#god the stupidity in this room 😌

[ugh-yoongi]

hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌

tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡

— we need to talk

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3

Seungcheol is incensed.

What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?

Who the fuck had invited you?

He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.

But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—

Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”

Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”

Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.

Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”

As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.

And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.

Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.

But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.

And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.

So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.

Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.

Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.

That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.

Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.

Right.

Of course.

That was to be expected.

So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.

But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.

He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.

And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”

Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.

“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”

The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.

Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.

And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.

You don’t want more.

You don’t want the label and the relationship.

You don’t want him.

He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.

Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.

“Give me whatever you’ve got.”

Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”

Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”

“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.

Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”

Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”

The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”

True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.

Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle

Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.

Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight

Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.

For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.

Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.

But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.

Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?

Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?

Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?

God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.

Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off

He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.

Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.

You (23:41) Something wrong?

Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.

Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?

But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.

Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.

And god does it kill him.

You (23:44) Don’t act stupid

A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.

You (23:44) Mingyu invited me

Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.

Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes

You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.

You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself

Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”

The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”

Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.

Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”

“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”

Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.

This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.

“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.

Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”

Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.

He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.

Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.

Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.

What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.

The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”

“Seungcheol—”

He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”

You gasp. “No.”

“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.

“I wasn’t—”

A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”

Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”

Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”

Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.

But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—

“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?

He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.

“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.

Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”

Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”

Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”

“What?”

You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”

Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”

“To—to to-touch me.”

You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”

“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”

You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”

“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”

“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”

All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—

Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.

You’ve ruined him.

Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?

He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—

Loves.

Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.

Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?

“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—

“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“What are you talking about?”

He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—

He can’t bring himself to say it.

But he can—“Can I show you instead?”

Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.

Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.

He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.

Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.

He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”

You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”

He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”

Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.

Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.

“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“No shit—”

He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.

He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—

“Do it right, Cheol, please—”

And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”

The rest is muscle memory.

The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.

Tastes a lot like I love you.

“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”

The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.

“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”

You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”

I love you.

You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.

He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.

You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.

“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.

Maybe it was never like this before.

Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.

So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.

This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”

This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.

This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.

“Say it again.”

Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.

The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.

He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay?”

You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.

Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.

“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”

A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.

“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”

He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”

He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”

No, it was never like this.

[itneverendshere]

addicted to your rafe!! you mentioned in the bartender!reader au that rafe shared his life story after their first time together and was just wondering if youd ever write about it? would love to read about rafe spilling all (in more ways than one hehe) and reader's reaction but only if its something youre interested in writing!!

i was planning on making the smut really cute BUT...it got a little out of hand bc they're both horny so....enjoy!!! but there's fluff i promise. and he spills everything (eheheh)🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️😌🫢 thank you for the request 🩵🫂

i'll do anything you say, if you say it with your hands - r.c (+18)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: SMUT!!!!; a little angst by the end and lots of fluff.

It's past midnight, and you’re sprawled out on your bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. You’re still in your ratty tank top and sleep shorts, some throwaway show mumbling in the background.

The night’s quiet, a little too quiet, so when you hear a low thump at the window, you nearly jump out of your skin.

But you know that sound. That’s Rafe.

You glance over just as his messy dark blond head pops up outside the window, blue eyes gleaming mischievously. Your heart does this stupid thing, and you’re grinning before you even realize it. You slide the window up quickly, shushing him though you know he’s careful.

"Hi,” You whisper, leaning into him the second he’s in, his broad shoulders blotting out the rest of the room.

“Miss me?” he murmurs back, lips quirking as he brushes a hand through your hair.

“Maybe a little,” You tease, tugging him closer by the front of his shirt. Rafe’s standing there in just a pair of worn jeans and a black T-shirt that clings to every hard line of muscle.

God, it should be illegal for him to look this good.

His hair is still damp at the tips, like he just came from a shower. He leans down and kisses you, his fingers moving to the bare skin at your waist. You’ve been doing this dance for two months now. All hot make-outs that never really go anywhere. Mostly because you’re the one always getting called away for shifts, for family, for whatever comes up.

But right now, right here? There’s no work, no responsibilities. It’s just you and him. And the way he’s looking at you right now, all hooded eyes and smirking lips, it’s driving you crazy.

“Why’d you sneak in, hmm?” You murmur against his lips, playing with the hem of his shirt. He pulls back, just enough to look down at you, a lazy smile on his face.

“Wanted to see you,” he breathes, eyes tracing over me like you’re something to devour. “Couldn’t wait.”

You practically pounce on him, shoving him back until he’s pinned against the wall by the window, his eyes widening for a split second before his hands are holding your hips, steadying you as you sit on his lap. You love it when he manspreads.

It’s so unlike you it’s almost funny, but at this point you’re desperate to feel him. You press yourself up against him, grinding slowly, and you feel the exact moment he realizes just how serious you are right now.

“Fuck, baby—” he groans as his grip tightens, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. But you don’t want him to hold back.

“I’m done waiting,” You breathe, pushing his shirt up and over his head in one quick motion. “Rafe—I’m losing my mind here.” His shirt hits the floor, and you lel yourself really look at him.

All muscle, golden tan skin, the little dip between his abs you’ve fantasized about running your tongue along. You’ve seen him shirtless a million times, but right now?

He’s a goddamn masterpiece.

“I’m so horny it hurts, okay?” You admit in a whisper, almost like you can’t help it. His lips twitch as he leans in, his breath hot against your neck.

You feel your cheeks heat up. It’s not like you’re shy around him anymore, not really, but this feels different. You’re usually more reserved, the one who lets him make the moves, but tonight...you can’t help yourself.

“Sorry baby,” he murmurs as he rolls his hips up, and fuck, you can feel how hard he is already, straining against his jeans, “Want me to fix it for you?”

You know what he’s asking. You’ve had this conversation before—kind of.

The two of you have been skirting around it for weeks now, with heavy petting and breathless goodnights. You want more. You hook your fingers into his belt loops, tugging at him, and he hisses, biting back a curse. 

“Bed” he grunts, half-laughing, half-panting as he lifts you like you weigh nothing, carrying you across the room.

You’re already tearing at his belt by the time you hit the bed, and he lets out this breathless, desperate sound, half-plea, half-growl that shoots straight through you.

“Need you,” You gasp, yanking the belt free, popping the button on his jeans. He’s still standing, hovering over you as you sit on the bed, and you look up at him, chest heaving, hair messy, eyes wild.

“Yeah?” he breathes, and there’s this edge to his voice. You smirk, tugging his zipper down slowly, deliberately, keeping your eyes on his as you push his jeans down his hips.

“Yeah,” You know you have him. He’s yours, and he’s done waiting, too.

Once his jeans hit the floor, he’s on you, all heat and muscle. Rafe’s hands grip your wrists, pinning them above your head as he looks down at you, breathing hard. 

“I was trying to make it special,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost gravelly. “Our first time.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, he’s so stupidly and unexpectedly endearing sometimes it makes you fall even more.

“This not special enough for you?” You tease, arching your back and lifting your hips, feeling the slickness pooling between your thighs. “I don’t do it for you?”

“Oh, you do it for me, baby. Believe me.” His voice drops an octave, “’M trying to be a gentleman.”

“I don’t want a gentleman,” You quip, your tone playful, “I just want you.”

He wants to give in, but you know he also wants to take his time. “You sure about this?”

“Rafe. My shorts are stuck to my skin.”

He breathes in sharply, head dropping to your shoulder, as he murmurs, “You’re not wearing any panties?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. What’s it to you?” You tease, biting your lip, but you know you’re being a little reckless, teasing him like this.

He’s gonna get you good.

Rafe lifts his head, that infuriatingly handsome smirk still plastered on his face. “So you are, huh?” His voice is low, almost predatory. “You trying to drive me crazy?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool even though it physically hurts not to touch him the way you want to right now. “What if I am?”

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. You arch against him, your breath hitching when he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear and sucks gently.

Your top hits the floor a second later. He’s kissing you again, his hands cupping you through your bra.

“Please,” you breathe, not even sure what you are asking for.

More, closer, something to stop the aching between your thighs. He seems to understand, though. He always does. 

He unclasps your bra and tosses it aside, taking you in inch by inch, “My pretty girl,” You feel a blush creep up your cheeks, but before you can think about it, he dips his head and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, he hums against your skin, the vibration making you delirious. His hand slids down to your shorts, pulling them with an easiness that makes your head spin.

Then they are gone, too, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Rafe pulls back slightly, his eyes raking over your body with a look that makes you squirm.

“Beautiful,” he mutters, almost to himself. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Rafe,” you whisper, reaching for him. When he finally slips his fingers into your panties, you are already trembling. “Please,” you whimper, rocking your hips against his hand.

“Shh,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He’s touching you, his fingers finding your slick heat and stroking gently. You’re so wet his flingers glid right on. You gasp, hips bucking up instinctively as his fingers move across your folds, teasingly slow and close to your clit.

Rafe smirks, clearly enjoying how wrecked you already are.“Easy, baby,” his lips brush against your jawline. “We got all night.”

You’re past patience.

You grab his wrist, guiding his hand exactly where you want it. “Rafe,” you groan, your voice breaking a little, “I need more. Don’t piss me off.”

He chuckles, “So needy tonight,” he teases, but his voice is tight, like he’s losing it too. His fingers dip lower, stroking where you need him most, and you nearly lose it right there.

He lingers there for a moment, just barely grazing your slick folds, before pressing a finger against your entrance, warm and insistent. Slowly, he slides it in, and the sensation makes you moan—a slow, deliberate stretch as his finger sinks deep inside you. He curls it just the way you need him to, stroking your inner walls. It’s intimate, almost unbearable in how good it feels, the way he’s taking his time, drawing it out like he’s savoring every second. You tighten around him, wet and hot, and he groans softly as he adds another finger, filling you more, the stretch making your legs tremble.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your head falling back as he starts to pump his fingers in and out. The way his fingers stretch you, the wet sounds of him working you open, is filthy and intoxicating.

“Like that, baby?” His voice is thick with lust, his free hand gripping your thigh, keeping you spread wide for him. He’s so strong it makes you want to suck him whole.

You nod frantically, too far gone for words, only able to moan as he quickens the pace, thrusting his fingers in harder. Your walls flutter around him, tightening with every stroke, and you know you’re getting close—embarrassingly quick, but it’s been a while. 

His thumb circles your clit, and the sensation makes you cry out, your body arching off the bed.

“Oh God—please,” you gasp, your fingers clutching at his arm, desperate for more. He smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you’re panting beneath him. He’s got you in the palm of his hand, and he knows it.

His lips brush against your neck, teasingly slow, while his fingers move with purpose, hitting all the right spots. Your breath is coming in short, ragged bursts as your body answers to his. You can feel the heat coiling tight in your belly, and you’re practically shaking with anticipation.

He presses his forehead against yours, his breath uneven, eyes locked on you as if he’s watching every bit of pleasure cross your face.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmurs, his voice just as wrecked, “Let me feel you.”

You’re so close it’s dizzying, you can barely catch your breath. 

He leans in, lips caressing your ear, “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “I can feel you’re almost there. You’re so tight around my fingers—fuck, you’re close, aren’t you?” You can only nod, your breath hitching as his thumb circles your clit with just the right pressure, your hips grinding up into his hand instinctively. every word out of his mouth pushes you closer. “Look at you,” he coaxes, his voice like velvet, “So perfect.”

His fingers twist inside you, hitting that sweet spot, and your whole body tenses. The pleasure builds into a burning coil deep in your tummy, tightening with every movement.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, and all you can do is feel—feel him, feel the way he’s working you. The way he’s talking you through it. 

“Just like that,” he whispers, “You’re doing so good, baby. Let me feel it.”

His thumb presses harder against you, and your whole body jerks up. You cry out, a broken sound, your hips bucking uncontrollably as your orgasm hits you perfectly. Rafe’s fingers never stop, drawing it out, his other hand still gripping your thighs open “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful when you come.” Your body trembles beneath him, the pleasure still vibrating through you, and he’s right there, “Ride it out, baby,” he breathes, his lips kissing your temple, his voice full of pride. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so good. So fucking good.”

You can’t do anything but cling to him as you shudder. He finally slows his fingers, easing you down gently, and when he pulls them out, you feel the emptiness like a loss. You’re still catching your breath, body buzzing from the orgasm he just wrung out of you, but you notice the shit-eating grin on his face as he glances down at his hand, fingers still slick from you, and then slowly brings them to his mouth.

He holds your gaze, never breaking eye contact as he slips his fingers between his lips, tasting you. It’s slow and the way his eyes darken while his tongue sweeps over his fingers makes you whine. 

"God, baby," he murmurs around his fingers, as he pulls them from his mouth with a soft pop, licking his lips. “You taste so fucking good.”

You’re breathless, watching him like you’re in a trance, your heart pounding in your chest. The sight of him tasting you like that, makes your legs open again. He grins, noticing how wrecked you look. “Didn’t think I could want you more,”

You’re still so turned on that you can’t help the way your thighs squeeze together instinctively. His eyes flicker down, catching the movement, and his grin only widens as he crawls back up your body, settling between your legs, “Don’t tease.”

"Don’t worry, baby," his lips skim against yours, “Not teasing anymore.”

You don’t know where you get the strength to do it. But you do it anyways. 

As soon as Rafe settles back, you push him onto his back, taking advantage of his surprised expression, and climb on top, straddling his waist, your hands braced against his chest. You can feel the hard planes of his abs beneath your fingers, and the heat of him pressed against your pussy makes your mouth water. You can feel it building inside you, the need to take him, to ride him until there’s nothing left.

His hands settle on your ass, firm, but not controlling, giving you full reign to take what you want. His eyes are on yours, half-lidded and a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Go on, baby,” he drawls, his voice like honey, “Show me what you can do.”

You don’t even remember pulling his boxers down.

You don’t need to be told twice.

You let yourself brush against the hard length of him, and the sensation alone makes you bite your lip to hold back a moan. His cock is thick, long and hot beneath you, and you grind against him slowly, dragging your wetness along his length, teasing the both of you. You’re rocking back and forth against his tip, dragging him in between your soaked folds and pulling huffs and puffs from his throat as he only grows more impatient by the second.

“Fuck,” Rafe groans, his hips jerking up involuntarily, your clit rubbing against his pubic hair with every movement, the friction doing it for you. His abs tense beneath you, flexing with each of your movements, and the sight of it—of him completely at your mercy—only makes you wetter. 

You lean forward, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the way his muscles move under your touch.

“You like that?” you murmur, your voice breathy, teasing, as you grind harder against him. “Like watching me ride you?”

Rafe’s head falls back against the pillow, all the way back, his jaw clenched, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Jesus Christ,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips tighter, lifting his hips to try and shift his cock towards your entrance.

You lean in, your lips dragging against the side of his neck. He shivers under your touch, and the reaction makes you grin. You start off slow, pressing gentle kisses to his skin, your lips trailing from his jaw down to the spot where his pulse is beating just a little faster, teasing him with your breath.

“Right here?” you whisper, barely grazing his skin.

You can feel his body tense as you speak, a low sound escaping his throat. You roll your hips again, this time letting the tip of his cock catch at your entrance. You’re so wet that he slides in just an inch, and the stretch is enough to make you gasp, your nails digging into his chest. His eyes fly open, and you can see the tension in his body, every muscle tight as he holds himself back from pouding into you, waiting for you to take him fully.

You press your mouth to his neck and start sucking, enjoying the taste of him under your lips.

His grip on is borderline bruising and you love it when another low moan slips out as you work your mouth against him. You make sure to take your time, alternating between sucking and nipping lightly with your teeth, just enough to make him shudder beneath you.

“Shit,” he breathes, his voice strained as you keep going, making sure to leave your mark. With a deep breath, you sink dow, slowly feeling every inch of him stretch you, filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming—he’s big, almost too big, and it feels so fucking good you almost drool. By the time you’re fully seated on his lap, his cock buried deep inside you, your thighs are shaking, and you can feel the heat pooling in your belly all over again.

You suck harder, enjoying the multitasking, applying enough pressure enough to leave a dark bruise that he won’t be able to hide. His fingers dig into your waist, but he doesn’t pull you away—instead, he’s holding you there, like he wants to feel every second of it.

“Now everyone’s gonna know you’re mine," You manage to breath out, moaning as you grip his chest for support, spit slicked lips parting as you gasp some more, "You feel so good."

His eyes are hooded as he looks down at you, lips parted, breathing uneven. “Yeah?” he rasps, his gaze flicking to your lips before he grins, a little breathless. “Didn’t think you had it in you, baby.”

His hands slide up your waist, his fingers splayed across your ribs, guiding you as you start to move. You start to ride him, slow at first, grinding your hips in slow, deliberate circles. The friction, combined with the way his cock fills you, hits every nerve just right. Maybe if it was someone else you’d be embarrassed to be panting like a bitch in heat, but it’s Rafe and you never felt so comfortable during sex before.

Every time you lift your hips and drop back down, you take him deeper, as you work yourself on top of him. His hands slide up to your tits, squeezing gently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.

You pick up the pace, bouncing on him harder now, grinding down with each thrust, chasing that high. Rafe’s eyes are glued to you, watching every move you make, his lips parted, his chest heaving with each stolen breath.

“Fuck,” you pant, barely able to catch your breath as you ride him faster, “I want you so deep, so bad.”

He lets out a rough, desperate groan, his hips bucking up to meet yours, his cock hitting even deeper inside you. “I’m right here, baby,” he grits out, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back, “Take what you need. I’m all yours.”

His hands are on you, gripping your ass with a desperation that makes you mewl out. His fingers dig in, rough and possessive, and the way he’s groping you, like he can’t get enough, makes you want to never stop. Each time you move, his hands flex, squeezing and pulling you down onto his cock, it has you practically whining with every bounce.

“You’re driving me crazy. Just look at you, taking me so good.”

His grip tightens as you roll your hips, pushing your ass back against his hands, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you. You’re completely lost in the rhythm now, grinding down on him like you’re in heat, the friction of his cock inside you and the way his pubic hairs rub against your swollen clit making you lightheaded.

And then, out of nowhere, his hand comes down hard.

The sting of his palm smacking your cheek sends a shock through your body, and you gasp—half surprise, half pleasure. It’s rough, but fuck, it feels divine. Your head snaps forward, and you moan, the sound coming out needy. 

“You like that, huh?” Rafe growls, a smile playing on his lips as he watches you react. His voice is thick with satisfaction, knowing exactly what he just did to you. “Being spanked?”

You bite your lip and nod, too far gone to be shy. "Yes," you pant, your voice shaky with need. "Do it again."

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hand comes down again, harder this time, it makes your skin burn and clench around him. The pleasure spikes, white-hot, and you moan louder, your body arching into his.

"Fuck, you're so sexy like this," He groans, watching you with hooded eyes, clearly loving how much you’re enjoying it.

You practically whimper, the combination of pain and pleasure sending you spiraling. You’re riding him like you’re losing your mind, your thighs burning. The way his hand soothes your skin, kneading the tender area where he just spanked you, makes you want to do this every single day for the rest of your life.

You lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest as he bucks his hips, meeting your movements with his own, driving deeper inside you. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“You feel so good,” you hiss as you rock your hips faster. His tip hits that perfect spot deep inside you, again and again.

His eyes flick between your face and where you’re connected, and you can tell he’s close too. His grip tightens on you, nails digging into your skin like he’s afraid to let go.

“You’re killing me, baby,” he rasps, voice hoarse, “Fuck, you’re so good. You’re gonna make me come.”

Feeling you wrapped around him like that—so fucking tight, so warm—he can’t fucking stand it. Every time you slide back down, taking him all the way like you're made for it, he feels his mind slipping. It's like he's losing control, just hanging on for dear life, and every little throb around him pulls him closer to his orgasm, it makes him feel dangerously close to delirium. 

He uses one of his hands to grip and knead at the fat of your hip. You let out a high-pitched squeal and clench around him. "Baby," you cry out, pretty tears collecting on your lash line. 

He pinches your chin lightly, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your skin, “You have to be quiet, pretty,” you glance up at your boyfriend, “The walls are thin, and you can’t—”

You interrupt him by leaning down and kissing him sloppily. You swirl your tongue around his, feeling the way his cock throbs inside you as he grinds up into you, hitting that spot every single time.

The sloppy kiss you planted on him shuts him up, but only for a second. His lips slide against yours, his tongue swirling in that messy, desperate way that makes your head spin. He groans into your mouth, rough and low, like he’s losing the control he’s trying to hold onto. His hand slides from your chin to the back of your neck, holding you in place as you ride him faster, bouncing harder on his cock.

“Look at you,” he grits, pulling back just enough to watch the way your face twists in pleasure. The way you clench down on him makes him groan, his grip on your neck tightening just a bit as his other hand lands another sharp slap on your ass.“You like when I fuck you like this, huh?”

You whine against his lips, your body trembling as he thrusts up harder, meeting each of your desperate bounces. You can feel the pressure building inside you, ready to snap. 

His hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight, quick circles that make you drop your head forward, laying on your body on top of his. You can’t stop the way you grind down harder on him, chasing that final push.

“Fuck, baby,” you gasp, barely able to push the words out. “I’m gonna—”

And then you’re gone, falling into that mind-numbing pleasure as you come hard around him, your whole body shaking, thighs tightening around his as your orgasm crashes over you. You’re clenching around his cock, the feeling making him curse under his breath, his hips bucking up into you as he chases his release.

He rams up into you, full force, his breath coming out in harsh, irregular pants. “I’m right there,” he groans, “Gonna fill you up, you want that?”

You can barely nod, still lost in the aftershocks of your orgasm, but that’s all he needs. With one final, deep thrust, he comes hard inside you, groaning your name as he spills into you. His hands grip you tight, holding you down on his length as he empties himself into you, his whole-body twitching with the intensity of his release

His hands roam lazily over your back, the touch slow, like he doesn’t want it to end. He’s still inside you, softening, but neither of you make a move to separate.

His lips press a few lazy kisses against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he murmurs. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You smile weakly, too blissed out to respond, and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. After a few minutes, you reluctantly lift yourself off him, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the loss of connection. Rafe lets out a content sigh, his hands still trailing down your sides as you move.

You flop down next to him, breath still shallow, your head resting on his chest. He immediately pulls you close, his arm wrapping around you, holding you tight.His hand stops moving, resting on your back, and you feel his chest rise as he takes a deep breath.

"My mom left when I was seven," he says, voice oddly quiet, almost hesitant, like he’s not sure where to start. It almost feels like he’s talking to himself more than to you. He’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, one arm slung across his stomach, the other still lightly resting on your waist.

You lift your head, looking up at him, but you stay quiet, giving him space to talk. 

“She just… up and left. Told me she was going to visit some family and never came back.” He lets out a short, bitter laugh, his chest rising and falling against you. “I used to sit at the window for weeks, thinking maybe I’d see her pull up one day. But she didn’t. She never did. And I thought, you know, for a long time, maybe it was me. Like, maybe if I’d been better, she would’ve stayed. I don’t know—kids think dumb shit like that, right?”

