this is NOT the Angel fic I previewed the other day. That one (and the EZ fic) is STILL COMING, I PROMISE! This just jumped into my head and wouldn’t leave. And I wrote it with a speed I am heretofore unfamiliar with (heretofore? Did I use that right?) I invented a tattoo and an ex-girlfriend for Angel, and I fudged the timeline a bit. So, apologies in advance for that. 

As always, if you want a tag in anything I write for Angel, EZ, the Mayans fandom (or anything else), please feel free to send me a message or an ask, or add yourself to the taglist (link in profile). 

Pairing: Angel Reyes x fem!tattoo artist!reader (as always, the appearance is ambiguous, but the reader is described as having female pronouns/parts. Also, the reader here speaks a bit of Spanish. I’m half Mexican, so I do imagine a latinx reader, but I hope I’ve written this so you can imagine yourself with no restriction.)

Word Count: 15.3K (HAHAHA WHAT THE FUCK all for a TWO AND A HALF MINUTE SONG, ARE YOU KIDDING ME????) of ANGST! (SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO ANGSTY) lyrical nonsense and the remnants of sticky, cotton-candy sadness … fluff that makes you feel empty. 

Warnings: ANGST, non-explicit references to infidelity, sexual references and sexual content, oral (male receiving), fingering and other nastiness -- so 18+ ONLY, please! Canon-typical douchebaggery, references to a past relationship, song references and poetry. (It is me, so yeah, poetry.)

Summary: You and Angel may as well be strangers now. But why? After all, you loved him once. And he loved you, right? Based on the song “Loved you Once” by Clara Mae. Listen here. 

--

We don't need to be best friends, we don't need to hang again. But tell me why we have to be strangers because I loved you once?

What were you doing here? You haven’t been back to the clubhouse in months. Not since -- well, you know. You hadn’t talked to him since then, either. But that wasn’t your own doing. 

No, Angel had erected a veritable wall of silence, and you respected him enough not to breach it. 

That was what relationships were all about, anyway, right? Mutual respect of the other’s needs? So when Angel had told you in no uncertain terms that your relationship was over, you were … upset. Understandably. You wanted to sit with him, talk about where this sudden insistence that you depart his life had come from, but he was resolute. With the absolute air of authority that comes with either a great deal of thought, or borne of virtually sudden external influence, with nothing in between. He clearly didn’t want to sit and talk about it. 

And so you didn’t. 

Ever mindful of his wellbeing, and when he was and was not receptive to communication. 

"It ain't working," he had said. You had settled for merely imagining the faraway look in his large, oilslick eyes, since he was much more interested in staring at his boots and the grooves in his floor, his forearms laid over spread thighs, unmoving and resolute from his spot at the end of the bed. Refusing to meet your eyes. 

From your seat next to him, you made to brush the arm closest to you with your fingers. When you touched, he gave no indication that you were even there. That he even felt you. Which you knew was bullshit. He always felt you. 

"Angel, what --" you hated the way your voice cracked as you tried to ask him what the hell was going on. You hated how you had sounded so small and quavering to your own ears. That wasn't who you were. You were clear, outspoken. It was always one of the things Angel said he loved about you. Loved.

You didn't know this, of course, but Angel hated it, too. How you’d sounded in that moment. Hated that his words had taken the fire out of yours, your voice unfamiliar in its timidity. 

"It ain't working," he repeated. "I can see it. Not my fault you can't." 

That was it. 

No "I'm sorry, querida." 

No "I hope we can stay friends." 

Not that you would expect an apology, or anything as cliché as a "let's be friends," from a steadfast man like Angel. Predictable in his volatility. 

You should have pushed back. Demanded an answer. You hated that you didn’t, the shock and sudden sadness morphing you into a silent, crystalline girl you didn’t recognize. Your eyes welled with tears, turning your head away from where Angel sat -- at least you wouldn’t let him see you cry. Even if you knew he knew the tears had spilled over your lashes and down your cheeks were of his own doing. 

You had arrived back at his place a day after your tense "conversation" to discover that your items you had come to reclaim were tossed into a box and left outside of the door. 

You had knocked once, in the hope that if Angel was home, he’d at least come to the door to shout through it, or, heaven forbid, would open it so you could look him in the eyes just once more while he shattered you. Your knock was met with silence, though you could have sworn you felt Angel on the other side of the door. 

In the months since then, you had cried (obviously), you had questioned (it was sudden, it wasn't just you; your friends were surprised, too), but most importantly, you had persevered. 

You had taken a bunch of new clients and inked some pieces you were incredibly proud of. You had gone out with your friends a few times, always with a wary eye on the door of the local dive, ya know… you never knew who would walk in.

Santo Padre is a small town, after all. And the cracks in your soul were nowhere close to healed. No molten gold to spill in and repair the fissures of your heart, rendering metamorphosis of something broken to something flawed, but beautiful. You sat, alone, still just… flawed. You had never felt less beautiful. Even after all this time. 

And your friend Aneesa, ever the supporter, would stop at nothing if it meant hyping you up enough to leave your cave of blankets, sheet masks, and comfort movies. Your only rule? All nights out with Aneesa were strictly girls�� nights. She was gracious and understanding of this rule, of course. She and Gilly had been together a touch longer than you and Angel. 

And if Angel had ever asked Gilly to ask Aneesa about you? Well… you never heard about it.

Not that Angel would do any of that. Shit like that was so middle-school. 

So, here you were. Back at the clubhouse after months of self-imposed exile for the sake of self-preservation. 

Coco had texted you -- the first you’d directly heard from anyone within Angel’s circle, inviting you to a patch party for some nameless, faceless newbie. The invitation had a string attached to it, of course -- the tattoo artist’s chair in the corner of the clubhouse needed a resident for any partygoers jonesing for new ink. Certainly, the new patch would need something decidedly “Mayan” to show off his new status. 

You had hesitantly agreed -- Aneesa would be in attendance of course, and offered herself as a human-sized buffer to separate you from people you were otherwise hoping to avoid. 

--

Now, perched near the tattoo chair, you busied yourself with setting out your portfolio of completed pieces, sketches and most-requested designs. You wiped down the chair a few more times than strictly necessary, but you wanted to be ready for anyone who might plop themselves down for a new piece of art. 

The main room of the clubhouse was sweltering -- a familiar blend of desert heat, cigarette smoke, citronella, and the smell of citrusy, foamy beer. The dim lighting and thundering bass giving everything a slightly blurry edge in your party-periphery. You glanced across the room at where Aneesa and Gilly sat together on a corner couch, thighs pressed together. Aneesa tossed her head back in a full-bodied laugh at something Gilly had whispered into her ear, swatting his arm -- Gilly’s reciprocal smile demonstrating his pleasure at having garnered such a reaction from his girl. 

A wave of cheers and noise accompanied the thwack of the clubhouse door swinging open -- more Mayans pouring in, jostling one another's shoulders, slapping each other on the arms, and good-naturedly cajoling. 

There was Coco, mid-pull of the cigarette between his lips, quicksilver eyes flashing around the room, taking stock of who was where. EZ followed, million-watt smile on full display as he gently guided a pretty girl with long, inky hair through the bottleneck at the entryway. 

If EZ was ambling his way in, then, surely, not far behind ...

With an arm around a tall, broad guy you hadn’t seen before, was Angel. Midway through a joke with the guy you assumed was the new patch, you took the opportunity to study the man you had once considered the moonlit orbit of your entire world. 

You hated to admit it to yourself, but he looked good… His arms still replete with thick, corded muscle. His hair was a tad longer on top than you remembered, slicked back and belied with cleanly-cropped sides. His smile as warm and blinding as the cruel light at the end of your better dreams, only for you to awake each day alone. 

As you continued your silent study, you were surprised to see -- still adorning his left arm … the tattoo you had given him on the day you had first met. You had thought he would have blacked it out by now … a cover-up on top of a cover-up. 

But there it was --- the soft, leafy greens creeping down his forearm on sharp vines, abutted with bursting blooms -- small, ornate gladiolus buds and a sprig of purpling rosemary. Such a flowery piece on the arm of someone like Angel might have been laughable. But if anyone dared, he would simply stare, stone-faced, with burning eyes and a set jaw, ready to ask just what they thought was so fucking funny. 

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance. 

‘Cause I loved you, once… 

---

You had moved to Santo Padre from Oakland. Hardly an axis-tilting move, but significant enough to you. 

Your friend Oliver had offered you a seat at his tattoo shop. And you? You were positively itching to get out of the city. A few too many bad nights with a few people you could no longer in good conscience consider friends. 

So, here you sat, resident of one of two chairs in this corner parlour off the so-called “main” drag in sweltering, dusty Santo Padre. 

Your books were pretty clear … Not that you attributed much logic to the ebb and flow in any conceivable pattern of the tide that was tattoo shop patrons, but January seemed an agonizingly slow month. You filled the idle time with keeping the shop neat, disinfecting and re-disinfecting every surface, and organizing Oliver’s books. 

And if you weren’t dreaming up new sketches and designs for the more adventurous prospective client, you were jotting idle lines of lyrical poetry in the margins of your sketchbook. 

