#its such a fucking good song please support the artists

[4pfsukuna]

omfg bruhhhhh

yall want me to believe Choso “on sight before his feet even land on the floor” Kamo is some pathetic whiney crybaby? Like why is every fic so… ugh i want him to fight back. Somebody please tag me or drop a link for assertive/ aggresive/ dominant choso! (Prefferably black reader)

like do i gotta write it myself?

Choso who meets you when you both come in late at night its 2am and youre standing in the hall talking about whatever the hell a middle part buss down is. He doesnt care he just wish you werent so loud… in your shared hall.

you glare at him because who was he talking too! You pay the same amount of rent as him and to damn much at that they should be lucky you werent in the lounge making ramen watching their t.v right now.

It doesnt get better when you bang on his door asking him to turn his music down cause why was he playing last resort by papa roach at 3:30am on a wednesday. He opens the door in a hoodie and tight calvin klein boxers and your eyes drift for a second until the next rock song starts up this time in japanese and he has the audacity to have an annoyed expresion with you!

”did you want something or did you just want to stare” he glares annoyed with a steady voice though youre expecting him to snap.

“Who answers the door in their boxers have some decorum” you respond half embarassed that he caught you. “And your music is loud… some of us have jobs in the morning” and you storm off not leaving any room for backtalk.

the next time he sees you is a few days later when youre both rushing out and slam into another his shirt and leather jacket falling to the floor with your purse falling sending your wallet down the hall and lip gloss shattering that dior gloss was not cheap.

”are you fucking kidding me” he hisses and you notice hes shirtless silver bars through his nipples and a few tattoos littered across his chest.

”you got a real stairing problem there princess” which makes you smirk.

“you look like a 1st grade art project… line work isnt half bad its just the asshole its attatched to” you retort collecting your items not realizing a few slipped from your wallet.

it was maintenance day you didnt have time to worry about shit it was hair lashes nails toes and a fresh tattoo and belly piercing your friend finally found an artist that did both and had clean work.

youre all smiles and sunshine walking into C.K. Parlor even enjoying the convo with the pink haired male receptionist whos so sweet mentioning this was his brothers shop but something about this guy looks familiar.

“Hes so hot” your friend gushes making you turn around and groan at the sight of your annoying ass neighbor.

”couldnt get enough bothering me home so you come here” he teases but theres something so stoicly calm about his anger… its more so mild annoyance.

”i actually came to get a tattoo and piercing but i think ill pass” you speak not wanting to admit you actually loss your credit card but youre here for moral support for your friend who now that you look at her looks like she doesnt need it.

”youre already here dont tell me youre chicken… come on ill even do it for free”

”free?” Oh that had your attention.

“mhmmm lets call it a truce no more loud… anything just being good neighbors”

and its not long before youre on the table the design being shaded into your spine and he admires how you just take it… his mind does begin to drift to if you can take anything else when he notices how pretty you look today.

he actually loves white on your toes and the crisp french tip on your hands. Its when he notices the snake tattoo wrapped around your wrist that he realizes you might be interesting and not just some stuck up—

“you wanted your belly pierced too right?” He ask and if someone wouldve told you that youd be half dressed infront of your neighbor Today you wouldnt believe it. Hes professional and doesnt even glance at the double d’s you have in your lace bra… ok he did but you didnt notice at all.

you thought you seen his ears burn red but hes quick to turn away disposing of the needle and your completely suprised by how soft and careful his hands are… ahem he is.

”and maybe we can actually be nice to another” he says softly holding out your credit card that you dropped earlier.

your truce last all of 5 days. It wasnt your fault meg the stallion announced she was going on tour and you couldnt help the screams of joy and to blast her music.

you dont expect anyone to bang on your door or barge in when you open it.

”excuse the fuck out of me” you hiss slamming your door facing him when you notice hes looking past your face and down at your body.

you were wearing a dark purple lace bra and underwear the silver belly ring he initially put in switched out for a dangly silver one with a dragon that matched your tattoo and yes it was to early to change.

”my eyes are up here”

”please. Nothing i havent seen before princess actually it kind of looks like the black one” he smirks watching the fury in your eyes as you look for something to cover up.

”get the fuck out”

he saunters (the god damn audacity) out but not without pressing his whole body into you as if the walkway wasnt wide enough making sure to press himself into your ass leaning down to your ear.

”good night princess” and you dont have to look at him to know hes smirking but that raspy voice does something to you.

that night you go to bed with 3 orgasms… what dont make that face you had a voice kink and couldnt help it.

he smirks when he sees you the next day and you try to ignore him as he unlocks his car door.

”sleep well? You know the walls are thin and im sure our bedrooms share a wall”

you make a mental note to get on apartment finder tonight.

”im sure that was your first time ever hearing a womans moans outside of porn” you hiss back you werent no weak bitch.

and he wasnt a cliche man his taunts went further then just an insult back, hed give you more content for tonight. After all he was helping you help him.

”just be a good girl for me and let me hear everything tonight alright princess” he utters in a deep octave that makes your breathing stutter and you cant form a proper sentence and any insult is going to be childish.

you of course try to walk off but he grabs your arm pulling you closely his large hand spreading across your lower back.

”did i say i was done… look up at me” and you bite your lip to keep your jaw off the floor this man was wicked and you were not about to play with a devil.

”youre such a pretty mess” he adds in watching the gloss in your eyes before you come to your senses pushing him off heading fown the street.

”wrong direction princess” and you were headed the other way but you should probably just head back inside to change underwear.

and if he could hear you through the wall you were going to put on a show, you make sure even whine moan groan whimper and cry can be heard through these thin ass walls honestly you were so sensitive from overstimulating yourself… It was his fault.

You do everything in your power to avoid him the next few days that post nut clarity knocking some sense into you.

You actually have no idea how wrecked he’s been. How wrecked you had him! He needs to hear it again.

he might turn slightly yandere for you. its when you get a call at 1am and of course youre up you had actually just got out the shower.

”is this your payback” he hisses into the phone though you arent sure what hes talking about.

”how the fuck did you get my number? Doesnt matter bye”

“stop it just listen” he grunts catching your attention “i just need you to be a good girl for me just once i promise” he nearly begs and you have a wicked idea of what he’s doing on the other side of the phone.

you listen to every command, praise and groan his sultry voice lets out your fingers and sheets soaked

“you did such a good job baby, you deserve a reward how about you cum for me” he grunts sending both of you to your end him losing it to the sound of your orgasm.

“i wanna take you out on a date” and thats when you hang up not in the mood for his antics.

hes serious though, he takes you to the finest seafood restaurant with expensive alcohol you cant pronounce he even gets you a dress to wear, suprising you with a new dior lip gloss…3 actually.

”thats how many times you orgasmed through the wall the first night…” you thank God for your brown skin and him not being able to see you blush. He genuinely takes the time for you to get to know another subtly throwing in praises.

by the time you get back to the car your a wreck hair frizzing from your body overheating already.

your legs are rubbingg together and he spreads them guiding your hand down.

“Be a good girl for me and show me how pretty you look when you cum”

You happily comply watching as his hands fidget while driving

When he gets you back to his place your clothes are off and your back is against his fluffy comforter, not that you had time to notice but his whole room is black.

Hes a certified munch and will eat you until youre lightheaded. He eats you out on your back, makes you ride his face, eats you from the back he has you in 7 different positions from head alone.

He gives the deepest stroke while telling you how pretty you are for him the most filthies things he can mutter in your ear giving you back shots the pillow under your stomach propping you up as he plays with your clit begging for you to cum.

you black out and hes not far behind but makes sure to clean you with a warm rag and throws a tshirt on you.

He loves waking up to you and will actually barge in your home or bring you over to his.

He has his own stubborn ways which you will sometimes talk your best shit which he loves, he needs his woman to be on go not some docile lil weakling.

and sometimes he fights back!

#Choso kamo #choso x black!reader #choso jjk #choso x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #kamo choso #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader

[briecheese-3]

FLOWERZ

A/N: please don’t judge, wrote this at 3 in the morning, fighting off sleep. not checked, prolly not good, jus show some support if you can! 🩷

warnings: angst, mention of suicide, praise kink, pet names, oral (f receiving), lemme know if i missed anything!

———————————:—————————————

Turning up the music, I drove to Addis house. Of course she had to live in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. I didn’t need directions. I frequented her house so much, I’m surprised her mom didn’t ask for rent. She didn’t answer my last text, but I head straight to her room anyways, petting her dog on the way up. I opened her door, the hinges creaking slightly. There she was. As beautiful as ever. She was the prettiest girl I knew, even though she didn’t think so. The prettiest girl, dead. Knees giving out, I felt the floor against my face, not knowing how I got there. Its my fault. I can’t face her mother. Our school. My car. Everything reminds me of her. Its my fault. I’ll never love again.

5 years later:

Peter was nice. An FBI agent, one with the sweetest heart. Of course, I’ve been in love with him from the beginning. His face is the second in my mind when waking up. My apartment was lit brightly with the lights of the never sleeping city. Washington DC, home of the POTUS, white house, government officials. It should make me feel safe. No one has sinc- Its my fault. I rub my eyes, removing the image from my mind. Besides, I had a date tonight. Grabbing my phone, I texted the out of service number. “Getting ready, heres the fit. Hope he likes it, hes such a cutie!!”

Grabbing my keys, I walk out the door to the restaurant. When I get there, he’s standing there with a flower. Such a gentleman. He holds the door for me, pulls my seat out, he even walks me back to my car and opens the door when we’re done.

“Do you wanna, maybe, come back to my place? For a movie, of course, I don’t want to force you and if you don’t want to I absolutely understand, since this is our first date since we’ve been friends and stuff-“ He grabs my hands to cut me off.

“A movie sounds perfect.” There it is. The smile and the comfort and the peace in his warmth. I give him a ride, since he took a bus here. I turn the radio down a little as we talk, the ride only being a few minutes back to my apartment. He’s watching the scenery fly past, while I’m focused on him. “Man, I love this song.” He reaches to turn on the radio, and I recognize the song. The first few strums. Iris by the goo goo dolls.

Turning up the music, I drove to Addis house.

“That song,” I say softly, “it was playing when I drove to her house.”

He doesn’t ask who, he doesn’t have to. We sit in silence the rest of the way, basking in the music.

I drop my keys on the table and shrug off my coat. Sitting on the couch we get comfy. I snuggle to his warmth, his large form covering mine with ease. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, and how the fuck am I supposed to focus when he’s right there. His gaze is hard against my face, and I know he isn’t even watching. I turn down the volume and turn to look at him. My tank top exposes the dark ink on my shoulder, and Peter brushes a thumb over it.

“What’s this?” It might be a ploy to get under my shirt, but I couldn’t care less. It’s Peter. I grab my shirt and begin to pull it off, but he stops me.

“Woah, I asked about the tattoo, not whats under your shirt. Although I am interested, you don’t have to.”

His thoughtfulness starts a blush in my stomach.

“It’s alright, Peter.” I say as I pull off my shirt. “Can you get this for me?” I ask, and he unclips my bra for me, sliding it off my arms. He rubs his fingers over the outline of the giant tattoo that resides on my back.

“Addi was an artist. The best I knew. She drew these flowers everywhere. I got the artist to blow one up for me so I have her with me wherever I go.” He sighs, and I’m startled by the proximity of his warm breath on my skin. He kisses the top petal, working his way all around it. I turn towards him and pull his face towards me, finally kissing those blush red lips I’ve had my eyes on since the beginning. Sighing into his touch, he deepens the kiss with one movement. I forget how toned he is sometimes, pulling off his shirt to reveal his muscled torso. He has a few tattoos here and there, and I run my fingers over them. He kisses down my throat, sucking a little to creat small marks. Wrapping my fingers in his hair, he makes his way farther down. I make a movement to pull my bottoms off, but he pushes my hands away and does it himself. He makes eye contact with me the whole time, waiting for a sign to stop. He can’t pull himself away, and, personally, I definitely do not want him to. He stands a little to pull his own pants off, his boxers with them. His body is beautiful, his touch almost painful with the pleasure it brings. Curling his fingers into your folds, he sighs at the wetness. “So pretty. How could anyone pull themselves away from this.” Blushing at his words, I pull his hair a little, his groans a reward. I jump a little when he inserts one finger, and his eyes widen with hesitance.

“No please keep going you feel so good Peter”

“Atta girl”

He grins at my words, and I blush at his, as he’s pumping his fingers in and out, curling them just right. It’s like heaven on earth, and I almost scream when he inserts another finger, going faster with every thrust and curl of his long fingers. He’s hitting just the right spots, and my moans make that known. I scream his name when I feel his the presence of his mouth, against my clit, sucking and biting. My end is nearing faster than ever, and I open my mouth in a silent scream when he inserts yet another finger. Seeing white, my release comes easy. He has a shit faced grin on his face, covered with slick from my pussy. I pull his hair to bring him up to me and kiss him, hard, with no hesitation. He smiles into the kiss and pulls away for air.

“My good girl, so pretty. But I’m not done with you yet.”

You look down at hiss throbbing dick, and gulp at the size.

It’s going to be a long night.