You feel your heart tighten at the pain in his voice, and you reach up, brushing your fingertips against his chest. He doesn’t look at you, but you can feel him lean into the touch just a little.

“And Ward… fuck, Ward didn’t know what to do with us. He just buried himself in work, left me to deal with Sarah and Weezie. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I was just a kid myself. I never accepted that responsibility, just kept running away from it.”

You can tell this is hard for him. His hand tightens slightly around your waist, like he needs to feel you’re still there.

“When I was sixteen... I started doing coke. Barry—yeah, that Barry—he used to sell it to me. Just to take the edge off, you know? Numb it all out. Ward’s expectations, Mom being gone, having to pretend like I had my shit together when I didn’t. I didn’t care about anything but getting high.”

He pauses, swallowing hard, his jaw tightening. You can tell this part of his story is the hardest to tell.

“I fucked up a lot. Scared the shit out of my sisters. I’d disappear for days sometimes, come home all strung out, and Sarah—God, Sarah would just look at me like... like she didn’t even know me anymore. Weezie was too young to get it, but Sarah? She knew.” He lets out a shaky breath, “I saw what it was doin’ to them. Saw how Sarah would flinch every time I walked through the door like she was waiting for the next disaster. It got bad—real bad.”

His voice drops even lower, almost like he’s ashamed.

“I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. The one scaring my little sisters, acting like a piece of shit. So I went to rehab. Didn’t tell anyone where I was going, just… left. I needed to get clean, for them. For me, too, I guess.”

He pauses, looking at you now, his blue eyes filled with something vulnerable, something that almost breaks your heart.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get out of it, but I did. Been clean since. That doesn’t mean I’ve figured everything out, though. I’m still... fuck, I’m still a mess most days.”

He’s never opened up to you like this before—not like this.You reach out and run your fingers through his hair, the simple gesture calming him a little. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment. 

“You probably didn’t sign up for all this shit,” he says with a half-smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “Me, my addiction, all that.”

He opens his eyes, looking at you like he’s waiting for something—maybe for you to tell him you can’t handle it. But you don’t say that. Instead, you brush your thumb across his cheek, “I signed up for you, Rafe. All of you.”

“I don’t talk about this shit much. Guess I didn’t think anyone cared enough to hear it.”

You move, propping yourself up on your elbow so you can look him the eyes properly,. “I care,” you say, your voice full of conviction. “I care about all of it. I’m here for you.”

He can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

His hand moves to hold your cheek, pulling you down to meet his lips in a slow, tender kiss. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

“You have no idea what you mean to me.”

He kisses you again, this time deeper, his hand sliding up the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair.

His lips trail from your mouth, pressing lazy kisses down your jaw, over your neck. He shifts, pulling you closer, your body molding perfectly to his. “I don’t deserve you,” he mutters, his lips hovering over your collarbone.

You shake your head, resting a hand on his chest. “You do. You deserve someone who’s gonna be there for you.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

You know this is a side of Rafe not many people see—probably no one else does. 

“Good thing you won’t have to find out.”

“You make it sound so easy,” he murmurs, his lips twitching into a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says suddenly, the words spilling out of him in this quiet, almost reverent way.

You can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you as you lean down, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Stop, you’re gonna make me cry.”

He chuckles softly, pulling you closer again, his arms wrapping securely around you. His cheek rests against the top of your head. You’re not going anywhere. And neither is he.

Rafe lets out a disbelieving laugh, running a hand over his face. “I can’t believe your pussy made me trauma dump after sex.”

The crudeness of it makes you roll your eyes.

“Yeah?” You tease lightly, “That what you’re calling it?”

He swallows, feeling that familiar tightness in his throat, but it doesn’t feel as suffocating this time. You’re still here. “No. It’s...you. Just—being you.”

He doesn’t know how to say it any better, doesn’t know how to put into words what it means to finally be seen — not as the perfect son, not as a ticking time bomb — just as Rafe.

But you peck him, simple and sweet.

“I guess I’ll just keep being me.”

The next morning you’re standing in the kitchen, lazily pouring milk over your cereal, still a little giddy from the night before. Rafe left earlier, before anyone was up, whining about how he wished he could stay longer.

As you take a spoon, your sister walks in with Milo perched on her hip, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Monica stops in her tracks, a sly smile creeping across her face.

“Nice hickey you got there,” she says, raising an eyebrow and gesturing toward your neck.

You choke on your cereal like an idiot.

“Uh, it’s just a... a bug bite! A really aggressive bug bite,” you stammer, trying to sound convincing as you awkwardly touch your neck.

Right, you’d forgotten about that after round three this morning.

She laughs, clearly not buying it. “Right. And when am I meeting him? Are you gonna make him sneak through the window again?”

You can’t help but giggle at the mental image. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Monica rolls her eyes, clearly enjoying this way too much. “What’s next? Is he going to slide down a fire escape to avoid us?”

You smirk back, shaking your head. “Only if you promise not to scare him off with your ‘get-to-know-my-sister’ interrogation.”

Milo, oblivious to the banter, tugs at your sister’s hair. “Mommy, can I have a snack?”

“Just finish getting ready for pre-school, buddy!” She turns back to you, still wearing that teasing grin. “Seriously though, when do I get to meet this guy? I need to know if he’s worthy of you.”

You shrug playfully, trying to keep your expression neutral. “We’ll see. Maybe next time he sneaks through the window, you can just happen to be in the living room.”

She gasps in mock horror. “Oh no, imagine the chaos! I might just scare him away on purpose.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re terrible.”

“Terribly excited! You better let me know when he’s back. I want to be ready to intimidate him.”

“Noted!” You wave her off, still grinning, secretly glad that your sister is supportive—even if she loves to poke fun at you.

For some reason, it doesn’t scare one bit thinking about Rafe meeting Monica and Milo.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

"my girlfriend's a nerd" ft. the monster trio!

self explanatory self-indulgent drabbles to soothe my book!loving ass

ft. luffy, zoro and sanji x fem! reader set-up: you like books, he likes you that's it warnings: none lmao this is very sfw. one might call it wholesome even. m.list

luffy:

thats my baby ^^

— im not even sure if this mf can read 😭😭

— honestly 9/10 chance he can't but when has that ever stopped him from being our most supportive himbo king

— go king give us everything!!

— he doesn't get why you read books when instead you can be like sleeping or eating or looking at the sea but well, he doesn't question it

— he just thinks it's a weird hobby you have (i don't think he's aware of how freakishly illiterate he is)

— but just cause he thinks it's weird that doesn't mean he wouldn't hug you half-asleep when he hears you sobbing into the dead of the night or he wouldn't listen with keen interest when you explain the plot of your favourite book as he wraps his arms around you and hums into your hair

— will 100% offer to fight the author/ tear up the book everytime he sees you having a breakdown over a particular scene/character

"who should I kill?!" the deadpan seriousness in his voice is what terrifies you

"nobody! I'm okay–"

— after you explain to him that hurting somebody is not necessary and you're fine, he will try to coddle you with extended hugs and food (lots and lots and lots of food).

"yn you should eat something! should I get you something to eat??" you can hear the panic in this poor boys voice 😭😭

"no luffy, its okay. im fine!" you say through sniffs and snorts, eyes bloodshot from crying over ink on paper

"brb" and he gets you dinner enough for 5 people because that's how he knows to comfort you (willingly took sanjis kicks and namis punches to accomplish this mission)

— since he's a clingy little child, he will hold onto you some way or the other when you're reading

— you're reading in your room while he's fast asleep? his arm is draped across your waist lazily. you're on the other side of the deck, sunbathing and reading? his hand is stretched out from where he's sitting and on your thigh (ussop tripped thrice over his hand, rip god ussop 🙏) . you're reading during breakfast cause the book just got so good? his toe is rubbing your calf up and down periodically (he won't stop no matter how many weird looks you give him)

— conclusion: he doesn't at all get it what it is, but if it makes you happy he will spend all the berries in the world to buy you those books (plz know if you actually ask him to jokingly off an author for killing your favourite character, he will do it. please don't ask him that.)

— he's just so supportive and nice 😭😭

"my girlfriends a nerd, I love her" (ussop explained to him what a nerd was and now he's introducing you like this to everybody)

zoro:

the shades tho 😎

— I'm convinced this mf can't read either

— even he can there's like literally no evidence to prove it and the entire crew has come to the conclusion that he gets lost even with clear directions because he just can't read please 😌👌

— at the start, he actually thinks it's dead stupid to invest so much time reading books when you can do other stuff like getting stronger, sleeping, literally doing anything else (luffy backs up his opinion with full enthusiasm)

— i mean like he's seen you sob at 7 in the morning over breakfast cause your fav character died and now he's confused as to why are you spending money and buying books if they make you cry so hard (he doesn't understand the concept of angst im afraid)

— but over time he just accepts it as something you enjoy and well, if it makes you happy then who is he to question it?

— acts like he doesn't care/isn't listening when you're rambling about the plot and how thE MAIN CHARACTER IS IN LOVE WITH HIS ENEMY AND VICE VERSA SKEJFHSJKSN but is actually fully listening

— he's actually invested at one point

"but they are enemies? why does he wanna be with him?"

"you don't get it! thats the appeal!!"

"the appeal is forcing a knife on somebody's throat?" he's laughing, "as if you'd enjoy it if i threatened you with my swords"

"... i would actually enjoy that"

he is now asking nami for loan to send you to a therapist (nami has seen you nosebleed over fictional characters and is considering giving money away to zoro for free. you really do need help.)

— as I said, he's invested now (although he does question your taste every now and then) but he'd force you to either summarize the plot to him as he trains or read out loud so he can hear the story as it goes.

— so naturally you're now sitting on his back, reading out loud as he does push-ups

— this beloved himbo has now formed strong opinions about characters and will battle you with headcanons because "there's no fucking way the hero would ever go back to the villain after that! that's ridiculous! if he does I'll sell my swords off."

— will remember the stuff you told him, no matter how trivial, so if you get off an island and he spots a keychain from your fav book series he's spending whatever money he has left to buy you it

"oh excellent choice! who are you buying it for?" the shopkeeper lady questions aloud

"oh, my girlfriend." he's smiling, "my girlfriends a nerd."

— actually looks forward to you telling him all the plot details and jokes at this point (one might call him a part of the fandom now)

— when you're a crying, sobbing mess because a character died, he's genuinely comforting you (no matter how bad he is at it)

"yn it's okay, you want some sake?" he is hugging you, patting your head like you're a child

"no 😭😭" you sob harder into his chest

"well... that's the best i can offer"

he tried. it's not his fault you don't wanna drink your feelings away.

— conclusion: he started off thinking its stupid and now he's an honorary nerd. would never admit it though. stubborn asshole.

sanji:

he's actually so pretty tho ^^

— he actually liked reading books before you even joined the crew although his tbr consists of cookbooks and auto-biographies about the people he has some interest in

— he started reading so that he could impress zeff with his knowledge on cooking and other miscellaneous stuff (imagine kid!sanji reading a book till late night under a lamp cause he wants to impress his old man that's so cute 😭😭)

— respects your hobbies when he finds out you like reading

— and then he sees your book collection. whY ARE THERE LIKE 5000 BOOKS HERE?! NOW HES SCARED FOR YOUR SANITY CAUSE GIRL WTF

— he hears you recommend a book to robin/nami once and now he's running to the nearest bookstore on the next island you guys land on to buy it

— he obviously did it to impress you and win you over but goddamn that book was actually pretty nice. so, the next time he asks you for recommendations he's actually a bit sincere

— now you're both in a book club of your own (which makes luffy mad cause why are you leaving him out of conversations :/)

— like zoro, he often asks for updates on the book you're currently reading while he cooks everyone food. he loves hearing you talk about the things you like.

— when he sees you crying over books, he is making you sweet stuff to soothe you, holding you and rubbing your back supportingly, peppering kisses to make you feel better

— he's so fine 😫😫

— anyways, also def the kind of person to ask you to roleplay things in real life

"yn-saaaan" his voice is bubbly, "can i ask you something?"

"mhm?"

"the last book you read–" his face is going a little bit red, "you think we can maybe... do that irl?"

now it's your turn to go red

— but no fr, he's so so supportive of your little hobby like yes baby! read those books and have fun imagining people in your head

— 100% matches your vibe when you crush on fictional characters cause "you're right. he is actually very attractive" (a bi king we love)

— once zoro made fun of you for reading and this was his response: "you can't even read, mosshead. the next time you speak shit I'll kick your ass."

"who said I CANT READ? AND AS IF ILL LET YOU KICK MY ASS!"

"I TOTALLY WILL KICK YOUR ASS"

now they are fighting while ussop, luffy and chopper laugh in the background

— but yes he loves staying up late, reading with you before you both cuddle and fall asleep

— you once read about a specific sort of dish in a book and mentioned that it sounds delicious so now obviously he has to go make that dish. it doesn't matter if it's 1 am at night.

— when nami asks him what he's cooking, he just smiles and shrugs, "i dunno either, im just trying to make yn happy. she's such a nerd"

— conclusion: an enabler, an enthusiast. this man is ready to buy you books and then read them if it makes you happy. only the finest for his favourite lady <3

a/n: enjoy my wayward thoughts about these fine men! m.list

[latin5mamii]

Angel- Jude Bellingham

|WARNINGS: lightly smut |SUMMARY: How could you know that a stupid nickname could change everything? |AUTHOR'S NOTE: i know, i made you wait and i was cruel but now here's the other chapter 😌

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You stirred, the warmth of Jude's embrace anchoring you to a reality that felt almost dreamlike. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear was a comforting rhythm, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that had swept through you the night before.

As you opened your eyes, you found Jude already awake, his gaze soft and contemplative as he watched you. A lazy smile curved on his lips, and he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

"Morning, Angel," he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

"Morning," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The blush creeping up your neck reminded you of the previous night’s events.

“Why were you watching me?” You chuckled, unable to hide your curiosity.

“Why? I can't watch my Angel sleeping?” Jude's playful tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips.

"You'll make me self-conscious," you retorted, your voice still groggy from sleep.

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. "Self-conscious? I don't see how that's possible. You look adorable."

"Adorable?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that a little... childlike?"

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, if you prefer 'stunning' or 'breathtaking,' I can work with that too."

You laughed, swatting at his chest. "Oh, stop it. You're just trying to butter me up."

"And what if I am?" He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Is it working?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned your head to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. "Maybe," you admitted softly. "But you should know, I don't give in that easily."

"Oh, really?" He arched an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his gaze. "I'll just have to try harder then."

He moved to prop himself up on one elbow, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your arm. "So, what are your plans for today, Angel?"

"Not much," you replied, enjoying the warmth of his touch. "I thought maybe I'd lounge around, relax a bit... unless you have something more exciting in mind?"

"Actually," he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips, "I was thinking we could go for breakfast. There's this great little café I've been dying to take you to."

Your interest piqued, you nodded. "Breakfast sounds nice. But only if you promise not to embarrass me with your constant teasing."

"I can't make any promises," he said, his grin widening. "But I'll try to behave."

As you were dressing up for breakfast, he started talking about the match. “So, about my match, you’ll be there, right?” You soon remembered the offer from last night.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world,” you said, making him smile.

He looked at you from top to bottom, admiring you. You felt a warmth on your cheeks and laughed, asking, "What? Are you looking at me again?"

He lowered his head and laughed. “I was just admiring how good you look in everything.”

"I don't know if you're just a gentleman or you want something from me," you teased.

He stood up, coming towards you; you felt your heartbeat speed up. Every look from him made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Maybe I want something from you," he said.

"Oh? What?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He leaned closer to your lips and whispered, "Maybe this."

He closed the distance with a kiss that became hungrier with every passing second. Your hands sank into his hair and his hands began to explore. You broke away to catch your breath, and he whispered against your lips, "How long have I been waiting for this, God." His words made you jump, and in an instant, you were kissing again. Now you were sitting on his lap, your legs feeling weak, your whole body tingling with sensation.

A ring from Jude's phone interrupted you, but he didn't care. "Fuck it," he muttered, kissing you passionately again. But the ringtone was insistent.

"It's okay, answer it," you said breathlessly.

He leaned over to the nightstand to pick up the phone, and you saw Jobe's name on the screen. Jude answered and started talking.

"Jude, is everything okay?" Jobe's voice came through the line.

In a hoarse voice, Jude responded, "Oh yes, don't worry."

"You didn't forget about the family lunch today, right?" Jobe asked, a hint of worry in his tone.

A worried look appeared on Jude's face; he had totally forgotten. You couldn’t hear the conversation, but you laughed lightly at him, and he put his hand over your mouth so Jobe wouldn't hear you.

"No no, I'll be home soon," he assured his brother.

A displeased look appeared on your face, and you buried your head on his shoulder. You didn’t want him to go, but maybe you needed time to process what had happened. Were you really making out with your childhood best friend? The one you had had a crush on since you were a child?

The call continued, and you could now slightly hear Jobe's voice. "Jude, just one thing."

"Yes, tell me," Jude said.

"Don't hurt her," Jobe said.

"What are you talking about?" Jude asked, confused.

"Nothing, don't worry," Jobe replied.

The phone call ended, but you couldn’t help but think about Jobe's words. Why would he say that to Jude? Why would Jude ever hurt you? And most importantly, was there something you didn’t know? You slowly came out of your thoughts and looked at Jude with a sweet smile. He caressed your cheek, and as he was about to kiss you again, you asked, “Do you really have to go?”

“I’m sorry, Angel. But I’ll text you, alright?” he said softly.

You nodded as your dream seemed to vanish right in front of you. You wanted him to stay, and he wanted to stay too.

As he reached the door, he leaned over and kissed you quickly and delicately. You giggled slightly and closed the door. This had always been your dream, and everything seemed to be going well, but there was something, something wrong that you felt deep down. So,let me be honest with you, this dream might be more difficult than you had ever expected.

[olivianott]

WHITE DRESS

Posting this again, because I can’t stop thinking about the Goddess moment and that one photo from pinterest 😌

ꕤ Theo Nott x fem!reader

ꕤ enemies to lovers, a little bit of smut - not for minors

ꕤ originaly part of the jinxedjuly challenge, with second week prompt nightswim, but now it’s too late I’m sorry 😬

It’s 3 am and you can’t sleep. It’s too hot outside, no air to breathe in your room. Putting your thin long dress on, you go take a walk outside around the pool.

It’s still hot outside, but the light breeze coming from the sea feels great on your skin.

You sit on one of the pool lounges and close your eyes, listening to the sounds of the night. Finally, you can relax, your mind a little more at ease.

Suddenly something doesn’t feel right. You feel compelled to look behind you and there it is. A silhouette. There. In the dark entrance to the pool area.

It moves closer to you and comes into the light. Theodore. You roll your eyes. The bane of your existence. You can’t believe your friends invited him and no one told you.

“What the fuck do you want? Why are you following me?” You don’t have a good relationship. He is a fuckboy with a body worthy of Greek gods but is such an asshole to you, makes fun of everything you do or say, constantly.

“Oh Princessa, don’t you think you give yourself too much credit sometimes? It may come as a surprise to you, but the universe does not revolve around you, you know?”

“You fucking…” but you don’t even bother finishing the sentence, you just stand up and with an angry and disappointed sigh stomp to him and try to storm around him back into the house.

You make it a point not to look at him but you catch a strange look on his face in your peripheral vision anyway.

His arm shoots out and catches you off guard. It curls around your waist and pulls you into him. What is happening?

Theo speaks right into your ear: “I think you need to loosen up a bit princess, maybe a little night swim with me will help you.” You can just imagine the smirk on his face but you don’t have any time to respond, because the asshole picks you up and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You can admit to yourself that the view of his ass in the swim trunks is not half bad but you don’t, because he runs towards the pool.

FUCK.

The shock of the water against your skin and all around you makes you panic for a second too long but strong arms pull you up and hold you above the surface of the water. Your angry scowl goes unnoticed by him as he leaves you leaning against the wall of the pool once you gather yourself.

“I hate you so much. What is your problem, asshole?”

He completely ignores you and swims to the other side of the pool. When he turns around, you know he has his stupid smirk on his face, even though you don’t see his mouth, only his eyes above the surface.

Your friends said he is “such a nice person”, but why is he always such a prick to you? Some say it’s because he wants your attention, pulling on your pigtails and whatnot. Maybe you should get back at him and test that theory at the same time.

You’ve never been shy, but this took a lot of courage from you. Getting out of the pool you walk across the deck to where he leans against the wall, his eyes so big, you already feel accomplished.

The thin material of the dress clings to the curves of your body, it’s completely seethrough when wet. Coupled with you not wearing any underwear beneath the dress, the look on his face is priceless. He can’t look away. You enjoy the sight of him with his mouth open, eyes big, not blinking. His stare travels all around your body and he seems like he is in a trance. You stop right beside him, the height difference that being out of the pool gives you goes straight into your head and you smirk down at him.

“Thank you for that, I was too hot. You can close your mouth now, loverboy.”

The way he looks at you from beneath your feet makes you feel like a Goddess, him your most devoted worshipper. You can basically see the hearts in his eyes. The theory has proven to be right.

Satisfied, you turn to leave, but his hand shoots forward and gently touches your ankle, careful not to make you trip, but it makes you turn around again.

Theo stands up on the higher pool step and it makes his eyes level with your chest. He grabs your thighs and the way he looks at you makes you drunk on his gaze. Shit. This was not part of the plan.

He picks you up, hands around your waist, pulls you down into the water again, and pins you against a wall of the deep end of the pool. With his hands caging you in, you can’t look away from his eyes behind the wet curtain of curls. The strange look is back in his eyes and his gaze falls on your still wet lips. You can’t look away. You follow the water droplet, traveling from the end of the hair strand, down his nose, all the way to his pouty lips. When it disappears into his slightly open mouth, you forget how to breathe altogether. His mouth is so close to yours. Suddenly your lips touch, and something between you, the tension that, unbeknownst to you, has been stretching, tightening, and growing for a long time now, snaps. You forget everything around you, the only thing you feel is his lips on yours, his hands in your hair, the length of his body pushing against yours.

Fingers caressing your nipples, but it’s not enough.

Thigh between your legs, but your dress is too long.

Hand pulling the dress up, trying to bunch it up against your thighs, but it’s too tight.

Head falling against your shoulder, Theo sighs into your neck, frustrated.

“Fuck! You know what Princessa? Tomorrow. Same time, here in the pool. Wear something easier to take off, or I’ll tear it right off of you.” He whispers in your ear and your whole body erupts in goosebumps.

He doesn’t look at you while he gets out of the pool, and walks to the mansion, but the evidence of his arousal is on display.

Time to find an even longer and tighter dress, for him to rip to pieces tomorrow.

IT CONTINUES

As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it.

