happysoldlady - Tumblr blog

happysoldlady · 1 year

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All For Nothing

Angel Reyes & F!Reader

For Day 18 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: abandoned

Warnings: 18+, angst, language

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: The way that I went into this thinking I was going to write an EZ fic and then somehow, somewhere along the way it turned into an Angel fic. I'm not upset about it but my how the turntables.

Angel Reyes Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lilacyennefer @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @queenbeered @littlekittymeow @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @kelpies-shed @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @frattsparty @amorestevens @withmyteeth @winchestershiresauce @nessamc @narcolini @mijagif @choochoo284 @fanfic-n-tabulous @artemiseamoon @passionatewrites @justazzi (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You’d spent weeks trying to get Angel to take you Stockton to visit EZ. It wasn’t exactly a short drive, and truth be told it wasn’t a place that you really wanted to go by yourself. Every week you would ask him, and every week he would come up with a different reason why he couldn’t go.

“Do you even care?” you finally snapped one day.

It got Angel to stop in his tracks. Suddenly the juice that he had been so interested in pouring into his glass was no longer holding his attention. He slammed the carton down much harder than necessary. You knew that it was a low blow, and a question that you had no right to ask, but you were so sick of getting blown off because of excuses so thin that you could see through them without squinting.

He shook his head at you, jaw hardened. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

It was the meanest he’d ever sounded with you and it set you back on your heels. You nodded as you tried to pull your words back together, the look on his face having caused them to scatter. You sighed, looking down at the floor for a second before looking back up at him. “Sorry.”

He sucked his teeth, shaking his head. “You know I fucking—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your tone genuinely apologetic as you said, “and I’m sorry. That, that was fucked up. I shouldn’t have…”

He stood there silently for a few seconds after your voice trailed off. You were wondering if he was going to tell you to get the hell out of his place. That was usually how the discussion ended. He always found a way to say it somewhat nicely, but every week when you showed up, you always left empty-handed.

“Why do you wanna go so bad, anyway?” he finally asked as he put the carton of juice back in the fridge.

The question gave you pause—it felt like the answer to it was glaringly obvious. Instead of giving a straight answer, you flipped the question back on him. “Why don’t you? Don’t you…” you tried hard to pick your words carefully, “Don’t you miss him?”

He frowned for a moment. “’Course I miss him”

“Then why won’t you go with me?”

He couldn’t meet your eyes as he tried to figure out the best way to answer that question. He busied himself with taking a sip from the glass he’d just filled, his gaze flitting everywhere that kept him from having to look you in the eyes.

Finally, he looked at you, hands still fidgeting with the glass in his hands. “The fuck am I supposed to say to him? He’s,” he shook his head, “he’s lookin’ at twenty years, and you want me to just go in and? What? Talk to him about the fucking weather?”

You frowned. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand where Angel was coming from, but in your head it wasn’t a good enough reason to not go. How were they supposed to figure any of it out if he never showed up?

“You’re right,” you started, and you could see it on his face that he wasn’t expecting you to say that, “he is looking at twenty years.” You stepped in a little closer to him. “All the more reason to make sure you actually go and see him. You can’t,” you caught yourself, “we can’t just abandon him in there because it’s uncomfortable to show up.”

The hurt look on Angel’s face let you know that he could see you were right. It didn’t mean that he was going to cave to it easily. He sniffed, shaking his head slightly. “If it means that much to you, I’ll give you my fuckin’ keys and you can take my car up there yourself.”

“Angel—”

“No,” he stopped you short. Stepping in closer to you, he made himself a little taller, a little more intimidating. “You wanna go and see him? Fine. No one is stopping you. But don’t,” he shook his head, “don’t make this my fucking problem too.”

“But—”

“If he wanted me there,” his voice became sharper and sharper with every word, “he’d fucking tell me.”

“And how is he supposed to do that?!” You stepped in, putting yourself as close to chest-to-chest with him as you were able. “That’s your brother.”