#smut fic #smut #smutty #oneshots #my fic #peter sutherland #night agent #gabriel basso #peter sutherland smut

[nwarrior777]

life update

tw: vent, sad, life crisis, identity crisis

advice ONLY if you have something really similar. hugs and specific commentary of support (like "giving you some cookies!!! or giving you yellow blanket!!) are encouraged

well i definitely didn't expect to get exsistential crisis by now

i mean i always thought that i know who i am i know what i want but like...

i had conversation with grandma, we talked about why are my bags so big, and i was like, it's just me, i don't have home, i don't have place or furniture. i only have my clothes and fancy little things and art. i only have me, and it's all it that very heavy 2 bags. and i said, but isn't it sad that everything i have at 26 is only 2 bags. i lam just 2 bags.

and she was like, but don't you have you like. in your head?

and. i started thinking about it. and now i an spiraling because i thought i got this question long time ago.

i mean. i have life goal. but it's life goal. it's not the answer to the question "who are you?". my life goal is to try to bring people around love and good and kindness. to try to be good human.

and. it's always "try" so i even can't say that i am a good human. actually i figured out that i am kinda suck on that... i am good with giving kind to strangers but. i think i am not the best person to be close with? i don't know... i am a bad person? again? did i fucked up again? eh.... i thought i was... i don't know. good at least at trying. i don't want to be in that years again... and in that feelings.... but i think i need to dive into that. because that is trying to be good person is about - you should work on yourself. but this is so fckin painfull

also i am artist. well yes but... everyone is an artist? we all have blogs and etc..... we express our visions and takes and opinions. i guess its art

and i am tired of it too... i feel like i am streaming 24/7 like, i am a Content Maker. everything i do is like....... its art art art content content content. i cant live for myself

and then i am trying to its not working. because if i will not make a photo, if i will not make a meme a post or a drawing i wil forget it. because i have bad memory. i cant hold anything in it

and i am obsessed with idea of saving my legacy. my art my. existent. i want it not to be just. dissapered. its kinda done - nobody will take away emotions which i gave you and emotions which you gave me with your feedback. they will not take expirience. and some of my art is already in safe place. see, i am too much on it

i worked so hard to make that "queer bitch gothhhicccc queen cool queer artist and a kind human" """ brand""""

but like. am i like. am i this? what makes a person a person. i don't feel. like a person

i don't feel like a human. i feel like some. poetic. image

and, please not laught, i am serious its not a fucking meme but. i feel so much like Izzy from ofmd now?... and... always feel????

my costume-gothic-bitch era started after seeing him. i opened in me new gender. that my horns - thanks to him, i bought them on festival where i went to in izzy cosplay. and that poetic symbol of a man. a guy with Moral Duty Standarts from some. ballad song. A rock

and how??? how is this. how they posted this season RIGHT in the time. then i cracked. and he too

what to do then you thought you had solid as a rock personality. but it was something different. what is it means to be a human. tell me, izzy

[not-goldy]

Goldy i am sad. I am heart broken. As much as i love Tae and he is my bias. I am Vmin bias and follow ur blog quietly. I am so happy for his upcoming album and all the mvs that will be released but my heart aches for Jimin. When he wanted mv for every song on his album he was told its impossible by Hye but now look at them. Why are they treating both my bias different. Why is Jimin the one who is always suffering ? Do they want to divide us ? And why are all the members so quiet ? Do they not want Jimin to have what he deserves ? Do they not support each other ? Why is Jimin still in Hybe or why is he not doing anything about it. 😢😢

Hi there vminer, okay but your "Why are they treating both my bias different" hit me in the chest😭😭😭😭

YES WHY WHYY WHYYYYY HYBE😭😭😭😭😭

Look at him. He doesn't deserve any of this😭😭😭

What's worse

Hold on that's not the worse part

Please in which universe would Suga ever ever tell PARK FREAKING JIMIN he sucks and they will kick him out of the group if he doesn't try hard to deliver. THE FUCK DELUSIONAL WHAMY BARMY SICK PHYCHO REDUNCULOUS NONSENSE IS THAT.

WHAT GOES ON!!!!!!!

I don't know about you but I'm really over this whole INSECURE ARTIST TROPE they keep recycling about JM I'm just- I'm tired.

It's never about a young man who's hard work, effort and dedication inspired 6 boys to work hard and strive to achieve his level of excellence. It's never about how the last member of the group felt he needed to push himself to earn his place in a group that created a loving and enabling environment for him to find himself and thrive SOAR ABOVE THEM ALL TO BECOME A LEGACY A ROOKIE BIBLE.

I hate this place.

Thanks for ruining Yoonmin for me thanks a lot

And as if it can't get any worse hybe goes and give V 5 MVs. 555555555555555555555555555

Jimin never catches a break. Just watch ppl twist this into a vmin fanwar. If we speak out we are jealous if we don't we are cowards. We never catch a break out here.

I know exactly how you feel. You just never know whether to be happy for one or feel sad and bad for the other or do both. It's such a dilemma 😫

For JM, I try not to overly victimize him because you just know how much of this is actually his decision and choice to listen to and respect Hybe in such matters in spite of all the screwing they be screwing him.

but you just can't fathom some of these things really. You can't.

I try to wrap my head around this and I can't.

Like would it hurt to treat them equally? Would it? Would hybe spontaneously combust poof into thin air if it actually treated these men EQUALLY?? Equal resources, Equal attention, equal opportunity, equal everything! Geez!

I don't really understand this either Anon especially when they know damn well fans Will forsho talk. Like who are they kidding, of course we will drag their edges off for this.

Why isn't Jimin leaving is such a good question. Some one give him the mic 🎤 he needs to speak into the microphone cos I'm not understanding shit either. Just pack your bags, left foot infront of the right foot and walts your way out of that hybe hell gates. It's that simple.

It's starting to feel like a toxic relationship to me where he's the member that's too trusting of Hybe hence gets the most screws to his ass.

There are times I wonder if when he talks about not getting voice training or the MVs he wanted or this or that- I wonder if it's mistranslation or that he might have miscommunicated but we all know the painstaking care and thought JM puts into his choice of words in order not to be misunderstood.

But I also wonder, if they simply couldn't do all the MVs for JM because they had already burned through his budget or did not give him a huge budget to begin with- so I ask, how much budget did they allocate each member. Like we need to know cos clearly they working with different budgets here.

Also, we don't know how each member chose to spend their budgets- Jimin had western collabs, shot parts of his MVs in the US. The directors he worked with were top tier, the dance crew- That tend to be costly especially if they paying in dollars. For Tae I know he's into minimalist productions, I don't expect much dancing and heavily choreographed performances. I'm guessing some of those MVs are going to be like winter bear. Don't really know but Layover has that type of vibe mi feel

If not then boy would all hell break loose💀

I'm not going to jump into conclusions for now. I mean it's not like Tae did anything wrong in getting those 5 MVs. It's even possible they learned from their mistake with Jimin💀

With Hybe as much as I disagree vehemently with some of the things they do, one thing about them I admire is their propensity to learn, grow, adapt and adjust where their money is concerned. Trust, they not about to fumble the bag🤣

We saw what they did with Jack in the box. We saw them tweak something with each members release. Perhaps Jm speaking up got them quivering and they decided to give Tae as many mvs as he wants. Perhaps they learning from the successes of Jm and the others. I mean Jks song had so many versions, I lost count and we saw how good those numbers were. This is the last Maknae to go out-bet your sweet behind they gonna go all out on him. I think Hybe is maximizing it's profits and scaling. The good thing about having a seven member group, you get to lern 7 times over. Truth is we would never know the reason. And we shouldn't jump into conclusions.

With time we will get to understand why certain things happen.

What I don't want to hear is ppl saying Hybe is favoring Tae over Jimin- I don't want to hear that.

I WILL BEAT ANYONE WHO SAYS THAT WITH A STICK

The company has put Tae through shit as well. On God. I Swear to God they have.

THEY AIN'T FAVORING HIM FOR SHIT

BOTH HIM AND JIMIN PLAYING A LOSING GAME OTHER THERE.

Let's remain calm and positive and give hybe the benefit of the doubt. If they were that bad Jimin would be the first to go💀

I'm happy for Tae. I'm excited for his release can't wait to see what has in store for us on layover

My advice to you would be learn to prioritize. Its the only way you can have some sanity stannng two people at once.

As much as I hate what they doing to Jimin over there, I think this is Taehyung's time to shine😔

Let's give him that.

I think your heart is in the right place and you are definitely right to bring this up. It's not fair to JM. And it's equally not fair to Tae people use him to find dissatisfaction with their favs.

Whatever limited resources Jm had, he set the bar so high with his achievements. And even though they keep rigging the game and moving the goal post, perhaps Tae needs all our support to beat them at their own game. It's BTS against the world, not BTS against each other.

We don't know what really happened and I hope one day JM will turn on live throw everybody under the bus. I want to know how he feels about these things. Just throw hybe under the bus with a tell all episode on weverse. Let the cat out of the dirty bag and set fire to the company 😊

I'm waiting patiently till V is done with his release so we have enough data to compare and contrast and then we will rain hell fire on Hybe's shady ass💀

For now let's be happy for Tae. Let's be excited for him and wait with gleeful anticipation for his Album- We did that for JM. Tae deserves this too🥺

Don't let anything distract you for now- focus on Tae.

As for them haters,

JMs KARMA IS COMING FOR THEM

On God

[flesh-into--gear]

@rozecrest this was just easier but im so glad you liked it!

honestly you can't go wrong with any of his albums.

Purgatory is hilariously strong from start to finish and has these tracks which i love (i love the whole album but, in order)

I Swear (To God)

Feathered Indians

Tattoos

Purgatory

Universal Sound

Lady May

Live at Red Barn Radio I & II in absolute entirety tbh but the usual standouts are here

Shake the Frost

Deadman's Curve

Charleston Girl

Rock Salt and Nails

Follow You To Virgie (oof, about his mom, its a hard listen some days but FUCK its good.)

Bottles and Bibles

Country Squire was a mild style change-up, a little more honky-tonk. it's got some great tracks on it but it was also a mild writing departure for him as well, focusing a little more on country tropes and a LOT more tongue in cheek (the song Ever Lovin' Hand is a masturbation joke wrapped in a song about missing the person you love a lot). probably his weakest album? but:

Creeker

House Fire

Peace of Mind

All Your'n

Long Violent History is a kinda cool album, it's all instrumentals, old school holler jams and stuff. kinda hard to get into unless you're from that kinda thing i would assume? just reminds me of when i was a kid at thanksgiving and christmas back when we still spoke to my dad's side, and he and my uncles and one of my aunts would all get together and jam on some old gospel and bluegrass tunes. everybody brought instruments.... ah well. but i digress. you can take me out of the country but ill always be a big tomboy butch who gets a little too excited around jacked up trucks of a specific set of years, or the smell of gas and oil in the morning.

Can I Take My Hounds To Heaven i admittedly completely checked out on because i was deep in covid depression throes so i can't and won't comment because it won't be an accurate representation so.

Rustin' In The Rain I still haven't taken time to fully check out, as im working through a music backlog, but.

In Your Love is an incredible song and go watch the video because it cut me deep as fuck. i know a lot of people still stuck in those mines and i have friends with family members dying today because of coal companies. and im a trans woman from backwoods VA with all my roots in Appalachia from both sides (we had a handful of bootleggers in the family, explains a lot tbh). song hit me hard, in a good way.

anyway! im sorry! thank you for listening to me ramble about an artist i really enjoy! one of these days i should really just start a podcast called "Nobody Asked" and it's just me screaming into a microphone about stuff like this!

like dave matthews! like yeah i get it "ha ha dad rock" but come on!

Live at Radio City with Tim Reynolds is a fucking MONSTER album! and dave is a good guy! or at minimum is actually worthy of supporting because the dude has been doing activist things quietly and loudly for longer than ive been alive! and their music spans so many genres!

Eh Hee

Bartender

Still Water / Don't Drink The Water (back to back! they must be listened to together! please listen to this and Bartender off Live at Radio City)

#41

Two Step

Satellite

Some Devil

Grace Is Gone

and thats not even touching a fraction of this man's catalogue, he's been making music for forty something years

ahain im sorry i just really really love music and GAH theres so many artists from my chilhood and teen years and stuff that get so undeservedly swept under a rug because... i really don't know why. i feel like a lot of artists immediately get written off because of styles or genres or whatever and thats just so unfair and upsets ke geeatly.

that's not directed at you whatsoever rozecrest to be clear lmao sorry it may have come off that way

also anyone who has an interest in bluegrass/gospel go listen to The Seldom Scene's "Old Train" and "Live at the Cellar Door" in their entirety

#music

[smokingtiger]

End Of An Era...

SM Entertainment is currently crashing and burning ... Well, who's to say that they didn't see this coming?

For the past three to four years or so, SM Entertainment has been taking a steep nosedive into insanity, and these new revelations by (wanting to be former? but still current?) EXO members about SM's shady tactics towards pay and contract renewal are certainly not helping them fly back up.

I became a K-pop fan in 2014 thanks to EXO with their song Overdose, and without them, I would have never found my ult group of BTS. I have sat through numerous lawsuits, watched the departure of other EXO members, watched how this company has run its artists into the ground and spat on their mental well-being for an extra buck.

SM Entertainment used to RULE the industry prior to 2017, and even after their influence began to waver, their artists continued to make waves on the charts and in international spaces. But holy shit, I checked in on some of their most recent debacles... Weird official expose videos on Lee Sooman, company share fights, K-pop cities with an abundance of weed -- and yes, that's probably one of the tamer points of this company's many struggles -- poor funding, neglect of artists, Kai's military enlistment, the weird sudden schism of NCT, and just straight-up 2011 Photobooth special effects... what the actual hell has happened to this titan?

The aespa tour promotion videos still send me into a fit of laughter.. and don't get me wrong, I have quite a soft spot for those girls (ningning please call me), but whoever designed these videos needs to be fired. It looked like a knock-off movie that you can only find in an obscure one-dollar bin at your local supermarket -- something that probably would only look good at one of these inebriated K-pop festivals Sooman dreamed of.