If you want more: 🖤here🖤

[sonotpattismith]

Inexperienced yuji and reader working their way up to taking each others v cards 🙏🙏🙏

hold me and explore me. (yuji itadori x reader)

word count: 7.1k warnings: college!au, smut, suggestive content, 18+ other request: okay so ive had this idea for so long- Yuji, Megumi, Yuta, Toge, maki, nobara and reader are all friends. truth or dare game that turns spicy (maybe a reader x yuji or reader x megumi au) and they confess their... spicy preferences and confess their feeling to eachother... ya idk if thats weird but thought id request it if youre open to it. other request: virgin yuji x virgin reader - dating for a long time and slowly trying things out together. a/n: I combined like 3 requests into one because they were similar, and I had a vision. Also, track and field Yuji simply had my heart I apologize 😌

You just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. It was that feeling-- you know-- the one you get when you walk into a highschool cafeteria, or the break room in a brand new job, and everyone seems to be privy to something you have no clue about? They seem to laugh at inside jokes, whisper knowingly about topics it seemed like you were just too stupid to catch onto. And, sure, you could just ask what they were talking about, but that would mean subjecting yourself to the mortifying fate of exposing yourself as a complete and utter loser. That’s what that night felt like. 

When you agreed to an innocent game of truth or dare with a few of your beloved friends, something deep within you sent off warning signals that these kinds of ‘innocent’ games usually end very badly for big, dumb virgins like yourself. You’re not sure what it was that set off the red flags to begin waving in your mind. Maybe it was the bottle (or three) of shochu they brought into the usual hangout. Maybe it was the fact that half of you were already half-way tipsy when the game was suggested. More than likely though, it was the fact that your way-too-hot and way-too-oblivious boyfriend was in company tonight as well.

So, as you sat back on your hands, with everyone’s eyes expectantly on you, even your crossed legs and chunky sweater couldn’t make you feel less exposed. Oh god, you thought you might throw up right there. Should you make up an answer? Which one would make you sound like you knew what you were talking about, without making it sound like you seriously knew what you were talking about? If your prolonged silence wasn’t awkward enough, your burning cheeks surely were doing you in, but, shit-- how else were you supposed to react to that question?

What kind of weird shit are you into in bed?

Maybe you should’ve just said dare and not been such a pussy. Sure, you probably wouldn’t have been subjected to chugging an obscene amount of alcohol despite your already tipsy state, but it's not like your friends would have subjected you to anything too horrible. Whatever it would have been couldn’t have been worse than exposing yourself as an inexperienced loser in front of your boyfriend. 

Speaking of the devil, you felt the unmistakably warm hand of Yuji Itadori himself slide over your fidgeting hand in comfort. He could see it all over you that you were absolutely mortified-- a deer caught in headlights. While he absolutely, so desperately wanted to hear your answer to this question, his instinct to jump in and ease the tension for you outweighed any horn-dog desire flooding his mind. 

“Why do ya’ wanna know, Kugisaki? Tryna get in my girl’s sheets?” 

The drunken group giggled deliriously at his challenging question. All at once, they began talking over each other, hooting and hollering over god knows what. You couldn’t even bring yourself to try to listen as your chest seemed to cave in on itself with a sigh of relief. Hesitantly, you stole a glance to your right at Yuji, who’s warm eyes were already on you. They sparkled with that boyish glint that was so characteristic of him. Placing a hand behind you, he leaned in, lips brushing against your ear in a way that made a shiver run down your spine. 

“I still wanna know, by the way.”

The light tone in his voice was enough to tell you that he was just teasing you, but his noticeably more intense gaze, the way it dragged up your frame when he pulled away-- it told you a larger part of him really, really wanted to know. You chuckled nervously, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He turned back to your group of friends with an amused smirk on his face. Thankfully, everyone seemed to have forgotten about the fact that you didn’t finish your turn. You hoped the same of your boyfriend as he walked you back to your dorm room that night.

“If you even attempt to get me up in the morning to go on a run with you, I’ll kick your ass into Mars.” You warned as you rubbed your fingers into your temples that were already buzzing with the beginnings of a migraine. Yuji pouted dramatically as you flopped back onto your bed. Leaning forward, he replaced your hands with his own to give you a light massage. You groaned softly at the feeling, allowing your eyes to shut peacefully. 

“Feels nice, huh?”

You hummed in agreement and leaned into his delicate touch. Too entranced in the sensation of his hands on you, you didn’t notice the way he leaned down, his face just inches from you.  “Nice enough that you’ll answer your truth from earlier?”

Your eyes flew open, and you gasped at the sudden proximity. He flashed you a wolfish grin. The coolness of your pillow sheet served as a slight solace for your burning cheeks as you turned your head away from him in embarrassment. An unconvincing scoff fell from your lips. 

“That was a stupid question.” You muttered, trying to stop the pounding in your chest as he moved to make himself comfortable beside you. It was a firm indicator that he was definitely not letting up any time soon. Softly grasping your jaw between his fingers, he moved you to face him again. 

“Not stupid to me.” Yuji pressed, smiling at the way you blushed under his gaze. He ran a finger down the side of your heated cheek. “I wanna know what you like… what turns you on.”

The casual manner in which he spoke about such things only served to further convince you that he had way more experience than you did. What you didn’t know though, was the way his heart was pounding wildly in his chest, and how he waited with bated breath for your answer. Despite his charming confidence and boyish charisma, the only action Yuji Itadori had ever seen was from his own right hand. He knew your relationship would be progressing soon— god, how he wanted it to, but his nerves were eating him up inside at the thought of making a fool of himself in front of you. So, when Nobara presented that question, he thought the gods had smiled upon him, and this could give him a head start to figuring you out before he was a sputtering, moaning mess beside you. 

“C’mon, babe,” he spurred you on with a nervous smile. “I’m your boyfriend… you can tell me.” “I don’t even know how to answer that question, nor am I near drunk enough to be having this conversation right now.” You were shaking your head as if it would rid you of the butterflies taunting you with the way he was drinking you in with that longing gaze of his. “Go on, you’re too drunk to be allowed access to sleepover privileges tonight.” 

“Hey!” His Oscar-worthy pout made another appearance as you tugged on his arms to urge him to get up. It was proven more difficult than you anticipated, what with the pounds of pure muscle that clung to every inch of him. Despite your struggle, he stumbled to his feet along with you. The giddy boy haphazardly fought against you as you pushed him toward the door. The tips of his fingers clung against the door frame as he leaned into you from just outside the door. “Think about it— yeah?”

His light eyes held a sincerity that made you melt, his nose brushing yours as he stared down at you. You felt breathless, watching the way the muscles in his shoulders flexed as he held himself up on the door. Suddenly, one of his hands was coming up to cup your chin. 

“Promise?” 

You could only nod dumbly at him, causing a wide, tipsy smile to break out on his face. Swinging forward, Yuji smacked a fat, sloppy kiss on your lips before balancing himself on his feet once again and shutting your door behind him. 

Despite your insistence on not being woken up the next morning, you still found yourself strolling out to the track with your bag in tow that morning. You had never really been a morning person, or a running person in general. So, when you started dating Yuji, he'd look up at you with those big, sparkly brown eyes and beg you to accompany him in the mornings. After coming to a compromise that you would just sit and watch, his metaphorical tail practically began wagging. Truthfully, the boy didn’t even care if you were running or not. He just wanted you to watch so he could show off a little. That first morning you sat in the grass, watching him intently as he zoomed past you on his fourth lap without so much as breaking a sweat— the way your mouth hung open slightly, impressed eyes following him deftly around the track— it was better than any pre-workout he’d ever lay his hands on. 

It had become a morning routine of yours now to sit out in the grass as the sun was rising to watch him run. You would always bring a book or your laptop with you to make it seem as though you were busy with something. Whatever distraction it was typically ended up abandoned on your lap in favor of the way the muscles in your boyfriend’s back would ripple with every purposeful step he took, and he knew it too. So, you tried to sleep in that morning to nurse the tiny hangover that plagued you, but your body was already up and ready to be entertained at the crack of dawn. 

As you leaned back onto the grass, allowing the barely risen sun to soak through your skin, you thought about what Yuji had requested of you the night prior. It’s not that you didn’t want to explore those things with him, but you couldn’t help but feel like he may look at you differently should your lack of experience come up. You’d had boyfriends in the past, not many, but two or three. They were all high school fads, boys you only ever saw in class or once a week in a bowling alley or movie theater. All that came from those flings were disappointing make out sessions and uncomfortable boob grabbing that were always abruptly halted with a rushed ‘this isn’t gonna work out’ from your frazzled lips. 

When you began college, finding a boyfriend wasn’t exactly a top priority for you, but you certainly felt a bit more confident in your ability to pick them out with your older age. So, when Yuji Itadori stumbled toward your table at the campus cafe, still in his muddied up track uniform and giggly friends pushing him forward, the corny pickup line that fell from his lips actually worked on you. Maybe it was the goofy confidence on his face that appeared as though he really was convinced that it would work. Maybe it was his two friends that stood a few feet behind him observing with mortified expressions that said I can’t believe he just said that. Whatever it was, it made your heart skip a beat when you laughed boisterously in his face and, rather than being offended like he probably should have been, he laughed nervously along with you. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, just thinking about how he really didn’t intend that to be funny but whatever works, right?

It had been almost four months since that fated afternoon in the cafe, and the both of you couldn’t have been more happy that that dumbass line accidentally worked on you. But then again, it had been almost four months, and it had just never come up in conversation between you two. You were almost positive that Yuji was being sweet Yuji and didn’t want to rush you, but he could have sworn he was just too much of a dumbass to charm you into allowing him the privilege of sharing such intimacy with you yet.

Maybe it’d be better to just let it play out— let him take over and show you the ropes. Still, you couldn’t help the knawing anxiety in you that told you being a virgin at your grown age was definitely not attractive and would absolutely change things between you two. Groaning in frustration, you flopped back down onto the grass behind you. 

“Sit up, you’ll get ants in your ears.” 

Gasping in horror, you shot up with your hands pressed over your ears. Nobara snickered as she set her bag down to sit beside you. At the sight of the very woman who was to blame for this predicament you’ve been put in, you grumbled. Her glowing face scrunched up in question at your sudden attitude. 

“I am never going to another one of your hangouts if I even smell a drop of alcohol in the vicinity.” You huffed, watching as Yuji circled around in front of you. Without stopping, a wide smile stretched across his cheeks upon seeing that you did come after all. Waving aggressively to you, he continued his run with a bit more of a pep in his step. He had an important audience now, after all. Smiling softly, you waved back at him. 

“What a loser.” The red head feigned a gag, but there was an amusement in her eyes as she watched how eager her best friend was to impress you. Tearing her gaze from the idiot who was currently running at the speed of light in hopes his girlfriend was watching, she tilted her head at you. “And what did I do?”

“You got Yuji all horned up with that question about what I like in bed.” 

“First of all, ew.” She blinked roughly as if trying to rid the image of her horny friend from her mind. “Second of all, what’s the issue? Is he seriously that bad at—”

“I’m a virgin, Kugisaki.” 

She fell silent, blinking rapidly at the girl in front of her, who had grabbed at the redhead’s knees in exasperation. While you partly felt bad for putting Nobara in the awkward position of having to talk about her friend’s sex life in such a way, you couldn’t help it. Even when you were first introduced to her, you were silently thanking the gods that there was a girl you could talk to about these things, given you were a little bit of a loner yourself. 

“You two haven’t…”

You shook your head desperately at her. 

“And now he wants to know what I like in bed, and I don’t know. He’s gonna think I’m a loser, or I’m gonna be horribly disappointing in the sack, and he’s gonna—”

“Why don’t you just tell him all this?” Nobara suggested slowly, watching the way Itadori looked over at them with a fond smile as he passed them up once again. Now, she knew damn well Yuji Itadori was a total virgin with a capital V. She recalls him talking about finally having gotten a blowjob once, but that he was too drunk to remember it but it ‘totally still counted’. She wanted to help ease your nerves about your own inexperience, but she also felt it wasn’t her place to disclose such information to you. 

“Because, he’s probably been with so many girls and knows so much more than me, and I just feel like a loser by comparison. I’m a loser, Kugisaki. A sad, virgin, loser.”

“This dude gets more pathetic the more I get to know him.” She seethed quietly with her pointer finger and thumb pressed against the bridge of her nose. “Listen, trust me, and be honest with him. Itadori seriously likes you, and if he finds out you’re holding out on him cause you’re scared he’ll think you’re a loser, he’s gonna be upset. Like sulking in the corner, growing mushrooms with his own fumes upset.”

“You think so?” You mumbled into your knee, toying with a blade of grass below you. 

“Trust me, that idiot will be so excited to get you under him, he probably won’t even notice if you just rag-dolled it.” 

The mental image made you laugh unabashedly, and Nobara smiled at your easing mood. She playfully elbowed your arm, leaning back on her hands as she regarded you in curiosity.

“And how has no one ever tried to get in your pants before? You got a chastity belt or something?”

Shaking your head, you looked down shyly. “I didn’t say they haven’t tried…”

“I knew it!” Nobara exclaimed as you shushed her desperately, watching from the corner of your eye as Yuji slowed his pace and began heading toward you two. “You were breaking hearts left and right before this loser came along, weren’t you?”

“Shut up!”

As you dragged yourself through your classes that day, you were mentally hyping yourself up to have that conversation with Yuji later. He typically stacked his classes in the mornings so his afternoons would be free for track meet and, of course, you. As you glanced down at the time in the corner of your laptop, your leg bounced anxiously. Would he really take it as well as Nobara made it seem? 

Whenever you wanted more time to think, the stew, to just marinate in your own anxiety, time always seemed to move that much faster. Four o’clock rolled around faster than you had anticipated, and your feet seemed to falter with every step you took toward Yuji’s dorm. With a shaky breath, you unlocked the door with the small key he’d given you a few weeks ago. Upon hearing the sound of the shower still running, your tense shoulders eased up a bit. Dropping your bag down in his desk chair, you flopped back onto his bed. You had a plan, you had your words prepared, you were ready to make this as normal and not awkward as possible. 

As Yuji stepped out of his small, steam filled bathroom though, only clothed in his sweat shorts that barely covered his mid thighs, wet, pink hair clinging to his forehead, your plan suddenly went to shit. He smiled excitedly upon seeing that you were already there, but his pearly whites were the last thing you were focused on right now. Jesus, they don’t make men’s shorts long anymore? His tanned, defined runner’s thighs were practically on full display for you to drink in greedily. 

“Is my dick hanging out or something?” 

You were snapped from your trance by his brash question, looking up to find him staring down at his lower half in question before glancing back up at you curiously. Shaking your head with flushed cheeks and a smile, you laughed at his blunt tone.

“No, just like those shorts on you is all.” 

“Oh, you do?” Yuji looked back down at himself once again with a shy smile before coming to lean over your spot on the edge of his bed. Your breath hitched when his knee came up to sink into the small space between your legs as he climbed over you, grasping the side of your neck in his hand. “I’ll wear them more often then.” 

Without allowing you time to respond, he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. You sighed contentedly at the feeling of his warm body hovering over yours. Brining your hands up, you allowed your fingers to graze over the rippling muscles of his thigh, your fingernails unconsciously grazing along the skin. He hummed against you, bringing his other leg up to rest beside you, effectively caging you between him and the bed. 

“Did you—mmph,” The boy could barely tear himself away from you long enough to get his question out. Your free hand came up to run through his wet hair. “Did you think about what I asked you?”

You suddenly remembered why you were here in the first place. 

“About that—” But he was everywhere, his lips moving to sloppily cover your cheeks in soft kisses, grasping your waist in his free hand. It began to creep up your shirt, until you felt the tips of his fingers graze the hem of your bra. You gasped and reached out to grasp his wrist. “Yuji, I wanted to— hah— t-talk to you about something.”

“‘M listening, babe.” 

Somehow, with the way he had his pink head buried in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing and suckling the sensitive skin there, you highly doubted that. Still, he squeezed gently at your ribs in encouragement. His hand strained against your grip on his wrist as if aching to continue his exploration of your chest. You swallowed anxiously, the fingers that were woven in his drying hair tightened. Once that small moan escaped his lips, you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Yuji, I’m a virgin.” 

You felt his lips abruptly halt against you, and his hand stopped trying to fight against yours. Squeezing your eyes shut,  you cringed at the crushing silence. Suddenly, you were just desperate to fill it and break the sudden tension. 

“I should’ve told you earlier, but I was just kind of embarrassed, and I didn’t want you to think I was a loser or pathetic or something. I completely short-circuited when Nobara asked me about what I liked cause I just don’t—”

“Oh my god— thank god!”

Your rambling was cut short by his sudden, ecstatic proclamation. He sat up abruptly, pulling you into his lap as he moved to sit over the side of the bed. His hands came up to grip your cheeks in disbelief.

“I thought you were gonna expect me to be able to lay down some master pipe or something, oh my god— I can’t breathe.”

“Yuji!” Your bubbling laugh filled your chest, dispelling all previous anxiety quicker than you could have anticipated. For just a moment, you allowed his words to sink in in disbelief. “Are you saying—”

He cut you off with a small nod, his cheekbones flushing pink. With a timid smile, he ran his hands down your shoulders and arms to grasp your waist.

“Even if I wasn’t— I don’t care if the whole damn university has run through me— I could never think you were a loser. Not a bigger loser than me, anyway.”

As if the warmth in your chest couldn’t spread anymore, his sweet words only made that heat travel down south. Maybe it was his unwavering compassion, or maybe it was just that you could finally rest easy knowing you two were on even playing fields. Whatever it was, it had you crashing forward to meet his awaiting lips once again. 

There was a newfound eagerness in your desperate kisses now. Something had shifted between you two, and it seemed as though a whole new area of one another was just unlocked. Your bodies were timid, unexplored— drawn toward the other. Though neither of you would likely admit it, it excited you both that each of you would be the first to experience one another in such a way. 

“We can take it easy now, yeah?” He offered breathlessly between bruising kisses. The hands that were wrapped around his shoulders snaked down to explore the muscles that rippled underneath them. His back arched ever so slightly, mouth falling open in response to your soft caressing. “Take— ahh— our time.” 

You hummed in agreement, but neither of you seemed too eager to ease up on your desperate pursuit. Yuji dipped his head down to press sloppy kisses over your collarbones. He almost ripped the neckline of your shirt in an attempt to gain more access. 

“Exactly.” you whispered, already out of breath from the anticipation rising in you. Your head fell to the side to encourage his continued attack on your neck. Despite your agreement, you didn’t stop him when his hands sneaked under your top and threw it over your head. 

“Oh, fuck.” Yuji groaned without an ounce of shame as he stared down at your bra-clad chest. He was eternally grateful that you had something on under there, because he was convinced he would have busted right in his shorts if he saw your bare tits with no preparation right now. Your cheeks burned under his intense gaze, and you instinctively moved to cross your arms over your chest. At once, his hands came up to cage your elbows at your sides, dipping down to press kisses to the plush pillows. A soft moan of surprise escaped you. Your boyfriend’s head perked up at the sound, and he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You like that?”

Tongue tied, you could only nod wordlessly. Releasing his grip on one of your arms, his fingers set ablaze each inch of skin they traversed on their way up to cup your jaw affectionately. 

“What else do you like, angel?” 

It came out of you like word-vomit, all previous notions of apprehension and timidness lost on you under his fiery gaze. His brown eyes shone in a way that you swear you’d kill a man for should Yuji ask while batting those fluttery eyelashes at you. 

“I like the way you hold me like that—” You babbled mindlessly, breasts arching into his chest. The boy thought his brain was going to fry right then and there, watching the way you were falling apart on his lap. “And I like the way your thighs look in those shorts—”

“Yeah?” 

You would have kept going had it not been for his eager interruption, and you were partly grateful for it as you were positive you would have embarrassed yourself. Once again, you only nodded. He shifted under you, maneuvering you slowly to sit against his left thigh, a hand hesitantly coming up to press against your back. In an instant, you felt the taut muscles of his thighs flex beneath the thin fabric of your shorts. You gasped at the feeling, hands flying up to grasp his shoulders. 

“Is- Is this okay?” Yuji questioned, uncertainty breaking through his voice that had suddenly lowered darkly with the lust that flooded him. Too flustered to even form a coherent answer, you leaned forward to kiss him once again. Moaning softly against you, the hand he had pressed against your back pulled you forward, encouraging you to grind against his tense muscle. A string of desperate whines slipped past your lips as he moved you against him. 

Your boyfriend continued to push and pull at your waist until you found a rhythm of your own. Abandoning your supple skin, he reached down to palm himself through his shorts. The strain against the fabric was almost unbearable at this point, and your desperate little ruts against him were only spurring him on. Leaning back on his free hand, he watched you work yourself against him as he stroked his covered length. 

You looked down at how his bicep flexed with each stroke. Reaching forward in a haze, you slipped your hand under his. A gasp choked its way up Yuji’s throat at the feeling of your comparably smaller hands clutching at him. You mimicked his movements with fervor, the heat in your core burning as you watched him throw his head back with a groan.

“Does that feel good?” You questioned hesitantly, breath picking up a bit as you felt the wet patch that began to form over the fabric of his shorts.

“Yes!” He gasped eagerly, grabbing your wrist to speed up your movements a bit. “Oh fuck.” 

Your wide eyes stared at him in awe. His bare, muscled chest heaved before you. An inescapable urge had you leaning forward to bite into the firm flesh, a motion that had him jerking up into your hand. Noted.

“Babe, hold on. I’m—” he choked up when you began softly laying open mouthed kisses on the area you’d attacked with your canines. “Shit, I’m gonna cum, wait—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. You looked down at where your hand was languidly stroking up and down his twitching member, noticing with parted lips how his pink tip was now poking out from his waistband. It glistened as the sun shining through the window hit its dripping surface. Without much thought to it, your thumb reached up to swipe at the weeping slit. 

“Fuck, oh my god—” This time, he cut himself off with his own strangled moan. His fingers pressed into your hips and wrist with a bruising pressure, as if you might disappear mid-high and leave him gasping and crying to be graced by your touch again. His chest and neck flushed red as you felt his release spill over your hands and coat his abs that flexed in tandem with his unconscious thrusts. 

You suddenly wished you had left your phone in your pocket instead of your bag so you could snap a picture of the way he looked at the moment. His chest heaved as he came down from his high, and he looked back down at you in a panic, cheeks ablaze. 

“Shit— I’m so sorry!” Yuji began babbling mindlessly, staring anxiously down at the mess he’d made of himself and your hand. Embarrassed wasn’t a strong enough term. “You didn’t even finish— fuck, this is—”

“Yuji, it’s okay—”

“No, I just came in my fucking shorts. I  wanted to…” his words drifted, and he held your cheek with his clean hand. “I wanted to have sex with you.” 

A warm smile settled over your lips. Leaning into his hand, you pressed a kiss to his palm. “We can take our time, remember?”