“And he’s your, what, again?” he snapped. “Remind me?”

That stung in a way you hadn’t been expecting. “Fuck you.”

“Get out,” he said, nodding towards the door.

“What?”

“Fuckin’ leave.” He pointed with his hand this time, adding extra emphasis.

You did as he said, knowing that you weren’t going to get anywhere with him. You slammed the door behind you as you left, not sure if you were slamming it because of Angel, or because of the whole entire situation. None of it felt fair. None of it was fair. For a moment you wondered if you would be better off if you acted like Angel, just trying to turn a blind eye to it all and pretending that everything was normal. You just didn’t have that in you.

So you finally took matters into your own hands and made the long trek to Stockton with just the radio to keep you company. You discovered that there were quite a few stretches of highway that got next to no radio reception at all, so it was just you and the static from the speakers. If your mind hadn’t already been so loud, the near-silence would’ve driven you insane.

Once you were there, the last thing that you wanted to do was sit back down again. But that’s exactly what you were instructed to do once you’d made it through the very tight security of the Stockton County Correctional Facility. The waiting area wasn’t as packed as you thought it would be, which made you sad in a way. Clearly Angel wasn’t the only family member who didn’t care to make the time to show up.

Minutes kept ticking by, and you could feel yourself becoming restless. You tried not to fidget around too much, or look too nervous. You didn’t want to make it seem like you were anxious because you were doing something wrong. Some of the other people in the waiting area left to go visit whoever they were there for. You watched people come and go while you simply sat there in limbo waiting for your name to be called. A few different times you looked over at the man who was sitting behind the desk closer to the exit, and then over at the two correctional officers who were by the doorway that led to the actual visiting area. No one was making eye contact with you, and you didn’t want to walk up and start asking questions.

Finally, one of the guards walked over to you. “Sorry, Miss, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Wh-what? Did, did I do something wrong?” If there was something that you could fix, you’d do whatever they asked. They couldn’t just send you away, not when you’d already made it all the way there.

He shook his head, not sounding upset but not sounding overly sympathetic, either. “You didn’t. But you need to go.”

“Is EZ okay?” you asked, panic making your blood start to run cold. “Did something happen to him?”

“I can’t—”

“Please,” you cut him off even though you knew that you shouldn’t. “Why can’t I see him?”

You must’ve looked more pitiful than you thought, because for a moment the man’s face seemed just a little less jaded and unkind. It was a fleeting moment but it was long enough to convince him to tell you, “Said he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Oh.” You hated how fucking sad and pathetic you sounded, especially to this guy of all people.

You tried not to think about the tears that were quickly gathering in your eyes as you grabbed your bag and stood up from your chair and started to make your way towards the door to leave. Getting out was a much faster process than getting in, especially when you hadn’t even gone in to actually see anyone.

The drive back home felt far longer than the drive out had. It felt like you had been crying for the entirety of it, but you knew that that wasn’t true. You still found it hard to believe that your body hadn’t run out of tears yet. Mile after mile of road disappeared beneath you but it still felt like you weren’t going fast enough. You couldn’t outrun the feelings that were clawing away at you.

You didn’t know how you ended up parking back at Angel’s. When you left, you had every intention of going home, flinging yourself onto your bed, and crying yourself to sleep. But somehow you ended up back here. You were about to just keep on going, or even just finally allow yourself to pass out in your car. You didn’t really want to see Angel, not with the way the two of you had left things, not with how things had played out with EZ. All of the lights looked like they were off anyway, so even if you went and knocked on his door he probably wouldn’t answer.

Your hand was hovering above the gearshift, trying to figure out if you were going to put your car back in drive. It was only then that you noticed the way that your hand was trembling, and once you noticed that, it was like the floodgates opened back up instantly. Tears spilled over onto your cheeks, sobs forcing their way past your throat as you dropped your face into your hands. Your whole body was shaking as you cried, like there were so many feelings in you that you simply just couldn’t physically contain them.