If the month dragged on like this, you were sure you could publish an entire book of moody, mid-winter prose that would make Charles Bukowski want to drown himself in stiff Cabernet. 

The dinging of the bell above the parlour door yanked you from your doodling stupor. You looked up to see who had come in, your gaze met with a towering, golden-skinned man donned in a leather vest, his boots squeaking on the shop’s linoleum floor as he made his way to the front desk. He leaned over it and rapped his silver-ringed hand against the top with the ease and comfort of someone who had been in many times before. If the ink trailing his arms was any indication, he may as well be a regular, though you hadn’t seen him in before. There was no way you could forget that jawline, and those shoulders. 

“Yo,” he called in greeting, eyes flashing to where you stood, walking to meet him at the counter. You swore you saw his gaze dart over your form, giving you the old up-down. An easy smile graced his full lips as he made himself comfortable leaning against the counter.  

“Oliver here?” 

You shook your head, the action serving to answer his question and --hopefully-- clear your head of the foggy spell this man was casting over you with his presence alone.

“Nah, sorry. He’s guest-chairing at his buddy’s shop in L.A. Did you have an appointment?” 

“I look like the kind of guy with a datebook?” He chuckled at his own joke. “No appointment, corazón.” 

“Walk-in? Always a risky strategy,” you lilted. 

“What can I say? I’m a risk-taker,” he replied with the practiced ease of breezy flirtation. 

You smiled softly, grabbing Oliver’s calendar from the desk, flipping to the following week. “He’ll be back in next week, if you want to wait?” 

“That’s no good for me, babe, I’ll be out of town.”

“Ah.” You huffed a bit through your nose “Bike rally?” You asked, gesturing at his worn leather kutte, cringing internally a little at the teasing edge your voice had taken on. Were you always this bad of a flirt? 

The man looked at you shrewdly for a beat -- seemingly trying to discern just how much fun you were making of him before taking mercy on you and peeling back the slight layer of awkwardness the conversation had taken.  He scrubbed the back of his neck before confirming,

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he rumbled a chuckle. “Why? You wanna go?” He raised a full brow at you in a mild challenge. 

Your eyes widened at his seemingly-serious invitation. You took in the quirk of his lips, causing the slightest crinkle at the corner of his warm eyes -- the look of a man borne of good humor and who smiled often. It was endearing, and if you were honest, made you melt a little. Even if you now realized he was teasing you. 

“Sorry, guapo,” you cracked a smile of your own, gesturing at the empty shop. “As you can see, I’m a very busy girl. Highest of demand.” 

“Claro,” he replied. “So, I better get in while the getting’s good, huh? Your chair open now?” 

“Uhm,” you chewed your lower lip, now slightly nervous at the prospect of spending more time with this man. “¿Quieres esperar para Olí? I won’t be offended. You haven’t even seen any of my pieces.” 

A beat of silence passed between you both, the man seemingly weighing his options. 

"I mean," You broke the silence and leaned forward, lightly tapping a fingernail against his bicep. “What if my art style doesn’t suit the king of the bikers?” 

"Something tells me you'll suit me just fine." His smirk was full-bore now. He didn't miss a beat, did he?

You were silent, probably for a few moments too long. Was he actually flirting with you? You blinked. He probably flirts with everyone ... get over yourself, you internally chided.

"Angel," the man said, recovering the moment and holding out a large, ringed hand for you to shake. You gave him your name, shaking his hand firmly. 

You nodded your head over your shoulder, toward your chair. 

"Well, come on back, Angel, you can tell me about what we're doing today."

Angel followed you back to your station, and you could swear you felt his dark eyes on your form as you walked, the thought that this man was looking at you with any kind of discerning attention made your cheeks warm a little. He folded his long body into the chair you gestured toward, and you took the rolling seat next to him. He proffered his left arm to you, tracing down a spot on his forearm.

"Just wanna cover this up," he paused, letting you observe the offending ink. "It's about time." 

"'Clara Forever,' huh?" You took in the faded, loopy lettering down his forearm. "Who's Clara?" Your tone was gently teasing by nature, but he seemed to clam up a bit at the question, regarding your sharp tongue with sharper eyes.

"Well, it wasn't forever," he finally bit out, shoulders now a little more tense than before.

"Aw, cariño," you sighed in good-natured taunting. "Didn't anyone ever tell you the number one rule of tattoo? 'Forever' is a certain jinx. And a name is almost never a good idea… unless it's your dog's."

You made a sweeping hand gesture over the rest of his person, your eyes noticeably cataloguing the ink adorning most of the real estate on his arms and what little you could see of the top of his chest. 

"How did anyone let you get this far without telling you the rules?"

He relaxed at the humor in your soft voice, comfortable now that he had confirmation that you were teasing him rather than seriously ridiculing. His posture relaxed once more, he waggled his eyebrows at you, also teasing,

"Le sorprendería saber que nunca fui uno para seguir las reglas?” He asked. Would it surprise you to learn that I was never one for rules? 

"¿Tú?" Your eyes widened in mock surprise. “Para nada.” Not at all.  

"Hey," he swatted your arm gently. "Cuidaté, niña. Insulting your customers? I can see why your chair is empty." He chuckled at his own little jab as you busied yourself gathering your supplies.

You turned and reached for him, holding his arm in one hand and running your now-gloved thumb over "Clara Forever." 

"So?" You queried, "What are we doing with this? How do you want to cover it?" 

Angel shrugged, the leather adorning his shoulders creaking ever-so-slightly with the movement. 

"Figured I would just black it out. I've been putting it off long enough. To hell with her anyway, yaknow?"

"Hmm…" you considered his proposal. "I could do that, if that's what you really want. Easy enough. But…" you trailed.

He shifted in the chair, arching an eyebrow at you.

"But?" He pressed.

Now it was your turn to shrug. You released his arm from your grip and gestured to the booklet containing photos of your most prized work. 

"Why waste the opportunity to give yourself something you really want?" You handed him the book. "Besides… from the looks of things, you have limited real estate left on this arm. May as well fill it with something… more you?” You made to hand him the scrapbook. “You can see what else I've done. See if anything sparks an idea." 

Angel regarded you for a moment. Leaning forward in the chair and slightly more into your space, eyes never leaving yours. He took the edge of the book, deliberately brushing his fingers over yours as he did so, making you hold your breath a little. If Angel noticed, he had the decency not to say anything. 

“Why not?”

You exhaled softly as he leaned away again, flipping his way through your book. 

As he scrutinized the photographic renderings of your pieces, you took the chance to really take him in. His strong jaw and full lips were objectively pleasant, abutted by deliberately-shaped facial hair. He had a prominent brow, something that would surely give away his feelings, even if he decided not to verbalize them. There was no hiding a frown or a smile on that face.  You fiddled with your fingers as he flipped through the pages. 

“This is some seriously top-notch shit, querida,” he voiced his approval, followed by a warm smile. He flipped his way through your minimalist renderings, floral pieces, lines of script, and one particularly involved piece with a burgundy phoenix and lifelike flames...

“Yeah?” You couldn’t hide the pleasure in your voice that he might think of you in a positive light. “Which one do you like?” 

He flipped the book to you, gesturing at a geometric planetary canvas piece you had etched down a prior client’s thigh. 

“Did you think of that one?” 

“The client had their ideas, I just execute, I guess… That was a fun one.” You shrugged, glancing at your shoes scuffing at the linoleum, suddenly feeling very shy under his scrutiny.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he leaned forward once more, his fingers gently brushing along your chin to bring your eyeline to his. “Don’t downplay your talent. You’re a badass. Own that shit.” He gave you a soft wink, releasing your chin from his grip.

Um, wow.

Was it always this hot in the back of the shop? Or were you just spontaneously combusting? Did that seriously just happen?

All you could do was nod. 

“Aight,” he crossed his legs at the ankles, making himself comfortable in the chair. “I’ve decided.” 

“Yeah?” You breathed, “What’ll it be?” 

As if he was doing nothing more complicated than ordering fries, Angel pointed at your book. “Dealer’s choice.” 

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t believe he was just going to trust you to cover up his ex’s name etched into his arm. “¡Oye! Did you hear nothing I said earlier about walk-ins being risky? Nothing about the rules?”

Angel scoffed. “About as well as you heard that I don’t give a shit about rules, babe,” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You like rules, huh?” 

Oh. The rumbling tone his voice had taken on with his last question did not go unnoticed by you. If there was any heat to spare in this shithole desert-town, it was now one hundred percent flooding through your body. 

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d had that effect on you… (although, let’s be real, he probably, definitely, already knew).

“Fine, Angelito,” the mocking tone had returned to your voice. “But unlike Clara, this one’s gonna be forever. If I find out you cover up my art, I’m gonna blacklist you at every shop in Southern California.” You raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “Can you live with that?”

Angel nodded. 

“Do your worst, Vince.” 

You wrinkled your nose at the moniker. “Vince?” 

“Yeah,” he seemed so assured in his own cleverness. “Like Van Gogh?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Van Gogh!?” You feigned offense, hand-over-heart, lashes batting. “Not even Frida? Come oooon, Angelito.” 

He chuckled. Shifting in the chair and offering his arm to you so you could get him ready. 