But seventeen-year-long slave contracts without proper payment is fucking insane, and the fact that they thought that they could get away with it in this era of K-pop is crazy. More and more artists are fighting for their rights and demanding proper pay and treatment. GOT7 left their company but still decided to remain a band, Chen has been open about his relationship and family, and Chuu and many other LOONA members have terminated their contracts and have been making waves against BBC... More and more idols have been comfortable being themselves and expressing their discomfort with these corporate entities, something that some idols not even a decade ago would have dreamed of.

Also, not to mention, the South Korean government is starting to crack down and increase restrictions against these companies and their abusive tactics against minors, their main pool of prey. Thank god for that!

I would like to touch a little on T.O.P announcing officially that he's leaving Big Bang... it really feels like the old K-pop world is collapsing before our very eyes, but I suppose that's just how life is. Change is natural and we as consumers would be naive to think that things would always be the same.

I think these changes are good things, really, I do. Although I'm not an EXO-L, and I know how many ARMYs feel about them, at the end of the day they are just a fanbase who dedicated a lot of time and money to a group of people they loved -- and seeing the chances of a full EXO comeback slip away from them more and more must be heartbreaking. I never really hated EXO-Ls, because again, a few bad apples don't define an entire batch.

We should stand by and try to support the artists, I bet this situation is scary for them, but they deserve justice.

#exo #exo-l #sm #sm entertainment #nct #big bang #t.o.p #aespa #baekhyun #chen #xiumin #kai #kpop #bts #literally this is so crazy to witness #drama after drama #shotaro #sungchan #nct 127 #ning ning #karina #winter #giselle #these companies need a reality check #yg #yg entertainment #i still cannot believe they wanted SEVENTEEN YEARS #jyp #got7 #bighit

[moonrisecoeur]

🐕 ok baby im so sorry for this literal. giant list. BABY YOU SAID YOU WERE WEIRD ABOUT MUSIC, THAT YOU WERE ANNOYING ABOUT MUSIC, ECT ECT WHATEVER I FUCKING CHALLENGE YOU BECAUSE I AM NOT FUCKING!!!!! NORMAL ABOUT MUSIC !!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM DISGUSTING ABOUT MUSIC!!!!!

babe i even CATEGORIZED them bc theres so FUCKING MANY !!

also i did do cws on some songs i had concerns ab? the ones w !s are ones im super unsure ab. also aaaa u dont have to listen to any of these but,. u awaked the demon,, BEAST in me.

i have also fdhgkjdsfg listened to most of the songs in ur post but my brain is also mushy after listening to all of these and making this list so i shall. give thoughts Later. xoxo (its also late hehe)

my top faves <3 (if u like these i am skipping the making out part and going straight to fucking u)

this is your night - amber

no one ever really dies - mystery skulls

magic original demo - mystery skulls

these dont rlly have lyrics but i literally listened to them on repeat when i was writing the novel length asks to u so if u want ur brain to melt like mine while i was writing those...,, <3<3

(cw: a bit loud/high pitched and really weird music? ravey)

desktopbuddy - nanoray

dogwalk2000 - nanoray

dog bus (ft telemist) - metaroom

worm rave - metaroom

songs i feel ud like based on ur music taste ive seen (plsss tell me if u like them bc i will happily rec more i just feel bad w how long this list FUCKING IS)

until we get there - lucius

don't just sit there - lucius

wasting time - hoax

western medicine - hoax

into the blackhole - hoax

winter - daughter

the only exception - paramore

are you bored yet? - the wallows

don't you wonder? - jagged jaw

tonight is - jagged jaw

the comedienne - parenthetical girls

who'd have known - lily allen

somewhere only we would know - lily allen (this is a cover but god its my fav version so)

come to me - goo goo dolls (baby im ngl i think leon would love this song)

true love - coldplay

juliet - cavetown

lemon boy - cavetown (cavetown is a trans king please support his music <3 mwah mwah)

relax, take it easy - mika (ngl this one is a bit more of a shot in the dark buttt)

together - mystery skulls (same as above tbh)

these r from like 1 artist i rlly like but bby i am sure u will NOT like their music,, kinda like the nanoray and metaroom ones but like worse. !!WILL!! make ur brain melt. (trust me when i say i HANDPICKED thru their music,,,,)

kill screen - machine girl (!!!!cw: yelling! im only including this bc its one of my top FAVES. it goes so hard holy shit. if ur comfy with it listen from 2:55-end cus theres no yelling, its just such fucking GOOD buildup to the BEST part of the fucking song [3:18] i9ts literally. AHH)

post rave maximalist - machine girl (cw: has some sirens and airhorns? theyre not loud tho.)

freewill - machine girl

nine minutes and forty three seconds - machine girl (bro this album is like straight up not your alley this is the only song without screaming in it LOL)

cloud99 (as above mix) - machine girl

lilith - machine girl

cyan hardcore - machine girl

sin to win! - machine girl

IM OBSESSED W THESE AND THEY NEED MORE LOVE

my favorite color is you - revenegeinkyoto (!!!!cw: yelling--mostly exclamatories and parts of the bridge, the ending is a bit heavy w it tho--, yandere song, heavy metal)

don't go insane - dpr ian (THEREVE BEEN SO MANYT LEON EDITS TO IT AND GGGRRRRRR GRHHHH RHHHH that one part GURLL iykyk but ITS A GOOD SONG REGARLESS AHHHGGGHHHH)

the memory viewer - sugary sweet machines

talkative revolver city slicker (/or/) resume song - sugary sweet machines (these are 2 songs that (at their core) are essentially the same but are different enough that i pick them based on which im just feelin more,) (OK SO ALSO these r from the ost of an indie game and IDK if i can rec the game personally (i found it during a very dark part of my life) but the ost and esp these songs are hella banger and i really want the artist to get more love for them)

megatronic - powerman 5000 (cw: not yelling but heavily synthetic sounding? hard music xP)

benzie box - danger doom (THIS. GOES. SO. HARD.)

boys & girls - will.i.am (BI SONG? BI SONG?)

gekka no yasoukyoku - malice mizer (cw: not english) (THIS GOES SOOOO HARD its literally. so good. i try to avoid reccing songs not in english but this is too good to not)

cipher peon battle - pokemon colosseum (it makes me feel epic lol)

overrated but i love them

little dark age - mgmt (i literally make amvs in my head about re2 leon in my car while listening to this song i am obsessed. Obsessed.)

wasted summers - juju<3 (fuck ppl who hate on this honestly like can ppl not have fun with music? let indie musicians have fun !! hes literally making a song with his sister thats the sweetest shit ever!!!!!!!!!! also honestly this song kinda hurts if u relate ngl pookie)

rhinestone eyes - gorillaz (iykyk,, that edit introduced me to this song but it FUCKS !!)

take me to church - hozier (look. -foams at mouth- thats all.)

mary on a cross - ghost

idk where to categorize these :v

the wolf - siames (I LOVE THIS THE EVERYTHING THE ANIMATION THE DOGGIE !!! woof woof)

can't get you out of my head - kylie minogue

better off alone - alice deejay

hypnocurrency - deadmau5

gyrate - rezz

j-boy - phoenix

credits song for my death - vivivivivi

i would do anything for you - foster the people (i ALMOST put this in faves bc god i am,, obsessed w this song but, i feel like its bully material so.)

sit next to me - foster the people

the sweet escape - gwen stefani (look i always loved this song, but i have a leon edit of this song saved to my phone and i watch it Daily)

my love - justin timberlake (me and leon. i also have a leon edit to this i watch daily.)

bloody mary - lady gaga

you like early 2000s type music? cringe? this is for u bbg

(cw: cringe, ravey)

pretty rave girl - s3rl (PLSLSSSS I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCHH GRRHHRGRRHHGHHDHDGSGDFSDFGGFHSD)

blame you - romanceplanet

bleed (runaway) - romanceplanet

lollipop (candyman) - aqua

ok this is stupid but im ngl im putting songs that make me think of leon in some way here (considering making my own playlist of stuff for him lmk if my taste is good enough boo ;* /j)

with you - linkin park (!!!!cw: yelling. (im including this bc i just want to say leon would fucking love this song. id make out with and grind on him at a house party to this song,, that is all). the yelling isnt super loud but the music is screechy during the parts so it might make u uncomfy? be safe if u listen boo, its alil on the harder side of songs)

cure for the itch - linkin park (cw: the beginning has a brief moment where theres a loud announcer? other than that this fucks, goes HARD.)

under the bridge - red hot chili peppers (WHEN I WAS LOOKING FOR,,, ROCK AND GRUNGE TO LISTEN TO bc i am obsessed with leon ehehe THIS SONG LATCHED ONTO MY BRAINSTEM,,,,,,thinking ab holding his hand while this plays on our mixtape while we drive to our coffeeshop date in raccoon city,,.,,,,u//w//u)

smells like teen spirit - nirvana (!!cw: screamy? i think? i cant tell if im desensitized to screaming in music or sm LMFAO its a song i scream when i sing it tho so) (also i KNOW this is a generic pick but it goes so hard!!!!!!!!!!!! leon Literally listens to this like its just canon)

talking in your sleep - the romantics (baby im so sorry i cant explain this one i also want to fuck michael afton and thats bleeding into my lust for leon)

no friend of mine - aimless device (THIS IS SO GOOD I WISH IT WAS MORE POPULAR)

hyena - aimless device

nobody's real - powerman 5000 (cw: its a lil bit hard of a song) (i cant explain this honestly leon would just listen to powerman and this would be his fave)

i'm not in love - 10cc (look look here ok listen to my vision. leon trying to convince himself hes not actually head over heels for you. i think its cuter with re2 leon hehe hes so cutie pookie BUT. [im not personally into aeon But..] PLEASE imagine him just laying in bed listening to this because hes still hurt over ada but hes falling so hard and fast for you. and hes scared. TERRIFIED even, <3 dont worry babyboy ill treat you so well)

yellow - coldplay

the scientist - coldplay

always in my head - coldplay (ok look i tried really hard to not put in so many coldplay songs but, listen. coldplay just feels so fucking aeon for you aeon enjoyers)

sweetest goodbye - maroon 5

sunday morning - maroon 5

my console - eiffle 65 (look. its Funny.)

separate ways (worlds apart) - journey

away from the sun - 3 doors down

here without you - 3 doors down

my precious - lifehouse

hanging by a moment - lifehouse

last child - aerosmith

jaded - aerosmith

turn up the radio - autograph

lullaby - the cure

last kiss - pearl jam (cw: kinda descriptive singing about the scenario of a loved one dying, brief mentions of religion) (he wouldnt relate to this song at all but i KNOW mans would cry to it)

(i could dig up more for this section but baby i do not wanna bore you with retro songs)

actually fuck i could put so many more songs period but this is probably already a 5 hr playlist atp eheh sorry

if u want i could make an actual playlist if u ACTUALLY wanna listen to ts so its not such a pain going thru dhjksdfhgsdkg (tho theres a few songs that arent on spotty bc its stinky :( )

🐕

the most hilarious part about this is that the only song on this gigantic list that i recognize is don’t go insane BUT NOT EVEN BECAUSE OF LEON i just like dpr ian he’s so pretty :3

also i think ill be able to put them into a playlist myself !! dw i don’t wanna make u go through the effort!! i shall attempt to listen to everything!!

#🐕 anon

[araisbored]

In this lovely post, I will be reviewing the new album of a filipino artist Juan Karlos. I am not new in digesting albums as I’m a self-proclaimed music connoisseur. But what’s refreshing for this post was that it was from a Filipino artist. For the record, I always loved OPM. I love classic OPMS. I grew up, WE all grew up listening to them. But I just have never really dug into the deep. Album per album. Music industry in the Philippines was very different. The last thing a Filipino does is to support a Filipino music artist unless they’re colonized by the west or the artist got famous in the west. Everything was all about the west. But then things changed in the past decade. Which is a good thing. People started appreciating OPM again. I only have vivid memories of how OPM started. I’m not saying that OPM was not loved before. It always has been. But the younglings started loving it again when IV Of Spades released mundo. Then Juan Karlos’ Buwan followed. That’s when they all started catching the youth's and even not so youthful people’s attention. 

JK’s music entries to Ara’s Music chart wasn't always consistent but it’s not always a miss. I also disregard his somewhat homophobic remarks to Darren Espato. (if you know what happened there please tell me.) because I have no idea of what happened to them. My whole opinion and fondness for him is based on his music.

I am not new to JK’s music. I LOVE BUWAN and all its parts. (Wow) I love the Kundiman version of it even more. After he released buwan, and when it went viral. People just kept asking for more bangers and karaoke hits. He kept on giving but we almost believed that there would be no other hit that was going to be made. Shot puno happened which did well but never really peaked in my top 5. A few months later, ERE came. And she cooked, ate and washed the dishes.

When the song came out it was the perfect song for my situation. One of the biggest factors of charting in my personal music chart was always based on my mood. If I’m too happy or if I’m too sad. You wouldn't be on my top 10 no matter how many people like it or how heart breaking your song was. Safe to say she checks all the boxes.

Spoiler alert! Ere wasn’t my favorite in the album. It was my bias wrecker (lol for fuck sake my vocabulary is so 12 years old) from time to time but it wasn’t my favorite. It was paru-paro. You know me and my metaphors and similes and hyperboles. If you have those you got me, and I think Paru-paro hits all of it. Let’s get on to it for a little while. Also, I know I told you I was reviewing the whole album. Another spoiler alert…… I won’t be reviewing all the songs. So technically it was a half-album review or… maybe just my favorites. But still…. It is what I call it.