He huffed quietly, looking up apprehensively at you from his lashes. The boy’s blown out, brown eyes took in the sight of your flushed cheeks and disheveled hair, the way your breasts were rising and falling deeply against your chest. A mischievous smile fell over his once embarrassed face. 

That’s how you found yourself on your back and on the edge of his creaking bed, legs swung over his shoulders and thighs pressed against his ears as he tried his hand— well his tongue— at a new skill. Your brows furrowed in concentration, trying to determine if it felt good or just kind of awkward. A small hum left you as you squirmed against him at the foreign sensation. Suddenly, his pink head was poking up from its spot between your legs to look up at you with those ‘Yuji-Special’ puppy dog eyes. 

“I suck, don’t I?” 

You quickly sat up on your elbows to meet his frantic gaze. His cheeks were burning red, chin covered in slick. 

“No!” You insisted, but he wasn’t convinced, dropping his head against your stomach in agony. “Yuji, just… try again. I’ll tell you what feels good, okay?”

Rolling his shoulders back with determination, he went back in. He licked a long, hesitant stripe up your folds. As the tip of his tongue grazed your sensitive bud, you gasped quietly. Still, it was enough to have Yuji’s head perking up like a dog who just heard the rattle of his food bowl. 

“Right there?” He questioned, his word mumbled with his tongue still pressed flat against you. 

“Y-Yeah--”

Your instruction was cut off with another eager, rough swipe of his tongue against that golden spot he’d found. On instinct, your thighs clamped down against his head as a moan ripped through you. Against you, your boyfriend let out a moan of his own, responding to both the feeling of your warm, plush inner thighs pressing against his cheeks and the sound of your saccharine moan-- one that was solely his doing. It was a dopamine rush similar to that of which he felt on the field when you would watch him oh so encouragingly. It spread through his veins like a fire-- that burning desire for him to just impress his girl. 

Like a man starved, Yuji’s tongue attacked your sensitive bundle of nerves with fervor, drool and slick dripping down his chin. You squealed at the sudden change of pace, the pressure of the foreign sensation weighing down on your chest as you writhed underneath him. It was too much- the direct, rough friction lapping so desperately against you that it was almost uncomfortable. 

“Slow down!” You gasped out, your arms supporting you as you reeled away from his tongue’s attack. The muscle’s in his shoulders flexed as they wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place. He peered up at you with stars in his wonton eyes, wondering what the hell he could possibly be doing wrong now. “It’s too much, just-- like you’re kissing me, Yuji. S-Slow..” You could feel your cheeks burning at the sound of your own instructions, but the look in his eyes as the top half of his face stared determinedly up at you told you he was taking mental notes.

Humming firmly, his eyes slowly fluttered shut again, and he retracted his tongue from your core to replace it with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. You sighed contentedly at the feeling, your hand drifting down to thread through his hair. It felt as though he finally understood, and Yuji knew he couldn’t just chase your high without pace, without care. His movements were slow and deliberate now, allowing himself to enjoy it as well instead of being so concerned with pushing you over the edge so quickly. 

Your jaw fell slackly open as he slowly reintroduced his tongue into the rauchy kisses he was working against you. The curve of his smile could be felt from your fold as he sensed the trembling of your legs against him. 

“Like that, Yuji--” You whined softly, grasping at the roots of his hair to pull his face closer to you. It felt like he was molding to your core, becoming one with you. A tear fell down the side of your face at the intense intimacy of it all, and you were glad he was too occupied to notice. Gently swiping his tongue up from the entrance of your weeping chasm to the hood of your clit as his lips wetly circled the area, you noted that he really was acting as though he was simply making out with a different part of you. “Oh my god!”

You couldn’t see it, too lost in your own pool of pleasure to pay it any mind, but his eyes rolled back at the sound of your breathless whines. When your hips slowly began rocking against his face, he thought he may as well have died right there on the floor of his dingy dorm room. 

“Is it good?” He mumbled against you, never once stopping his ministrations on your clit. It was a dumb question-- the boy knew it was good-- what with the way your grip was practically yanking the hair out of his scalp, pushing his face further into you until he was sure he would pass out from lack of oxygen (not that he would mind going out that way). Still, Yuji was desperate to hear you say it, to tell him how good of a job he was doing at pleasuring his girlfriend. 

“So good--” You gasped, feeling the tingling in your toes, reaching up your legs and into your core. Your rocking against his face was desperate now, chasing your impending high with a fervor that would have embarrassed you had you even felt remotely conscious enough to notice. Your eager boyfriend was drinking it all in though, fingers coming up to grip at your hips and aid your frenzied thrusts on his face. You were making an absolute mess of his face, but you didn’t care, and lord knows he didn’t either. “You’re so good, Yuji!”

A forlorn whine ripped from his throat at your praise, and the vibrations it sent through your bundled nerves caused the dam to snap within you. Sitting up in a desolate haze, the fingers that had graced the top of his head came down the back of it, gripping the nape of his neck to hold him against you as you cried out his name once again. The heels of your feet dug into his back as you trembled through your high. His soaked lips continued to hungrily lap you up until you were crying out in sensitivity, clamping your thighs closed to stop him. 

You were heaving out breaths, hunching over as your nails began softly scraping at the nape of his neck. Yuji’s face slowly came up from its place between your thighs-- a place he noted it should have been all along. Still on his knees, he stared up at you in a drunken daze, the lower half of his face glistening with evidence of your release. His pink hair stood up and stuck out in all directions as he panted up at you.

“Did I do good?”

That mental image was seared into the back of your mind as you tried to go one about the rest of your week. Each time that image flashed in your mind of your big, muscly boyfriend on his knees for you, eyes just pleading to be praised, your thighs would press together almost on instinct. It was that much more difficult to concentrate on any of your classes. You couldn’t confirm if you two’s impromptu intimacy was the reason for the sudden change in Yuji’s behavior, but you had a feeling. While he’d always been a bit clingy, he was now all over you; wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side each time you two met up with friends or on campus, dragging your chair closer to his by the foot wherever you went, stopping to plant a kiss on you each time he passed you on his runs. It was evident to everyone around you that something had changed between you two— what with the sudden clinginess and blushing looks from across the room. 

As much as the both of you wanted, you didn’t have much of a chance to get eachother alone again though. Yuji’s track team had their annual relay race just around the corner, so he was caught up in practice and meets most of his free time. Still, it was the first big race that you would be attending of his, so you were excited despite the fact that it was taking up most of his time. It was a bit cool outside that morning, so you were bundled up in one of your boyfriend’s university sweatshirts as you made your way out to the crowded field. You could barely hear over the combined chatter of both your university and the competing school’s crowd. Looking around, slightly overwhelmed with the amount of hustle and bustle surrounding you, you nearly jumped out of your skin when hands bared down on your shoulders. 

“Where were you! Yuta and Maki have been looking for you.” You relaxed upon hearing the familiar voice of your boyfriend over the crowd. Sighing in relief, you turned around to grasp onto his bicep as if the crowd might scoop you away. He was already beaming down at you, his sweat band pushing his hair away from his forehead. The tip of his nose and the tops of his cheekbones tinted pink with the cold air that nipped at his skin. 

“Take me to them! I am so lost.” You pleaded as you dramatically batted your lashes up at him. An easy smile spread across his lips as he wrapped an arm around your neck to guide you through the crowd. “And shouldn’t you be getting ready with the team right now?” 

 “Had to make sure my girl had a good view first.” Yuji winked down at you upon seeing the bashful tint that spread on your cheeks. He turned you to face him as the two of you came up upon the stands, pointing up to where your friends were standing and waving you over. “Wait!”

You whipped your head back upon hearing him calling out to you from below.

“I don’t get a good luck kiss? No pep talk?” 

“I didn’t wanna hold you up.” You laughed, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips from his spot on the ground. He grasped onto your chin to deepen it for a moment before reluctantly letting you go. Slightly breathless, you continued, “Right, pep talk. What do you want if you place, hm? Human Earthworm marathon? Revolving sushi?”

“Just you.” 

His sincere words and intense gaze made you falter, remembering the way he looked between your thighs just days ago. Fingers tightening around his shoulders, your eyes ran down his face wantonly. 

“Just me, huh?”

“Mmhm,” Yuji hummed, brown eyes soaking in the sight of you in his sweater, standing in the bleachers to cheer him on. “Nothing’ll motivate me more.”

“Better get to steppin’ then, Itadori.” 

Yuji was sprinting like a bat out of hell. As he gained on Megumi, you could see him holler at him with his palm outstretched for the baton. His fingers curled around the wooden rod, and he was off. You could swear you saw his teammate’s raven hair fly back from the dust being kicked up by the boy already light years ahead of him. 

“Jesus, what crawled up his ass?” Maki remarked in astonishment. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say his feet weren’t even touching the ground. He moved so fluidly, so swiftly, as though he was simply floating across the track. The other runners, you noted, had stern expressions of determination on their faces as they paced themselves through their legs. Your boyfriend though, as you watched him drift across the field, was lit up with pure thrill. It had an ecstatic smile spreading across your own cheeks. Standing up from your seat, you cupped your hands around your mouth to cheer him on. You almost wished you could feel some sort of push and pull, some kind of apprehension about whether or not he would make it, but the truth was, Itadori had already left all the other anchors in the dust. So, really, it was more of a formality when he hopped across the finish line, and the coach ripped the tag off his uniform to declare his team’s time.       

Both Yuta and Maki flew up from their seats to clap, but their cheers were drowned out by those of the hollering crowd surrounding you. Your friends’ arms came around you in glee, but your gaze was still focused on Yuji, who’s team was now having their own celebratory rituals. Over the heads and shoulders of his bustling team, his gaze still found yours in the crowd. He raised the wooden baton to point it toward you, and with a wolfish grin, sent a wink your way as if to say this one was for you. 

 Lord help you when that boy got his hands on you.

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[livelaughloveluffy]

being with monkey d. luffy

a/n: whatever the opposite of writer's block is, thats what i have, its like a disease. i cant stop writing 😭😭😭 so here's the luffy version of my little romantic headcannons!!! i'm planning on posting a zoro version a little later, because i might as well make a set for the monster trio 😌

nothing but fluff here 💗

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- luffy, who simply just radiates joy. he lights up a room the second he walks into it, with his stupid, silly, gorgeous, wide smile plastered across his face.

- his dire need for constant closeness and physical touch. even platonically, luffy couldn't keep his hands off of you. his arms, each respectively resting over your shoulders, his chin on top of your head as he stands behind you looking down to see what you're working on. when he got too excited to bump into you on the sunny, instantly pulling you into a tight hug

- his laugh, the most wholeheartedly pure sound that has ever graced your ears. music pales in comparison to luffy's laugh, what a high honor it is to hear on the daily

- his pure and unfaltering commitment to you. the second monkey d. luffy decides you are important and he wants you in his life, he's holding on to you for dear life and never letting go, he'd wage war, travel the world, fight gods, just to get to you

- but you know you really have him when, one evening on the sunny, crowded around the dinner table when he snatched the last piece of meat, only to turn to you with a cheeky smile and say "you need to eat up!!" and place it on your plate instead

oh how i dream of being loved by and loving monkey d. luffy....

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a/n: the "giving you his food instead" is so unbelievably true its practically luffy's own personal trope 😭😭😭 i couldn't resist adding it to this list 😭😭

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[sunflowersteves]

Could you write about Carmen getting your name tatted on his chest ? 🫶

yes I can, babes 😌

warnings || tattoos, absolutely pure fluff, making out, mentions of anxiety, not edited

masterlist

Carmen let out a deep breath, nerves prickling his skin, as he started to open the door of your apartment. His fingers from his other hand nervously tapped against the side of his thigh, all due to the anxiety that settled into his bones.

What if you hated it? What if you found it disgusting? Would you hate him?

The endless questions and unknown reactions flooded his head. It started to make him dizzy as he padded off into the living room.

“Baby?” He called out. His voice had a edge to it that made him want to cringe.

“In here, lovebug.” Instantly, he could feel his shoulders relax. The soft, caressing sound of your voice had silenced almost all of those trepidatious thoughts. Almost.

He barely moved an inch from where he stood. He knew your voice echoed from the bedroom, but his body refused to move. As always, his flight or fight response wanted to hone in on flight.

He took another deep breath. “Carmy?” You say. It was so soft and sweet that it melted his insides. Concern was evident by his lack of appearance and response.

This is so stupid. He was so stupid.

His mouth clamped shut. It was as if his body couldn’t quite catch up to his brain—which was racing a mile per minute. His finger continued to tap the side of his thigh.

You found yourself walking out into the living room, eyebrows furrowed. “Carmy baby, what’s the matter?”

You gently caress his jaw and it takes everything inside of him not to reach out. He wants to sit lovingly on the couch with your body on top of his, all while you watch some show.

More than half of the time he’s not even paying attention. His mind is either concocting a new recipe or thinking about how good your weight feels on top of him. His thoughts are all food or you.

“I have s-something to show you.” He curses inwardly at the stuttering of his voice. He hated how nervous he was for this.

It’s just you. Miraculously and amazing you.

Your eyebrows are furrowed once more, but your soft touch never wavers. He forces himself to take a big breath, eyes avoiding your stare.

He slowly takes off his white t-shirt. His hands shake as he pulls it over his head. His gold chain thumps against his chest and your eyes lowered. Then they lower again.

You let out a gasp. It was loud and shocking as it echoed against the apartment walls. “Oh, Carmy.” You whisper.

He sucks in a breath—anxiety toppling over as he spills his feelings. “W-well, uh, I know I said I was getting that arm piece. Like-like we talked about, you know? But then I-I started thinking and all I ever really wanted was you. So-so, yeah.” His hand was furiously pushing through his curls through the entire speech.

Your eyes are just glued to his chest. He gulps, hating the complete silence. However, you were just in awe.

Right on the center of where his heart is supposed to be was your initials in black ink. Your initials. The tattoo outlined in red from the irritated skin.

“Do you like it?” He says. He thought it was going to seem confident but the waver of his vocal cords say otherwise.

You finally look up into his eyes. You could’ve sworn you could stare at it for years. You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. Your heart pounds against your ears—his too. Having to wait for your response was torturous.

Instead of words, your body flings itself onto his. Your mouth slides over his and molds together as one. Your hands find themselves into his hair and pull. It was as if there was some switch that went off in your head. All you wanted, needed, and cared for right now was Carmen.

He pours out a moan when his tongue pushes between your lips and collides with yours. He could taste the leftover peppermint soufflé that you had after lunch. God, you tasted like fucking heaven.

You pull away before getting ahead of yourself. Carmen needed to go back to the restaurant for the night rush, but you wanted to pounce on him right then and there—give him kisses for a life time.

He laughs, which causing a chuckle to bubble from your own chest too.

“I fucking love it, Carmy.” You huff out. You were quite breathless from the kiss.

His eyes sparkle as his hands squeeze your waist. “Yeah?”

You nod, eyes looking glossed over. You were drunk on him—on Carmy.

“Yeah, lovebug. I might have to get one for myself. A C.B. just for you.”

He finally smiles, bright and toothy. His heart beats faster than ever, but now, it’s for a different reason.

“Sounds perfect, baby. Just perfect.”

[lavendertales]

I don’t even know but for the love of god PLEASE more age gap/ dads best friend trope with Joel Miller 🥵

I got not one, not two, but THREE requests with age gap reader x Joel Miller, so here we go, this one's for you babes 😌

Not enough || Joel Miller x f!reader**

summary: Joel is not happy when your recklessness nearly puts your lives in danger.

word count: 1.8k

WARNINGS: age gap (Joel is in his 40s, reader is like late 20s), unprotected doggy, cum play, choking, enemies to fwb.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @azertyrobaz

Oh, he’s pissed. He’s pissed, alright. You can tell in the way he’s pacing around the room, hands on his hips, brows furrowed in sheer anger. Your negligence has been more than an inconvenience today; it could’ve risked a lot of people’s lives, including your own and Joel’s.

And Joel is not a man you wanna fuck around with.

Well. Not technically.

You just so happen to be in the same shift for the night watch, that’s all. And he just so happens to be Tommy’s brother, so you know from a solid source that he’s got a temper. Inexplicably enough, you find yourself gravitating around him quite often, and not just because duty calls. He’s got an attitude too, which makes him annoying more than anything. He makes your blood boil, makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs.

And yet, your eyes search for him in a crowd, eager to spot that bitter face you’ve grown to detest.

Usually, your disagreements are easily solved: he grunts, you mumble, both of you cuss out loud, maybe yell a little, and call it a truce. In many ways, he doesn’t think of you as equal, you believe; why should he? He’s a skilled hunter, gunsman, and you’re just some gal in her twenties, doing your duty towards Tommy and the people in Jackson.

But today, you’ve really done it. You know it; you just refuse to give Joel the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

He told you to wait for the group to return, then you can go check for clickers. You told him for hours on end that you’ve heard about clickers in the area, and yet Joel refused to believe you. “Till I see it with my own eyes, there ain’t nothing out there,” he said. “No reason to worry everyone”. But the group took too long, and you’ve grown more and more impatient, so you sneaked out the perimeter and went to check for yourself. Surely enough, your instinct and sources have been correct, and there you were, face to face with at least a dozen clickers. Just you and your shotgun against them all.

“Are you really this stupid?”

His question makes your forehead crease with anger as well.

“Well?” he pushes. “Are you?”

“I am far more capable than what you give me credit for.”

Joel snarls, the sound mocking in and of itself, and, weirdly enough or not, you relish into it. There’s something primal behind it, something that suggests care, and that has your undivided attention.

“You could’ve been killed,” he says. “Those fuckers could’ve come in here, have their way with us. All because of you.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Joel?! You wanna hear me beg for your forgiveness? Want me to beg, on my knees?”

He gulps. You see it, it’s undeniable. It’s not quite the reaction you had in mind, so it takes you aback for a moment.

Joel inches closer towards you, his face reading the same anger as before, eyes darkened by some emotion you couldn’t name at this very moment.

“Do you?” you boldly repeat.

“You’re on mighty thin ice here,” he warns, voice husky and intense. “Don’t push me.”

“Or what?”

Joel stares at you, half incredulously and half impressed. He’s always been impressed by your candor and your boldness, your uncanny ability to just face danger without a second thought and come to the others’ defense.

But today, less so. The thought of you getting infected, getting hurt in any way… he’d hate you forever if that were the case. He’d hate himself for it, too.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for here,” Joel seems to warn.

But you cock an eyebrow, causing him to gulp again and question his every moral, and every portion of his sanity.

“Give me some credit here, Joel,” you say in a ridiculously sultry voice. “I think I know what I’m looking for. If only you’d stop treating me like some kind of—“

Your words are cut abruptly by the harsh press of his mouth against yours in a surprisingly hot and needy kiss. On the one hand, you’re thankful he acted before he might’ve asked you to beg for it, like you cheekily said. You’re somewhat embarrassed that such a thing was insinuated, let alone acting upon it. The two of you do not get along, after all. He might actually hate you, simple as that.

But this right here, his calloused hands slipping underneath your shirt to feel your skin and his mouth clamping on yours, this is anything but easy. The amber light breaking through the window as the sun is setting allows you a final clear glimpse of what is happening, and your body shivers at the sight: Joel is hastily undressing you first, as if he’s in some sort of race to see you naked before you see him. You realize that yes, you do want to see him, all of him, just the way that he is, and feel him in this inappropriate moment.

It’s obvious it’s been a long time for both of you; all of the sloppy and rushed movements, getting right to it, suggest a desperation that can hardly be verbalized. Your hands drop to the hem of his shirt, tearing off some of the buttons that keep what’s underneath concealed. You take but a rushed moment to admire the scars covering his chest and belly, as well as the chest hair that you’d love nothing more but nuzzle in. nothing but a stolen moment, though. You wouldn’t want to ruin this moment with anything.

Your hands drop to his jeans, removing his belt and watching him shimmy his way out of them. Your eyes widen in surprise when you brush against him, feeling him rock hard in his boxers.

“Turn around,” he commands, and you obey.

You find yourself bent over the couch in his living room, a strong hand keeping you in place. Anticipation is killing you, the perverted thoughts soaking your mind and pussy alike. it’s ridiculous, really; how the fuck are you soaked when all you’ve done so far is argue with him? Him, Joel Miller, of all people. It feels wrong and forbidden in some way, but at the same time, it feels exactly right. Like this is what you’ve been missing all this time. Him, his arms, his eyes and mouth devouring you alike, and his cock slipping inside you.

Which is precisely what he does.

You can’t possibly control or prevent the wanton cry that comes out of your mouth when you feel his cock sliding inside of you. He pushes with ease, and in any other case it would’ve been alarming to acknowledge how soaked you are, but now, it feels oddly understandable.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” you hear him grunt. “Have you been wanting me to fuck you like this for too long, sweetheart?”

Motherf—

Again you moan when he pushes so far deep inside you, you think you’re gonna black out.

“Answer me,” he grunts.

“Screw you, Miller,” you smile.

He chuckles, because of course he does. “Isn’t it the other way around now?”

He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing it as hard as he can, and he drags his cock all the way out just to push back inside, burying himself in you to the hilt. Then, he just starts slamming his hips into yours, deeming that he’d given you enough time to adjust and all that. After all, this is rushed, needy, and far too agonizing to prolong. It doesn’t mean anything. Why should it?

Fuck, you wanna see him right now. You wanna see the crease on his forehead that betrays his intense concentration, the way a few locks of hair fall down and the way he’s working up a sweat just by staring at your ass brushing up against his cock with each additional thrust. All you can do is moan brokenly as your body is being used as leverage for him to propel himself into, but hell, you could not possibly complain.

Neither of you says much except the occasional cuss word or grunt. Those are the only sounds filling the dead air. It’s hard to focus on actually doing what you’re doing and saying something. Maybe you don’t need to; adding words to this already complicated situation would only make it more meaningful when it’s just about blowing off some steam.

Although you cannot ignore the waves of pleasure that rip through you when Joel’s hand curls around you from the very same position he’s fucking you. A cry leaves your throat, currently held by one of his calloused hands, and Joel smiles in some delirious ecstasy.

“That’s right,” he teases, almost breathless. “This is all you needed—isn’t it?”

If you couldn’t speak before, you certainly can’t now. Joel doesn’t tell you how good it feels to feel you this way. He doesn’t tell you how feral it makes him to have your body at his will, to fuck you this hard and fast from behind like you’re running out of time.

Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. All he knows is that the buildup in his belly is gonna erupt soon, but he needs to feel you first.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says, leaning over and squeezing your throat just a little more. “Make it a good one for me, hm? How ‘bout that?”

It’s like he presses an automatic switch as he says that; within the next few seconds, you clamp down all around him, your body seizing up and soaking his cock with your juices as you reach the throes of ecstasy.

“J-Joel—“you finally manage to get out.