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.” 

“Everyone’s a critic,” you sigh, shifting your focus and taking stock of the space on Angel’s arm and what you had learned of him so far.

Someone who was seemingly confident and breezy, whose rough exterior belied something softer that was just out of reach. Someone who clearly cherished things and people he adored, if the tribute you were now covering was anything to go by. And, by the same token, more than a little impulsive. He wore his heart on his sleeve, apparently literally. 

You gathered your inks and began to work, your playlist and the buzzing of the tattoo gun filling the silence. 

It’s not like you had any reason to know it, but Angel considered you as you were working, admiring your focus and the intensity with which you afforded your art. Was he a little nervous about the fact that you were free-handing a design for him off the top of your head? Maybe... But what was life without a little risk? And he certainly wouldn’t mind a little risk with you. You were, it was obvious to him, very pretty. It was more than a little off-putting how easily you traded quips with him, seemingly unaffected by his presence and everything that came with it. If it wasn’t for the little hitches in your breath when he gently flirted with you, he wouldn’t have anything to go off of in terms of your interest. Something that was both respectable and maddening to him. 

He reached his other arm over to the side-table, grabbing your sketchbook and idly flipping through the etchings. 

Not only was the book filled with little designs, splashes of watercolor mixing with pen and charcoal, but he noticed the cramped words in the margins, perusing at his leisure and ignoring the itching buzz of the needle on the skin of his other arm.

“So, not only a Vince, but a Frost,” he broke the silence. 

You paused your work, wiping your brow with the back of your hand and looking at him with a question in your eyes.

He tapped his finger along the lines of prose in your book. “A poet,” he said. 

“Ah,” you said. “Uhm, more like a bad poet,” you chuckled, embarrassed. You made to begin again, when Angel gently gripped the wrist of your free hand. 

“The fuck did I just say?” He lightly tugged, forcing you to look into his maddeningly honey-dark eyes. “Don’t brush off your shit. Would Frida do that?” 

You regarded his eyes for a moment longer, darting your gaze to his pouty lips, resolutely set in their mission of imparting some of his confidence onto you. 

“Point taken, Angel,” you pulled your hand from his grip, which he released, trailing his fingertips over your hand as he did so. “I’m the greatest poet who ever lived, you’ve convinced me. Fuck William Shakespeare.” 

“Yeah,” Angel boisterously agreed, pleased to be bolstering you but surprising you with the little barking shout, “Fuck that dude!” 

You chuckled, shaking your head and silently returning to your work, the silence filled once more with the pleasant buzzing as you drew away. 

When you were finished, you released Angel’s arm, allowing him to inspect the clean lines of the greenery that you had drawn out of his former-love tribute. What were once loopy, cursive letters were now vines creeping steadily along his forearm, soft, yellow and red gladiolus buds emerging from where Clara’s name had once sat, neatly finished with the clean lines of the purpling sprig of rosemary along the edge of the piece. 

Angel was speechless, leaving you to marinate in your nerves. 

“It’s …” he started, “... flowery,” he supplied, lamely. 

“No shit it’s flowers,” you shot back, feeling a little defensive now, but wanting to make a quick recovery. “And they’re for you, Angel.” 

He seemed puzzled. 

“Gotta say, Vince, this is the first time a chick’s gotten me flowers,” he chuckled, “Guess they won’t die?” 

“They won’t,” you assured. “They really are for you, you know? Look at you, the rest of your ink. What it covered. You’re clearly a man formed by your experiences. It only seemed right, si? Gladiolus? They’re for remembrance. Rosemary? Symbolizes thoughtfulness and memory.” 

You continued as you began wipe the piece clean before wrapping it in new saran-wrap, “Your memories and choices make you who you are, sure. But you never know… something good could bloom from them, through the cracks."

His silence at the end of your little soliloquy was deafening. He hated it, you were sure of it. Fuck. Why did you have to get so fucking clever with him? You should’ve just done some black ink in something tribal, something masculine. What the fuck was wrong with you??

You dared to sneak a glance at his face, only to find that he was already staring at you, lips softly upturned in the hinting bloom of a smile, tarpit eyes twinkling with a good-natured mirth he would come to reserve just for you. 

“Fuck Shakespeare. That was damn beautiful, Frida.” 

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly. 

You stripped off your gloves, and made to turn your way to the counter, gathering the aftercare sheet and balm for Angel to take with him. 

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

“Oh! Can I take a picture?” You held up your phone, shaking it lightly. “For the ‘gram?” 

“Sure thing,” Angel dutifully held his arm under the lamp you had used to work, letting the fresh ink and colors pop against the golden dunn of his skin. 

You took a few photos, deciding to scroll through your camera roll later on and post your favorite. You made quick work of wrapping his arm in a sheet of clean plastic wrap before relinquishing your hold on his arm, turning to walk back to the counter. 

“Uhm,” you trailed … the telltale squeak of Angel’s boots on the linoleum indicating he was following you back to the front of the shop. You assembled everything into a bag for Angel to take with him, grabbing one of your cards from the front card-holder, and quickly jotting your number on the back next to your where the instagram handle for your art page was neatly printed, hoping he didn’t notice your sneaky little move. 

Angel resumed his comfortable lean against the counter, turning and tilting his forearm, scrutinizing your work. 

“It’s gonna be a clean one-fifty, Angel.”

He looked slightly surprised at the figure, a light frown dusting his features. 

“You sure about that? For the size, and the color, and time and everything? It’s been, like, hours.”

You shrugged. 

“We’ll call it the friends-and-family rate.” 

He gave you a long look, very clearly looking you up and down now, a prolonged edition of the greeting he had graced you with when he had entered your shop mere hours before. 

“And is that what we are now, querida? Friends?” 

How was it even possible for his voice to reach such a low register when he said these things to you?

While your insides flip-flopped at the flirtation, you hoped your face was the impassive mask you were trying to school it into. You subtly brushed your slightly-sweating palms against the frayed hem of your shorts before bringing an elbow up to the counter, resting your chin in your palm, lightly batting your lashes at him before responding...

“Sure,” you replied. There! Easy, breezy, cool-as-you-please. How does it feel, Angel?

“One day with you and friends already?” He rapped his ringed hand gently against the counter. “Can’t wait to see where we’re at tomorrow.” 

He swiped the bag off of the counter, tossing a few crisp bills onto the countertop and a wink over his shoulder before exiting the shop. 

You counted the bills on the counter, watching as Angel left the building.

Holy shit.

Three hundred bucks. He had tipped you 100 percent of what you charged him.

Cheeky.

Maybe Santo Padre wasn’t so bad, after all… 

---

Now, staring at him from across the room made you feel like you were drowning in the sickly-sweet cotton candy of sugared dreams, now lost to time. The saccharine balm melted to acrid wax, leaving you with only the tinge of bitterness. 

You were jostled out of your reverie by the sudden appearance of EZ’s blocky frame, ambling toward you with the same girl from before on his arm. 

He greeted you with a slow wave and a soft smile. 

“Hey, girl,” he greeted, clearly unsure of how much friendlier and closer he should approach you. 

You took mercy on Angel’s sweet, (big) little brother, opening your arms slightly for a hug. EZ took to the gesture like an over-excited golden retriever, scooping you up and spinning you once, before putting you back where he found you, slightly dizzier than you were before. 

He offered your name to the girl by his side, who looked pleasantly amused at the spectacle before her, her amusement melting to recognition at the name EZ had imparted to her. 

Ah. So she knew who you were. 

You tried not to let that realization sour your encounter, easing a practiced smile onto your features and offering your hand to the girl to shake. 

“Oh!” EZ chuckled. “This is Gaby -- er, Gabriela.” 

“Encantada,” you eased, gently shaking her hand before having a realization of your own. “Gaby, as in Leti’s friend?” 

She nodded, a warm smile illuminating her already sunshiney features. You could see why EZ obviously liked her. She had the practiced social grace of a debutante, but the friendly aura of someone you had known for your entire life. 

“I hope you’re keeping Ezekiel out of trouble,” you teased gently. 

“Only as well as I can,” she replied. EZ rubbed the back of his neck as you two gossiped about him like he wasn’t standing right there. 

“Listen, hermanita,” EZ began, swirling the dregs of his beer around the bottle clutched in his hand as the conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, “About Angel --” 

That was a hard no. 

“Coco!” You called as you spotted the lithe man prowling through the crowd after obtaining a drink from the bar, effectively shutting EZ up. 

Coco sidled over, slinging an arm over your shoulder and nodding in greeting to EZ and Gaby. 

“Wassup, chiquita? Over here with all the cool kids?” 

“You know damn well I was never cool enough for the cool kids,” you knocked your shoulder into Coco’s good-naturedly. 

“Dunno about that, pequeña,” Coco took a drag of his cigarette, sighing as he exhaled. “I’ve got some pretty cool body armour thanks to you.” 

“All in a day's work,” you mock-saluted. You were doing great. Keep it light, keep it friendly. You may be able to make it out of this unscathed, after all. 

Gaby and EZ were speaking softly to one another just to your side, as you and Coco continued your conversation. 