Let’s start with the album opener.

Track 1: Sad songs and bullshits. Which was the title of the album. The song was also registered as Sad songs and b******t. On a side note, it was very funny when it appeared on my car. 

The apostrophes are taking me out. Hahaha.  

Right off the bat, I think it's very smart and funny. And very straight to the point. A simple title that describes the album as it is.That's what exactly his album was. Sad songs and some other bullshit drama he has. And I might say, a good song opener. I like the parts where he encourages everyone to join him in his journey and to cry with him. Engaging with your listeners in a song is such a good song. 

Track 2, would be the ever famous, ERE.

I think what caught people’s attention was how sharp and bold the song was. It was very unusual for a Filipino song to actually include curse words. It’s a lot of risk as well because we all know how conservative a Filipino household was. So for this song to go viral let alone to be played in a house with you lola or mom listening? was truly a history. ICONIC. I noticed on some or most of JK’s songs is that he’s not afraid to utilize the silence. When you ask people what caught their attention in a JK song, it’s that he’s screaming or he’s belting, which is true, if he’s performing or when we reach the chorus or the bridge or the melody, which obviously are all true and good points. But what I noticed is the eeriness or the calm before the storm. It’s always calm on the start like he really wanted to tell you a story in a manner where it’s like he’s telling it to YOU. And only after he finishes that, that’s when the loudness and craziness comes in. And I love that about his music. It’s very expressive in that way. 

This song might be very catchy because of the use of words, specifically the curse word. But what the palaman of this song was really the story and the whole heart poured to a girl who hurt him. 

Track 3, may halaga pa ba ako sayo?

This is what I’m talking about when I say he’s not afraid of the silence. Although this is not my favorite track. This supports what I said earlier about the eeriness. 

If you like Track 4, close your eyes because I’m skipping it.

Track 5, Paruparo.

My favorite out of all the songs in that album. I think I resonate the best with this song. It’s such a let go and be-happy song. So comforting. And I might add… the words. The rhyming… just *chef’s kiss* When I listened to that song, after hearing the lines: “Kasing haba ba ng buong buhay ng isang.. Paruparo, paruparo, paruparo, paruparo” I immediately searched how long does a butterfly live. Look at that! JK teaching us some biology… who would’ve thought? 

The metaphors and personification and such are the main reason why I was captivated by this song. I just think it was really smart of him to compare the butterfly’s life to the span of their relationship. Such a smart way of comparing something and how brief they are. I also like how he rhymes the word Paru-paro, the title of the song, to some lyrics of the song(wow, arrah thats basically what songwriting is)For instance: 

‘Paano na tayong dalawa? Pa-paano, pa-paano, pa-paano, pa-paano’ , ‘Masakit man ang katotohanan na ako'y 'di

Para sa'yo, para sa'yo, para sa'yo, para sa'yo’, ‘Ayokong maging hadlang sa pagkamit ng mga

Pangarap mo sa buhay, aking sinta’

It won’t make sense if you haven’t listened to the song.

I also think that this song resonates the most with me. Or how I’m trying to be. Or what I wanted to say to someone who is not in my life anymore.

Track 6: Gabi (ft. Zild)

I love this song. Such a comforting song. Also good when you play it while driving. Bad thing if you’re sleepy. 

A song where two friends are drinking, and just talking about their breakups and life in general. Reminds me of Filipino walwalan days. If you’re pinoy, you know that kahit anong mangyari, shot lang katapat. Break-up? Tara inom. Lose a job? Tara inom. Masanggi lang, tara inom agad yan for sure. And this song reminds me so much of those times with my friends. Not the inuman part because we really don’t drink much. Me and my friends are not the drinker type of group. But the friendship and the presence of having them. We’re all far away from each other now. And this kind of song makes me hope that I was with them or wish I can see them if I’m having a hard time. This song will hit you if you have a solid friendship. 

I like Zild’s verse and voice. So calming. I also like how he rhymes everything. I know it’s basic songwriting but I wanna give them their cookies. They deserve it. The harmonization at the end is AMAZING! You can clearly hear both of their trademark, although I think this is more of a Zild kind of production. But I won’t know, I’m not an expert. And I’m not with them when they record this.

Track 7: Time Machine

I thought it was a sweet song because of the harmony and how upbeat it was compared to the other songs. But when the chorus hits, it turns out to be a sad song. A guy who reminisces about his past relationship and how he wishes he could turn back the time. Hence, the title: Time machine. I like the part that goes: ‘At tayo'y la-la-la-la-lalamigin’ I think that’s very JK. Very on brand. Just a little harot on the side. A lovely song.

The rest of the songs are getting skipped. Sorry. It’s just not my vibe and I don’t think I will form an opinion on something I care about a little. (Not in a mean way. All of his songs are good. And I will listen to them while I’m driving. I just prefer these songs over the rest. And I hope that you understand my stand. If you’re a JK fan, and you love all of these, GOOD for you. And if you’re JK who miraculously ends up reading my post. JK, I love this album. I can’t wait for what you will offer us next.)

And that concludes my review. Overall if I will rate this album, I will give it a 4 out of 5. I can’t wait for more JK albums in the future. I am really happy about the success of OPM these days. It’s about time. I hope this album or JK won't be the last OPM artist I will write about. 

Xx, Ara

#album digest #album review #music #juankarlos #sadsongsandbullshit #opm

[sorikkung]

what goes on in neverland. ⇝ ch. 1: rivalry, a bitter past, and a whole lot to prove

word count: 17.4k

pairings: transmasc!reader x eric, reader x chan, reader x felix, eric x felix, wooyoung x mingi, minho x changbin, chan x felix (see masterlist for full series pairings)

genre: fluff, smut and lots of assorted shenanigans. hijinks, if you will

au: battle of the bands!au but make it gay and horny

warnings: (another) m/m/afab threesome, switch!reader, switch!felix, (physical and mental) power struggle, improvised handcuffs, mild exhibitionism, brief choking, unprotected sex, cumplay, anal (m recieving)

a/n: this only took way too long uh whoops?? apologies LOL anyway dont mind the sudden switch of past tense to present tense, the rest of the series will be present tense from now on, only the prologue is past tense cause its the prologue. hope that isnt too confusing LOL

please reblog and leave feedback if you enjoyed, it's what keeps us writers going :')

tags: @mingirn, @absentcaryatid, @honeybyunnies (apologies if you didn't wanna be tagged just lmk and i'll take you off the taglist!)

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"You've got to be kidding me."

Day one at the Battle of the Bands is usually just a taste of what’s to come. It’s exciting, still – you get to sus out your competition, discover new bands and new music, get lit in the crowd if your rivals are good enough, and get to know who you’ll be seeing more of that year. It’s an appetizer, and boy are you hungry – you have always had a competitive streak that thrived in settings like this. Now all you need to ignite that spark is a worthy competitor.

All the bands so far have been either pretty shit or decently good, but none good enough to make you feel threatened. Maybe your ego is too big - or maybe you guys are just that good. You gave up trying to be humble a long time ago. The only band you considered a worthy competitor was Day6, but as it turned out, they had already found a label in the past year, so they didn't even enter. Piece of cake, then.

You had a good look at the setlist of artists performing today, so you made sure to be at the front of the crowd when your drummers’ ex and friends, Stray Kids, would be up next, but when they’re finally in front of you, you’re totally floored.

They don't even have instruments.

Who the fuck enters a Battle of the Bands without instruments?

There’s no wonder there’s so much controversy regarding their entry - surely it has to be a joke. Surely Eric's ex-boyfriend and his mates are not about to go on stage and sing a cover over an MR like this was some shitty singing show, that would be straight up insulting. They don’t even have mic stands, just small headpiece microphones you’d only really see when Wooyoung was danci-

Oh.

No fucking way.

Wooyoung is one of the many reasons why the runaways are so unique – not playing any instruments, he originally just tagged along to band practices to watch Mingi, support his friends, and vibe along to the music. He had been dancing in a crew with Eric, Mingi and a separate group of dancer friends for a good few years, majored in dance in college, and eventually, started busting out the moves during band practice. He is damn good at it, too, so the band ended up inviting him to join them for real, discovering the beautiful singing voice only Mingi and San had ever heard before.

None of the other bands in the state had a designated dancer – having a band member shred the dance floor up on stage was your band’s unique thing, his eye-catching moves grabbing the attention of many, and you’ll be damned if you’d let Eric’s ex-boyfriend’s shoddy excuse for a band steal Wooyoung’s special concept.

The eight of them get into position, dressed to kill in all black with stunning makeup and accessories that put the rest of the contestants to shame, and wait. The apprehensive murmurs of the crowd are cut off by a bone-chillingly deep voice as the song starts, and then they all begin to move.

Your jaw hit the floor faster than you’d have liked to admit. They are perfectly in sync, creative moves and formations far beyond anything Wooyoung could do with his limited room in front of the band’s instruments – you’d had a few special stages where you took over the drums and San took over the bass to let Mingi and Eric join Wooyoung for a fun dance stage, but it was nothing like this.

Their moves are powerful, brandishing curved blades and incorporating them into their dance, their rap is explosive, vocals steady, and all of a sudden one of them does a flip and another pulls out a flaming sword- wait, a flamethrower?!

“Seo Changbin?!”

You turn to Wooyoung at the exclamation, the only one who seems more surprised at his own sudden revelation than the literal fire onstage. “You know that guy?!”

“He was one of my best friends in high school! …I also sucked his dick once.” Wooyoung’s eyes are glued to the stage, where the so-called Changbin wrapped up his skilful rap that could put yours to shame – you could barely find other rappers among local bands, let alone any that could stand up to you or Mingi or Sunwoo; who isthis guy? – then tosses the sword aside to resume dancing, his bandmate doing yet another flip out of nowhere, driving the crowd even more absolutely ballistic than they already were.

It’s electrifying in all the best and worst ways, and before you know it the song comes to a close. The first thing you do as soon as they finished is turn to look incredulously at Eric.

“You never told us Stray Kids was a fucking dance group!?”

Eric’s eyes are just as wide as everyone else’s, looking back between you and the stage where his ex and seven other boys were quickly exiting. “I don’t talk to Felix that often man; I didn’t have a clue! How the hell was this allowed for the Battle of the Bands?And where did they get enough money for a fucking sword with a flamethrower?!”

“Surely the judges won’t let that pass. Surely,” Sunwoo mutters in disbelief, shaking his head. “They’re always super elitist about entrants anyway. The only thing that could keep them in the game would be an overwhelming fan presence, and, well… shit. They might just have that going for them.”

Your head is still reeling from the intensity of their song, the fire, the stunts, the shock, and how unbelievably attractive each member is – like seriously, being sexy is meant to be your bands thing, not theirs – and then the sudden realisation that why you’re so mad is that you feel very threatened by how good these Stray Kids dudes are. Maybe winning last year’s battle has made me more arrogant than I’d thought, but I think I’d be less angry if these guys were just genuinely a better band than us like Day6 were and not… whatever the fuck this is.

“The judges don’t have anything on Stray Kids,” Mingi speaks up, showing everyone his phone screen. “Apparently JYP themselves got Stray Kids to join the competition cause they’re keen on signing them. This year’s gotta be rigged, there’s no way they would’ve made it in otherwise.”

“Well, if JYP wants to sign them, of course they’re going to win! This is bullshit, they’re set up from the start,” you scowl, clenching your fists.

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You damn near swing at them when you turn around.

It’s none other than the leader at the centre of the controversy, Bang Chan according to the participant list but Chris Bang according to Eric. He isn’t that tall, but he’s built, wide shoulders and toned arms, a chiselled jaw and an intense glare boring right into you.

“Oi. This isn’t rigged, you don’t even have a source for that rumour. Don’t try and get us kicked out just because you’re realising a second win won’t be so easy.”

Being mean definitely isn’t this man’s strong suit, you can tell that much straight away. Despite the confidence he held himself with especially onstage, his eyes waver, and he keeps fidgeting with his fingers; he isn’t clearly used to confrontation, but he must’ve felt the need to defend his honour and put on a brave face. You can respect the bravado. Not that you’ll ever admit it.

You scoff in his face.

“Say that to my face again without pissing yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

Whirling around on your heel to leave, the leader catches your wrist, tugging you back to meet your gaze head-on this time, as if his nervousness is now fading or he’s simply too pissed off to care anymore. “Just because this is a competition doesn’t mean you have to be a dick. I just don’t appreciate you talking about my band like that.”

“Your band or your K-pop group?” you jeer, not quite sure why you’re egging him on. He’s right – the only proof Mingi had on his phone screen was a random person on Twitter. Maybe you’re just pissed that your new competition is so good and completely revolutionising the whole gig, or maybe you just like the storm that crosses his eyes every time you provoke him.

Maybe it’s a mix of both.

“Oh wow, cause we’re Korean. Real original, real xenophobic. Got anything better?”

Like a moth to a flame, he seemed to finally rise to meet your challenge, and you can’t help but find yourself excited for a possible spar of wits. Arguing with people probably is not something you should enjoy so much, but putting your competition in their place has always been a favourite pastime. One of the least chaotic pastimes at that.

“Have you even seen my band– that wasn’t a jab at your race, it was a jab at your dance performance instead of actual instruments at, you know… a Battle of the Bands? Go back to Produce 101 or something rather than try take over our scene.”

It’s tame and you know it, but ending things so quickly would be too easy. It was getting a little too chummy around here.

“So, you think this is your scene, huh? Own the whole state’s indie scene just because you won the battle of the bands last year?” His words drip with disbelief, and you can almost see his brief internal struggle on whether it’s worth it to keep arguing or not. But something about you is magnetic; they always take the bait. “There’s a reason it’s held yearly – sorry if our style is a little too fresh for you guys.”