He fucks you through your climax, only to pull out as abruptly as he entered you, stroking himself to completion right on your ass. Breathless, he can only stare at the hot, messy canvas he’d painted on your body. The image triggers something inside of him, something deep and primal, urging him for more.

But he can’t. He shouldn’t. There are about a dozen reasons why he shouldn’t, and yet, he just did.

A final smack over your ass lets you know that the exchange of bodily fluids and pleasure has come to an end. When your eyes lock, he doesn’t say a word to you, and neither do you. Instead, he grabs a towel to clean you gently with, a stark contrast between the feral man from mere moments ago and the current one.

“Don’t make me care about you,” he warns.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you say, highly doubting that sentence.

[phasecornnuts]

I would love to power bottom Valentino from hazbin hotel ples 😏 also I LOVE angst so maybe a bit of that 😌 head cannons or a fic doesn’t matter I love words

Hello again whores! This is over 16k words…. I think I may have a problem, but I cooked so whatever

Tbh I may open writing commissions bc I love y’all but if I’m writing biblical epics I lowkey would appreciate being paid (college is expensive) 😭

CW: For general angst and Drug use

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hated working nights, but working for Val always meant you worked nights. If someone were to ask you to write a list of everything you disliked about the club, you’d swear the exterminators would be here by the time you were done with it. But alas, it was what it was and there was nothing you could do to change it. That fucking contract made sure of that.

There were a few things that could make your shift bearable though. You liked Angel, even though he didn’t really come by anymore because of that stupid hotel, you liked the free drinks, even though Val made sure they were watered down after you vomited on a customer, and you liked the pills Val would give you, even though they made you feel loopy when you preformed. Those were the shit. Grade A. Top tier. Happiness in a tablet the size of your fingernail.

In your dressing room you watched the clock, five minutes. God, you were already sweating in the shitty outfit Val made you wear for tonight. A frilly maid outfit with black lingerie underneath, the man wanted a strip-tease and he was gonna have it one way or another. With Angel gone, you were the only other person he thought was worth headlining. That felt good to hear, even if you were only second choice. Maybe Angel being gone was a good thing, not for him but for you, maybe Val would see that you’re better than him, that you tried more. Maybe then you could be the star, and not just the understudy. Maybe, maybe, maybe; The word’s rhythm wavered in your head.

Hoping for Val to want you was fruitless though, you knew. Angel was the golden goose- or spider, you supposed - and it would take an act of god for someone to eclipse him. You took your eyes off the clock, knowing getting lost in your thoughts would just lead to a spiral of self-loathing. You closed your eyes and released a heavy sigh. On your table, beside your makeup and phone stood a fluorescent orange bottle. Unscrewing the cap you let loose three in your palm before capping the bottle. You ran the pad of your thumb over the tiny white buttons, smooth and chalky, before placing them in a row on your tongue, all washed down with watery gin. A twisted communion.

You lean back in your chair, wondering when the pills are gonna kick in. About two minutes pass before you hear the door to your dressing room open and a tired waitress with smudgy blue eyeliner and a crooked wig tilts her head towards the hallway to tell you it’s time for you to get on stage. Walking past her, you can smell a heavy peach scented perfume she used to try to cover the smell of sweat. Your heels clacked on the tile floor as you walked up to the entrance of the stage. You scratched your back from the itchy fabric of the costume, then adjusted the tops of your stockings. The song that’s currently playing ends and the performer before you walks to the back, they’re huffing and tired. They stretch and pop their back before looking at you, mouthing “Good luck.” The DJ of the club took a beat before announcing you to the crowd. Rolling your shoulders, you walked on stage feeling the hot spotlights shine on you.

That’s when it hits.

All of the tension you held in your body lifted, and your mind began to swim as you felt the Oxy kick in. Fuck, they really were the best. They made you feel warm and floaty, made the world seem bearable. You swung your hips seductively as you sauntered to the pole, ready to begin your act. Looking around, all the faces of the crowd blended together. It felt like the world was painted in watercolor, all of its harsh edges gone, replaced with washes that drifted out into nothing.

A chemical confidence kicked in then. Those languid movements of yours had everyone entranced, grinding your sex to the pole as you teased eager watchers with a peek up your skirt. Over the music you could hear their hoots and wolf-whistles, then frenzy when you began to shimmy off your top, exposing that black bra you had on under. You throw it out into the crowd, grateful not to have that polyester piece of shit on you anymore. The way they all clamor to catch it made you bite your bottom lip with a smirk. They were all so pathetic.

You spun on the ball of your foot, but the weightlessness of your opioid addled body worked against you, making you fall. Luckily you caught yourself on your hands, pretending it was some sultry move like a lady in a porno. The crawling was good though, you pretended to fuck the stage before you got to the center. You leaned back on your hands, stretching out a heeled foot that they all begged to touch. One almost did, before you snatched it away.

Slipping off that ugly skirt and kicking it off into the drunken crowd felt so good. They were transfixed, enthralled, however you wanted to put it. Your high made everything better, blanketing your body in comfort- That was always the peak. Savoring those small moments that made them scream. Looping and spinning and sliding and going upside down, stretching your legs out spread-eagle. When you felt the room start to spiral you stopped with your back to it for support. With a fake sexiness you slid your hand down your stomach, into those thin painties before taking it out.

God, it felt good to be desired even if it was like this. Sure, Val didn’t want you, but they did. All those sinners and hell-born who clamored to touch you and have you touch them. How they fought over an ugly, scratchy top because you wore it.

Turning your head you saw a wide-eyed patron ignoring a half-drank glass. You smirk and crawl towards them, and their eyes turn to the size of saucers. Reaching the edge of the stage you lean over, hanging over their small table. You opened your mouth wide enough to kiss- But you didn’t. You let your tongue hang out of your mouth, letting a fat drop of spit land in their drink. That was all they could have of you; You smile and go back to the stage to continue your act.

You don’t know how long he’d been standing there when you saw him. Valentino. He nips at his cigarette while he looks at you, not knowing what he’s thinking. Your moves become bigger, looser, hoping to impress him. A glob of phlegm sits at the back of your mouth and you swallow, feeling the tenseness grow inside your body. I can be good too, see! I’m as good as Angel! Even better! Please…please don’t fire me.

He walks closer to the stage as you keep grinding on the pole. Your eyes meet for a second before you look away, unsure. When he reaches the edge of the stage is when you slam yourself to the floor- the crowd hollered. Val adjusts his glasses and takes a long, long drag from his cigarette. Your body cranes towards him, head lowered in reverence while you studied his face. Val was always so hard to read, that’s the thing you hated most about him - well, at least one of them- was he displeased, impressed, disinterested? Fuck if you knew.

With one hand he pinched your face, between his pointer and thumb. He pressed his mouth to yours, filling it with all of that warm smoke. The roof of your mouth hurt so much, but the rest of your body trembled. He’d never been this open, kissing you, watching you dance, it felt so, so good to have his attention. Val pulled away, pink cloud leaving your parted lips.

Valentino leaned in, “Meet me in the back.”

“I still have five minutes left…”

“I’m your boss.” There was a vague sternness to his words, what were five minutes compared to his regard?

You breathed heavily. “Gimme a second.”

Quickly as you could you got off stage. Your head was spinning and you couldn’t tell why- was it the Oxy? The drink? The dancing? The cigarette? All of them combined. The backstage was full of cold air, making goosebumps prickle over your legs. You crossed your forearms and leaned them on the wall. Eyes closed, you counted backwards from 100; 100, 99, 98, 97- Val with his cigarette showed up in your mind, how he pulled your mouth to his, how you shivered, how you liked it. You tried again, but he kept lingering. Another restart, going a bit longer this time, but you gave up somewhere around 56.

Through the backstage hallway you walked to the back, The Velvet Rooms. Those fancy, gilded places hidden away that only those Val liked - or who could afford it- could enter. Valentino hid himself away in the biggest one, a room within the wall closed off with heavy dark blue curtains. The Velvet Rooms were where Overlords and certain Goetia came to be spat on, spanked, and other “peculiar wants” that Val catered to.

Opening the curtains you were struck with the heavy scent of his smoke. You closed them shut, the room illuminated by a faint pink light. Val sat on the couch, legs spread wide and arms slung over the top, his heavy coat thrown to some unknown corner. Seeing him reminded you of how little clothes you had on. Val’s second set of arms beckoned you over, you obeyed. He rested them on your waist, idly feeling the texture of your garter belt.

“Good of you to come carino,” He kissed your stomach, tittering at the way you quivered. “You did so good I had to meet with you privately.”

“How could I deny you Valcito?” You responded in a honeyed tone that made him chuckle.

“Valcito?” He smirked.

“Aren’t you?” You tilt his head up to see your smiling face, dressed with sultry bedroom eyes, “My little Valcito who liked my dancing.”

Val showed off that gold tooth of his; He kissed your stomach again, leaving a little red mark.

You dropped your hands to his arms, sliding up to his biceps. You bit your lip, so hard and toned. For so long you were curious about Val’s body, his sex, his libido. You wondered what he did to Angel to make him so sore and his voice so hoarse. It was embarrassing how many nights you spent thinking about what he tasted like- though now there was no point, you knew now, cigarettes and citrus vodka.

The tips of his fingers traced along your hips, fingering the thin strap of your panties. Your voice grew weak as he nipped again and again at the soft flesh of your stomach. Mind in a daze, words slipped out of your mouth.

“You know, I’m surprised you called me back here…” A kitten-lick across your navel that made you squirm.

“Why’s that Carino? Don’t think you’re pretty enough?” His voice teased.

“I thought you didn’t like women”

“Why would you think that?” He looped his finger around the hip strap again

“Angel.” He snickered.

“Oh Carino, don’t worry. Angel is just the soup D’Jour,” His finger dipped forward along your hip bone, “Men, women; Women, men; all of those sweet things in-between, how could you pick just one?”

“How poignant.” You said with a bit of a flat affect. His waxing-poetic seemed so unimpressive to you. Though, you felt a stab of guilt for thinking so.

“You, Sugar, I just can’t deny,” Val moved his hands up along your torso, stopping just underneath your breasts, “Good tits, nice stomach, pretty face,” his attention went back to your panties, “You coulda been on the cover of Hustler. Hhhnn, maybe I’ll make you the centerfold this month…”

You leaned over him, pressing your face to his. Fuck, his tongue felt so good in your mouth, making your stomach start to knot and squirm. He took your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whine before you pulled away. Placing tiny nips on his neck, you felt the heat in your stomach grow hotter and hotter and turn to slick. You wanted to touch him, feel him, consume him, and be consumed.

Val pulled away for a second, but it felt like forever. He reached into a shallow pocket and produced a button of something. It was a tiny tablet, waxy and fat, and pinched between his two fingers. You wondered what it was, it didn’t look like Oxy. You hoped it was something stronger, desiring the out of body experience you’d been losing since you started to grow tolerant of the opiate.

“You ever play a game of rolling roulette Sugar?” Val asked, you shook your head no.

“You trade the X tongue to tongue, and whoever’s it dissolves on is the lucky winner.” Oh so it was Ecstasy, now that’s good shit.

Val pulled you onto his lap, cupping a breast, “C’mon Baby, let’s go on a trip together…”

That’s all it took.

The tiny pill teetered between both of your tongues as you kissed, growing smaller and smaller and smaller. Val’s spit was thick and sweet and wonderful, something about it making your body go alight with electricity. The X melted so easy, like blue cotton candy; You could feel the serotonin swell in your brain like a party balloon.

When the first roll happened you moaned into Val’s mouth. All of your nerves were standing on edge, shivering with anticipation. He removed your bra, placing a nipple in his mouth as you felt his cock grow harder. It felt so much better than your other highs. The Oxy only ever calmed things, washed them out. The X was so different, so so much better. Everything seemed to shimmer, like the whole world was wrapped in cellophane. How could you think the absence of feeling was so wonderful when this existed?

Your mind was in a twinkly daze when you started to undress him. He kissed and licked at your neck while you felt your way through unbuttoning his top. Fuck, his skin was so smooth and warm; He pressed you closer, teeth bit into your collar bone before dragging his tongue over the marks he left.

You kissed your way down Val’s body. At his chest you lingered, leaving tiny red marks on the trail to his V-line. Valentino’s head lolled back on the couch as you unzipped his cock with all of its dark hair. You put it in your hand, running your thumb over the leaking tip. He swore under his breath as you pumped him slowly, up and down up and down.

The warmth of your tongue dragged along his thick shaft. Your stomach gets a sharp squirm to it, same as your cunt. It’s hard to tell because of the drugs or how sexy Val looks with his legs wide open and his cock needy for your touch. Looking up at him, you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

His breath hitched when you took him in your mouth. Your tongue twists and swirls around his cock, savoring the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. To try to calm that darling pain between your legs you rubbed your thighs together, but that didn’t help. All it served to do was make your cunt needier. You push his member deeper and deeper into your mouth; You moan into his sex, making him squeeze the palmful of hair he had in his hand tighter.

“You’re so good, Carino.” He says, breathless. You start to suck him faster, blowing and kissing and licking. Val kept sprinkling compliments throughout. It felt so good to be praised by him; All of those sweet things he’d save for everyone else, but never you. You’re so good, you’re so sexy, you take me so well, you’re so pretty, you make me so hard.

“‘M close.” He grabs your hair again, pulling your face in. Feeling devious, you pulled away, savoring the flustered look on his face. Val is huffing, fucked out, and dazed out of his goddamn mind on X.

“You can stand to wait a little longer Valcito~” You nip at the inside of one of his thighs, making his voice hitch into a falsetto. You dragged the tips of your fingers up to his sensitive stomach, mouth leaving a hard bite outline near his ribs. Tracing him was so wonderful, feeling all of those hard edges give into softness. Nursing on his neck, your thumb and forefinger followed his neck muscle and collarbone, dipping into their crevices.

“Valcito~” Your breath was hot against his neck. He mumbled something under his breath and tried to slip his hand into your panties. You caught his wrist and pushed it away, biting hard on his collarbone. You can wait.

Again your mouth found its way south, the want in your cunt becoming more and more painful. You took him in your mouth again, your saliva getting thick and syrupy. Val seized the opportunity and shoved your head down on his cock, chasing the release you denied him. Your teeth grazed his member before pulling away again. Val whined, his eyes pleading. A dark smile grew on your face before you took him again.

He let out a sharp breath and pressed his hands onto your scalp. You went faster, letting the flat of your tongue trace the vein on the underside of his cock. It was fun playing with him like this, having a little control with him for once. Val’s hands tensed in your hair when he warned you he was going to cum.

When he came he wailed, filling your mouth with his salty taste. Looking up at him, you opened your mouth. Val’s thumb traced your bottom lip, admiring his work.

“You look so good like this, Carino.” He huffed.

Pushing yourself from your knees you kissed Val, his seed still in your mouth. That’s all that took to make him go feral. He pulled you to his lap and laid you down, wrapping your legs around him. Without taking his mouth off yours he took his top off, ramming into your needy sex.

Fuck, Val was bigger than you thought he was. His pace was hard and fast, making you scratch your nails into his back. Your kiss tasted like everything good in the world- cum and grapefruit and cigarettes and cotton candy and euphoria. Both of you swallowed, pulling your faces away to catch your breaths. God, you were so wet, Val’s cock slipped in and out of you so easily and it felt so goddamn good. Better than any finger or cock or toy and it made you squeeze him tighter.

You pressed your forehead to his neck, mumbling nonsense. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Val spat on his fingers and slipped his hands between the two of you. You didn’t know what he was going to do until you felt his wet fingers graze your clit. He got rougher with it once he found it, making you squeal and cum on him.

That didn’t stop Val though, and god did it feel good. He kept fucking you through your release, making you cum another two times. Your legs felt like jelly, body weak and weightless. The X was releasing its last wave of chemical joy as he fucked you, pleasure rippling inside of you. He came inside you, making you sob into his neck. Val pressed you closer to him, whispering in your ear as you felt your release drip out of your cunt.

“You’re so good baby, so good and pretty.” Pleasepleasepleaseplease, say the magic words.

“I love you, you’re my perfect girl, my pretty baby.” You came again.

His thrusts got sloppier and you could tell he was gonna cum again. “Please, please, please, let me be your favorite, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” You whimpered.

The anticipation of an orgasm built up, shivering and needy. Val grazed your face and kissed you, “Oh you’re my favorite, baby. My little sullen girl~” He held you closer, savoring the way you squirmed when you came together.

When he was done he stayed inside you. Val pressed his head on the couch beneath you. You traced the scratches you left on his back, feeling your high from the X begin to ebb. Your breath felt so heavy and your mind so fuzzy. That all didn’t matter though, Val wanted you now. He’d been inside you, kissed you, felt you, squeezed you, and couldn’t get enough. He wanted you. So what if it was only for the moment, so what if this meant you could disappoint him, so what if you’re only a place-holder until someone better comes. You’re the favorite.

[toournextadventure]

Not sure if you're accepting requests but... I was thinking about Wednesday x gn!reader who asks her to the Rave'N dance then she's surprised cause reader matches her outfit and doesn't wear the correct theme of the dance. For the first time Wednesday is genuinely astonished and likes reader even more when they're covered in blood (red paint lol) 🤭

You know the vibe, our girl has a VERY specific taste in partners 😌

we match

Dances were pointless. School dances were even more pointless; they were truly nothing more than an excuse to put a bunch of teenagers into one room and put the social hierarchy on full display. Wednesday could admire the sadomasochism of it all, but that did not mean she wanted to attend. She was not her mother, she was not her father, and she did not care about the Rave’N.

She only agreed to go with you because she felt sorry for you, that was all.

“You look stunning!” Enid practically screamed in the most shrill voice Wednesday had ever heard.

“I look ridiculous,” Wednesday commented, although she would silently admit she did like the dress.

“It’s not the theme, but it suits you,” Enid continued more seriously with a small nod. “When is your date getting here?”

“Not a date,” Wednesday said, “but they should be here soon.”

As if she had summoned you herself, there was a knock on the door. Enid was on the verge of running to the door when Wednesday gave her a glare that had her shaking in her obnoxiously loud white boots. Wednesday herself walked to the door and opened it, fully prepared to ask if you were ready to torture her with this stupid dance and-

-and your outfit was black. You matched her dress.

“You look stunning,” you said with a small smile. It was nauseating. She wanted you to do it again.

“That’s what I said,” Enid chimed in; she ignored the look Wednesday sent her this time. “And you both match!”

“Well yeah, she’s my date,” you said with a shrug. Wednesday glared at your word usage. “But speaking of matching…” you pulled your hands from behind your back and held up two black rose corsages. “Now we can pull up in style.”

“Oh my god, that’s so cute!” Enid cheered.

But Wednesday wasn’t listening to her. No, she was focused on your hands, and the way your fingers brushed against her skin as you slid the corsage over her wrist. The way you just yanked yours over your own wrist without the same tenderness. Or your tongue poking out just past your lips as you readjusted your outfit, smiling once it was the way you wanted it.

“You ready to go?” You asked, holding your arm out for Wednesday to take.

She didn’t say anything, just slipped her arm through yours and let you lead the way. You walked tall with your head held high; unusual for you. Yet as soon as you were with her you were a new person. Heads turned as you both stepped into the dance, but you just looked down at Wednesday.

“Everyone is staring,” you said just loud enough for her to hear. “How about we give them something to talk about?”

You held your hand out for her to take, and Wednesday hesitated for only a moment before taking it; it was warm and soft. The way you moved was like a spectral ghost, feet barely touching the floor, movements so smooth it was mesmerising. But what Wednesday was still so focused on was your outfit.

What had possessed you to wear black? It wasn’t your typical colour palette; you wore it, but not religiously. Yet today, the day of all days, you wore all black. You knew the theme of the Rave’N this year was white, and you loved white. Had you truly done all of this for her?

If so, it was foolish. No one should abandon their interests or desires for someone else. That led to weakness, and weakness could be exploited. By doing this in front of everyone, you were admitting that she was your weakness. Someone was going to use it against you, or worse, try to use it against her to get something. Not only were you admitting your own fallacy, you were setting her up for exploitation.

And yet, Wednesday had to admire you. She wanted to admire you. You had accepted your feelings, had accepted the possible looks and words thrown at you, and you had done it anyway. For some unknown reason, you had gone out of your way to wear something black, something that matched her dress perfectly, and you were doing it with a smile on your face.

No. No, she didn’t like you. At least not aloud.

You ended the dance with a dip, holding her suspended in air with a smile on your lips. She still liked it. But your smile morphed into a slight frown, your face displaying confusion. What were you looking at? Wednesday was about to open her mouth to ask when she noticed a new red spot on your nose. Then on your cheek, where it dripped down.

Those few drops were the opening of a floodgate, and the sprinklers went off. You pulled her back up to her feet, holding her close and doing your best to shield her from the bloody rain. She didn’t mind, and you didn’t seem too concerned, but you tried. And they say chivalry is dead, Wednesday thought as your face became coated in the thick red liquid.

It really brought out the colour of your eyes and looked fabulous in contrast to your outfit.

“You look stunning,” Wednesday said aloud, mirroring what you had told her earlier.

You lowered your head to look at her and slowly, almost sadistically, your smile grew. The blood accentuated your smile.

Wednesday loved it.

[bbyhellfire]

our phantom of forever

➠ summary: eddie is resurrected by vecna, only to realize you don't exist in the upside down.

➠ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

➠ word count: 1.3k words

➠ warnings: angst city, death, resurrection, allusions to suicidal thoughts (eddie wishing for death), swearing, reader moved to hawkins with her parents, vecna being vecna.

➠ a/n: pushing the 'eddie is alive' agenda 😌 i have a couple ideas about eddie making a deal with vecna that i'm debating turning into a series or just standalone one shots, so let me know what you think! and let's continue to live in delulu

It was stupid, running away from Vecna in the Upside Down. It wasn't like he controlled it or anything. But Eddie Munson isn't exactly known for his smart decisions.

He makes a mad dash from the Creel House the first chance he gets. He's alive, resurrected by the very monster responsible for his death. Eddie should be relieved that he can feel his heart beating as he runs through the decrepit streets of Hawkins. The never ending fog blurs his vision, not that it matters. Upside Down or not, he knows where he is going. No alternate dimension can change that.

All Eddie wants is you. He wants to curl his wrecked body around yours and cry into your neck as you tell him everything will be okay. He knows it won't happen, Vecna won't be so quick to let his new plaything go. But the hope is still there, and it's enough to take him across town towards the direction of your home.

If he can't physically be with you, then at least he can be surrounded by you. A piss poor replacement, but he'll take what he can get.

The ash-like spores make his lungs burn with every jagged breath. His body, still weak from his death, begs for him to stop, but he is already here. The navy blue paint is chipped and vines have broken through the front windows, but it's still your home. The world around him blurs into a watercolor of black and blue as he rushes through your front door and up the stairs to your bedroom.

Maybe you'll be waiting for him. You'll greet him with open arms and a teary smile and –

Nothing.