Time was irrelevant as you sat there hunched over in the driver’s seat of your car. Your face stayed planted in your palms, the rest of the world completely tuned out despite the fact that you weren’t even at home.

The sound of someone rapping their knuckles against the glass of your window caused you to scream, jumping and pulling against the seatbelt that was still strapped across your chest. All of the sadness that you had just been drowning in was instantly pushed to the backburner as your heartrate skyrocketed.

Turning to see who it was, some of the anxiety drained out of you when you came face to face with Angel. He was leaning against the side of your door, one arm braced against the top of the frame as he used the other to knock. His hair was a mess, eyes letting you know that you either woke him up when you pulled in, or he’d woken up randomly in the middle of the night and just so happened to see your car out front.

He nodded towards the door. “Come on.” He pulled your car door open for you. “Don’t just sit out here all night like some kind of PI or some shit.”

The comment got a weak smile out of you as you undid your seatbelt. Grabbing your bag from the passenger seat, you got out of the car, not in any great rush to shut and lock the door behind you before following Angel. He didn’t say anything else as the two of you walked, you just one small stride behind him. You were a little thankful for that in a way, but you knew that the silence wasn’t going to last forever.

You found yourself standing in his living room, bag clutched tightly to your side as you stood there unsure of what you were supposed to do now. It wasn’t as though you spent a lot of your free time here, especially not at this hour, especially not after the blowout the two of you had had in the morning. Nothing about this was within the scope of your routine.

“Next time,” Angel said as he walked to the kitchen to get coffee for each of you, “just come up and knock.”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “I didn’t, um,” you wiped at the stray tears on your face, “I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he poured coffee into the two mugs he’d gotten out. “You know what time it is? I don’t wanna see anybody right now.”

You accepted the coffee as he handed it to you, grateful for something warm and inviting after how your entire day had gone. It wasn’t enough to fix it, but at least it wasn’t another thing going wrong. Angel watched as you took a slow sip.

“How was the trip?” he asked, even though the answer seemed fairly obvious.

“Think I’d be crying my eyes out to you if it had gone well?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, still too drowsy to muster up a real laugh. “Yea.” He took a few steps and sat down on the couch, too tired to keep standing. “Wanna…you know…talk about it?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “We don’t have to. I know you don’t, you know…”

“Then why’d you come here?” The question wasn't accusatory like so many other statements he’d thrown at you over the last few weeks. He sounded genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” you told him honestly. You stepped over and sat down next to him on the couch. “I just sort of ended up here.” He nodded in response but didn’t say anything else. There was a long stretch of silence before you finally caved and said, “He wouldn’t let me see him.”

Your voice was so soft and sad that Angel almost didn’t catch what you had said. Once he heard it, though, and realized the weight of it, his face softened. Normally you wouldn’t want his pity, but right now it was the closest thing you had to comfort.

“Shit,” he said, tucking his chin down to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged. “Not your fault.” Sniffling, you looked down at the mug of coffee in your hands. “You’re the one who said it wasn’t a good idea.”

You didn’t expect the soft bewilderment in his voice as he said, “I didn’t think he’d do that to you.” The statement hung in the air for a moment before he let out a sigh. “So much for him being the one feeling abandoned, huh?”

That got a sad laugh out of you that you hadn’t been expecting. Meeting his eyes, you shook your head, managing a tiny smile as you told him, “You’re the worst.”

“Hey,” he took another sip of his coffee, “you came to me, so, y’know.” The two of you shared a tired laugh before he let out a deep breath. “Wanna crash here?”

You nodded. “That okay?”

“Yea.” He stood up, trying to stretch and also manage to not spill his coffee. “Let me grab you some blankets and shit.”