Too fresh? You almost can’t believe your ears. “What, are you calling us boring?”

“I mean, I didn’t see the renegades with any flamethrower swords…”

There’s a playful edge to his words, almost as if a part of him is starting to enjoy the back-n-forth; he’s stupidly hot when he’s cocky. It reminds you of Wooyoung and Sunwoo and how their shit-eating grins get you weak in the knees, although intuition tells you he’s not usually this smug. No, he really thinks he has you pinned.

“Ah yes, the pinnacle of musical talent and ability – flamethrower swords.”

“Oh, that’s right, musical talent and ability, like stripping?”

You plaster on a saccharine grin that’s more demeaning than it is fake, trailing a finger along his jaw. “Aww, you even watched our performances! Like what you saw?”

Gottem.

It was a bit of a gamble, flirting with him without knowing which way he swings, but queer people tend to flock together and even if he wasn’t, it’s usually a sure-fire method of pissing someone off even more in a situation like this. Either way you’re riling them up and that’s exactly the goal – the goal you succeed in damn near every time.

The hitch in his beath doesn’t go unnoticed, as much as he tries to seem unphased. Score.“I don’t feel the need to drag my competitors’ performances to feel better about myself, so yes, I did enjoy the show. Though even you admitted Day6 would’ve won if it wasn’t for that, so why is flamethrower swords crossing the line?”

He keeps on thinking there’s a point in arguing with you, it seems, even though all he’s doing is telling you precisely what you want to hear. “I’m going to focus on the fact that you implied you enjoyed watching us strip. If you wanna see more of that, pretty boy, head to Club Prism on Friday night. I’ll show you just how much musical talent and ability stripping can be.”

“Are you… are you taking a jab at us or flirting with me?”

He seems genuinely confused at that, and the look on him is positively adorable. If you didn’t already want to ruin him, you sure do now. Simply smirking at him, you reach up to ruffle his hair and lean in real close, just for a fleeting moment.

“What do you think, hotshot?”

His eyes widen as he stumbles over his response, gaze dropping to your lips, but you pull back all too soon and twist away from him in a way too dramatic to not be practiced, flicking your hand out in a half-assed wave.

“See you then, Bang.”

You turn around to walk face-first into Sunwoo’s chest.

“There you are! We’re up after the next guys, what’re you doing?” Sunwoo’s eyes flicker between you and Chris – Chan? You didn’t quite get the memo on which he used more – who was still mildly bewildered and slightly upset. “What, busy pissing off the competition?”

The leader takes a triumphant step forward at that, “Yeah, actually- “

“Without me?”

The sheer dread that falls across his face at the realisation that trying to get a one-up on you with your bandmate will only backfire, is enough to crack you both up, enjoying the way he bites the inside of his cheek in frustration. Sunwoo seems to find it just as attractive as you do, shamelessly eyeing him up from top to bottom.

“Do you like men, Chan? Maybe we can keep the dancing to the bedroom.”

“Do all the renegades feel the need to aggravate their competitors?”

“Yes.”

Each of your bandmates seem to appear from behind each other, all perking up at the interaction like cats smelling fish nearby – not a single one of them could resist chiming in at the question, exchanging glances and snickers with each other.

“Well, not all of us,” Kevin insists, before promptly thinking better of it and adding, “Not all the time, anyway. But you got to admit, treating a battle of the bands like Just Dance is kiiind of… weird, to put it lightly.”

Eric snorts. “Or to put it bluntly, kind of dumb. How’d you even make it in?”

Chan furrows his brows at all the attention on him, glancing over his shoulder to look for the comfort of his band, who were all bunched up on the other side of the room, inching over to see what the fuss was about. He glances back to Eric. “Eric, right? I remember you.”

“Chris. And I remember the eyes you used to give my boyfriend.”

The words pierce through him like a blade, but before he can retort, said ex-boyfriend is behind him with a hand on his shoulder. “Chris? Is everything alright? Hey Eric. It’s uh… been a while.”

Felix looks very different to the last time you’d seen him – a lot more ink, a lot more piercings. It isn’t very surprising, considering he was doing a tattoo apprenticeship last you’d heard of him, and would likely explain why the rest of Stray Kids had all sorts of cool and professional looking tattoos, but it’s more intimidating than you’d like to admit. The homemade dinner-table designs on your skin pale in comparison, and you find yourself with the rare urge to cover up. With a glance at Kevin, you can tell he’s feeling similarly self conscious too.

“Guess this is what kept you so busy huh? Found yourself a better dance crew.” He doesn’t hide the bitterness in his words, folding his arms and staring him down.

Felix shrivels under his gaze, tightening his grip on his leader’s shoulder. “You know that’s not it, but alright. It’s not like you didn’t find yourself your people too, what’s the issue? Do we really have to fight over this?”

You don’t want to admit how you’ve just been staring at his mouth while he spoke; a silver sliver of metal catches your eye. A tongue piercing. The piercing Eric went so crazy over he egged you on to get one. No doubt he would be staring too.

“No, we don’t.” Eric tears his eyes away and promptly turns around, grabbing Sunwoo by the wrist to pull along after him, the rest of the band slowly trailing behind while giving awkward looks over their shoulders at your competitors.

Shrugging, you meet Chris’s eye for a moment just as you left, winking at him. “Nine o’clock. Bring the band if you want.”

San has to grab you by a belt-loop and tug you away, muttering something about being even worse of a flirt than him.

“I thought you and Felix broke up on relatively good terms,” Kevin presses carefully while transporting each part of Eric’s drum kit to the stage. “Are you all good?”

“I’m fine,” Eric huffs, plopping down the hefty kick drum down and cracking his knuckles. “We did. I just… when he said he was too busy for our dance crew anymore, I didn’t think it was because he’d gone and formed one without me. But it’s– it’s whatever. Forget about that, we’re about to put on one hell of a show, right?”

“Right!” You cut in enthusiastically, clasping your hands together. “Let’s knock their socks clean off. They got nothing on us! Where’s Wooyoung and Mingi?”

Everyone starts looking around for where the couple went, a series of eye-rolls crossing each of your faces when you realise they’re missing. Right before the show, of course, because their horny asses can never find a convenient time to sneak away to make out – and that’s coming from you.

“We’re here, we’re here!” Wooyoung bursts out from behind the curtains, Mingi in tow, both with their hair looking dishevelled and lip tint on their collars. “Ay, ay, I know what it looks like, but it was actually Changbin’s fault this time – you know that guy who I said was my best friend in high school? Well, he’s dating this Minho dude now and- “

“Wooyoung got mad that he doesn’t wanna suck his dick anymore and got all up on me to show off what they were missing out on,” Mingi deadpans, chuckling as Wooyoung tries to shove him for exposing him. “We’re still on time, right?”

“Barely – your bass is over there, get moving!” You laugh in disbelief, “You two are incorrigible.”

Set-up goes otherwise without a hitch, and finally, all eyes are on you.

It’s these moments you lived for, the moments you feel every fibre of your being come alive at the clacking of Eric’s drumsticks counting you in, every sense heightened for the musical onslaught that comes next.

You know you don’t have all the props and the stunts that Stray Kids do, you don’t have the pyrotechnics either. But what you do have is enough stage presence to fill a stadium and command a crowd, so you go on to do what you do best: perform. Everyone brings out all the stops – Mingi growling into the mic, Eric doing tricks with his drumsticks, you and Sunwoo cockily flipping your handheld microphones in sync, San slides onto his knees in his fit of passion to bring his face way too close to the audience, Wooyoung does a death-drop in time with the beat drop and at some point Kevin starts using his foot to play the keys.

It’s electrifying, it’s addicting; the soul-grasping moment of being seen, being in the spotlight, being known and being beheld. The thundering of your heartbeat quickly becomes one with the heavy beat of the drums and bass, and for a moment, hands on the mic and eyes on the people in front of you; real, individual people, with their own lives and stories that are tuning in to hear yours, to embrace it or otherwise, you remember what it really means to feel alive.

The energy is so palpable you could almost grasp it, climb it, ride it like a wave; the thought of attempting to crowd-surf crosses your mind until Wooyoung clearly has a better idea, strutting over to one of the metal poles that makes up the side of the stage.

He isn’t about to- oh, but he is. He tests its weight, then pulls himself up onto it like it’s a night at the Prism, swinging himself around it and showing off the fanciest tricks he can do on a static pole, soaking up all the screams and attention the crowd gives him.

You quickly look at Sunwoo, then down at the mic in your hands, and he seems to get the message, giving you an encouraging nod. High off the rush of the stage, you grin wildly, tossing the microphone halfway across the stage. The former soccer player stops playing guitar briefly to catch it in one hand like the absolute madman he is, shoving it half into his pocket, and you make a mad dash to join Wooyoung on the pole.

He extends his arms to you, holding to the pole with his legs. When you jump up with a surge of strength to meet him, the whole crowd gasps, erupting into a cacophony of cheers when he successfully catches you, pulling you onto the pole with him. The last line of the song is yours, and you notice your bandmates all looking at you to see if they need to take over for you without your mic; instead, you roughly grab Wooyoung by the choker around his neck and pull him close enough to use his headset mic, finishing the song with a bang.

The lights fade to black, and you can’t help but think that you’ve never had a louder crowd before – but a more intrusive thought comes with it. Was it louder than Stray Kids’?

“Sooo… we all agree we should get y’alls a stripper pole next time, right?” Mingi suggests casually, not-so-subtly eyeing up you and his boyfriend while he passed each of you a bottle of water in the lobby. “They ate that shit up.”

“You look like you want to eat us up,” you snort, bopping him on the head with the plastic water bottle. “But you have a point. The crowd seems to love flashy stuff like that, I think we and Stray Kids are the only bands that’ve really got reaction from everyone… we needa lean into it, especially since we don’t have the budget that the abandoned children do.”

Eric chokes on his drink at the abandoned children comment, Kevin snickering and smacking his back. You just know coming up with all sorts of mocking nicknames for them will soon become commonplace; such is the band’s sense of humour.

“Won’t we get disqualified if we put on a full-on strip show?” Eric reasons, “That’s what the Prism is for, you guys. Which San told me you invited Chris to.”

You shrug. He isn’t necessarily supposed to like it, it’s your own decision. “Yeah, I invited all of them there. Until after that entire ordeal, you seemed like you didn’t care about them, so is it really a problem if I wanna show off in front of them a little?”

“I never said it was,” he huffs, rolling his eyes at you. “No, I want to go with you.”

“What?”

“Teach me how to do pole.”

You blink, look at Wooyoung, blink again, then turn back to Eric. “You want to do pole dancing? Like, at the club? With us?”

“I think three people on a pole is a bit difficult, especially for a beginner,” Wooyoung chips in. He looks doubtful, and while you try not to underestimate someone as viciously determined as Eric when he sets his mind on something, you can’t help but mirror his expression.

“I know you’re an incredible dancer, Eric, but pole is nothing like that. If it was, I’d be able to join your dance crew by now.”

Thoroughly amused at the thought, he shrugs. “There’s always room for one more with us. You’re not half bad anyway, you could probably do one of our easier choreographies–“

“You also have only four days. You just won’t have the time to get anywhere near our level before Friday – dude, do you even know how hard it is to do the kind of shit we do?” Wooyoung guffaws, almost as if the very notion of it’s possibility was insulting his very livelihood. “We still need to work on our next round!”

Eric gnaws on the inside of his cheek in thought, mulling it over for a moment before you all notice the look on his face that means he’d just gotten a great idea and he isn’t about to take no for an answer. That in itself is just about as attractive as it is positively infuriating. “What if I called in sick to work this week?”

“Eric, if you keep skipping work and selling their shoes, you’re gonna be fired, friend’s dad or not–“

“Truuuust me. Jeff could never fire me, he likes me more than his own son! Look, just teach me as much as you can in the four days and if I’m good enough I can tag along with one of you two for a song or two. Please? I’ll pay it back.”

You narrow your eyes at him. He knows full well how dangerous those words are – the last time he’d promised to do anything in return for something, Sunwoo didn’t let him come for days,and he should know that you’re just as bad as Sunwoo is – if not worse.

“Damn Eric, I didn’t know you enjoyed being blueballed that much,” Sunwoo laughs, ribbing him in the side. “You really gonna try that with ____ and Wooyoung? Have you no respect for your dick?”

The stupid grin is already plastered on your face before you could help it, and at a glance, you see Wooyoung has the same – only for entirely different reasons, for sure.

“You gonna be my service sub for four days then, to make it even?” Wooyoung challenges, and Eric’s eyes widen. Wooyoung isn’t usually the controlling and dominant type – he much prefers to be a brat straight from hell (the only thing straight about him,) but he certainly has his moments where he dishes out just as much as he can take.

Suppose Eric is just the lucky winner this time.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, then rises up to the challenge. “You better be a really good teacher.”

“You doubt me?”

Eric then turns to you, just the slightest bit unnerved at the intensity of your stare following Wooyoung’s request. “Spit it out, what do you want?”

“You’re doing all the cleaning in the apartment for a week.”

“Motherfucker!” Eric half-laughs, half-roars. “I’m the one who does all the cleaning in the apartment anyway! You guys are such slobs.”

“Hey!” Kevin pipes up, making a face. “Don’t lump me in with those two gremlins. I do the dishes every time I use them.”