You're not there. In fact, none of your belongings are there. Not your bed, not your desk, your posters, your clothes. The room is empty.

What the hell?

He moves towards your bathroom. The counter should be covered in your toiletries. The doodles he'd given to you should be taped up along the mirror.

An owl with "You're owl I need" written on the bottom.

A mug with "I love you a latte" etched in the front.

Another of a cat holding a sign that says, "I've got felines for you."

The bathroom is as empty as your room. The only things waiting for him are those fucking vines, slithering out of the bathroom sink like a bouquet of snakes.

No, no, no.

Vecna controls this universe, right? So it's not completely unreasonable that he could make you disappear. Right? That has to be it. This is just Vecna. It's all Vecna.

"Do you really think so little of me? After I saved your life? Think, boy."

Eddie's head shoots up to the mirror, expecting to see the monster standing behind him like this is some sort of horror movie, but he's alone. Of course Vecna has an omnipresent voice that echoes throughout. Of course he fucking does.

He's never gonna beat the God complex allegations, Eddie thinks as the vines in the sink start to move. A little nudge of encouragement so to speak.

He bolts out of your room and down the hallway to your parent's bedroom.

Empty.

He tries the linen closet.

Nothing.

He practically tumbles down to the first level. Your living room, dining room, kitchen, even the garage. Everything is devoid of you and anything connected to you.

Dread is settles in the pit of his stomach. He is running out of places to check. All he thinks to do is scream. And he does. He wails and wails until his vocal cords hemorrhage. The dull taste of blood in the back of his throat makes him add obscenities to his screams. Maybe it'd be enough to echo through the other side. Hell, he'd take your parents materializing to scold him. He'd take anything as long as it means you're there. But nothing ever comes. It's just him and his pain.

It's like you never existed.

Only when he's back in your bedroom, standing in the exact spot where your bed should be, does he remember Nancy's diary. Ice cold realization turns his organs into stone.

He tries not whimper, "She isn't here, is she?"

"No, she's not, but you already knew that." With every word, the fog thickens into a violent red until the monster responsible for all of this appears in front of him. Eddie shakes his head in furious denial as the date in Nancy's diary taunts him.

November 6, 1983.

It's like you don't exist in the Upside Down because of you don't exist. Your family wouldn't move to Hawkins until the following month. It wouldn't be until the start of the spring semester when you and Eddie would properly meet, paired up for a science project. By February, he'd build up the courage to ask you on a date. His adoration for you would bloom with the spring flowers. He would be head over heels in love with you by the fall.

But with the Upside Down frozen at a point in time where he didn't even know your name, you won't be here. There will be no record of you, no liferaft to cling to as his humanity is thrown into freefall.

"No, it's not fair! This isn't fucking fair!"

"The human existence is anything but fair. Your life was an excellent example of that."

Eddie knows that very well, but he doesn't need this walking smear stain reminding him like he's a toddler. He remembers every taunt, shove, and outrage that formed his life. They were his to experience, not anyone else's. They were his life no matter how unfair it may have been. Vecna didn't get to use them against him.

Now, he is angry. He lunges toward the monster, but vines shoot out to wrap around his waist before he can reach Vecna. They throw him back violently, wrapping around his middle and neck to keep him flush against the wall. The tendril around his waist tightens until he stops moving, his arms pinned to his side. Another vine slithers around his neck, squeezing until he has no choice but to look up at the monster of the Upside Down.

"So ungrateful even after I gifted you the chance of another life. Do you understand I can take that away from you? And then how would you see her again?"

Eddie grimaces, scrunching his nose and glaring with all the resentment building inside. He knows where this is going, the manipulation so obvious it's insulting.

The weight of his situation presses down on him harder than the vines bundling his body. He finally cries. Fat, angry tears run down his dirty cheeks as he glares at Vecna. Eddie hopes he looks as pathetic as he feels. Maybe Vecna will be disgusted and realize he made a mistake resurrecting him. He is not a killer, not a hero, not a villain. He is just Eddie.

He wishes for a reinstatement of his death sentence. He'd rather his body be picked apart by demobats than a life shackled by shame and defeat.

"I'm not unreasonable, Eddie," Vecna takes heavy steps towards him. "You can see her again, if it's what you really want. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it. I just need you to do something for me."

The tears keep falling, his vision blurring from the splotches in the shape of you. He thinks of you, the way you smell, the comforting feeling of your hand in his, the sweet nothings you'd whisper when you thought he was asleep. He remembers the nights you'd spend wrapped in his sheets, eyes glassy from all the weed you'd smoke, as you talk about the future.

That is all he will ever have of you – memories. Memories that will fade until only the pain of what could have been remains.

What else is he supposed to do?

"What is it?"

divider by @/silkholland

[scekrex]

Hurt/comfort anyone? 😌

We all know Adam's "big and tough" act, how he gloats before anyone that he's the absolute best since he's the og dick and he's the reason the rest of the mankind was created, but what about Adam just being Adam like anytime else, especially the scene in court and Sera just talking his ear off about him acting irresponsibly and just revealing the exterminations to everyone in the worst way possible, just giving him a good ol' talk, but not in a nice way, nope. She crushes his ego in a way before leaving him alone in the room, saying she has stuff to attend and he's just standing there, all deflated and his mask glitching from how many conflicted feelings fly over his face, he's resignated, he's even sad a bit, but also angry. At Sera, at Heaven, God even, but mostly at himself since he knows he fucked up another thing in his life that he was trusted with.

He goes back home to unsuspecting of anything reader and just passes by him, not saying a word, even tho reader tried to greet him and hug him, but was unable to since Adam just brushed past him quickly. There was a heavy air surrounding reader's husband and he grew concerned, so he went to check up on him, seeing Adam just curled up on the bed, wrapped up in his own wings, shielding himself away from the world, not a sound coming out of him, but reader knew something shitty happened and just gets behind him, hugging him tightly and gently petting his wings, not saying a word to let Adam calm down and speak when he's comfortable enough to do so. Adam just smashing himself into reader and asking quietly if he was actually so bad at everything that he didn't deserve anything good in his life, if that was why everyone he cared about before left him and even now no body cares in the slightest bit about his existence. Basically just Adam having an existential crisis and reader being his anchor, trying to tell and show him how it actually is and not what his mind is telling him.

This sad, wet cat bitch needs validation and love like no one before 😞🤘

Muah ❤️

Adam might be an insecure piece of shit underneath all that narcissistic bullshit act of his but he's my insecure piece of shit and I love him.

If I'm so wonderful then why am I so misunderstood

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hurt (with comfort)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“Adam,” the older seraphim raised her voice against the first man loudly, it echoed through her office with much more power than the first man had expected it to, he flinched a little at her tone, his wings dropping to their lowest. “Sera, I-” Adam wanted to explain, wanted to turn it into the stupid joke it had been, but the older seraphim had enough of it. She had enough of Adam, she had enough of his behavior and she was about to let him know. “You’re behavior is no longer accepted by us,” she started what would turn into a monologue, Adam made himself appear a little smaller at her words. “You walk on heaven's holy ground, eat the food our Father provides and whenever someone does not show you respect, your first argument is that you're the first human,” all of the things Sera had listed were true, well they had been the most obvious ones but that didn't make them less true. “And yet you behave like one of them sinners,” that however caught Adam's attention. He was what? How dare she insult him like that, he was very much not acting like a sinner. Or was he?

“You walk heaven's streets with curses on your lips, you dirtied your own purity by sleeping with so many women and men, you behave like a total child and don't know when to stop and where to draw the line and I personally am under the impression that we let your behavior slide for way too long,” she stared Adam in the eyes, giving the first man the most serious look he had ever gotten from the seraphim. The brunette lowered his head in defeat, Sera had often given him shit for being too loud, too much of this, too much of that, she had told him he wasn't behaving like the pure first human should - but it wasn't Adam's fault, not really, because how was he supposed to behave ‘normal’ when God had given him two wives just to take them from him again when he was alive? How was he supposed to fit in and act like everyone else when all that would bring him would be pain?

“Maybe divine judgment failed you. Maybe you should have ended up in hell amongst the other sinners. Father certainly wouldn't have liked it, not after Lucifer's fall, but it would have been the correct decision.” And that made Adam crumble into pieces - at least mentally. Because deep down inside he knew she was right, that no angel other than him dared to stain the name of the Father above, no other angel dared to behave as reckless and merciless as he and his exorcists did. And yes, no other angel than him had slept with so many women and men - a thing he used to be proud of. Before he had met you, before you had become his lover, before he had committed himself to you and only you. Before you, he had been different.

She smoothened out her hair, straightened her back and looked down at Adam, “I have to attend an important meeting. You shall leave and overthink your actions, Adam.” And with that she left him there, leaving him as she had shattered not only his ego but the last piece of confidence he had held inside of him. It took the brunette a while to realize that Sera was not coming back to comfort him, to tell him that she had been too harsh, why should she? She was right after all, Adam was a horrible person, he knew that, had known it ever since.

-

When the door to your shared apartment opened and Adam walked through it, you were quick to get up and greet him with a warm hug, expecting your boyfriend to be just as excited to see you as you were to see him. But he wasn't, in fact he didn't even look at you as he crossed the living room in order to get to the bedroom, no ‘sup babes’, no ‘Fuck I've missed ya stupid ass' no fucking nothing. The tips of his feathers were dragging on the floor as he walked, a sign that something wasn't right - Adam always made sure that not a single inch of his beloved wings was touching the dirty ground, even in your apartment. The brunette clearly wasn't in the mood to talk, yet you went after him to let him know that he wasn't alone, that you were there no matter what was wrong.

You opened the bedroom door quietly and what you saw shattered your heart. Adam was laying on the bed, his body looked like a ball made out of feathers, he had curled in on himself, his wings shielded him from all of reality, from whatever was hurting him right now. Yet you saw how his body shook, the first man was crying.

Wordlessly you closed the door behind you, trying to do so as quietly as possible. Then you walked over to the bed and cuddled up behind him, one of your hand gently found its way into his hair, petting it just the way you knew he liked it whenever he was feeling upset about something, the other hand of yours smoothened out the feathers covering his wings, gently rubbed the little gap between where the wings grew out of his back - you were very aware how sensitive that area of the angelic body was given that you yourself had experienced it before.

For you it was ridiculously hard to keep quiet, you wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask what was upsetting him so much, why he was crying, what there was for you to do to make it better, but you didn't. You remained quiet, Adam had made it clear that he preferred not talking about it at the moment - or maybe he simply found himself unable to do so, you weren't quite sure which was the case but either way you respected it.

A small smile appeared on your face as the brunette leaned into your touch, he tilted his head backwards, sad, puffy and reddened eyes watched you as you continued to pet his hair without a single comment, if Adam wanted to talk, you would listen. If Adam wanted to stay quiet and enjoy your presence in silence you were fine with that as well. For you it simply was important that the first man knew he wasn't alone. You were there to provide comfort and a safe space he desperately seemed to need.

“Am I as fucking terrible as people tell me I am?” there it was again, his unnecessary cursing, fuck Sera had been right. He rolled himself over, buried his face in your neck and pressed his body against your own. Your body warmth calmed his nerves, made his mind quiet down for even just the tiniest moment, but it did cause it to quiet down. “Is that why I only have Lute and you left? Because I'm fucking terrible? Because I don't deserve damn good things to happen to me?” his voice was really just a whisper yet you understood every word perfectly fine, even if it was mumbled against your skin. Your hands remained on the gap between his wings and in his hair, giving Adam the stability he craved. He needed someone to cling onto, he was too unstable to hold himself together so you did that for him. “No,” your voice was soft and warm, yet serious, it caused Adam to blink in confusion. “I don't deserve you,” was the next thing he said, and that was where you drew the line, you gently tilted his head upwards, then placed a soft, loving kiss onto his lips, “Bullshit Adam, you're wonderful and I love you.” “But I’m not. I curse a-fucking-lot, I can't keep shit together, for fucks sake I can't even do the simple things like telling you I fucking love you every day.” And yes, that was true, but that didn't cause you to love him any less, if anything it was things you loved about him especially. “I don't care about all of that, I still love you.” “Will you leave me too? Like Eve? Like Lilith? Once you finally fucking find someone better?” You shook your head lightly, placed another kiss onto his forehead, your lips kept resting against his skin as you spoke, “No, dummy. To me there's no one better than you are. You're the best for me and you'll always be.” Adam didn't answer you.

He clung onto you even tighter, wrapped his wings around you and held you close. He didn't believe you, simply couldn't, not after what Sera had said. But at the same time the first man trusted you with his existence, so why would you lie to him? His inner conflict was silenced as you pulled him into another gentle kiss. You couldn't help but hum a soothing melody, “You’ve already changed so much, so many things you've done,” you felt as Adam's eyes fell shut and as his body relaxed underneath your touch. “So many songs you've sung, and in the end, they will still hold their grudge,” you felt him nuzzle against your skin, felt how his breath evened out. “There’s something I've been dying to say, more than anything,” you smiled as you sang the last part, feeling Adam's fingers digging in your skin as he tried to pull you even closer - not that it was nearly enough though. “More than anything, need you to know I love you more than anything.” The first man pressed a sloppy, lazy kiss against your jaw before he fell asleep, from his lips fell a quiet, “More than anything.”

[alaina-starling]

☁️Cuddles and Kisses☁️

[Lee Minho x Fem!Reader]

summary: reader is on her period, so Minho does the only sensible thing: give her kisses and cuddles (and orders her favorite food but that’s a surprise)

genre: fluff

warning: weird writing, idk i wrote this at 1am. tooth-aching sweet Minho, y/n speaking in another language(?), mentions of cursing god(s) lmao

note: okay so I know he doesn’t understand tagalog, but that diff breed filo skz stan in me kicks in and I have to make you speak tagalog😌💚 (it’s not really a warning but just an additional tag idk why it’s in warning lmao)

Masterlist

“Babe? Can you get me a soda from the fridge, please.” Minho’s shouts are muffled by the thick wooden door of his office but Y/n understood it nonetheless.

She takes small steps, her abdomen aching. She opens the refrigerator door, softly humming a song that pops in her mind. She vaguely remembers a gas station, two annoyed younger siblings in the car, and a steaming engine.

She chuckles, her warm hands touch the cold soda and she shivers. She takes a mental note not to leave her blanket anywhere on days when 40 millimeters of blood is gushing out of her vagina because of her uterus shedding some stupid lining that was prepared for a dumb fetus.

Y/n grumbles when she nears his door, wiping her numbing hand on her shirt then reaching for the door handle when it bursts open and she crashes with an excited Minho.

“Baby- oof!” He squeals, left hand finding her waist while the other grabs the falling soda can that’s about to crash to the floor.

She thanks the gods who gave Minho good reflexes, but curses the one who made him have a habit of not paying attention when opening doors.

“Oh dear, are you okay, hun?” He stabilizes her, his right hand tucking a stray hair that fell to her face. He cups her cheek and she melts to her boyfriend’s touch, leaning in.

He’s soft and passionate with the kiss, despite her neediness. Y/n lets out a whimper, the feeling of a sword stabbing and jabbing right on her abdomen and through her lower back engulfs her senses.

These cramps are messing her up, and yet again she takes a mental note not to miss her monthly chamomile tea before the ‘red’ curse enters (more like violently exits) her body.

“Hah, just peachy.” She huffs out before kissing him again, now biting gently at his lower lip.

“Nngh.” A soft noise slips out of his lips before he can stop it and Y/n stops kissing him, instead staring at him with disbelief etched on her face.

She stifles a laugh, preventing a gush that threatens to stain her pants. “Min?”

He smiles, laughing. This is her first time hearing him being vocal from a kiss, after all that’s always been her job. “Oh come on. You were biting me!” He defends and the look he has is enough to send her to the ground cackling.

“You’re too cute.” She manages to choke out as he pulls her up to carry her, settling her down on the couch. “Mmh, are you spending time with me instead of doing work because of my period situation?”

He nods, rushing to his office, she hears him shuffling around. Probably looking for his phone she thinks, turning her attention to the tv and realizing she doesn’t know where the remote is. “Min.” She calls for him, not wanting to move from her spot on the couch. “Lee Minho, where did you put the tv remote?” She finally shouts, head lifting to go look at what he’s doing in the other room.

He suddenly pops up behind the couch giving her a mini heart attack.

“Oh yeah.” He chuckles apologetically, “I left it in my room, here.” Minho holds her hand in his, giving her the remote.

Y/n smiles, patting the space next to her. Her boyfriend mirrors her, his lips tugging upwards. He lets his bunny slippers fall off his feet as he snuggles beside her, his back on the couch, his chest pressed against her own.

“Good?” He asks, running a hand through her ruffled hair.

“Mmh, as long as you’re here.”

10 minutes later she sees the doorknob of her front door turn, panic digs its claws on her throat and lungs, until she sees Hyunjin by the door. “Uh… Minho hyung, here are the things you asked for.”

[honestly switch to second person pov, im struggling af]

He sheepishly grins, demeanor shy from intruding your cuddle time. “I hope you feel better, Y/n noona.”

After Minho thanks him, Hyunjin bows a few more times before exiting your apartment and locking it with his, seemingly, own set of keys.

“Did you give Hyunjin your keys? Is that why you’re always locked out of your own home?” You tease and he playfully pouts.

“Oh, come on. You know you love helping a damsel in distress.” He jokes, cupping your face and leaving butterfly kisses all over.

You shy away, shifting your attention to the plastic of food Hyunjin brought. “Let’s eat,” you say, eager to taste Hyunjin’s cooking after not having his dishes for a long time.

Your boyfriend nods, standing up to get the plastic, two plates, two pairs of silverware and mugs. “Want the imported tea or the, uh,” he pauses, reading the small writing on the tea bag but not finding the name of the actual tea.

“Chamomile babe, thank you.” You answer, pulling the blanket by your feet over you. “Lamig naman, kakaiyak.” You sigh, complaining about the cold and half expecting him to turn the temperature a bit higher.

“What’s that, baby girl?” He hums from the kitchen, “You know I don’t understand the language, sorry.” He apologizes genuinely, feeling a bit guilty you’re learning korean but he isn’t making an effort to learn your language.

“It’s alright, Min. I’m sorry I didn’t notice, I said I’m cold.” You reply in a nonchalant tone, you don’t care at all, it’s not like he’ll be going to the country, and besides you only learned korean because you were going to the country.

When he finishes fixing you a cup of tea, he brings it to the table in the living room. Setting up everything else for your comfort, and not letting you do anything.

“Alright let’s watch that movie you keep talking about!” He starts excitedly, caressing your cheek before turning to the food and tv.

You relax the rest of the day, receiving absolute princess treatment from Minho. At the end of the day you’ve been pampered with kisses and lulled to sleep with cuddles.

Minho truly is a treasure.

Find all my works under #skzwife-02

[nevereverthem]

Gotham : Season 1 Episode 2

Okay... Two weeks later I'm finally watching the second episode... I'm NERVOUS guys!! The more I learn about that show, the more I'm growing unhinged over the characters and the plots like AH!!

Breathe, breathe... Aaaaahhhh. Let's go.

OH MY GOD!!

The little montage of the previous episode!! So cool!! And it starts with Oswald's voice, which is a plus. 🙄 Yeah, I know. 🙄

Bruce, in the living room, in the dark, and a candle. Way to be dramatic...

What is he... WHAT!? You're tryna see how long you can hold your hand over a flame before it's too much or before you burn and die, you stupid!? Jim told you to "be strong", not to turn into the Human Torch!! That's the story of his life, boy hesitated between two superheroes. 🤣

Alfred coming in though. x) Bruce immediately getting up and moving away from the candle like he's been caught masturbating. 🤣 Yeah sorry I thought about that. 😭🙃

"blabla my bloody ass..." I can't help with how Alfred talks. I LOVE it. 🤣🤣 It's just... I thought the rich family and butler thingy would mean incredible politeness... NOPE! x)

Bruce, hand behind his back. Bro, you're not subtle!! You could have just nonchalantly put both your hands down like nothing happened. People don't ask if there's no clue. x)

A "terrible liar". No shit! x)

"Come on, show me." Aaww, Alfred tryna be soft. 🥹

OMG!! How Alfred got angry so FAST!! Man's also emotionally struggling... Bruce lost both his parents and now he's doing things like this, hurting himself... Alfred doesn't want to lose him too... 🥲

When I see the skyscrapers of Gotham... It looks like it's gonna be a fancy party or whatever... and you're in a dark alley in the streets with Selina. Not complaining though. 😌

Oh! A necklace... 🤔

The homeless whatever program... Sounds suspicious! 🤨

Selina being called "Cat"! Of COURSE!

WHAT!? What are they being jabbed with, damn it!? And the dude just shot the older guy left!? What on heart!? Run Selina, RUN!!

"Oh, fudge!" Like, we drug/kill people, but we don't curse. That's called manners. 🤣😭

The guy thrown through a window, dear GOD! Enjoy your dinner. 🙃🥲

Jim's face when he discovers the homeless guy that's been shot...

The military plate. 😱 That hits hard for Jim. Like it's become personal, you know.

Selina, watching... I mean it's her episode! And, she's got a thing for stalking, watching.

Harvey with the coffee "I bought you one but I dropped it." Just shut up! 🙃

The officer assumes that the "homeless junkie" jumped through a window!? Man!! I hate those assumptions!! Someone threw him, you dick! These cliché!

"You're not a bad guy, you're just a bad cop!" Jim got up to drop bombs!! 💥😱

Jim starting a fight with the other cop damn. X)

Harvey dropping HIS coffee is KARMA!! 🤣🤣

At the GCPD,

You see, the guy's not high!! He was assaulted!!

[I'm 5 minutes in and I've already written that much so you either bear with me or just go read something else. 'Cause it's gonna be a long ride!]

"Nobody gives a crap about us!!" So true...

"We're grown ups. We're smarter than you." STOP YOUR BULLSHIT!! You piss me off Harvey!! Am I gonna like him at some point or not? 'Cause your age doesn't determine your intelligence!

Harvey says that he's gonna "beat the truth out of him"!? What is that??

WHAT!? Harvey is such a damn hypocrite!! Jim tells him that he can't beat a 16 year-old down, so Harvey brings up the "not long since you put a man in the river". You're an ASS!! (and Jim did not do it 🙄)

Jim is a "pain in the arse" because he wants to do his job correctly!? Okay, right!! Tell me Harvey's gonna get better. 😭

OMG Jim pushing Harvey away! The reaction of the 16yo guy! x)

An officer, "Hey, watch the shoes, clown!" and Harvey just punches him!? I... Are the cops in Gotham all... yeah yeah, it's the city... 🥲 Harvey needs to sleep RIGHT NOW! "Shift's over." Damn right. 😅

Aaaaahhhhhh!! That's the scene!! Oswald tryna stop a car!! I'm already screaming!!

The WALK!! My little disabled baby. 🥹🐧 (I'm allowed, I'm disabled too)

The guys stopping, then moving, then stopping, then moving again... You can already see the shift on Oswald's face...