You felt your body relax at that, the prospect of not having to get back in your car again and drive home, the prospect of not having to be alone after a day that had left you feeling more lonely than you thought you were capable of.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He saw the way you nodded and he said, “Nah, seriously. I don’t want other people thinkin’ they can show up in the middle of the night to my place cryin’ and shit.”

You laughed quietly. “I won’t say anything.”

He gave you a nod at that, and you could see the smirk that was curling the end of his mouth. Despite the heaviness that was still lingering in your chest, all of the questions and emotions that you were going to have to try and sort through, for the moment things felt manageable. And that was the best you could hope for.

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happysoldlady · 1 year

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ending the night

angel reyes x gn!reader, comfort/fluff, 1982 words

warnings for descriptions of vomiting

for day 12 of whumpril, using the alternate prompt: foodpoisoning

a/n: honestly, this is whump in the same way dessert pizza is pizza… sweet but not really deserving of the name LMAO anyway. when in doubt write angel having a hard time, am i right ?

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas

You’re sitting on the edge of Angel’s tub, finishing up a final text to his brother, from his phone, not yours, while Angel empties his stomach into the toilet again. You’ve lost track of how many times he’s puked now, but it’s enough times to know that your evening is well and truly over. He had barely made it from the taxi to the house when you got here, and has said almost nothing since you’d found him in the bathroom, knees to the linoleum.

Not that you mind. Not that you expect anything from him at all, in this state. If anything, you feel bad for being so helpless. And for not being sick yourself, weirdly, but that’s just how the straws were pulled. Beyond the water you’ve left for him on the counter, and the company, there’s nothing else you can do. You’ve already opened the window behind, invited cool air to draw in and, more importantly, the sharp smell of vomit to draw out. Texting EZ as if you were him, had been your most recent idea; a last ditch attempt to be productive and to improve the already dire circumstances.

Keep reading

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happysoldlady · 1 year

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send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it

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happysoldlady · 1 year

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me, a supposed writer, when i can’t find the very specific scenario i made up in my head in any fanfic: am i- am i supposed to write it myself??

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happysoldlady · 1 year

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writing fanfiction is just. i’m being so creative and original. i’m plagiarizing everyone by accident. i’m a genius. i’m cringe. i’m too angsty. i’m too cheesy. this is not in character. it doesn’t matter that it’s not in character because these are my characters now. i love my hobby. this is the worst possible use of my time. i’m seeking validation. i’m projecting my own personal problems onto this story and i’m barely hiding it. i know so many words and i’m using all of them wrong. im on tumblr posting about it instead of writing it.

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happysoldlady · 1 year

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got me thinking thoughts 😮‍💨

This trio.

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happysoldlady · 1 year

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Okay, but Nestor and Miguel with their SO/OL having a stalker.

I see them reacting almost identical honestly so I did them together 😊

They’re furious as soon as they finds out

You’re the most important thing to him

And they know that people would use you to get to them

So the fact that someone has been able to not only get close to you

But get close enough to track you

And so many times that now they stalk you

They see red

They think about how many times they could’ve lost you

How many times you could’ve been kidnapped

Or worse

They’re also angry because no one has noticed

And also because you waited to tell them

They want to always make sure you’re protected and safe

So you can expect to be under near lock and key until they’re able to neutralize the threat

They’ll want to know if it’s related to the cartel or only you alone

They’ll want to know if it’s someone inside giving intel or if it’s someone on their own simply stalking you as a secret admirer

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happysoldlady · 1 year

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Coney Island Part 2 - Nestor Oceteva

a/n: I'm back! Also, I wish I could tell you what this is but I can't. Y'all said you liked this concept so here's a part two. I'm on a real Nestor kick lately. Mans has got me in a grip. Enjoy!