You can’t help but laugh at the outrage; the fact that Eric is less keen on doing chores than being at Wooyoung’s every beck and call, knowing full well how cruel he can be, has you rolling. Something about Eric and even Kevin getting so heated is incredibly amusing, but also kind of endearing. Maybe it’s the cute little nose scrunch they do, or maybe it’s just fun to rile them up – or both, probably both. Still, you hold your ground, not joking in the slightest despite the humour you (and Sunwoo, so it seems, by his muted snickering beside you) take in it.

“If you already do all the cleaning, then it’s no different to do all my chores for a week, no? Those are my conditions. If you want to stick it to your ex and his buddies this bad, you’d do it. Besides, to learn pole in four days, it’s gonna take you a lot more dedication than it does to do my chores… but if you can’t handle that then–“

Ah, the magic words.

“I can handle it! Just you wait, I’ll work that pole just as good as you do by Friday.”

San just laughed, patting him on the shoulder. “Oh, Eric. You should know better than to make deals with the devils.”

“Do it again.”

Maybe you wanted to put your beloved roommate through hell. But as it turns out, he makes a frustratingly fast learner – he already had incredibly upper body strength from all his time in the gym, and great coordination and control over his body after all his time he spent with his dance crew. You couldn’t figure out why that bothered you so much, why a part of you almost wanted to watch him fail and struggle. Is it the sadist in you? No, it couldn’t be that – that was only fun when it was sexy or deserved and Eric being bad at pole dancing would be neither.

It’s only when you see him perfect a move that took you weeks of practice on his second day of trying pole dancing that it clicks; and maybe you knew it the whole time but refused to admit it.

Insecurity.

Such a familiar face – she’d been popping up a lot recently, ever since Stray Kids got involved with the contest. Ever since you saw them perform and flip everything upside down, ever since you saw the leader’s stupidly handsome face and decided to make an enemy of him, and now, seeing Eric pick up so easily what took you months of practice to get to that point – yeah, it’s insecurity alright. That ugly demon that always shows her twisted face just as you think you’ve gotten rid of her.

“What– I literally did exactly what you did, the exact same way!” Eric protests, dropping off the pole. “What’s with you? Even Wooyoung wasn’t this critical, and he was bossing me around just for the fun of it.”

You sigh deeply through your nose, reminding yourself not to get too agitated. After all, this is your demon to battle with, not his. It isn’t fair on him, especially now that you’ve identified the grimy feeling, you know that’s probably the very same demon pushing him to do this in the first place.

It isn’t that hard to put two and two together; Stray Kids made him feel just as insecure as you – no, even more so, since he has to battle his lingering feelings over his ex and his friends along with whatever professional or artistic insecurities you’re going through, too.

Maybe you’ve been too hard on him.

“Sorry,” you breathe out, “I’m just… tense. I really don’t like to admit how worked up the homeless kids got me, but I suspect you’re just as bad if you’re determined to learn pole dancing in four days just to impress them.”

It was a little blunt, but such is your style, and the band are more than used to it by now; it’s rarely hostile. Just honest. And usually only because you pay enough attention to them and know them well enough to pick up on those things – it’s a love language in it’s own way. Not a conventional one by any means, but you trust them to speak up if you cross a line.

Eric doesn’t even deny it, he only deflates. “I suppose I haven’t been very subtle about that. Yeah, it’s just… why’d you invite them to the Prism? What’s the goal, here?”

You stare him down, unable to be bothered with his roundabout way of talking about his feelings. It’s not that Eric’s ever been a particularly closed off person; he’s quicker to talk about his feelings than most, usually, but he’s been trying to convince himself he’s been over Felix for more than a year now.

Spoiler alert: he isn’t.

“You tell me, Eric. Why are you trying to do this? What are you hoping to accomplish by performing with us?”

Realising this is going to be a heavier kind of conversation and he wouldn’t be back on the pole until you talk it through, he plops down next to you with a sigh.

“What do you think? I want them to look at me. I want Felix to look at me and see what he’s missing, I guess. I want Chris to look at me like he did before, like I’m everything he wanted to be. I want them all to see that I’m doing just as well as they are after all this time. I want them to feel threatened by me, in a way – god, that sounds so weird but I mean like–“

“You want them to feel the way they make you feel,” you interrupt gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

His silence speaks volumes. He gently takes your hand and dropping it to his lap, playing with your fingers idly. It’s a good enough of a distraction from the intensity of your gaze, the way you always manage to see right through him.

“Yeah,” he chokes out quietly. “Fuck, I just – I still like him. I said I was over him but–“

“I know.”

He huffs softly, a small, dry smile on his lips. There’s no humour in it. “Of course you know. Nothing gets past you, does it?”

“Of course not. I care about you too much to miss anything important like that.”

He softens at the reminder; it’s love, in the end. Confronting, but often necessary. He clears his throat, figuring he needs to lay it bare. “Right. Well. Felix… he was my first real love, I think. And it’s stupid, because we didn’t even break up on bad terms – we’re still friends! I think. But it just, it stings, you know? He just started drifting. Getting busier. And when I asked him to make more time for me, he said he didn’t have the time to give me the love and attention I deserved.”

“I knew things were a little different back then, but finding out he left our dance crew to make another dance crew with the friends he did have time for, I guess, and they’re all stupid talented and clearly doing pretty well off to afford all those outfits and props and on top of all that they enter the competition he knows we enter every year without telling me. I just… I’m pretty convinced now that I loved him more than he ever loved me.”

How ungrateful, you think, rubbing circles onto his palm with your thumb, He was lucky to have a guy like Eric. I can’t imagine how anyone can meet such a wonderful person and take them for granted like that. We’ll show him. And make him pay.

You grasp both Eric’s hands in yours once he finishes speaking, bringing them to your lips and brushing small kisses to his knuckles. Another intimate gesture you try not to think too hard about – it just feels right in the moment.

“That sounds awful. It’s a lot of repressed feelings all coming rushing back full force with added bitterness, huh?”

He nods slowly, head hung low and eyes resting on your entwined hands.

“Do you want to get over him? Or are you hoping you’ll impress them and maybe you can rekindle something with him? Do you want to make him – and Chris, by the sounds of it – do you want to make them… jealous?”

“Suppose I’m more of a jealous person than I like to admit.”

You casually ignore the way that makes your heart drop in your chest just a little bit. You can dwell on what that’s meant to mean later. That’s something that’s become habit over the years, but it’s been serving you pretty well so far.

“So you do? I mean, I should probably be encouraging healthier ways of working through all those emotions, but I won’t lie… I want them to look at us too. I want to get them all worked up, I want to stick in their mind the same way they’re stuck on ours.”

It’s Eric’s turn to give you the look, and you almost forgot how good he is at seeing through you the same way.

“You want to mess with them too, don’t you?”

Maybe you deserved that one.

“I’ll keep my hands off Felix, if that makes you feel any better about it.”

Eric laughs at your smarmy grin, squeezing your hand and giving you a tiny smirk. “No, no. Quite the contrary, actually – I want you to mess with him specifically. With me. I wanna gang up on him a little, cause… I feel like if you’re there, I won’t slip up and accidentally tell him about my feelings. We can stay mysterious and sexy and have him eating out of the palm of our hand.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you and any of your bandmates went out with the intention to pick out a plaything to share for the night, but you know it’s going to be different if the said plaything is Felix. It definitely won’t help Eric get over him, but based on the way he dodged the question, you figure that isn’t exactly his agenda anymore. If he just wants to make Felix jealous, hot and bothered, show him that he too is still talented, sexy, and with a band of equally as talented and sexy friends, you could do that.

The fact that you’d enjoy it just as much as him is honestly just a bonus.

“Eric?”

“Yeah?”

You pause to blink at him. “I think you might need therapy.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, probably. So like, does that mean you’re in, or…?”

You chuckle incredulously, bumping him in the shoulder.

“You bitch. Of course I’m in, let’s get that man on his knees.”

-

You really should’ve known better than to doubt a Capricorn with their mind set on something, especially one who you’ve known as long as Eric.

Unsurprisingly, he was covered in bruises by Friday night, but whether that was from the brutality of the pole that non-pole dancers don’t often realise comes with the craft, or from Wooyoung having his way with him all week, no one could really know. Either way, he fit right in with the less conventional performers of the Prism, even more fitting how he would be performing with Scar.

Despite being thoroughly messed up and worked tirelessly, his eyes were alight with excitement as soon as you brought him into the familiar dim lighting of the club, and he looked more awake than ever. Perhaps this would give him the closure he needed. More likely it’d fan the flames, but who’s to tell, really? You’d be there for him either way.

Once fully in costume, you peek out of the dressing rooms to scan the crowd for your guests – they never did say they were coming, but Eric insisted they wouldn’t be able to resist, especially Felix, and especially when you made it some sort of challenge. They don’t tend to start shit, he’d said, but if provoked, they’d never be able to resist, and you can’t help wondering if that’s exactly why Eric got along with them so well.

You aren’t one to talk, though. The reason you’re here is because you’re just as bad.

“Are they here?” Eric peeks his head around the corner after you, giggling at the cartoonish-ness of it all. “They better- ah, look! There’s Changbin and Jisung and… I don’t know the other guys names yet, but I’d assume Felix and Chris would be with them.”

“Is that them behind Changbin?”

“It is! Perfect, it’s showtime. Let’s go!”

Ever the excited puppy, he ushers you back towards the dressing rooms to finish touching up your hair and makeup. With time ticking before your performance still, Eric is restless, bouncing his leg and constantly checking himself in the mirror, only catching himself when he notices the endeared yet amused face you give him.

“What? This is a whole new type of stage than I’m used to, it’s exciting.”

“I know,” you hum, “It’s cute. But you could do to calm your nerves a little.”

“What exactly are you suggesting? We should probably save our energy for the performance and the… private show afterward,” he reminds you slowly, but it’s hardly stern as much as it is teasing.

You shrug. “I never said you should expend any energy – where is your mind going, you horndog?”

“Oh please, that’s rich coming from you–“

You climb into his lap to silence him, and his hands already find their usual place at the back of your neck just as quickly, almost magnetic. “I can tell you’re thinking too hard. So stop thinking and just kiss me.”

Eric doesn’t need to be told twice; finding solace in your touch has been second nature to him for years, and he finds himself quickly melting into the familiar softness of your lips. He doesn’t seem to care for the fact that you are making out in a rather public area for all the club’s performers, the other couple of people in the room too absorbed in putting together their own intricate outfits and far too used to you and Wooyoung’s antics, but Eric not knowing that and kissing you breathless anyway set off sparks beneath your skin.

It does seem to work to calm him down though, kissing him slowly to the sultry bass reverberating throughout the building, his hands smoothing over your body and tracing patterns over the clothed skin clearly to calm himself more than you. By the time the current song finishes, and you finally peel yourself off him, he’s staring at you with a dazed grin on his face – you’ll never tire of that sight.

“Come on, time to show the stray cats who’s boss.”

The routine you and Wooyoung came up with for Eric isn’t nearly as difficult as your usual choreographies, more so just a compilation of moves that look a lot harder than they actually are and a lot of floorwork, but flashy is exactly what you were going for with this. Flashy and sexy – San said he’d shout dinner for whoever could get any of your victims – sorry, guests – to cream their pants, and you and Eric took that personally.

Apparently, that was one of Felix and Eric’s favourite pastimes.

The choreography consisted of a pole and a chair, and with any luck, your target for tonight would be a willing volunteer.

You start off with yourself in the chair and Eric behind you, movements like he is controlling your body like a puppet; Eric wanted to show an image of control tonight, and you let him, making direct eye contact with the freckled face in the crowd when Eric’s hand snaked around your neck and your legs spread apart.

Felix, surprisingly, doesn’t flinch, watching your every move with rapt attention, like he couldn’t take his eyes away if he tried. It’s a direct contrast to Chris, who keeps flitting his gaze around nervously and trying to figure out what to do with his hands. He clearly hasn’t been to a strip club before, and the sight only spurs you on more.

You recognise Changbin, and guess that the guy next to him must be Jisung, absolutely losing their minds at the front of the stage, cheering and holding out cash to you. You happily saunter up to the shorter man, making sure to let your touch linger on his hand just a second too long when taking the bill and slipping it into your waistband and popping a couple more buttons off your shirt.

Eric goes as far as to lean over and grab Jisung’s tip in his teeth, winking and ghosting his fingertips over the man’s jaw; something you wouldn’t usually recommend, but you suppose this situation is different considering he knew the people already. Still, taking your chance to put him in his place, you improvise, grabbing his hips and pulling him back into you, pressed up against his back.

He gasps, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you with a surprised grin. This wasn’t part of the routine, but he nor the crowd seem to mind when you start peeling his outer shirt off with your teeth, leaving him in a skin-tight white tank top.

You cheekily bite his shoulder before strutting back over to the pole, beckoning him to follow with a crook of your finger. He does, and you continue with your routine, spinning around the pole with him and exchanging as many heated glances and sensual touches as possible where you could. He works up a sweat really quickly, but Eric covered in a thin sheen of it is a sight to see, and he’s positively glowing by the time it gets to the good part.

Scanning the crowd, you look for Felix, but he’s too far from the stage for what you planned, leaning over to the tallest one and saying something you can’t decipher. The song only has so many beats and you can’t waste time and risk ruining the routine waiting for him to wander closer, so you look at what you have to work with. Closer to the stage is, in fact, the man you invited yourself; so once again, you improvise.

Teasingly sliding your shirt off fully, you make your way to the front of the stage and throw it around the back of his neck like a rope, tugging him up to the stage with a flirty wink. He visibly short-circuits, looking at you with wide, stunned eyes, but when he spots Eric over your shoulder gesturing him toward the seat, he steels himself and climbs up onto the stage with you.