The song they listen to is nice though. Don't know what it is but appreciate.

Dick! Spraying Oswald in his face! Bro. Just hand him deodorant idk.

I have a thing for the way Oswald talks. Complete sentences with specific chosen words... The sound of his voice... Melting! 🫠🫠

A beer? Oswald drinking a beer is so odd to me. That goes with the "frat boys-ish" cliché then. Rure dicks who drink at any time. ~ I suppose.

"What the hell happened to you anyhow?" -> "It was my own fault. Foolish arrogance lead me astray." You see what I'm talking about!? 😍🫠 Or is it just me who lacks english skills? 🤔

"I'll be back." (I had to. x))

All it took was for the guy to tell him that when he walks he looks like a "penguin" and that was it! The shift bro!! How he stabbed the guy with the broken bottle. Damn it! I already knew about that scene but in context it's WOW!! Plus, the fact that he was already called "penguin" before he got his leg injured... And now the way he walks because of it adds to the nickname... Dude's had ENOUGH!! Then again, these guys were dicks, but I don't condone their execution dude! 😅🙃

💥 INTRO TITLE 💥

I mean, right after that scene is such a good choice!

"I thought you were with the program." The fact that their chief is in all this is AH. And the... "It's not like I can order you to break the law but... This is Gotham." 🤣😭 That city's cursed my boy!

AAAAHHHH!! Edward peeking through the glass door!! I'm hyperventilating again!!

He's always so giddy with excitement, it's so refreshing! Yeah, I know how it turns out... But let me appreciate just sheer enthusiasm. 😌

Btw, Harvey looks so done, while Jim is intrigued. x)

The "old Arkham Asylum". Here, we're talking about the real things, damn it!!

"Thank you, Ed." And he stays there... Of course, who decided that 'thank you' would also mean 'now you shall leave'? 🙄 Neurotypicals... 🙄

Arkham's been close for 15 years!? 😱 Suspicious again? Not so closed I guess...

Harvey asking if Fish Mooney is still mad at them... 🤣🤣 Wanna bet?

The band playing at her club is 🔥🔥.

"Bravo! Bravo!" Imma melt every time I hear french. 🫠🫠

Falcone!! Btw, how Butch immediately saw the change on Fish's face and got up! That's his job I know, but he genuinely looked concerned.

The face of the waiter though. His smile! Is he onto something or does his job amuse him that much? Like, "serving the Mob, how exciting!" x)

"Men who are about to die are very honest. It pays to listen to them." Lmao, me instantly thinking of Oswald in the previous episode. Btw, is Falcone always gonna drop these quotes? I'm all for it!

The Waynes and Falcone were sort of linked!? Oh crap. The two balanced each other... Huh, interesting. 🤔

Oh, the Maroni family...

"I never lose sleep over my enemies. It's my friends that keep me awake." SEE!? 😱😱 The man is dropping insane quotes each time he speaks!!

How Oswald metaphorically spat on Fish when he talked to Falcone. Dude tried to save his ass all the ways he could. x) 🥲

FISH!! Why ya lying? Why ya fucking lying? Blabla "deep love" blabla "respect" blabla "like a father"... Falcone's not buying it. He surely isn't that stupid.

Fish about her love life. 💔

Oooohhh that's why the waiter had that smile. 🤣🤣 He sleeps with Fish, right, right.

What!? WHAT!? The man gets beaten up in the middle of the club... I...

"Thank you for being honest with me. It means a lot to me. It shows wisdom and humility." -> Translation : "If you betray me, you'll end up like that guy (and/or) I'll break everything you love."

Aaww Oswald's picture. He looks so innocent. (He's not x))

Gertrud!! Renee and Crispus though.

"A woman!? You're sure?" Hum.... NOPE. x)

"GCPD?" "Like that, but honest." I can't argue with that. 😅🙃

Butch, I like the blue tie. ☺️

Fish swearing she's gonna kill Falcone some day soon. Damn! I know he dies, but is it her doing? 🤔

"I just wish that Penguin was still alive." OMG 🤣🤣🤣🤣 "I didn't make that little punk suffer near badly enough." Well... Disabled for life is enough in my knowing opinion... 😅

OMG Oswald 🤣🤣 driving the car of the guys who took him hitchhiking and that he killed. 🙄

Where did he put the bodies though? 🤔

Oswald renting a van? "I'm not fussy." Hum, liar. But in your current state it's clearly enough. 🙃

The bodies are in trash bags? Man! Where did he get the bags though? 🤔

Btw, Oswald drives with his bad leg!! Doesn't that hurt?

OMG, the kidnapped kids waking up! 😱

Aaaaahhhh Harvey walking in, all heart-eyed for Fish, internally asking for mercy. 🤣

Jim still doesn't buy their bullshit and I appreciate it SO MUCH!!

"Guess you misjudged me." Nope, nope dude. You couldn't kill Penguin. She was right. But they don't know... Yet. 🙃🙄😅😧

"You're just a little sinner like the rest of us." Why does it sounds like she's trying to flirt with him? 😭

Still this "... no one cares to know." That infuriates me!!

Aw, Barbara and Jim. 🥰

"Can't believe the system is so corrupt."

"You have no idea."

"What do you mean?"

OOPS. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Jim's face. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Jim, you're a terrible liar!! At least you can't lie to Barbara. She sees right through you!!

OMG how she called the newspaper just like that! AWESOME. 🤣😎

"Don't do it again." - "Yes, boss!"... Jim's breathing just after, like... They had fun I think. 🙄🥰

Gotham at night is always so different damn!

The guy who sells the drug : "I gotta stand up for what is right here."... Dude... You don't care about the children... You're asking for more money to run away and cover your ass...

"The doll maker doesn't tolerate failure..." The implications of his name sounds so creepy. 😭😭😭😭

"You didn't call the Gazette, but did your girl call the Gazette?" Harvey, deduction, on point at least. 👌

"You gotta learn to control your woman." SHUT UP RIGHT THERE YOU- AH!

"Kinda like her the way she is." Aw, green flag again.

Harvey'd talk about women, just... Yeah shut up.

OMG, the "bad guys" put on an act for the detectives, I can't. You know, the woman looks very cliché respectable... but she's not. 🙃

The guy in the corner holding a gun to the man in charge of the 'shop'... OMG x)

Each time I hear "Arkham Asylum" I can't help but think about Jerome... I CAN'T WAIT!! Okay... Calm down... I'm wet... Wait!... What was that? 🙄 (Btw, I know Jerome is like 17 - 18 when he's arrested... but the ACTOR was 21 at the time, so it's okay!! Not being disgusting here, thank you.)

"[...]The Wayne Foundation is planning on reopening the old place again." WHAT!? That was THEIR plan?? Okay, I'm out, I'm out. x)

OMG that was so COOL!! The whole speech and then the hint : "Nobody's safe!" Lights out, shooting! 😱

How Harvey yells "JIM!!" Corrupted cops, arguments, but still a partnership somehow. 😌

The owner erupting from under the table. x)

JIM!! GUN!! And his FACE. The determined gaze!! 🫠🫠

Jim shot the old guy in a snap of a finger!

He fell down the hole... Where does that lead to?

Rescuing these children at least!

OMG The Mayor, plus Harvey, Jim and their boss, plus the children in front of journalists. "[...]We will take care of you as if you were our own children[...]" BULLSHIT!! They are homeless children that you didn't care about before... But now it's on the news so it's important... Ladies and gentlemen, here is the truthful representation of society and politics! 🙃🙃🙃🙃

Oh, my bad, they're taking the kids off of the streets and taking them elsewhere. At least they're doing something... Selina's expression though. That looks like massive arrestation, not a caring program... But hey... Benefit of the doubt. 🤷‍♀️

A toast? Fuck you.

Foster homes for the "cute, undamaged" ones... And "correction facilities" for the others... WHAT ON EARTH!? Benefit of the doubt MY ASS!!

"I see you're using the child snatchers as a pretext to lock up children... without a trial." 💥 JIM! How I LOVE YOU! ❤️ Ain't afraid of no politician! The guy fooled a Mob boss. Ya think he's gonna let a Mayor alone?

"Thank you my friend. Valuable input. Most refreshing." I... I can't deny the Mayor's response is amazing. x) Amazingly infuriating, but on point!

OMG Alfred at the GCPD.

Aaww, Alfred is asking Jim for help concerning little Brucey. 🥹🥹😭😭

"Never had a child before." - "Nor me." x)

"Tea time, should we say." Is Alfred english? The man says "bloody" and talks about "tea time". I swear it's as cliché as that!

Bruce, the desk is so big compared to you. (Height jokes, I'm also very petite, mind you)

Is Bruce listening to METAL!? DUDE!! And those drawings? Man's entering his alternative phase. 🤣🤣 I'm ALL FOR IT! I know his parents were murdered and it's all dark, but let me fantasize.

Selina asking to talk to Jim Gordon!! Girl's been listening. Girl's tryna get a way out of juvi.

Aw, is it her mother in the necklace pendant?

Oh no! Don't let it hang off your pocket! You're gonna lose it. 😭😭

Selina's already went to juvi apparently, got some experience.

OMG!! Actually made me GASP!! The snatchers in the bus!! 😭😭 Selina instantly recognising the lady and the man. 😭😭

The Mayor's angry... Angry he's gonna look bad on the news yes. 🙄

For once, Harvey's right about hitting the drug seller guy!! Jim's standing still, watching. He's got his approval.

"He doesn't like it when I beat people, but for you he has no objection, why is that?" OMG Harvey, EXACTLY!! Jim's breathing gives it away though, can't say he likes it.

"Math. The lives of thirty children versus one scumbag." JIM!! 😮 Please, is he using the word "scumbag" to mimic Harvey? 🙄

"So I can beat you [...] and Saint Jim won't interfere." PLEASE 🤣🤣😭😭

When the man starts giving informations and Harvey wants to beat him again, Jim stops him. Jim stays Jim. 😌

Shipping containers? Really, human merchandise...

Selina hiding on the bus. OBVIOUSLY. Not subtle though. Duck your head, you stupid! 😭

Honestly, she couldn't have hidden efficiently. That's not realistic. The woman should have seen her!

Anyway, got out, hid under the bus. Fair.

The dude's really like "meh, miscounted, we have enough kids anyway." High five! I... Filthy little... AH!

Selina running away... She technically shouldn't have been able to escape... But again, there wouldn't be a story if she hadn't. 🙄

OMG the logo!!

Trident Intercontinental shipping... Really!?

"My eyes. She scratched me!" OMG the payoff!! Selina told the little boy to "go for their eyes" which she did!! AWESOME!!

OMG, she's got fucking CLAWS in place of her nails damn it!! 🩸🩸

Okay... Guy's been shot. RIP. I mean, you were working in children trafficking, so... No RIP. Go to Hell.

Bitch's searching for Selina... When is Jim gonna come to the rescue!? With a bunch of cops I hope...

Just, her ripped skinny jeans and leather jacket... 😌😌

Oh no, the necklace!! BUT, another payoff!! The necklace has been hanging for dear life on the edge of her pocket since she got on the bus!

"You are a very naughty little girl." Ok. 🙃

JIM!! I KNEW IT!! BABYYYYY!! Whack her!

Selina not wanting to say her name. Again. Meh, at least your wish was granted, you got to see Jim Gordon. x)

Harvey's here too, obviously. Is it just the two of them? Seriously!? There is no squad for rescuing a bunch of children!?

Yeay Harvey got the other bastard! At least he did that!

Oh, Wayne's manor! Alfred. Jim. And tea. 😉

Bruce : No sleep. When he does sleep he has nightmares. Burning, cutting himself... Brucey baby no 🥺🥲

No psychiatrist. That's the rule...

Alfred wanting to live up to Bruce's parents expectations for his education. 🥹 "Trust him to choose his own course."

"Sounds like a recipe for disaster." 🤣😭 JIM.

"He wants you to talk some sense into me." Aaaaahhhh Bruce eavesdropping!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Cackling, rolling on the floor. I know it's supposed to be sad, but I can't help it!

Alfred said "bloody" again! I swear! I'm gonna count them! x) 3 in 2 episodes for now.

"Alright, Bruce. Talk to me." - "I'm perfectly fine." Yup. That's the response of someone who's not doing well. I mean look at him. 🥲

"Alfred's a worrywart." Bitch. x)

Aaaaahhhh "Talking to someone can be very helpful." - "You must have seen terrible things in the war. Does it help you to talk about what you saw?" - "Yes, a little." - "You're not a very good liar." BOOM!! That exchange!! That's the second time in the episode that someone tells him that. I can't. x) Patterns guys. Patterns!

"I'm testing myself!" What did I say at the beginning, huh!?

Bruce grabbing a biscuit and sitting on the couch. I love when eating is used as a "fuck you/no thank" device. x)

Alfred standing in the corner. Cutie butler. 🥹

AaaaH Bruce talking about the children, talking about money... and Jim saying that what they need is someone to care for them, like Alfred does for him. Well played Jim, well played!! 😌🥹

"There must be something I can do." Oh. Callback? He couldn't do anything for his parents. Now he wants to do something whenever he can? 🤔😭

Oh, they were given clothes then! Right!

"After all this, you're sending us upstate?" Selina's so right! One more trauma for these children and now juvi. Yeay. 🙃🙃🙃🙃 STUPID!

She's 13? Bruce is 11. Huh!

Oh... Her mother is nowhere to be seen, legally considered dead... Another mystery. 🤔

"Go get him (Gordon), or I'll say you touched me." I... Oh My... Ah! She... Ok... Ah... "James Gordon... I'm gonna scream in about three seconds..." SHE IS AH!

Oswald aaaahhhh!! 😌😌

I was wondering when we were gonna get news from your whereabouts...

Laying on the van's floor... Is he wearing borrowed clothes from the man he rented the van from or... Is it the clothes of the dudes that he killed? Could be possible. I can't.

Baby? Your makeup is smudged.

OMG, Gotham's map!! Falcone. The Mayor ("oink"). Wayne. Harvey. Jim (stooge lmao). Fish (Bitch!) with the bloody knife! x) OMG that's someone who's got a plan! 😱😱

His phone ringing, how he got up though. OMG! He kidnapped the guy who was driving!? How did he... OMG!! Oswald!! Why did you... Ah!

Oh MY GOD!! How the guy's mother thinks it's a trick from her son! Like she isn't even trying! Oswald sent a fucking video and asked for 10,000$. He is even willing to lower the ransom. And the woman still isn't buying it! "Well that's disappointing." 🤣🤣🤣🤣 That's peak morbid comedy! x) "She didn't believe me. You must be quite the scamp." RIGHT, huh? How far must you have gone before, that your parents don't even bat an eye at your kidnapping, thinking it's a joke and not even doubting it a second!?

And, Oswald's smile. PLEASE!

Ah, Selina, here finally comes JIM GORDON. 🎉

"I've been watching you. You're friends with the boy. You're not like the rest of those folks." Jim immediately looking around, judging his own colleagues. Damn right girl! x)

"The boy? Bruce? What do you mean you've been watching me?" X)

I love that she's 13 and already got people around her finger. x)

She knows about Mario Pepper being a patsy. Jim is impressed, confused and worried. 🤣🤣

"Could you get me out?" - "It's possible." Jim bargaining. x)

"I saw who really killed the Waynes. Saw him clear as day."

Aaaahhh that's right! She was right there, hiding! Not to get killed herself! 😱😱 Did she actually saw what he looked like? I mean, Bruce saw him up close... Maybe Selina has other informations... details Bruce didn't notice... 🤔 We'll see...

OMG!!

It took me 4 hours to watch the episode & write down my reactions. I press the pause button so much, rewind too! It is so WORTH the time! 😌

Will we hear about the "doll maker" again? 🤔

Oswald got me thinking... He killed a man for a sandwich. Then killed a man for a car and kidnapped the other for money.

Btw, how did he do that, like... The guy should have had physical dominance, right? Let's say Oswald's got secret abilities!

But please! Does this mean he killed before? Like, the old fisherman wasn't his first? 🤔

Btw, that's some elaborate map/planning board that he's got there. That's so amazing seeing where he is now, and knowing what he's going to become later... That's some climbing the ladder of (criminal) success!

Where did he get all the pictures though? Newspaper, magazines??

Anyway...

Building, building, the second episode and more mysteries... and problems. 🤣🤣

Edward seems so innocent for now, that's... Ah!

Okay stopping now.

If you've read that far, THANK YOU!! 🫶💕

Looking forward to the next episode. 😌😍

[drabbles-mc]

Better Than Him

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Summary: When your boyfriend bails last-minute on yet another date night, you call the first person you can think of to commiserate with.

Warnings: 18+, smut, cheating, language, alcohol

Word Count: 6.7k (oops)

A/N: Don't ask me how I ended up writing almost 7k of debauchery and filth for Angel. I don't know. I drank some wine and this happened. I feel like it should go without saying, but I'll still say it: don't cheat on your partners, y'all. It's only okay and sexy for fictional people to do. 😂😌

Angel Reyes Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lilacyennefer @bport76 @rosieposie0624 @queenbeered @littlekittymeow @thesandbeneathmytoes @meadowofsinfulthoughts @garbinge @kelpies-shed @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @frattsparty @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @amorestevens @enjoy-the-destruction @withmyteeth @winchestershiresauce @nessamc @narcolini @mijagif @choochoo284 @fanfic-n-tabulous @artemiseamoon @justazzi (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You were laying on your couch in the living room, slouched down so far that you knew it was going to give you neck issues if you stayed in that position for too much longer. Your chin was tucked against your chest by default. The television was playing in the background, the same sitcom on that you’d watched front to back more times than you could count. You weren’t even really listening to it, though. It was just white noise.

Your phone was propped up against your chest, the picture of you and your boyfriend on your home screen doing nothing but mocking you at this point. You exhaled a deep, exasperated sigh as your finger hovered over the Messages app at the bottom of your screen. It was a stupid idea, but you still opened the app. Nothing good was gonna come of it, but you still scrolled down to your text message conversation with Angel.

The last exchange between the two of you had been him inviting you to the clubhouse, and you politely blowing him off because you were going to have date night with your boyfriend. But now your boyfriend was out doing god knows what and you were lying on your couch, all dressed up with no place to go. Your heels mocked you from the floor, same with the hem of your skirt sliding farther up your leg as you crossed and uncrossed them. All the effort and for what?

Despite knowing better, you hit the call button at the top of the screen. You hit speaker on the first ring, not wanting to even put the effort forth at this point to lift and hold the phone to your ear. Sad, sure. Borderline pathetic, maybe. But you weren’t given the time to spiral into your thoughts about it too much.

“You change your mind about the party?” Not even a greeting. Just loud background conversations and Angel getting straight to the point.

“No,” you replied in the loudest mumble you could manage.

“Wait, where are you? Why…why are you calling me?”

“Because I’m bored.”

The noise on the other end of the line decreased drastically, and you could only imagine that it was because Angel stepped outside to finish the phone call. “Thought tonight was date night or whatever?”

“It was.” You hated how bummed you sounded about it.

“Oh, fuck.” He sighed and you could picture the look on his face. “He, god, he fuckin’ bail? Again?”

You groaned. “The again was not needed, Angel.”

“Neither is all his bullshit.” He paused for a beat. “C’mon, dulce, I’ve been tellin’ you for a minute that you don’t need this dude.”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you argued, but there was no real anger in your voice. Even saying you were annoyed with him was an overreach. You knew he was right.

“What do you wanna hear then, hm?” His voice was right back to its usual slick, flirtatious tone.

You rolled your eyes and tried to ignore how much you enjoyed listening to him talk to you like that. You dragged your hand down your face, knowing that this was your last chance to be smart and get out of the conversation unscathed. But you were sick of being the smart one.

“You wanna come over?”

He laughed. “You want me to leave a party to go come and watch you mope about your shitty boyfriend?”

It got you to smile. “Yea.”

He let out another laugh and you couldn’t help but to picture the way that he was probably shaking his head, looking up at the sky knowing that he was going to say yes but he didn’t want to give you an easy time about it. He never wanted to give you an easy time about anything.

He sucked his teeth. “Fine. Be there in twenty.”

“This is why they call you Angel.”

He chuckled. “Shut up.” He paused. “I’ll see you soon.”

It wasn’t quite enough to pull you up from the inhuman angle you were laying at on the couch, but you did feel a little better knowing that you weren’t going to be spending the whole night by yourself anymore. “See you soon.”

You hadn’t moved a single inch by the time that you heard his motorcycle pulling up outside your apartment. The only thing that had changed was that now your phone was discarded on your coffee table instead of resting against your chest. You turned your head to look at the door but you made no move to get up and greet him.

The door was only halfway open, Angel wasn’t even inside the door yet and you called over, “That took longer than twenty minutes!”

Without missing a beat he pelted a bag of Sour Patch Kids at you, the candy landing just below where your chin was tucked. “Wasn’t gonna try and bring ice cream on the bike. Settled for the next best thing.” He kicked off his boots once he shut and locked your door. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Ice cream doesn’t sound terrible,” you said with a chuckle. You lifted one foot and gestured towards your kitchen. “There’s some in the freezer if you want it.”

Angel rolled his eyes as he walked over, standing alongside the couch right next to you. You looked up at him, his presence more towering than usual as your laid down while he stood. He watched as you tore the corner off the package of your candy.

“You’re not even moping right,” he joked as he reached and pushed on your one knee so it knocked into the other. Neither of you made a comment about the face that it made the hem of your skirt slip up a little higher, but you noticed the way his eyes lingered a beat longer. “Supposed to be curled up in sweatpants and shit after a breakup, aren’t you?”

You tilted your head up to look at him more directly, your chin finally lifting off its resting place on your chest. “Breakup?”

“Yea. You,” he paused , brows coming together, “you broke up with him, right?” Your silence spoke volumes and he couldn’t do anything besides huff and roll his eyes at you. “Come on, you’re fuckin’ kidding me, right?”

“What?” You only sounded defensive because you knew that he was probably about to be right with whatever he was going to say.

“How many times does this guy have to blow you off and treat you like shit before you finally kick him to the curb?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you said with a shake of your head, not able to look him in the eyes as you ate one of the candies and set the package on the table next to your phone.

“Don’t be stupid,” he retorted.

“Angel!”

“What!” He held his hands out like he was begging you to get up and try something. “How else would you describe it? You’ve,” he scoffed, “you’ve called me stupid for way less.”

“Yea, but I never mean it.”

“Because I’m never being this stupid,” he shot back with a smirk.

Despite your frustration, you found yourself biting back a smile as you rolled your eyes at him. You knew he was right. You should’ve left your boyfriend a long time ago. Consistency with something that wasn’t great felt safer than not having any consistency at all, though.

“Since when are you giving out relationship advice?”

He shrugged with a laugh. “I’m not. I’m givin’ out breakup advice. Dump his ass.”