warnings: NSFW!!, fem! reader, brief mentions of violence/abuse

"Fuck, dulce." Nestor groans, rolling his hips against yours, his fingers buried deep in your hips for leverage. He takes pleasure in the way your face relaxes into ecstasy every time his dick meets that spongy spot inside of you. The way your eyebrows furrow as he pulls out, and the rolling of your eyes to the back of your head as he presses back in, moving a thumb to roll over your clit. He feels your pussy clench around him as you reach to touch any part of him. Your nails find his chest, and he lets out a deep groan as you run them down his skin. He picks up the pace on his strokes, keeping the same tempo on your clit, leaving you a withering mess below him. Moments later, the two of you reach your climax together, Nestor then collapsing onto the bed next to you. His chest rising and falling as he tries to settle his breathing, his eyes finding your profile as you take a minute to breathe, your hands lying idly on your chest, eyes closed in relaxation.

Following the incident last month of the two of you being kidnapped, you had found yourselves making up for lost time in the bedroom (and on the kitchen table, bathroom sink, against the wall in the foyer, ottoman in the living room...wherever, really). It had been probably a year since the two of you had had this much sex. Being busy with work, and oddly disconnected from one another had pushed you to opposite sides of your king-sized bed, not sharing it at all some nights. But for the last few weeks, Nestor seemed eager to get home if not for any other reason than to bury himself in you. And well, who would turn down an orgasm from the man you love? However, should the two of you probably talk things through? Absolutely. Were you going to do it while Nestor is fucking your brains out? Absolutely not.

You peel your eyes open, and turn your head, meeting his dark eyes that beam at you with affection. You find yourself wondering if he's always looked at you that way, and if that look will fade when the post-nut clarity comes.

"Te amo." He mutters, as one of his hands reaches out to brush a piece of hair out of your face. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your head. And then, he's up. He strolls to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You let out a breath, setting up in the bed and pulling a robe around your body. The sex...well, it's great. It's always been great, but sex feels like a band-aid for the disconnect. Nestor comes inside you and then goes off to work while you wait for him to come home and do it again. There is very little conversation...or apologizing.

You hear the shower turn on and let out a breath. A grumbling in your stomach reminds you that you should probably eat something. You slip on a pair of shorts and are digging through the fridge to find ingredients when you hear a rustling outside. Your insides freeze, and you lift your head to look outside your kitchen window. Nothing. You take a breath and shake your head, going back to your search when you hear it again.

“What the fuck?” You mutter under your breath. Taking no chances this time, you scurry back to your bedroom and bang on the bathroom door. “Nestor!!”

The panic in your voice damn near makes him panic. He quickly rinses the suds off his body and turns the water off. He wraps a towel around himself and unlocks the door.

“What’s wrong, mi amor?” He gives you a once over, noticing the way your chest is heaving up and down in a panic. You slip into the bathroom with him, and shut the door making Nestor’s brows furrow.

“I heard something outside.” You rush out, hushed.

“What was it? Like a person?” He asks, leaning over to open the door to go check.

“No, no, no. Don’t go out there.” You say quickly, grabbing his hand before he can turn the doorknob.

His gaze softens and he raises his eyebrows. “Mi dulce, you know I’m not the type to sit here and wait it out.”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. “I just don’t want them to find us again.”

Nestor grabs your wrist and pulls you into his chest. He’s still wet from his shower but you don’t mind. He holds you there for a second and you feel him press a kiss to your head. He knows you’ve been stressed since the incident. He’s watched as you glance around, rushing to the door of your home. He’s seen the panic on your face when you can’t find him at work events. Your newfound hyper-vigilance has not gone unnoticed by him.

“Mi amor, no podemos vivir nuestras vidas con miedo de algo que puede suceder o no.” Nestor says, taking your face into his hands. “I protected you then, and I’ll protect you now. Always.”

A shaky breath escapes past your lips and your eyes dance between his in uncertainty. You open your mouth to reply but his lips come down to your own for a few seconds.

“I’ll get dressed and take a look around. Give me five minutes.” He mumbles against your lips and then disappears before you can protest.