“So, who’s the new guy?” You asked, nodding over to where Angel and the still-unnamed newbie were tossing back shots. You tried to ignore that each one had girls placed on each of their laps. Well, mostly you were trying to ignore one girl placed on one lap; tried to ignore as ringed fingers trailed up and down her thigh hypnotically as he howled in laughter at something the new guy had said. 

The longer you stared at the way he was touching her, the more You thought you could feel it on your own skin. And you knew all too well how that touch felt. Memories, make you, right? 

You blinked harshly, turning your face back to Coco’s, only to find his hawkish eyes trained on you as he continued to smoke. Now you were certain he had seen everything you had, and more. And you cursed yourself for slipping. Because nothing slipped past Coco. 

He took mercy on you nevertheless. 

“Andres. He’s aight. You may not remember him from before, when he was just a prospect.” 

“Guess not,” you agreed, shrugging amiably, suddenly very interested in toying with the hem of your flowy little summertime skirt. 

“Mierda,” you heard Coco hiss, glancing up to see none other than the new guy -- Andres -- walk over, his arm around the waist of the girl from his lap, accompanied by none other than Angel Reyes, furnished with his own lap-turned-arm candy. She was giggling in his ear, popping her gum and bumping her hips against Angel’s as she walked by his side. 

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side. 

Great. 

The easy smile you’d had when conversing with Coco now felt positively screwed into place, settling unnaturally, a stranger's face made up of your own features. 

Andres smirked at you in greeting, eyes trailing over you -- the most unwelcome iteration of that gesture in this context to-date. 

“I hear you’re the girl to see about some ink.” 

You bit back the snarky response that rose to your tongue. You see anyone else here, tonto?

“Sure am,” you replied, cool as you pleeeeaseeee. Maybe a little too cool. The ice in your voice was obvious to everyone except the strangers before you. 

You really were doing great, weren’t you? 

“Great,” the new meat brushed the girl off from his side, plopping unceremoniously into your chair. “You did that right?” He pointed behind you to where Angel was standing, gesturing at his arm and your miniscule mural of memorial greenery. 

“Cierto.” You nodded, sparing Angel’s arm the barest of glances.

“Aight, well, none of that girly shit, alright, sweetheart? Angel may have had the good grace not to say anything, but flowers ain’t really my style, yeah?” 

What the fuck.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Coco visibly tense next to you, obviously displeased at the uncalled-for critique of your work. Of a piece he himself had often admired. He would never admit it, but he thought the story behind it was even better. It’s like you had walked out of some shitty romcom Leti watched with her tittering friends and into Angel’s dreams, sinking yourself beneath Angel's skin like a dream he would recount to all of his friends. Coco knew the most about you by nature of Angel's second-hand stories when you were together. Although Coco thought, once he had met you, Angel's stories didn't do you justice. How wonderful and talented you were. How warm and welcoming.

Angel watched the exchange silently, clearly none too keen to defend the piece you had designed for him. That had come to mean so much to you. 

That stung.

You winced, almost imperceptibly. But you were certain Coco saw it, not much escaping his sniper’s eyes. EZ, with his owlish perception and photographic memory, certainly would have seen it, too. If Angel saw it, it’s not like he was going to say anything now. 

Where the fuck was Aneesa? Wasn’t she supposed to be heading this kind of shit off? You glanced over at the couches in the corner where your friend had previously been sitting with GIlly, and was now nowhere to be seen. Fuckin’ typical. 

“Aight, no más flores." No more flowers. “What were you thinking, then?” 

That was you, ever the professional. 

Andres showed you his phone, a rendering of an old-style beastly cat, like a panther from an old folktale, pulled up in his image search. 

“Something for a warrior,” he puffed his chest slightly. “I was thinking here,” he shrugged out of one side of his new kutte, tugging the button-up to expose one side of his chest. 

“You got it.” 

You set to work, cleaning the area to be inked and getting your tools ready. The rest of the group drifted as the project progressed, clearly not feeling the need to stand there for the entire duration of a tattoo. 

You were acutely aware that Angel hadn’t stepped as far away as the others, circumventing the periphery of yours and Andres’ space, not close, but not far. And he still had yet to even look in your direction. Or acknowledge your existence. 

You tried your best to ignore the icy shard of Angel’s indifference that was currently wedging its way between your ribs and lodging itself firmly once more into your heart. At this point, you guessed it would never heal. 

“Sooooo,” Andres lolled his head to the side of his chair to face you, slinging back the beer from the bottle dangling in his free hand. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You were around a little bit when I was prospecting.” 

You opted not to respond, aware that Angel was likely listening, and you would need to choose any words carefully. Andres had no such reservation, clearly uncaring about who might be listening. He pressed on, each word more infuriating than the last. 

“You were Angel’s little sidepiece for a while, right?”   

You tried to keep your despairing sigh to a quiet little nothing. 

“Sure.” You offered lamely. “Sorry, man, I don’t mean to be rude, but I really work better when I’m not talking.” 

“S’alright, jaina. I can talk enough for the both of us.” 

You hmm’d nonchalantly at that, lip imperceptibly curling over your teeth in distaste at the moniker. You chose instead to focus on the piece. You wouldn’t give a shitty tattoo, even if this guy was a douchebag. And the pleasant buzz of the tattoo gun. Maybe you were etching the lines a little sharper than strictly necessary. If he noticed, Andres gave no indication, continuing on with his diatribe: 

“So, what happened? I mean, Angel knocked that other chick up? Ouch, right?” 

You were now seeing red, the edges of your vision blurring slightly with angry, pinpricking tears. Thank fuck you were just about done with this. 

“But that’s the life right? I mean, we’re not exactly known for being steady with just one chick. You know how it goes ...” He eyed you up and down again, lingering a little too long on your legs before finishing his thought with a smirk “... Clearly.” 

You hated his use of “we,” like he was in any way, shape, or form worthy to be in the class of man EZ, Coco, Bishop, or, hell, even Angel, was. None of them would talk to you like this. No matter what Angel had done. 

You shut off the gun, pushing back from the space with Andres, spinning in your chair, and grabbing the clean wipes for Andres’ fresh ink. As you dabbed the area and made to bandage it, the oblivious biker grabbed your wrist. None of the teasing fun or gentleness in the same gesture that Angel had imparted when you had first met. No, Andres’ grip hurt. It was all bruising possession and entitlement. 

“I think we would have fun, you and I.” He leaned forward and far too into your space, the stale stink of warm beer heavy on his breath. 

You wrenched your grip from his, standing quickly and offering him a tight smile, cheeks flaming with your anger and embarrassment. How dare he speak so trivially of your relationship with Angel. How dare he think you were so easily won with his kutte and shitty attitude. 

“Uhm,” you tugged your fingers agitatedly through the ends of your hair, chewing your lip. “You’re all set, Andres. Aftercare sheet is on the table next to you. It’s on the house. Happy patch party!” Your voice sounded so shrill and fake in your own head, but you just didn’t have it in you to care at the moment. 

With that, you quickly whirled on your heel, in a distressed flurry past the Angel-shaped blur who had been watching the entire encounter, and out of the clubhouse door into the cooler late-night air. 

Getting heavy to breathe in this room together. It’s so awkward, we can’t seem to do it better. Can’t we just fake a smile and put our shit to the side? 

---

Angel had waited a whopping 18 hours to text you after your clandestine tattooed meet-cute. 

You were in the middle of exchanging consultation e-mails with a prospective client when your phone had buzzed. 

“Vince?” The text read. 

You bit back a smirk before responding,

“Vince? No Vince here. This is Frida’s phone.”

You watched as the little bubbles appeared in the corner, disappeared for a second, and then reappeared. You were grateful for the little manifestation of Angel’s hesitance. It made him seem more human. And it made you appreciative that he was clearly trying to choose his words with you, when words had seemed to come so easily to him when you had met. 

“My bad. Oh, beautiful, talented Frida.” 

You couldn’t hold back the smile on your features now. Grateful it was still you and only you in the shop so that no one could see your “obviously-texting-a-cute-guy” face. 

“It’s nice to hear from you, Angel. Good thing you didn’t throw away the card.” 

“That card was clearly a gift, querida. Much like the pretty flowers on my arm.” He snapped you a picture of his tattoo, the healing process underway. 

“Looks great!” You sent, cringing at your lack of ability to effectively flirt via text. It was something that your friends had teased you relentlessly about back in the Town -- your notorious lack of game. No! New home, new you! Be cute. Be cute. 

“So, if I’ve given you all the gifts, what do I get?” You sent with a “thinking” emoji. 

Angel at least had the decency to wait a minute or two before replying, either thinking about his response or keeping you in suspense… you weren’t sure. But you were grateful for the little opportunity to catch your breath. How did he make you so speechless when he wasn’t even in the room with you? Some things just weren’t fair. 

“Niña, I paid you for this ink. What more could you possibly want from me?” 

Tricky Angel. Zorro. Like a little fox, he had effectively maneuvered the conversation back to you -- the ball was in your court. Would you tell him what you wanted?

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding. 

“You texted me, boy. Are you sure it isn’t you who wants something?”

If only your friends could see you now. That was damn smooth. 

“Boy?” 