It got both of you to laugh. For a brief moment, it almost looked like Angel was about to say something else. Instead, though, he turned and headed for your kitchen to grab himself a beer, shedding his kutte along the way. You said sure when he asked if you wanted one too. Even with the television on, you could hear the clattering of the bottlecaps on the countertop. When you heard the slight scraping of the bottles being picked up, clinking against the rings on Angel’s fingers, you finally pushed yourself into a more upright position. You were still somewhat slouched back against the arm of the sofa, but you were at least at a more appropriate angle so you wouldn’t get a permanent kink in your neck.

“Here.” Angel faked like he was going to toss the open bottle to you. You knew that he wouldn’t, but you still flinched to reach and grab it just in case. You hated the laugh that it got out of him, but really you loved it. With one hand free, he tapped your knee lightly. “Quit hogging the couch.”

“It’s my couch, you know,” you said as you pulled your legs in a little closer to you, granting him the space to sit.

“Yea, and you invited me over. So now you gotta share.” He plopped down unceremoniously, immediately putting his feet up on your coffee table.

You were both tuned into the show playing on the television for a couple minutes before you asked, “How was the party?”

He looked over at you, eyebrows raised. “Could’ve shown up and found out for yourself.”

“I didn’t wanna see people,” you said before taking a sip of your beer.

“Oh? And what am I, then?’ he asked with a laugh.

“You’re Angel,” you replied with no hesitation.

He rolled his eyes but there was no denying the grin that was creeping across his face. “Shut up. Don’t gotta sweet-talk me. I’m already here.”

You both chuckled before falling back into comfortable silence. Part of you felt like you should be saying something more. After all, you did ask him to bail on the clubhouse party to come and hang out with you. But it was so comfortable with him like this. Something about knowing that he would turn his back on something like that just so he could show up and do nothing with you helped soothe your bruised ego. Your boyfriend couldn’t manage to show up for date night, but Angel could bail on an entire room full of his MC brothers and girls who would give just about anything to take him home just so he could show up and watch cheesy sitcoms with you. It stung but at the same time it felt good. You knew that that was all you really needed to know about how you should be handling your relationship, but you didn’t want to think about that. That problem would still be there tomorrow. You’d deal with it then.

In between episodes, you leaned over so you could set your beer bottle on the coffee table. As you settled back into the couch, you stretched your legs out again. You draped them across Angel’s lap, not commenting on the action as you did so. Your eyes were trained on the television, but in your peripheral you could see the way that Angel was looking at you. His eyes slowly raked up the exposed skin of your legs, along the rest of your body until he was looking at your face. He watched you for a minute, and you thought that maybe he was going to make a joke, or push your legs off him. But he didn’t.

He leaned so that he had one elbow propped against the arm of the couch, still holding his nearly-empty bottle of beer in that hand. Without looking back over at you, he brought his other hand to rest against your shin. The metal of his rings felt cool against your skin, and you flinched slightly, but you didn’t pull away or say anything to him. He felt the twitch, and rather than pulling away, he wrapped is fingers a little tighter. It wasn’t a tight grip, but it was enough to keep you from pulling away as the warmth from your skin made the metal of his rings more tolerable.

“What were you supposed to be doing tonight, anyway?” Angel asked you out of nowhere.

“Hm?” You pried your eyes away from the television screen to look at him.

“For date night. What were you guys gonna do?”

If someone else had been asking, you would assume that they were just going to rub salt in the wound. And maybe you would’ve thought the same of Angel too, because he could get like that sometimes, but there was something about the pensive look on his face that let you know that that wasn’t the case.

You shrugged as you rested your hands on your stomach. “Nothing crazy. Just dinner and then going somewhere for dancing and drinks.” You paused. “Why?”

He shrugged. “No reason.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. Nudging his leg lightly with your foot, you said, “Nosey.”

He laughed but didn’t argue because he knew that you were right. “Can he even dance?”

“Can you?” you shot back with a curious look.

“Pfft,” he laughed, “like I’m ever gonna give you that kind of ammunition.”

You let out a hum of amusement before the conversation died off again. The controlled chaos of the TV show playing in the background was the only noise in the entirety of your apartment. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Angel to be over at your place, for it to just be the two of you. So you wondered why this time you felt like it was the first time the two of you had ever existed in a space alone together. His hand that was steadily creeping up your leg was probably a large part of the root cause, but you couldn’t afford to think about it too much. Give it too much of your mental real estate and you were going to combust.

He didn’t say anything as his fingers began to work in methodical little circles against the muscle of your leg. Never in a million years would you have guessed that Angel was the kind of guy who would voluntarily give a girl a massage, let alone be good at it, but you instantly felt more relaxed as your legs untensed against him. You made a conscious effort to ignore the other feelings bubbling in your chest as he slowly but surely worked his fingers higher up your leg. He wasn’t looking at you, so you weren’t going to look at him. Maybe if it stayed like that, you would be able to keep yourself under control.

His fingers worked through a knot at the top of your calf, and the soft moan that slipped out past your lips was completely involuntary. You immediately froze, not turning to look at him, not saying anything about the sound you’d just made. You were waiting for Angel to say something, make some slick comment, a sexual joke of some kind, but he didn’t. His fingers didn’t stop moving, though, creeping up over your knee and onto your thigh.

You didn’t know how many seconds had passed before you finally decided that it was as safe to look at him as it was ever going to be. You slowly turned your head, your eyes searching for his. You thought that he was already going to be looking at you, waiting to say something. But when you were finally looking at him head-on, his eyes didn’t meet yours. Instead, his gaze was locked onto your legs, eyes slowly raking up the exposed skin, zeroing in like he was trying to see past the fabric of your skirt. It should’ve made you uneasy, should’ve made you want to tell him to get the fuck out of your apartment, but it didn’t.

Taking a slow, deep breath, you forced your body to relax again. The tension started to ebb away, allowing you to melt back into the couch cushions and against Angel. And, if your legs parted a little farther in the process, where was the harm in that.

Even with the television playing in the background, you heard the sharp inhale that he took, his eyes still completely zeroed in on your legs. You found yourself gnawing lightly at your bottom lip, just watching him, studying his reactions to it all. You knew that you definitely shouldn’t have been getting so much enjoyment out of it, but it was too late now.

“You good, Angel?” you asked as you watched his tongue dart across his bottom lip.

He cleared his throat as he nodded, finally dragging his eyes away from your legs so that he was looking at your face. “I’m good.” He paused. “You good?”

You nodded, a satisfied smile creeping across your face before you could stop it. “I’m good.”

There was a long pause, each of you waiting for the other to say something, do something. It felt like a game of chicken but you weren’t quite sure what you were waiting for more, for him to push it farther or for him to pull away completely. Usually you could read him without much of an issue, but this time you really didn’t know what his next move was going to be, if there was going to be one at all.

Then he lifted your legs just slightly. You froze, hating the fact that you were worried that he was going to stand up and leave. You would have no right to ask him to stay, to do any of the things that were currently running through your head. You had a boyfriend for that, supposedly. But he wasn’t here. Angel was.

He didn’t get up to leave, though. Instead, he slid down a little closer to you on the couch before draping your legs over his again. You were smiling before you even knew what you were doing. His hands rested easily on your knees, fingers pressing against you lightly for a moment before sliding up onto your thighs. He applied the same pressure he had before, still not saying anything more as he kept traveling slowly further and further towards the raised hem of your skirt.

When he finally reached it, your breath got caught in your throat as you waited to see what he was going to do next. He toyed with the hem of it, sliding the smooth, black fabric between his fingers. You were expecting him to slide his hands completely underneath it, for him to push it the rest of the way up your thighs. You were still holding your breath in anticipation, studying even the slightest shifts in his expression.

So imagine your disappointment when he tugged it down, letting it rest back in its rightful place covering up the majority of your thighs. You felt a little sick to your stomach over the fact that you were disappointed by that at all, but it was too late to take the feeling back now. He didn’t take his hands off of you at least, eyes still traveling up and down your body like he was trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle.

“Angel?”

His eyes snapped up to yours. “Yea?”

“Can you keep doing that?” you asked, your tone innocent enough. “Feels good.”

He swallowed hard, seeming shaken for the first time all night. But he nodded, a wordless agreement as he let his fingers press firmly, purposefully against the skin and muscles of your thighs. Your eyes drifted shut, soaking up the sensation, letting yourself get lost in the thoughts that you most definitely shouldn’t have been having. The disappointment of your canceled date night was the furthest thing from your mind now.

You didn’t even flinch when he pushed your skirt back up. Whatever shred of decency he’d been trying to have was tossed out the window the second you asked him to keep touching you like that. He didn’t know why he was tempting fate the way he was but he was too invested now to back down.

You felt him shifting on the couch, but your brain was too deep in other thoughts to really think about what it meant. You vaguely registered the fact that he was closer to you now, able to feel the denim of his jeans against the backs of your thighs. Your eyes were still closed, unable to see the way that he was looking at you like a starved animal who had managed to find itself a good meal. His teeth were digging into his bottom lip as he tried to exercise a little self-restraint. There was so much that he wanted to say to you, do to you, but with every passing second it all felt like it was turning more and more into a sick joke.

He inhaled slowly through his nose, gearing himself up for whatever your reaction was going to be to what he did next. You’d either let him, or he was going to get caught across the cheek with a mean right hand. At this point, he was willing to take the risk because his heart was pounding inside his chest and he couldn’t walk away without knowing.

His hands slipped underneath your skirt, ghosting over the tops of your thighs. You gasped when you felt the tips of his fingers brushing against the lace of your panties, right at the juncture where your legs met your hips. That’s what got you to finally open your eyes. You lifted your head off the arm of the couch, your mouth slightly open as you looked at Angel. You could see the deep rise and fall of his chest, and he could see the way yours was doing the same.

“I can stop,” his voice had a tone that you’d never heard before and it sent a wave of shivers over your body. When you didn’t say anything in response, didn’t make any type of move to encourage or discourage him, he said, “You want me to?”

You shook your head, your voice coming out small in a way you hadn’t intended it to. “No. Don’t…don’t stop.”

With what seemed like an effortless motion, he shifted so that he was kneeling, facing you slotted between your legs. Spreading his hands over your thighs, he pulled you down so your back laid flat against the couch cushions. He pushed your skirt up, exposing your thighs and panties in the same movement. He heard the shuddered breath you let out as his hands continued to run up and down your thighs, studying you as he tried to figure out what his next move was going to be.

“What’re we doin’ here, mi dulce?” he asked, his voice low.

Your heart was about to burst out of your chest, legs already on the brink of shaking when he hadn’t even really touched you yet. “Whatever you want.”

He licked his bottom lip. “You mean that?”

You managed a nod even though your brain was completely muddled with the possibilities of what Angel wanted to do to you. “I do.”

“This,” he said slowly as his hands crept back towards your hips, “is a bad idea.”

“I know,” you admitted. “I don’t care.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, not needing anymore encouragement from you as he looped his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and started to pull them down your legs. You lifted your feet off the couch cushion, anything to make it easier for him to get them off of you faster. You were expecting him to toss them aside, but instead he tucked them into the back pocket of his jeans. Later, tomorrow, next week, whenever he thought back on whatever this was about to turn into and he was sure it was a dream, he’d have proof that it wasn’t.

Then his hands quickly ran up your shins and thighs again. This time he moved the rest of his body so that he was hovering over you, your legs loosely draping themselves around him as he set one hand on the arm of the sofa, bracing himself above you. His pupils were blown out like you’d never seen them before as his other hand gripped tighter onto your thigh.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he rasped out.

It was the closest you ever got to having an orgasm just from the sound of someone’s voice. You whispered a soft, embarrassingly needy, “Fuck,” as you kept your eyes locked on his.

His hand crept from your thigh until it landed in between your legs. You gasped, biting back a whine as he trailed his fingers along your folds with a featherlight touch. Enough for you to feel him there, but not enough to get what you really wanted.

A smirk painted over his features as he applied just a little more pressure. “If you’re this wet already,” he leaned down so that his lips were right next to your ear, “I don’t know if you can really handle me, querida. I haven’t even started yet.”

The moan that came out of you wasn’t planned, but you couldn’t stop it. Your eyes fluttered for a second as his words washed over you but finally you were able to focus on him again. “Let me try.”

The smile on his face was sinful as he leaned down, attaching his lips to yours. Your hands immediately interlocked against the back of his neck, not allowing him the opportunity to pull away now that you had him. You’d thought about what it would be like to kiss Angel more than you cared to admit. It wasn’t something you were exactly proud of, but given the situation you’d put yourself in now, thoughts were the least of your worries.

He tasted like the beer he’d taken from your fridge, like the cigarette he’d probably smoked at the clubhouse before leaving to come and see you. His tongue moving against yours felt like heaven. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip as your fingers slid up and into the short hair above the nape of his neck.

While he was pulling the air from your lungs with the way he was kissing you, his fingers slid up and down your folds, slicking themselves with your wetness and teasing you for just another moment longer before he slowly slid them into you. The moan you let out was something out of Angel’s wildest, wettest dreams. He swallowed the sound eagerly as you kept your lips pressed to his.

You pulled your lips off his only so that you could say his name. It came out like a pant as you pulled him closer to you, moaning quietly into the crook of his neck. His fingers continued to work you over, rendering you an absolute mess as you clawed at his back through the fabric of his shirt.

“How’s that feel?” he murmured against your ear.

You forced your brain to work well enough to string together the words, “So fucking good.”

“How good?” He kissed right below your ear. “Better than him?”

“Angel,” your voice was somewhere between a plea and a warning.

You felt the slight vibration, the hum of his quiet laughter. “You can tell me.”

You gasped as he sped up his rhythm. “Fuck, Angel.”

“C’mon, dulce,” he coaxed, “tell me.” When you didn’t say anything, he stilled his movements, smirking at the whine you let out. “If I’m not doin’ a better job, I can just stop.”

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “You feel s—” your words faltered as he started to move again, “so fucking good.”

He kissed you hard on the lips, his mouth moving hungrily against yours in a vain attempt to distract you from the fact that he was slipping his fingers out of you. You whined against his mouth and the quick laugh he let out would’ve felt insulting if it wasn’t immediately followed by the sound of him unbuckling his jeans.

He pulled away from you, planting his feet back onto the floor just long enough to drop his jeans and boxers to the floor. You were sitting part of the way up, propping yourself on your forearms as you watched him. He was stepping out of the denim that was now in a pile at his feet when he saw you. He chuckled, shaking his head at you as he crawled back on top of you.

“Like what you see?” he asked as he pulled your legs back around his waist.

You hummed in agreement as you slid your hands up his side, your fingers easily finding their way under the ribbed fabric of his tank top. “I’d like it better if I could feel it.”

He let out a breathless laugh as he dropped his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re somethin’ else.”

“You love it,” you mumbled as you tightened your legs around him, desperate to pull him closer and into you.

“Yea,” he moaned as he finally gave in sliding into you, “I really fucking do.”

Whatever you were hoping to say, to taunt him with, instantly fell by the wayside once he was inside of you. There wasn’t a single word or coherent thought in your brain as you wound yourself as tightly around him as you could. Your legs squeezed him tighter, your arms reaching across his back so your nails could dig into him, leaving irrefutable evidence for him to look at the next day.

If you thought that the feeling of him kissing you made your head spin, this was about to send you into the next dimension. You always thought it was so cheesy when people said that it felt like someone was made just for them, but as Angel fought to thrust slowly, to make sure this lasted as long as it could, you couldn’t help but to feel like he really might’ve actually been made for you.

Your eyes were closed, just soaking up the feeling of him on top of you, inside of you, his lips and tongue trailing over your neck. If it had been possible, you would’ve dissolved right into him because of how good it all felt. The moans and whimpers he pulled out of you were ungodly, and they only served to spur him on even more.

Then you felt his teeth graze against the soft, sensitive skin of your neck. He didn’t bite down hard, so you let it go without comment, not wanting to interrupt the moment of bliss you were having if you could help it. He thrust into you harder, the moan you let out making your throat vibrate against his lips. He bit down a little harder, almost starting to suck a dark mark into the side of your neck when you pulled one hand from his back so you could plant it on his chest and push him away. Your body tried to fight you on it, but somehow you managed to win against yourself, putting just enough distance between you so that you could pull his lips back to yours.

“Angel,” you kissed him, “don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he pulled his lips away from yours and latched them back onto your neck. It felt like heaven but you knew it was going to be more trouble than it was worth if you didn’t stop him.

“Don’t, don’t leave any,” you stuttered for a moment when he changed his pace—it was almost a successful distraction, “No marks.”

You felt him chuckle against the column of your throat, the ticklish sensation of his beard against your skin. “Why not?” He kissed you. “Don’t want him knowing that someone else out there is giving you what he can’t?”

Trying to get him to show any self-control felt criminal, and also futile. “Yea, something like that.”

“No fun,” he murmured against you.

You had to laugh at that. “Really?” You carded your fingers through his hair as he pushed his hips to meet yours. “’Cause it feels like you’re having plenty of fun.”

Cupping his jaw, you pulled him back up to you and pulled his bottom lip between your teeth. Before your eyes fluttered closed, you saw the way that he relaxed, melting against you as his hands slid down to grip onto your hips. He held you steady as you continued to kiss him, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge. He must’ve felt it, too, because he quickly caught your wrists in his hands, pinning them back against the arm of the couch.

The second he pulled his lips off of yours, your phone started to vibrate against the top of the coffee table. You both stilled, Angel leaning to look over and see who was calling. He chuckled as he looked back down at you. “I can answer it, if you want.”

“Don’t,” you sounded so breathless, “Don’t you dare.”

“You don’t want him hearin’ this?” he asked as he moved his hips, pulling another moan out of you.

You shook your head in protest but you couldn’t force anymore words out. Relief coursed through you when Angel dropped his head back down, kissing you hard on the lips before moving back to your next. You knew what he was going to do now that you weren’t going to be able to stop him. At this point you didn’t even care. The moan that came out of you when he sunk his teeth into your neck again let him know that you had no real intention of making him stop. You called out his name as you came undone around him, your legs tightening for a moment before going lax, only staying looped around his waist because of how close he had himself pinned to you.

He ran his tongue over the spot on your neck where his teeth had just been, like he was trying to soothe over the sting. It was the furthest thing from your mind, though, as you slowly started to come down from your high. You felt dizzy from it all as his forehead dropped against your shoulder. All of your limbs felt like they were made of jelly as you laid there, stars behind your eyes as Angel eagerly thrust into you. His grip around your wrists tightened, almost bruising as his movements got more intense.

The reality of everything that was happening burst to the forefront of your mind, and it should’ve made you feel badly, but it didn’t. Instead, it sent a second wave of bliss over your body as you wriggled your hands out of his grasp, immediately pulling his lips to yours. He didn’t fight you on it, pushing his tongue into your mouth, moaning as he came inside of you.

He collapsed on top of you, and you could feel the racing beat of his heart as his chest laid pinned to yours. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he tried to catch his breath. His hands wandered slowly back down to your legs, running over them, pulling warmth from them as they stayed wound around his hips. You let out a hum of contentment as he placed a few lazy kisses to your neck and what he could reach of your shoulder. If you could’ve, you would’ve laid like that all night.

After a few minutes, when both of you got your breathing and heartrates back under control, Angel slowly, carefully pulled out of you. You fought the impulse to whine, not wanting all of it to be over. But you knew that you had no right to be complaining about something being over when it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

He placed a lazy string of kisses down your neck and over your clothed chest before getting himself to sit upright. He reached for his boxers on the floor, lifting his hips up off the couch just long enough to pull them on.

You pushed yourself up just enough to lean back against the arm of the couch. You crossed one leg over the other, pushing your skirt down a little bit like it made any fucking difference at this point.

“Hey,” you lifted your chin a little, waiting for him to look at you, “you good?”

He huffed out a laugh as he shook his head, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. “I’m great.”

Your brain was still a little too muddled to be able to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He couldn’t make it easy. “What’re you thinking right now?” You paused. “Are you mad?”

He chuckled, a smile starting to curl the ends of his lips as he replayed everything that had just happened. “Fuck no.” He looked over at you, studying your face for a moment before asking, “How messy is this gonna get?”

“What?”

He motioned back and forth between the two of you. “This. Was this a one-time thing? You gonna finally break up with this dude? What’s the deal?”

And just like that, you came crashing down from your high. You dropped your head back against the armrest, staring up at the ceiling as you thought about your answer to his question. “I don’t know.” You dragged your hands down your face. “I know how awful that is.”

“Look,” he reached over, resting one hand on your knee, drumming his fingers, “I don’t give a shit about this guy, or hurting his feelings.” He saw the way you laughed at that. “I don’t. He wants to fuck things up with you? I’ll let him.” He paused, a shit-eating smirk taking over his face as he said, “And I’ll keep fuckin’ you while he’s doing it.”

“Angel!” you chastised him with a laugh.

“I’m serious.” He leaned down, grabbing his jeans so he could start to pull those on too. “I don’t give a fuck about him. But I’ve been tellin’ you, you’re wasting your time.”

“So, what, you think I should just leave him and be with you?”

Angel shook his head. “I didn’t say that. I mean, you should,” he laughed, “but I didn’t say that. Him being a waste of your time has nothing to do with me.”

“Really?” You laughed. “This feels like it has a lot to do with you.”

“Yea, ‘cause I was inside you like, two fuckin’ minutes ago,” he said with a laugh. He stood up, pulling his jeans up and buckling his belt back into place. “You gotta make that choice. I’ll be here, no matter what you end up doing, but,” he raked his fingers back through his hair, “this is your mess to figure out.”

“Why’d you come over, then?”

He shrugged. “I like you. You knew that, though.”

Your voice was quieter than you thought it was going to be as you said, “I know.”

He was about to go grab his boots when he saw the look on your face. “Want me to stay?”

You thought about it for a long moment before finally shaking your head. “I’ll be good. You know, when my legs start working again.”

Angel laughed and shook his head as went to grab his kutte and put his boots back on. You watched him, unable to wipe the smile off your face, or shake the jittery feeling still coursing through your body. You knew that you should feel guilty, and maybe you would in the morning. Or maybe you wouldn’t. It was all a mistake but it certainly didn’t feel like one yet.

He walked back over, standing beside the sofa like he had when he first got to your house. “You sure you’re gonna be good if I go?”

You looked up at him and nodded. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for the company.”

He smirked. “If that’s what you wanna call it.”

You rolled your eyes but you could feel your face getting warm. “Goodnight, Angel.”

He laughed, leaning down and kissing you on the forehead. “Night.” He walked back to the door. He was halfway through it when he turned and looked back over his shoulder at you, a smile on his face as he said, “Don’t forget to cover up that hickey.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him as he pulled the door shut behind him. Once again it was just the noise of the television filling your apartment. Reaching up, you lightly pressed your fingers against where Angel’s mark was, already thinking of the best way to cover it up.