Ten minutes later, you are pacing around your living room, biting at your nails. The fear of not knowing if something actually was out there is starting to get the better of you when Nestor slips back inside. He slips his shoes off at the door and then meets your worried gaze.

His gaze meets your and he gives you a small smile. “The coast is clear, mi dulce.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and take a seat on the couch. Nestor’s eyebrows furrow as he watches your head fall into your hands. He crosses the floor and kneels down in front of you, his hands coming up to hold yours.

“I would never let anything happen to you. You know that, don’t you?” Nestor questions, his eyes searching yours.

You want to reassure him. Tell him that you’re sleeping well and that you know he would never let anything happen to you. But the look in his eyes when those guys threw you into that van haunts you. He was helpless. And you were helpless. And there was absolutely nothing that he could do to maintain your safety. Especially after they separated the two of you.

Your mouth opens to whisper the lie to him, to tell him that you have faith in him but the words die on your tongue and his face twists in confusion.

“Hey,” Nestor breathes out, moving to sit next to you on the couch. You turn your body to face him, your hands falling to tug on your fingers. “What’s happening in that head of yours?”

You look up at him, your hands gripping onto each other to stop the shaking. “Something already did happen. And we couldn’t do anything.”

Nestor shakes his head. “You are safe now. You were always going to be okay. I would have never let them actually hurt you.”

“They did hurt me.” You whisper, looking away from him. “They did. And you weren’t there. You were in the van. And it’s not your fault and I’m not blaming you because you are just a human being. But I’m afraid, Nestor. All the time.”

Nestor’s heart shatters in his chest. You’ve been together for years, and no it’s not always been the perfect relationship but the love he has for you is deep and unrelenting. Never did he think that fear would be the thing you felt while with him.

He takes your hands gently into his, pressing a kiss to each of them and then meeting your gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you then. I tried.”

You shake your head and it’s your turn to take his face into your hands. “No, no, no. You did everything you could and I know that. And I love you for it. And I feel the most safe when I’m here with you. That’s not at all what I’m saying.”

His eyebrows are furrowed and he shakes his head. “What else can I do to make you feel safe? More boxing training? Do we need to find a new house?”

The desperateness in Nestor’s voice breaks your heart and you shrug, “Those might help. We can try them.”

He nods at you, his hands grabbing at you and pulling you onto his lap. His arms wrap around your waist and he holds you close to him. The two of you sit like this for a while. Probably too long, but despite your anxiety, you really do feel safest in his arms.

“Do you want to talk about how they hurt you?” Nestor mumbles against your chest after a while. You lean back so you can meet his gaze. His dark eyes are somehow even darker and you lean down to catch his lips with your own.

“Yes. But I don’t want the details to hurt you.” You mumble, using your hands to smooth over his hair.

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about me, mi amor. I want to know.”

So you do. You sit in his lap and tell him everything. The pain, the fear, the shooting. Their greedy hands grabbing at you and making innuendos toward further abuse. The way they kept laughing that Nestor couldn’t help you. By the time you’ve told him everything, you can feel Nestor’s anger buzzing under his skin.

His arms tighten around your waist and he buries his face in your chest. "I should've ripped them limb from limb."

You let out a quiet chuckle and press a kiss to the top of his hair. "And I know you would have if you had known."

Nestor leans his head back against the couch, deep in thought. You trace a finger along his jawline and wait for him to gather his thoughts. Several minutes later, he meets your gaze and you don't recognize the look on his face.

"Do you remember that apartment you lived in when we first met?" He asks, one of his hands coming up to smooth down your hair. You nod, silently wondering where he's going with this.

"I remember the first time you invited me over." He starts, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. "I was so nervous. Worried that this life wasn't going to be what you wanted, and absolutely positive that it wasn't what you deserved. I walked into that apartment and it was in one of the shittiest neighborhoods in Santo Padre and somehow, you had made it nice. The walls painted a green color and plants everywhere. You were wearing these baggy pants with a white shirt and denim button-up thing, and you offered me lemonade." Nestor lets out a laugh at the memory, as if it's the most absurd thing he's ever heard. "No one has ever looked at me and thought to offer me lemonade."