You snorted to yourself. Trust a guy like Angel to get hung up on something small like that. The bubbles reappeared. 

“I was thinking about this pretty girl I met the other day. Hell of an artist. But a shit poet. Thought I would see if she was free sometime?” 

Angel was merciful. You could kiss him. Had he seriously just taken all the weight out of this conversation? Your heart felt a million pounds lighter in your chest, knowing he was asking you. The wave of relief that he wanted to see you again crashed through you, replaced in the tide with the backdraft of a feeling of mischievousness. You wouldn’t let him off so easily.

So you waited before responding. Let him sweat a little, right?

Only… you weren’t sure Angel was sweating as much as you were, fingers itching with the desire to text him back and accept immediately. 

When what had felt like an eternity (but in reality had only been about seven minutes) had passed, you picked up your phone, opening the conversation with Angel. 

“She’s free next Thursday … After your bike week, el rey de los bandoleros.” 

You put your phone back down on the counter, grinning like an idiot, feeling like you had just swallowed a bunch of bubbles. You entertained the notion that if your combat boots weren’t keeping your feet weighted to the floor, you would have floated away. 

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.” 

Time passes slowly the more you want it to go quickly. And whenever you have a deadline you’re dreading, it gallops ahead. Time really is that bitch, and she does not give a fuck about your feelings. 

The following Thursday felt like it took a year to arrive. But it found you closing up the shop, your stomach fluttering with butterflies and pop rocks, adorned in your favorite pair of jeans and boots, a clean, flattering tank top that showed off your own ink. You hoped it was fine for whatever Angel had in mind. 

Honestly, he hadn’t said anything about your date. A few flirtatious texts here and there? Obviously. You sent him photos of the pieces you had done for new clients. He sent you ridiculous selfies and a couple of group pics of him and his friends at the biker event. One guy who kept popping up in the photos, Angel had told you, was his “little” brother. But there was nothing “little” about that dude. 

You loved seeing all of Angel’s goofy, smiling faces. Treasuring the photos in your small moments of quiet downtime. 

The rumbling of a bike engine greeted your ears, like the seductive purr of a large cat. You glanced up, a full Cheshire grin alighting your features at the sight of Angel’s gorgeous, deep forest green bike, and the man of the hour looking very at home on the seat. 

He rolled to a stop in front of you, unclipping his helmet and dismounting with his winning trademark smirk, ambling over to greet you. 

“Frida,” he scooped you into a hug, his tall frame causing you to lift, your toes now barely brushing the ground as he brought you to his height. He pressed a soft kiss to your check, setting you down gently and letting you get your bearings, chuckling pleasantly at the obvious, dizzying effect his greeting had had on you.

“Angelito,” you returned. “Back in one piece?”

“Hail to the king, baby,” he countered. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, scuffing the toe of your boot into the gravel of the lot. “So, where are you taking me, o benevolent one?”

“Just gonna hafta find out.” He handed his helmet to you, helping you clip and tighten it beneath your chin. “Ever ridden before?”

“Uhm, well, sure” you replied too assuredly, quickly realizing your slip. “I mean, no. Not like that. I mean, yes, like that. But not on one of these.” Fuck. Could you be more embarrassing? 

Angel released a full-bellied laugh at your response, his head tossing back a little. 

“You’ll have to tell me more about alla that later, cielo.” You put your head in your palm willing the embarrassment to go away. Angel quickly pried your hands away, cupping your cheeks with his own warm hands, long fingers brushing your cheekbones reverently. “In the meantime, just hang on, okay?” 

You nodded, still cursing your idiot-brain that had partnered with the dirtiest corners of your mind to take over your mouth. Shut the fuck up, dumb-dumb. 

You clung to Angel as he drove, your hands roaming his firm torso probably a little too-familiarly. You enjoyed the way the wind whipped around you, tugging at yours and Angel’s clothes as you made your way up the canyon overlooking the desert that was Santo Padre. 

Angel parked his bike on the ridge overlooking the town, the sun beginning its descent in the desert sky in swirling hues of pastels and cotton candy pink-purple-blue overtaking the orange hue. 

You had never been up here before, and you told Angel as much. He looked pleased at that, pleased that he was the one to show you the best view of the Santo Padre sunset. 

Angel busied himself unpacking the bags on the side of his bike while you enjoyed the scenery. Pulling out a couple of wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water, he handed yours to you, coming to stand next to you on the ridge. 

"Thanks," you acknowledged, looking at the offerings. "What, no beer?"

Angel chuckled a little at that.

"I ain't tryna liquor you up, niña. Besides, you want warm beer that's been rattling around on my bike all afternoon?"

You crinkled your nose a little at that. "No," you decided. "Never mind. Besides, I'm more of a whiskey girl."

Angel glanced at you, sipping on his own water idly.

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who thinks it's impressive when a girl drinks whiskey because it's such a 'man thing.' "

Angel held up one hand, defensively. 

"Nunca. Just took you for more of a… dunno? Maybe a rum kinda girl?"

"Don't think so. For now, though? Water and sandwiches do me just fine. Whiskey can come later." You took a bite of the now-unwrapped sandwich. "This is good," you confirmed around a slightly-full mouth. "Did you make this?"

"Of course. Pop owns the butcher shop down the street from your parlour. Sliced the meat myself, an' all," he said, a little proudly now that he knew you approved of his sandwich-making skills.

"Bueno," you giggled. "Thank you for this, Angel. Really. This is one of the nicest nights I've had since moving here." You shuffled a little closer to where he was standing, looking in his eyes as you thanked him.

"Bah," he waved away your compliments, "it ain't alla that. This can't be the most exciting thing you've done since getting here."

"Maybe it is," you pressed. "I dunno. Maybe I'm too boring for the king of the bikers?"

"I doubt that very seriously, querida," he turned his body so he was facing you now, sandwich long gone, fiddling with the water bottle in his hands. "You play your cards right, I'll introduce you to the rest of the club. Then things'll get really exciting."

You blinked. One date and he already was thinking about introducing you to his friends? Your inner shy romantic (okay, not so "inner," right? You're pretty clear about who you are) was doing little somersaults in your chest. 

You must've been silent a beat too long because Angel was quick to supplement, "Only if you want."

"I'd like that," you confirmed, nodding and smiling gently. 

"So, are you gonna tell me what brings an East Bay girl here?" 

You raised a brow. You didn't remember telling him where you moved from. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck nervously, realizing you'd caught his slip. 

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

You finished your sandwich, thinking about how much you wanted to tell him.

"Just time for a change of scenery. Olí is an old friend, and he offered me a job. I think he wants to travel more." You shrugged, "It just felt like it was time. Plus, I dunno… I like it here. Much quieter."

Angel nodded at that, not having the heart to tell you that his club was not at all quiet and was the source of the disruption in the otherwise-quaint town. 

You kept talking, telling him about the friends you'd left behind, your old shop, weekends spent in the park surrounding Lake Merritt, and going to Raiders games. Angel took in your features as you spoke, the golden light of the sunset making you glow like something out of a dream he'd had once. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about things you loved, the books and art that inspired your poetry. How you'd gone to art school. You were something.

"-- Sorry, I'm rambling," you breathed in a rush, flush with the amount of talking you'd been doing in a record amount of time. "What? Do I have something in my teeth?"

Angel realized he'd been staring as long as you'd been talking.

"No, querida. Nothing in your teeth." He gave you a dazzlingly white smile.

"Oh thank God," you returned his smile with a small one of your own, shying a little under his gaze, and wondering how long he had been looking at you like that as you'd talked.

He leaned over you now, his height giving him the definite advantage as he'd -- not unwelcomely-- invaded your space. He brought one hand up to cup your chin, his dark eyes revealing flecks of sparkling gold in the pastel wash of the sunset as his gaze once again met yours.

You saw his quick glance down at your lips, you unconsciously giving a small nod before his warm lips met yours.

Oh.

You had obviously been kissed before, been the recipient of past romantic attention. All of that paled in comparison, melting away as Angel's full lips maneuvered over yours, both of his large, calloused hands gently brushing your cheeks as he cupped your face, sliding one hand down to rest on the side of your neck.

You sighed lightly, one of your own hands twined into his shirt, the other resting on the side of his firm torso. 

Angel took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, your own brushing against his as the kiss deepened.

 You were in no hurry for the kiss to end, enjoying the way everything about Angel was so warm, something that was surprisingly welcome, despite the ever-present desert heat of Santo Padre. You could get used to this. 

You had only known Angel a short time, realistically. Your one meeting spawning a series of flirtatious texts and snaps, and now this date that, while low-key, felt almost too perfect to be real. He made you feel safe, desired.

You could already feel him slipping beneath your skin to rest in a special place in your heart. And while you as a person were generally reticent to share that part of yourself with anyone, you had a feeling Angel could take up permanent residence there. If he wanted. 

You dropped from your tip-toes, effectively breaking the kiss.

Angel blinked, looking down at you and noting the pleasant glow on your skin, lips now slightly swollen from his kiss. He could get used to this.

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur, trading quips and stories as the sun went down. Angel told you about his club, his brothers. About his pop and Ezekiel, and how at one time, he enjoyed being the bigger brother, teasing, pranking and lording over EZ until EZ had hit his growth spurt and could (and would) definitely hit back. 