Perfect. Letting go of your shirt, you leave it hanging around his shoulders before dragging him to and shoving him onto the chair, where Eric quickly cages him to. He swallows thickly, but meets Eric’s smirk, clearly catching onto the competitive tension. It’s amusing how quickly he regains control of his nerves when challenged; either he works well under pressure, or it’s merely a façade. Either way, his hands stay firmly by his sides while Eric rolls his hips in his lap, until you come up behind him, sliding your hands down his arms to grab his wrists and place them on the shiny leather atop Eric’s muscular thighs. He tenses for a second, but doesn’t pull away when you slide his hands up toward the dancer’s hips.

Eric is predictable. Right as he has Chris exactly where he wants him, he casts a glance over his shoulder to smirk at Felix in the crowd, who simply raises his eyebrows back with a controlled look of amusement. That seems to do it for him enough, slipping out of Chris’s lap to make his way back over to the pole for the solo part of his routine while you take his place over the chair.

The audience loves him; holding himself up on the pole with just his strong legs (and the help of his leather pants) he removes his hands completely, grabbing his top and ripping it down the middle in one quick movement to the beat of the song, revealing his chiselled torso covered in hickeys. He’s good at this, making you think it’d be worth convincing him to work here instead of the roller-rink he constantly fucks over, but you have more important things at hand.

Your lap dance is even more elaborate, and it doesn’t take long to visibly see how worked up you’ve got him; his pants were awfully tight, and you shamelessly stare as you grind down in front of it, licking your lips.

It’s then when you notice Chris really starting to crack, running a hand through his hair in a self-soothing motion and biting his lip. There’s nothing quite like flustering your competition – despite it not being the original plan – or the original victim, this is a pretty decent way for the dance to go. He can’t seem to look away from your hands as they glide over his muscular arms, then move to your pants, undoing the button then bringing his hands to your waistband and make him slide them down your legs.

When the lighting goes white for a moment, you finally realise the deep shade of red he’s taken, from his face to his ears to his neck, and you can’t resist; you lean in next to his ear and ask, “You enjoying yourself, Bang?”

He chuckles just loud enough for you to hear, and it sounds nervous in nature, but his next words are pointedly not. “I think you could do better.”

You know better than to freeze mid-dance, but it catches you by surprise, and it’s written all over your face, bringing back that insufferable smirk on his. You don’t have the breath to respond, too focused on the rest of your routine, and before you know it, it’s over, ending with you and Eric in your boxers and jockstrap respectively on either side of the chair, a knee resting on the man’s lap and an arm around the back.

As the cheers fill the emptiness the music left behind, Chris reaches into his pocket and pulls out cash for the both of you, looking you straight in the eyes as he tucks them into your waistband with the gentlest of touches, then politely nods and leaves the stage.

“Why do I feel like we just lost?” Eric mutters, chucking his over-shirt back on backstage, only bothering to do up a single, lower-hanging button. “We put on the show of a lifetime, but he looked even more smug than we did by the end of it!”

“I teased him,” you explain, shimmying your pants back on, “I asked if he was enjoying himself, and he said I could do better – the fucking audacity. I was so stunned it showed, and he was sooo proud of himself, I guess.”

Eric rolls his eyes at that. “I never expected this cocky streak in him – he was always so overly friendly and polite when I knew him, but I suppose I never tried that hard to provoke him. Or when I did, I think he felt too guilty over liking a taken man. Do you think he’s slept with him now? Is that why he’s so smug?”

“No point wondering,” you hum with a shrug, “Come on, let’s go find tonight’s plaything. Unless you’re too tired?”

“For this? Never.”

You order shots for the two of you, downing them quickly before heading to the dance floor and letting loose, dancing languidly and getting all up in each other’s personal space. Both of you keep an eye out for Felix in between the bumping and grinding, and you manage to spot him at the bar just as Eric’s hands pull your ass to his crotch as you sway to the music.

Eric notices him not long after, grabbing your chin and turning it to him, then to his own face, capturing your lips over your shoulder. You love the way he kisses you when someone’s watching, even more now when he has something to prove. It’s not just that he doesn’t care that other people are around, but he in fact enjoys knowing that they can see him claim you. That they can see him bite your lower lip and slip his tongue into your mouth and dig his hands into your hips.

You crack your eyes open slightly mid-kiss to glance toward where you saw Felix earlier, only finding him already staring right back at you; he quickly averts eye contact and stares into his drink, but you simply smile as Eric’s kisses dip lower to trail down your neck. He gives Felix the flirty side-eye then, and while you don’t see it, you see Felix unable to resist looking back.

His eyes linger this time, like he realises you don’t mind being watched, and you don’t miss the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips and he gulps. Got him.

You pretend to pout as Eric pulls away from you, but his eyes are locked on his ex, chuckling under his breath as he laces his hand with yours and pulls you over with him to the bar. Each of you take a seat on opposite sides of Felix with matching cocky looks.

“My, my, freckles. Someone sure does enjoy watching.”

“So, you came after all. What did you think?” Eric pried, leaning an elbow on the bar. “The performance, I mean, not the extra show. Your boyfriend sure seemed to enjoy himself.”

Felix scoffs at that, taking a sip from his drink. “Eric, I can smell your jealousy from a mile away. Chris isn’t my boyfriend. You and ____ are very talented and good-looking, and you did good.”

That was a good sign if any to cut in, you think – after all, that’s exactly what you’re here for. Damage control. Or maybe damage prevention.

“Aww, don’t be so dull, Felix. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t at least a little interested in what we could do.” Flipping it right back on them usually works quite smoothly, you find, and Felix is no different.

He takes another very deliberate sip of his drink. “Well, I was definitely curious,” he admits, “But I didn’t expect you to be here too, Eric. You never told me you became a stripper.”

“You never told me your new band was a dance crew,” Eric replies simply, but he quickly catches your eye and must have realised how bitter he sounded. “Guess that just means we need to talk more often. You should meet the other guys; I think you’d get along with them great – this one especially.”

He nods at you, and you realise what he’s doing right away; by pushing Felix towards you, he doesn’t sound as bitter or jealous anymore. It works, as the briefest look of confusion crosses Felix’s delicate features as he turns to take a better look at you, blinking innocently.

“Yeah? ____, right? We met a few times.”

“You say that like it was that long ago,” you laugh lightly, “Yeah, at a few parties. Your moves have gotten a lot better, though. But I guess the dance floor at a party is a bit different to a big stage, huh?”

Finally seeming to loosen up a little, he nods. “Very different. That was just me fucking around and having fun.” He offers you a small smile, and it’s almost blindingly bright.

You smile back, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Oh? I do like fucking around and having fun.”

Felix chokes on his drink for a second but clears his throat and laughs it off. “Wow, you’re bold, aren’t you? Guess you and Sunwoo broke up then…?”

“I never dated Sunwoo,” you clarify – it’s not the first time you’ve had to, and definitely won’t be the last. “He’s just good with his mouth.”

Eric decides then to pipe up cheekily, “But ____ is even better. Don’t tell Sunwoo I said that, though.”

Felix’s eyes widen, glancing between the two of you in mild disbelief. “Are you… trying to set me up with them or something? It’s okay Eric, I’ve already moved on.”

It’s an attempt to be reassuring, but you don’t doubt that it struck Eric right through the heart like a knife. He does better to hide it this time, shrugging indifferently. “Nah, ____ doesn’t really date, anyway. Honestly, I just want to see him have his way with you – he’s really hot when he’s in the zone. You wouldn’t have lasted a minute in that chair.”

You giggle at that. “Guess it was a good thing Chris was closer to the stage, huh?”

That seems to spark a fire behind his dark eyes, giving him a disbelieving look.

“Oi now, I’m not that easy,” Felix drawls, swirling his drink around before downing the rest of it. “I can handle a lap dance.”

“Do you want one, then?” You prompt, leaning toward him enough for your shoulders to brush. “Don’t worry, on the house. Think of it as a friendly offering toward the competition.”

That seems to sober him up, raising an eyebrow at you. “You weren’t that friendly to Chris on Monday, though. He said you had quite the attitude.”

Eric snorts. “You love a bit of attitude, Lix.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it when someone insults my band, Eric,” Felix flashes back coolly, and you realise you probably struck a nerve by mentioning the competition. “You sure are cocky just because you won last year.”

“It’s not just because we won last year,” you start, idly picking at your nails to appear even more unbothered. You’re not sure if it’s working or not. “It’s because we’re just that good without needing to resort to party tricks – there’s a difference.”

“Party tricks,” Felix guffaws, tonguing the inside of his cheek, and you think you like that look on him. It only makes you want to rile him up even more. “If you’re this heated over pyrotechnics and tricks, just get Eric to do a flip or two and I’ll even ask Chris to let yous borrow our knives and flaming swords. Dunno how you’d make that work with instruments, but y’know, you guys are creative. You could like, think outside the box. It could be cool!”

Cute. He knows you’re being condescending towards him, but even then he still insists on offering you a kind gesture and a compliment as if it were a peace offering. If only I were that sweet, you think with amusement. Unfortunately for him, you don’t have any generosity to offer the man who cast your best friend to the side so casually.

“Yeah- no,” Eric rejects bluntly. “We’re not taking your leftovers. We can beat you even without a sugar daddy or sponsor to glam up our stages.”

“You do make good use of what you got,” Felix compliments earnestly, taking it in stride. He didn’t appear interested in fighting, despite how defensive his body language seemed. Honestly, his attempts at pacifism are almost admirable — you know how insufferable you two can sound, and most people lose their cool far quicker. “That impromptu pole dancing part was pretty impressive.”

Almost.

“Wow, you’re gonna just sit there and take that?” You speak your mind without thinking, drumming the tabletop with your nails. “Either you really do have a sugar daddy, or you need to grow a backbone.”

Felix sighs deeply, poking his tongue inside his cheek again in visible frustration. That in itself feels like a victory, so you don’t stop the smug look it brings to your features. “I don’t want to– do you guys want me to fight you, or something?”

“Yes!” You and Eric reply at the same time, which you can’t say you were expecting – this is definitely not where you had planned the night to go, but Eric is clearly on the same page as you are. “You’re hot when you’re mad.”

“And you’ve become a real sleaze since we last met, then.” Felix wrinkled his nose. “All that just to get your dick wet?”

“There it is, he has a backbone after all!” You cheer, clapping your hands with a cackle. “But no, if he just wanted to get his dick wet, I could do a much better job of that than you could, pretty boy. All that was just to see the look on your cute little face.”

Felix narrows his eyes at you, clearly trying to think of an appropriate response before it hits him – you can practically see the lightbulb go off as he leans in with a lazy grin.

“So you think I’m pretty cute?”

“Yeah.” You don’t back down, unflinching. If he thinks he can embarrass you by pointing out your attraction to him you never even bothered to conceal, he would be dead wrong. “Cute enough to toy with, I suppose. But I prefer guys with a bit more bite to them than that.”

“What do you want me to say? That I got plenty more bite if you ask nicely? That I know I can fuck you better than he can?” His shoulders are tense, arms on the table almost as if he is ready to push himself up and leave the table at a moments notice. “That you’re not bad to look at when you shut your mouth and aren’t pointlessly belittling anyone creative enough to make you feel insecure?”

Oh, he’s done it now. It was probably deserved after you deliberately trying to provoke him, but you hadn’t expected him to hit the nail right on the head – but no, it’s not just a matter of creativity. They were still stupid for treating a battle of the bands as a dance concert, at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

Eric laughs hard enough to give you a second to recover from the sting, clutching at his bruised abs that still peeked through the loosely hanging fabric of his shirt. “Oh, oh wow, haha- it was cute at first, but you really think you can do me better in bed than them? Oh my god, pfft, that’s hilarious. I’d invite you to prove it if I had any faith in that being true.”

“Bet?” Felix sure is heated now, and you’re discovering just how much you like seeing such usually polite characters get all riled up. It’s a very particular, twisted sense of satisfaction, but satisfaction nonetheless. He abruptly grabs a fistful of Eric’s hair and tightly pulls his head close; you notice Eric’s internal struggle as he barely manages to hold back a moan, but his breathless smile tells you he’s exactly where he wants to be. “I still remember exactly what makes you tick. What was my record, one and a half minutes?”

“Forget that,” Eric snickers, “You wouldn’t last one and a half minutes with ____ in your lap, and you think you can compare?”

No pressure or anything, you chide silently, but you don’t deny the ego boost it gives you, filling you with confidence.

“Nah, you’re full of shit,” Felix chuckles, low in his chest. “I’ve made you come so hard your got it on your chin, you’re not that good of an actor. You can’t pretend like I was bad in bed for some sort of high ground, cause you know it’s not true.”

Eric doesn’t budge, keeping the smug grin that you might as well have taught him firmly on his face. “I never said you were bad in bed, baby, I’m just saying that they’re better.”

He lets go of Eric’s hair, turning around to scoff at you. “He’s bluffing.”

“Possibly.” Honestly, at this point you can’t tell either, but you know that while he may exaggerate, he probably isn’t straight-up lying. “You’d just have to find out, wouldn’t you?”

He turns on the barstool to face you fully, giving you a decisive look up and down. “Alright then. And if I do last a minute and a half, will you finally keep my band’s name out of your mouth?”

Eric gleefully slides out of his seat, grabbing both of your wrists and dragging you towards the VIP rooms.

“Don’t worry, you won’t.”

You have no idea what Eric is planning; if it’s just you working your usual magic, maybe it’s possible to make him come in his pants in a minute and a half, but Eric’s unshakable confidence has you thinking that surely he must have something else up his sleeve. (If not, you suppose you’ll just take the compliment, but that wouldn’t bode well if you didn’t succeed.)