You smile, "I just didn't want you to be thirsty."

Nestor's eyes lighten up as he laughs. "You're the most effortlessly thoughtful person that I know." His face grows serious and then he closes his eyes. "I know that this past year has not been easy. And I know that I have driven you to some dark places in your mind and I can never apologize enough."

You wait for him to finish, your fingers running up and down his arm in an attempt to comfort him as he speaks.

"I can't promise you that people like those pieces of shit won't hurt you again, mi amor. I wish I could. I can promise you that I will die trying to stop them." He says seriously, his eyes locked onto yours. "And if you want to leave and get out of this shit, I won't stop you. Hell, after the year we've had I wouldn't blame you."

Your face crumples at his suggestion. You shake your head at him, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth. Nestor's hands find your waist and squeeze as you deepen the kiss. Your hands tangle into his hair and tug as you resituate yourself on his lap. Nestor lets out a deep groan, and you feel him pressing against you.

You grind down onto him, his lips trailing down your neck, suckling onto the skin there. You're breathless by the time his lips find yours again and he lifts your legs, laying your back down gently on the couch. Your robe falls open and he quickly undoes the tie, his dark eyes trailing over you.

You shrug off the robe and toss it onto the floor, reaching down to remove Nestor's shirt and then his shorts. His lips find yours again and his hand trails up your leg. He revels in the sound you make when his fingers brush over your sex. He removes his lips from yours and trails them down your body. He lines his mouth up to your sex and licks a long stripe up, his tongue focusing on your clit. Your hands find his hair again and you let out a moan. His lips wrap around your clit and he inserts a finger into you. Then another.

"Oh my fuck." You curse, your back arching at his assault. Nestor continues for several minutes, adding another finger which causes you to cry out. The familiar pleasure builds in your lower abdomen and you moan out his name as the pressure snaps.

His fingers fuck you through your orgasm and then he comes up, kissing you and allowing you to taste yourself on him. You groan, gripping onto his back. You can feel him pressing into your leg and spread your legs further to accommodate him.

"Hmmm, always so thoughtful." He mutters against your lips. You grin and urge him forward. "What is it? What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me." You mumble, tugging lightly on his hair. He growls, and teases his tip at your entrance. One of his hands come up to rest against your throat. He meets your gaze and tightens his grip as he sheathes himself inside you.

"Oh fuck, Nestor." You moan out, your back arching against him. He lifts his hip and thrusts back into you. Hard. The sound that comes from his throat damn near makes you come right then and there.

Nestor sets a quicker pace than usual, never letting up pressure on your throat in a positively delicious way. His eyes stay locked on yours, silently checking in on you as he watches your mouth drop open in pleasure.

"Fuck mi amor, you look so fucking good like this." He grumbles, his mouth coming to make its assault on your ear.

You let out a moan and reach a hand down to your clit. The familiar twinge of pleasure begins to build again and you let out a louder moan.

"That's it, mi dulce. Go ahead and fucking come for me." He coaxes, his hand tightening some on your throat. Your orgasm washes over you in waves and Nestor fucks you through all of them before reaching his high as well.

He pulls out of you slowly, immediately removing his hand from your throat. His eyes meet yours and he presses a kiss to your lips, grinning at the fucked-out look on your face. He settles himself between your legs and rests his head on your bare chest.

Several minutes pass before anyone speaks, but oddly enough, Nestor is the first to break the silence. "I don't want you to think that I'm complaining but you didn't answer my question."

You let out a giggle and shake your head, "There's no one else in the world I want to have near-death experiences with. Let's just maybe get a camera on the front door or something."

51 notes · View notes

happysoldlady · 1 year

Text

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.

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