As he drove you home, you snuggled a little bit against him, pressing yourself into his back and enjoying the way you swore you could feel his heart pounding through the kutte and over the rumble of the bike and the road.

He'd dropped you off with a parting kiss and the promise of another date.

Another date turned into several. Time you weren't at the shop was now spent with Angel, showing him what you were working on, inviting him over for dinners and to watch mindless television while he told you what he could about his day. 

The both of you were slowly peeling back the layers around your respectively guarded hearts, revealing more of yourselves only to be met with pure acceptance by the other. Even blindados had to take off their armour at some point. 

You cherished your time with Angel, and he quickly found himself stumbling, head over his own biker-booted heels for you.

After a few months had passed, he had brought you to meet the club. You had manifested nothing but general acceptance of his lifestyle and were eager to meet the people Angel had so obviously cared for. Who had helped shape him into the brash but conscientious person he was with you. 

And one sunny afternoon had found you bringing lunch you had made for the entire club over to the scrapyard, Angel agreeing with your plan. You never were one to show up empty-handed. 

As you walked across the yard, past the gate, and into the clubhouse, your eyes adjusting to the dim interior from the blinding sun outdoors, Angel bounded over to greet you. Taking the bag full of homemade goodies from your arms, he pressed quick kisses to your cheeks, and one to your forehead. 

He turned, met with the pleasantly-surprised stares of his brothers. He announced your name to the room before turning to you, pointing at each man and supplying a name. You nodded, smiling and offering a warm wave to each. 

The man you knew to be EZ from all of Angel's initial texts and photos quickly strode over to you, shaking your hand in his impressively firm grip before bending down to press a quick kiss to your cheek with a,

"Bienvenido, hermanita. Angel's told me a lot about you. Won't shut up, really," giving you a sly wink as Angel swatted EZ's arm in annoyance at his brother's revelation.

Boys.

The smaller man with the sharp eyes and full curls you knew to be Coco made his way over to where you were now seated as Angel went to get you both drinks, the other men digging into your offerings as you made yourself comfortable.

He sat next to you, tossing you a, "You mind?" Lighting his cigarette after you’d shaken your head.

He studied you through his own plumes of smoke before leaning across the table and speaking to you, lowly and with an almost conspiratorial rasp to his voice,

"You did that cover-up for Angel?" He asked on a smooth exhale.

"Mhmm," you nodded. "He gave me free reign. I was nervous he'd hate it."

Coco seemed to chew over your words for a dragging moment. You shifted in your seat. He was definitely sizing you up.

"Bold move, pequeña, giving the secretario of a biker club a sleeve of flowers." 

"I suppose it was," you sighed, more than a little uncertain now. "But it felt meaningful, right, I guess. I just sort of… started drawing. I… think it worked out, though?" You trailed off.

Coco nodded. "It's a fuckin' good piece, mami. Angel told me what you'd said about memories making you who you are." He snorted lightly through his nose. "It's funny. We've never even met before, and you're already sounding like me." 

A small smile played across his lips, returning it with one of your own.

"I'm glad you approve," you nodded. "Angel's opinion obviously matters, and don't tell him I told you this, but it means alot coming from one of his family." 

And that's what they were. His family. You could see it. The obvious camaraderie and care underlying each of their actions with the other. You admired the system of support, cushioned by good humor, despite being flung regularly into harsh reality. It was clear -- they were there for one another.

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

"Maybe you got space for me in your books one-a these days?"

Your small smile was a full-blown, sunny grin now.

"Of course. Anytime you want to drop by, you're more than welcome." 

"Gracias, chica." Coco leaned across the table and patted your shoulder before getting up and taking his leave.

And so it went. The boys would filter through your shop. Olí teasing you about his offense that all of his most lucrative, inked clients were now going to you. 

You enjoyed the time working on pieces for them afforded you -- offering you a glimpse into their inner workings, what they felt was important enough to take up permanent residence along their skin. Making idle chit-chat with you while you worked. And always, always sharing embarrassing little anecdotes about Angel. 

The months passed with you and Angel, finding comfort in your unpredictable, but welcome, respective routines. 

One night in particular found Angel wrapped up in your embrace, the physical embodiment of your gradual and growing trust in one another.

He had arrived home more than a little rattled, his eyes wildly darting to the corners of the room before settling in you, exhaling a shaky breath before striding the length of the room and crushing you to him, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. 

You understood he probably couldn't tell you what had happened, but you asked anyway, needing him to know you would hear him.

"Angelito, everything okay?" 

He shook his head softly in the negative, but didn't elaborate. 

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"Okay. We don't have to talk about it," you wound your arms up and around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. "But it's going to be okay. I've got you. I won't let go."

He gripped your wrists, pulling your hands from his neck and sliding your arms down, bringing them to rest around his waist. Once he had positioned you where he wanted, he brought his hands to cup your cheeks, eyes heavy and dark with the weight of his stormy thoughts. 

He nodded at what you had said before bringing his lips back to yours. 

You brought one hand up to meet his, where it rested along your cheek. You twined your fingers through, joining your hands while breaking the kiss. You lead him through the apartment, bringing him to the bedroom. You had music softly playing from your speaker in the corner, candles lit to bathe the room in ambient glow and a warm, honey smell, all in anticipation of Angel's eventual arrival home.

You silently gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed, where you took your seat next to him. 

You tugged the leather kutte from his shoulders, folding it reverently and placing it on the chair near the bed. He exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging once the leather manifestation of his obligation to a darker world had been removed. The weight of the world a little less on the mantle of his shoulders. 

You turned your attention to his feet next, unlacing and tugging off his boots. Then, his belt. 

Once he was just in his jeans and his t-shirt, you resumed your seat at his side, bringing him back into your embrace and carding your hands through his hair, as his head rested on your shoulder. 

Angel spoke, voice cracking as he broke the seal of silence in the room. 

"It was… it was awful, Frida." He sighed. "I do everything they ask. It's my job … Fuck. Sometimes I wonder how much more my heart can take. But then, I get to come home to you." 

His breath was shuddering now.

And while you didn't always know what to say -- it was a rare sight to see Angel so rattled. But you were a caregiver by nature, ready to give him the pieces of yourself that would make him feel whole.

You guided him down so that he could recline, you came to rest at his side, winding your arms around his torso, your face turned into his neck, cuddling him as he came down from the mania of his emotional high.

The moments passed, Angel's breathing leveling again as you stroked his hair in time to the soft music.

He turned his head to look at you, admiring the flutter of your lashes as you blinked at him, your gaze warm and adoring, full of twinkling fairy light and starshine. 

"Te amo, querida," Angel breathed. This was not the first time he had said it to you during your months together. But each time felt as momentous as the first, each declaration of love felt like the slip of something sweet, and you were determined to store it in your heart and mind forever.

"I love you too, Angel. More than anything," you murmured. "I love your smile, your sense of humor, your strength." You pressed kisses to his face and neck with each admission. "Mostly, I love your strength. And that you trust me enough to tell me when you don't always feel it."

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

"I love your mind. How creative you are. How you see everything so beautiful, just like you," he hmm’d. "Mostly I love your trust. And that you choose to give it to me." 

You kissed him again, leaning over him with your entire body, pressing your palms gently into his shoulders. 

As your kiss deepened, you each began to tug at the other. His hands carded through your hair, tugging gently, but firmly. You lifted his shirt from his torso, the kiss breaking so you could peel it away.

You divested one another of each layer, baring yourselves to the other, body and soul. Again, this wasn't the first time you had done this. But this felt momentous nonetheless. 

Angel skimmed his hands over your form, running his hands softly down and over your breasts, loving your soft sigh at his touch. 

You leaned over him once more, reluctantly removing his hands from you, and placing them gently down at his sides. 

"Your heart is mine, mine to protect," You hummed softly, invading his senses and placing kisses down Angel's neck and to his chest, trailing your lips lovingly over Angel's heart, and pressing one last deliberate kiss there. "And I take my job very seriously." 

As you kissed him, you lightly trailed your fingers down his torso, coming to rest at his hip.

Your declaration was met with silence; you glanced up at Angel through your lashes only to find him already looking down through heavy-lidded eyes at you, his now swirling with some unnamed, weighted emotion.

You trailed your hand across his hip, not breaking eye contact as you took his hardening length into your hand. He inhaled sharply at the sensation of your grip, but refused to look away as you began to pump him slowly, still pressing kisses to his hips, torso and thighs. 

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

"Please, what?" You murmured back, your voice taking a throaty register you reserved strictly for private moments with your beloved.

"Please… use your pretty mouth?" 

You nodded. 

"Relájate, baby, I've got you," you assured. Sweeping your hair back, the action washing Angel with the sweeping comfort of your scent as you made your way lower down his body. 

Angel slumped back against the bedspread, glittering galaxy eyes still trained on you as you lavished him with attention. 

You took the opportunity to flatten your tongue, licking a broad stripe up the length of him, one hand braced against his firm thigh, the other holding him gently at the base of his cock as you worked.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of him, delighted at his throaty moans, feeling the effect they had on you, making you feel like you were burning from the inside, feeling the slickness from your own center as your thighs rubbed together. 

Taking Angel wholly into your mouth now, you bobbed over him, relishing in the heavy feel of him in your mouth and the throaty groans you received from Angel in response. 

Before you could spend too long lavishing him with attention, Angel tugged on your hair at the base of your neck. Following his grip, you lifted your head and released him from, watching (a little greedily) as his thick length bobbed against him when you relinquished him from the confines of your mouth. 

He guided you up his body, hand still knotted in your hair, pushing his mouth onto yours, uncaring of the saliva on your lips and chin, and the taste of himself on your tongue. 

You straddled his hips, surging the rest of the way up his body and effectively deepening the kiss. The hand that was once in your hair now made its way to loosely grip at your throat, the other skimming his way down your breasts, across your ribs and toward your center.

As his fingers traced through your folds, you involuntarily rolled your hips into his hand, alight at his touch, and desperately seeking more. 

Angel touching you was like the shock of a live wire. Every time felt just as electric as the last, goosebumps erupting across your flesh as his fingers traced across your skin. 

He chuckled through your fused mouths, drawing back at your reaction and the wetness he found between your legs.

"Eager, amor?" Every word fell that fell from his lips sounded like a dangerous purr.

You nodded, drunk on the way Angel's hand gently squeezed your throat, while the other was teasingly making its way to-and-fro across your wet folds, occasionally making his way up to lightly circle and press his thumb over your clit, making your eyelids flutter. Your hips continued to rock against his hand, silently begging for more, his teasing touch making you more than a little crazy.

"Yeah?" Angel asked, his voice thick and syrupy, the timbre like dark clouds. "That shit turn you on? Sucking my cock?"

His words combined with his touch made another rush of heat flood through you. You were certain you would pass out, that your knees would buckle. And you were doing so well, holding your place up and over his hips while he played with you.

The hand on your throat gripped a little tighter, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Nuh-uh, baby," he shook you lightly, all mirth gone from his eyes, no more pleasant, smiling crinkles at the corners. His full lips pressed firmly together. "I asked you a question. You answer that shit"

He pressed two fingers teasingly against your entrance, refusing to insert them, despite the little roll of your hips.

"Y-yeaahh," you sighed, head tossed back, "I-I fucking love it -- love you, Angel."

He rewarded you by sliding a long finger into you, allowing you to ride his hand. The hand still around your throat guiding you forward, over him, allowing him to press hot, open-mouthed kisses, first to your lips, dirty and raw, like an exposed nerve in his unabashed want for you. 

He relinquished his hold on your neck, allowing him to trail his lips and his tongue there, kissing you softly behind your ear, down and around your neck to your collarbones, all while his fingers continued their earnest treatment inside of you, his thumb now pressing to your clit, your warming crescendo building.

Using his height and the fact that you were straddling him, Angel encouraged you to lean forward, allowing him to capture one of your breasts in his grip, his mouth following. His warm tongue swirled around your nipple before he sucked the bud into his mouth, grazing his teeth ever so gently over your sensitive flesh.

Angel's attention was rewarded with your gasping sighs and breathy moans. How anyone could make you feel this good was beyond you. Angel had an uncanny ability to elicit responses and feelings like no other person before him.

You felt the thrumming hum and warm, sticky wave of your orgasm building as Angel worked his fingers inside of you, stroking that particular spot from within that he knew would be your undoing.

"O-oh," you whined, keening noises caught in your throat. "Please, baby, I n-need you. Need you inside." 

The room was sweltering. Or was it just you? Angel withdrew his fingers smoothly, not sparing you the chance to be disappointed at the loss of feeling as he smoothly flipped the two of you, guiding you down to the mattress and hovering over your trembling form. 

"Yeah?" Angel asked. "You ready for that, querida?"

You gazed up at him through your lashes, longingly. He would give everything, anything, that he had in the world if you only looked at him like that forever, gaze full of warmth, heat, and unfiltered, starry adoration. 

"Mmm," you nodded, "Please? Angel?"

He was only a man, after all. Who was he to refuse when you asked so prettily for him?

He gently turned you over so that your back was to him, running his hands down the slope of your back and guiding you to your knees, propping your hips up.

Positioning himself behind you, Angel resumed his grip on your throat, using it to guide your head around so that he could kiss you again while he guided himself inside of you. You moaned into the kiss at the sensation, never tired of feeling every ridge of his thick cock sliding into you like he belonged there.

Angel groaned, breaking the kiss and shaking his head, chuckling darkly, his eyes flashing as he swore, 

"Never fuckin' get tired of that shit," he began to move his hips, using his other hand that was gripping your hip to guide you along his lengthy, meeting his thrusts. "Never tired of your pussy … You're so … good."

Angel's words coupled with his thrusts were driving you crazy, causing you to eagerly meet him with the momentum of your own hips, the heat in the room spliced with the distinctive noise of his skin meeting yours. 

Angel, leaning over your back, crowded your every sense, the taste of him, of his kisses still lingering on your tongue. Your ears met with the harmony of your two bodies and the filthy words and sounds coming from Angel's mouth. The sight of him was as intoxicating as ever, as you looked over your shoulder at him, the shadows of the room playing across his tawny skin, glimmering in the low light with the sheen of sweat you knew was also present on yours.

“Say my name,” Angel pants into the slick skin on your back, kissing a line down your spine, his body covering yours possessively.

You were too caught up in everything Angel, failing to respond quickly enough for his liking as you gasped at every thrust.

A crack of heat flashed across your ass, Angel swatting you there once. You should be annoyed, but you couldn't lie -- you fucking loved it when he was like this. Only for you. 

"A-angel," you sighed, the crescendo of your orgasm climbing, threatening to burst any second, you tightening around Angel.

"Bueno," he purred. "You close? Yeah, you fucking are," Angel snarled, taking in the way you threw your hips back desperately to meet him, squirming one hand beneath you to touch yourself. "You can have it, baby, I'll make it good. You just gotta ask pretty for me." 

You deepened the arch in your back, flexing your hips back toward Angel, and gripping the bedspread before you in your fingers, face pressed flush with the sheets, your other hand still pressed to your clit.

Angel tilted your head, leaning over further and gripping your jaw, squeezing to pucker your cheeks. He kissed you, sucking your lower lip between his. He kissed you gently, a deceptive contrast to the hand gripping your face, his hips snapping into yours at a now-brutish pace. He pecked another light kiss to your lips, followed by another, gently biting your lip and dragging it lightly as he drew his face from yours.

He released your lips as you whispered another plea into his mouth.

"Come on then, baby." 

Your orgasm washed over you, pinpricks of striking matches splintering across your skin, followed by a euphoric wave of white-heat, blissfully soothing every nerve it had just lit.

Angel followed, emptying himself into you with a few final thrusts, groaning at the way you tightened just so around him. 

He withdrew gently, collapsing next to you as you both caught your breath. 

Your lashes fanned your cheeks as you blinked hazily at the form of your love through the soft glow of the room.

"I do love you, Angel," you told him, leaning across the sheets to rub your nose back and forth against his, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, grazing your soft fingers against the lines of his forehead, easing them away into an expression of soft serenity. "Always."

---

Now, you walked out of the clubhouse, around to the side of the porch, a quiet corner away from the noise. Willing yourself to calm down as small, hot tears trickled their way, uninvited, down your cheeks. 

Your thoughts were moving a million miles a second, the battle of luck you were waging with the universe saw you quickly losing. 

The year you spent with Angel replaying itself in your mind. Every word, every touch, that goddamn tattoo. Remembrance, my ass. How you would hold him when he came home too high-strung and strung-out emotionally for words. How you would save the best leftovers for him when you knew he had been away and would be craving the Chinese food from the place down the block when he got back. How he felt inside of you on the coldest nights and in the most tender mornings. How he would whisper enchanting endearments into the shell of your ear as he rolled his hips into yours, your mind and body completely his. How you would wear his shirts and overly-large socks around his apartment, leaving doodles and scribbled poems on sticky notes for him to find in his moments alone. How he kissed you warmly, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like syrupy possession that you never wanted to end. 

How it did end. How he had thrown out your world, crumpled it into a crushed paper ball and tossing it away with the carelessness of a child. Ending things with seemingly no spare thought for your feelings. How EZ had let slip when he saw you in town that Angel was expecting a kid, the timing of everything suddenly making a little more sense. How it made you feel, now that you knew you were wholly his, but he was never entirely yours. How you had kept to yourself in the months that followed, the cracks in your heart widening until you felt like you would drown in them. 

The pulse of your feelings for him, always strong; they warm you. But it was still you they all left behind. 

Your thoughts were still swirling when, off to the side, you heard the porch door open and close again, and you prayed that whomever was coming outside was going to have a smoke out front, or that they were on their way out. That they wouldn’t find you. 

But of course, these things never worked out how you wanted them. You cursed any god you could think of for just how un-fucking-lucky you were sometimes. 

Because, really, who other than Angel was making his way around the porch to you? Taking in your hunched form as you leaned over the railing, looking anywhere but at him. 

Of fucking course.

You kept your eyes down, focused in your clasped hands as you leaned over the railing, refusing to look at him. 

And now? Now he was looking at you, and it's the one time you wished he wouldn't. 

One thing you wouldn't do, now that he was here, was break the silence first. He didn't want to hear what you'd had to say, so why would you grace him with your thoughts now? Petty? Sure. But you weren't the one in there with your hands on some ass while a so-called friend harassed your ex. 

A few uncomfortable beats dragged on before Angel broke the silence, shattering it like glass with a verbal hammer.

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

"What the fuck did he say, Frida?" His voice angry now, demanding. The same tone he used to break your heart. 

"It ain't working. Not my fuckin’ fault you can't see it."

You rolled your eyes, another shard of icy glass painfully wedging into your heart at his use of the name. Still refusing to look in his direction when you replied, softly but sharply, 

"You know exactly what he said. What I'm trying to figure out is why, exactly, you care."

"I care, Frida," was all he offered.

You snorted in response. Undignified, sure. But couldn't he see this was killing you? Where was his mercy?

"I do," he insisted, the thud of his boots across the wood of the porch indicating that he was crossing to you, coming to stand a ways behind you.

"I'm not going to do this with you. He said some shit. It's over. We move on. What more could you have to say about that?"  

Keep it simple, keep yourself safe. You gave him nothing to say back. And then… 

"And if I told you I wanted you? I wanted you back?"

You whipped your head around to -- finally -- meet Angel's eyes, which you did for a fleeting moment before zeroing in once more on your shoes, staring resolutely at the ground. You were not going to let him see you cry again, godfuckingdamnit.

The fleeting glimpse of his face, of his eyes meeting yours once more after all this time, was enough. He looked more tired up close than he had before. Still unfair in his striking beauty, his midnight eyes still enough to pull you in, drown you in their oceanic depths. You hated it. Hated that he still had that power over you. But try as you might, you couldn't hate him. 

Your silence was killing Angel with the precision of a thousand miniscule cuts. Each deeper than the last. Until he couldn’t take it any longer. He reached through the space between, for where your hand rested on the railing. You saw the gesture coming, and whipped your hand away at the last moment, cradling it to your chest like he had burned you. You faced him fully now.

You chuckled softly, wryly, and devoid of any humor before you muttered, "You don't want me, baby. Please don't lie."

“And how do you know that’s a lie?” Angel mumbled thickly, working his tongue around the words, through his own emotion. 

You scuffed your toe into the hewn wood of the deck, shrugging before you responded, simply, 

“If I was what you wanted, you wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere. And you certainly wouldn't have found someone else. You wouldn’t have said what you said, ended it like you did, with everything on just your terms.” You sighed deeply, with the rattle of tears lodged into your chest before you spoke again, “You made up your mind and never even let me say a word. If you wanted anything to do with me, you could have at least given me a word.” 

Angel blinked, hard. The familiar pressure of real tears building behind his eyes. You were right of course. And fuck, weren't you always? You'd always told him like it was, harsh truths that only you could cushion in your gentle, empathetic way. 

"Please, querida, just let me explain what happened--" 

You held up your hand, shaking your head firmly, effectively silencing Angel.

"No!" Much softer now, "No. I- I'm sorry, Angel, I don't mean to be rude. But, no." Your voice small, but clear, as you'd finally gotten your opportunity to say something back to him. "I, uh, I don't want to hear any explanation, and you really don't have to?"

You lilted the last part like it was a question, but continued on. 

"You, um, you've had a lot of time to tell me something, anything, about what the fuck happened. And you didn't. You left me with nothing. Just confusion and hurt, and I've made peace with that. It's taken a while, but … I just… I don't need that from you. I gave you space, always respected your decisions and opinions, and now you won't do the same. You're still trying to take from me. Offering me an explanation now?" You scoffed. "That isn't for me, and don't fuckin’ act like it is -- it's for you. And I understand that, that's fine. I'm not angry at you for that, but I'm also not going to humor it." 

You exhaled shakily, you couldn't believe you'd said all of that, that you had made it through.

Angel was speechless. It made your heart feel even sicker -- all of this silence from him for so long, and he'd offered to explain himself and you'd (gracefully) told him to fuck off. Why had you done that??

It was about time you'd stood up for yourself, that's why. 

An explanation would be nice, sure. But where Angel's words, whispered affirmations and heady declarations of love, had once made your soul swell and sing… now, you knew, anything he'd had to say to you would only serve to do the opposite. 

And your heart, perpetually bruised by nature of you being a hopeless romantic, just couldn't take it. 

You hopped off the porch, spinning around to face Angel, finding his eyes on you still. Hadn't you wished for him to look at you? To really see you once more? 

"I'm out," you tossed a thumb over your shoulder toward where you'd parked your car. "Sorry, I don't mean to abandon the old post, but uh, I'm sure you guys have someone to fill in. I'll text Aneesa to grab my stuff, don't worry about it." 

Like he would, you thought.

You were mostly rambling to yourself, and not really to Angel, as you backed away, fleeing to your car. 

Angel watched you go, the resonant ache in his chest that had been ever-present since tossing your stuff out, amplified when Luisa had left him, and now sure to be permanent, buried in cement beneath the weight of his every decision, and every word.

You looked good, he thought. Your hair was longer than when he'd seen you last. Your little skirt flouncing as you strode away. Your skin still glowed, full lips still twisted into that wry smile of yours that he had seen from across the room. All of that was true, but your eyes were also tired, and your smile never quite reached them. 

The thought that he was responsible for dimming that sparkle made him feel sicker than he already had. The way you had brushed off Andres, despite his obnoxious insistence, and the things the cocky  new patch had said to you -- may as well add those to the ever-growing pile of things stained and tainted by Angel's guilt.

And he was left alone with that guilt as you left the lot. He turned back to the party. His cool facade slipping back into place. Not ready to face the wrath of EZ and Coco, surely waiting inside to proverbially beat his ass.

What would you say if I come over? And we stand face to face now that we're older?

---

Angel shuffled into his apartment, the late hour catching up to his weary form as he ambled over to his bedside, flicking on the lamp. 

Rubbing a large hand down his face, he sat on his bed in a huff of exhaustion. Your first encounter in months since he'd all-but tossed you from this very room was pricking him with a kind of nauseating nervous  energy. But all he wanted to feel in that moment was you, whether he deserved it or not.

He'd still had it, didn't he? Where was it?

He pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fishing through its contents for what he hoped was still in there.

His fingers curled over his prize -- a slip of paper adorned with your handwriting. Scrawled lines of poetry on a neon pink Post-It note, curled with age and disuse, something you had left for him while he slept in one morning. 

“I was thinking of you,” you had said when he had asked you about it later, shrugging as if it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. 

Your love for him was clean in its simplicity and forwardness, whenever he could wade his way through the mire of your shy demeanor. You had stuck the Post-It to his nightstand while he was sleeping and you made your way to work. Your words were cramped and crunched into the small paper square, but ready to greet him with the shining light of a sunny new day. 

“I see your ardor through a pearlescent lense, and all is pleasantly pink and blurry with you-- Resplendent in your love's solar hope. You are so warm beneath the brush of my fingertips, and I burn. So in love with you, as I am and as I do."

Now, his eyes scanned the words for the millionth time since you had written them. He had committed it to memory by now, wishing he could hold you instead of this crumpled piece of paper, mocking him with its annoyingly bright pink hue.

But how could he? Angel was the kind of man who simmered in his emotion -- burning slowly, lowly, only to reach a pitch. He kept to himself until he couldn’t any longer -- and then it was all bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve. 

He had done what he had thought was right. Cutting you out with all of the brutality and finesse of a battleaxe, to focus on Luisa and his unborn son. He thought she was what he wanted. But now, he didn’t even have them. He had nothing to show for his decisions but the lonely, sick feeling ever-present in his chest. 

The you at the beginning of your relationship would have kissed each bruise in his soul, one by one, until they were better. Would have gifted him with the warmth of your time and attention until he was made whole again with the molten heat of your gracious heart. But the you now? 

Angel could never, would never, cover the tattoo on his arm, though he had thought about it. Blacking it out once and for all, so the piece of you he wore on his sleeve would finally match the  pitch, and emptiness inside. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was, as he’d said all that time ago, your gift to him. And he’d made you a promise that he wouldn’t. 

All he wanted was to look you in the eyes so he could remember that he loved you once.

And not that he had any reason to know it, but across town, you had made it home. Your phone shoved to the bottom of your bag, lighting up with texts from Aneesa, EZ, and Coco. But the only person on your mind was Angel. 

How much of what he had said was true? You weren't sure. But you were sure that you knew where you stood, still painfully alone and in love as ever, the cracks in your heart only fillable by the very person you had brushed off earlier.

And, while Angel readied himself for bed, snapping the lights off and attempting to cut through the oppressive darkness by staring at the ceiling with his own penetrative gaze, the empty side of the bed had never felt more cavernous, but more weighted. Mocking. 

If Angel was being honest with himself -- something he was never too keen on being in his more sobering moments -- he didn't love you once. He still loved you.

Thinking after all this time, I just wanna meet your eyes so I can remember why... Why I loved you once.

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