As soon as it’s just you three in a room with just a pole, plush loveseats and fancy, dim lighting, Eric takes his shirt off. He wastes no time.

“____, the timer.”

“You’re really serious about this, huh,” Felix wonders aloud, and you pause to smirk at that as you open the right app on your phone.

“You sound surprised, freckles. Does that mean you just came here for a not serious, good time? We can do that too.” You wink at him, and if you squint through the glow of the indigo wall lights, you think you see colour creep across his cheeks.

He holds your gaze for just a moment, almost as if to say I’m not afraid of you, but he looks away too quickly after for that to be true; at the wall rather than Eric’s naked torso. Grabbing his chin in your hand, you yank his head to make him look at your bandmate. “Hey. Look at him.”

“Oh no, don’t look at me,” Eric deflects in obnoxiously feigned shyness, “Look at him.” He promptly shoves you into Felix’s chest, but he catches you on instinct, albeit stumbling back into the nearest seat. You recover faster than he does, wanting to maintain your aura of control, pushing him down onto the leather and climbing into his lap.

“You didn’t answer my question, freckles,” you remind him, partially to buy time but also just to egg him on a little, tapping his nose. “Admit it, you’re not just here to prove a point. You want me.”

He clearly wants to make a sassy retort, but instead what comes out of his mouth is, “And if I do?” He gulps, you smile. He probably only just realised how eager he sounded. You appreciate the honesty, whether it’s from his inability to lie well or his confidence in himself. “It’s not like that’s saying much. You’re the one sitting in my lap right now.”

“And your hands are already on my ass.”

His hands are off in a split-second, eyes widening at the horror that he may have just crossed a boundary, keeping them hovering up next to him. “I-I’m so sorry, I–“

“Uh oh, the security won’t like that one,” Eric hums, only furthering the visible alarm written all over the other man’s face.

“Hey, I didn’t– it was habit, I really wasn’t trying to– I’m sorr–“

“I’m the security.”

It’s a cheesy line, but Felix was clearly not expecting him to abruptly grab his wrists and pin them above his head with a burst of strength, then nod at his discarded shirt that had fallen into your lap at the movement, so he’s a little too preoccupied to care. You know Eric well enough by now to catch on quickly, tightly tying Eric’s shirt around Felix’s wrists in a motion too quick to not be practiced. He tests the makeshift restraints, clearly not expect the flimsy fabric to hold him, but it doesn’t budge – and when that in itself dawns on him, the face he makes is priceless.

“That okay?” You make sure to ask; Eric probably knows Felix well enough to know what he’s working with here, but you need to hear him say it. No, you won’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want to prove a point – victory is far sweeter when it’s given to you freely.

He nods. “M’fine. Give me your worst.”

“Oh sweetheart,” you purr, “You wouldn’t be able to handle me on my best behaviour.”

You finally start to put the pieces together when Felix swallows thickly at that; it’s the confidence. Felix is easily flustered, even more easily intimidated, and Eric building you up to be this sort of irresistible sex god is really getting to the boy’s head.

“You’re so cute,” you continue, your face only inches away from his, sparkly eyes catching the purple illumination of the room wide and fixed on you. Yours flit down to his perfectly shaped lips and the metal ring that hugs the lower one. Under all the ink, steel, and fierce eyes, he looks so soft. It’s different from the intimidating look he has at a distance, but seeing him in such a light gets you even more eager to get your hands on him. “Makes me want to break you.”

Being physically on top of him, you can feel the shivers that go down his back.

He inhales shakily but tries his damn best to appear calm on the outside, maintain his unbothered facade – not that it’s fooling anybody. He nods at your phone on the seat next to him. “Start the timer.”

“Worried you won’t last already?” Eric presses, picking up the phone slowly.

“They’re in my lap already. Start it.”

Oh, you like the firmness in his voice.

You cast one last questioning look at Eric over your shoulder for guidance – this is his ex-boyfriend, after all, but Eric just sits himself on the low table in front of you and crosses his legs. “Give him the Mingi treatment from last week.”

Now, that you can do.

He taps the button, and you waste no time in crashing your lips to Felix’s; you can taste the familiar flavour of one of the Prism’s fruity cocktails on him, only making him that much more intoxicating. You’re buzzing, and you don’t know if that’s the shots talking, the remnants of adrenalin from performing, or just the kick you get out of riling up pretty boys like this – whatever it is, it makes you pull him for more, as close as you can get. Closer, chest to chest, crotch to crotch, hands sliding down his arms to his shoulders but snapping them back to his arms when he tries to relax them and drop them around you. He makes the tiniest noise at the show of force, but it’s not hard to pull more sounds out of him, biting at his lower lip and lewdly sucking on his tongue.

He’s so responsive, you quickly realise, and he was bluffing his cute little ass off the whole time – no wonder Eric was so confident. With another roll of your hips onto his barely concealed boner, he shudders again, and when you finally break the kiss to watch his face as you do the same thing with your hips a second time, his eyelids flutter shut.

They shoot open again when you release his hands to go for his pants, undoing his fly and shimmying them part-way down his hips, then quickly and completely removing yours, sitting yourself back down on his bulge with only his boxers separating you. It would be easier without it, but you feel cocky tonight under his awestruck gaze, and want to cash in San’s offer of a free dinner. So, you rub your bare pussy along the outline of his dick and leave a damp spot on the fabric that is rewarded with a deep groan.

A large part of pleasure is mental. Give him the Mingi treatment from last week, he said. What a fun way of telling me he has a praise kink and a penchant for dirty talk. If he’s anything like Mingi, words go straight to his head, as well as any sounds, so with that in mind, you made a point of putting on a show the whole while you kissed and grinded on him.

The fleeting thought crosses your mind that you hope his praise kink both ways – his low, gravelly voice would definitely do something for you saying all sorts of prettily filthy things. Luckily for you, though, your own voice was just as good at being sultry, as made evident with your bandmates, and the years on testosterone just made it even deeper and raspy.

“Mm, Felix,” you moan directly into his ear, grinding down harder on him and finally releasing his wrists to feel up his lightly toned body. “You’re so fucking sexy. Your face, those lips… of course you had to be a damn good kisser too, hmm? You good at using those lips elsewhere? I bet you could have me coming all over your pretty little face in no time. Fuck, I wanna sit on your pretty face so bad, baby.”

You expect him to tease you for it, but instead he bucks his hips up to meet yours, holding you tightly against him with his arms despite his bound wrists like he can’t afford to let you go. “Do it,” he murmurs, “God, I bet you’d taste amazing.”

You were right. That was way too sexy coming from his mouth, and the warmth it sends flooding south is dangerous, so you capture his lips with yours once more. His keenness to reciprocate tells you he’s just as enthusiastic about kissing as you are; the softness of his lips is a delicious contrast to the roughness of his jeans that aren’t tugged down far enough that scrape at your skin with every grind. He kisses you deeply, like he’s trying to taste all your secrets on your tongue, like he could lick all the spite and bitterness off your lips.

“Can confirm,” Eric pitches in from behind you, content with watching, and based on the sounds of it, stroking himself through his pants or boxers. You’re no stranger to an audience, rather enjoying the way you can almost physically feel the heat of his eyes on you, but you’re more surprised at how used to it Felix seems too. Suppose he got along so well with Eric for a reason. “They taste like heaven. And the way they twitch and tremble…”

The embarrassing part is how little you have to play it up; you moan into his mouth for him again, speeding up the motion of your hips and gasping at the dull pressure of him against your clit. He seems to notice, tonguing at the inside of his cheek again and bringing his lips to your ear.

“I can’t tell which one of us is enjoying this more,” he purrs, irresistibly velvety and spurring you on to grind on him faster. Time is ticking, and you would not be able to handle the humiliation of losing this stupid bet Eric put you on the spot for. That’d give them way too much ammunition over you and your band. “God… you’re soaked.”

“And you’re nice and hard for me, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, fuck, I am.”

You shudder; christ his voice is doing things to you, and he knows. There’s a raggedy edge to his words that implies he’s not going unaffected either, you just need to push just a bit farther, just a bit—

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you grab a fistful of his hair and yank it back, ripping a beautiful whimper from him and exposing the length of his throat for you to bite down on. You bite hard, right above where his neck meets his shoulder, and he tenses all the way up with a loud groan, arms squeezing you tight as his cock twitches beneath you and spills into his boxers.

The timer goes off not a second too soon. The cockiness that surges up in you is rivalled only by the sheer relief of managing to accomplish your mission; that was somehow both the longest and shortest minute and a half of your life. You soothe the bite mark with slow drags of your tongue, savouring in the way Felix pants, struggling to catch his breath, and shivers at you blowing lightly on the spot you just bit.

“There’s- There’s no way that was a minute and a half,” Felix breathes out, slumping back against the seat. “The song that was playing just finished.”

Eric gleefully waves around the finished timer on his phone, clearly saying one minute and thirty seconds on it. “Go Fuck Yourself by Two Feet is only a two-minute song, Lix.” Fitting, too. “You lost fair and square.”

“But… But I… there’s no way…”

You remove yourself from his arms, leaving them tied and sitting almost shamefully in his lap, over the wet bulge on his boxers stained with your wetness and his cum. “How cute. Freckles doesn’t even last two minutes. Enjoyed the show, Eric?”

The man behind you looks even more smug then than he did when he managed to get Sunwoo to break and sub for him, which is a statement on its own considering how he never lets your other roommate forget it. “Boy, did I. You’re so sexy when you’re in the zone like that, baby.”

“Aww, babe! You- woah—!”

Your words fail you as you suddenly get shoved sideways onto the couch, Felix sliding down and nudging your legs apart with his elbows, and, still bound, holding your hips down and diving in to drag his pierced tongue against your pussy.

“You want a show, Eric? I’ll give you a show,” Felix growls before burying his face between your legs, taking your clit into his mouth and sending jolts of pleasure through your body. The sensation of his soft tongue and the hard steel has you grabbing at his hair again, trying not to give him the satisfaction of even bigger reactions, but it’s hard when he eats pussy like a god. Seriously, where did he learn how to—

“Fuuuck,” you groan, pushing your hips into his mouth more, “You know— I was just saying that to egg you on more— ah-ha, but if you love my pussy that much—”

He twists his head to bite sharply at your inner thigh, letting out a low grunt while you gasp. “You were right, though. I can have you coming all over my face in no time.”

“He tastes good, doesn’t he?” Eric teases, and you send him a look of betrayal for encouraging this – not that you were doing much to discourage it yourself. You don’t let him pull back for any more witty retorts, not when his mouth feels this fucking good. Instead, Felix just lets out a moan of approval, eyes falling shut as he gets messy with it. It’s almost embarrassing how much you’re enjoying this, the evidence of it coating his lips and chin, but know better than to let him know that. You came here determined to make a mess of him, and you’ll be damned if he leaves smugger than you.

Or Chris. The reminder of how your plan to frazzle him somehow backfired stings, and the hot flash of humiliation has you suddenly frustrated with how you’re letting Felix unravel you like this. Felix is the one with his wrists tied, so why do you feel like you’re the one at his mercy?

More importantly, why does being at the mercy of the enemy turn you on so much?

This was not how tonight was meant to go. That’s the last coherent thought you manage to have before Felix manages to rip your orgasm out of you, powerful and intense, with nothing but his lips and tongue. Your head flies back, your grip on his hair tightens, and so does the grip your legs have on his head, but he doesn’t relent the whole while, drawing moan after moan from you until the wave crashes and you let him go.

The proud, almost taunting grin he has on his glistening face as he pulls back and sits up has you so incredibly heated – heated with frustration, heated with desire for more. “So,” he hums simply, licking his lips, “How’d I do on time, mm?”

Eric stares at the two of you wide eyed, then looks at his phone. “As of just now, that would’ve been… two minutes.”

“Ha,” you scoff at him weakly, knowing full well it wasn’t anything to scoff at. “That’s still better than you, minute-and-a-halfer.”

That doesn’t seem to take away from his smugness at all, shrugging casually. “Okay then, two-minutes. You gonna keep my band outta your mouth now, or what?”

“Pff.” You shuffle yourself to sit upright again, crossing your arms at him. “That was if you managed to last a minute and a half, which you didn’t. Nice try, halfer.”

He scrunches his nose at that. “I think I preferred ‘freckles.’”

“Too bad,” Eric cuts in, finally getting up and joining you on the loveseat, pushing Felix back and grabbing at his jeans. “I think it’s my turn now.”

For a moment you think Felix will protest – this isn’t part of the bet, and he never agreed for anything more than that, but he doesn’t.

“Missed me that much?” Felix teases, lifting his hips to let him slide his jeans down his legs and kick them off with his shoes somewhere. If the way he completely lit up at Eric joining in didn’t already give away how much he probably missed him too, his eagerness to touch him definitely did. “C’mon, take off the shirt-cuffs.”

Eric snickers at shirt-cuffs, but when he grabs them, he only brings them back above Felix’s head. “Hmm… I don’t think I will, Felix. I know you enjoy them enough. I bet you’d love the ropework I get up to with the band sometimes.”

Felix’s brows raised, pliantly keeping his wrists above his head. “Ropework… and- the band? Are you all fucking each other?”

“Why wouldn’t we? We’re all queer and we’re all sexy,” you deadpan, Eric chuckling as he rids himself of his own pants and slides off the sticky fabric of Felix’s boxers. “Why, you don’t have any fun with your band? Are they all they straight or just boring?”

“Just monogamous, more like,” Felix mumbles, not looking at you in favour of being enthralled with Eric manhandling him into the position he wants and spitting on his hole.

You roll your eyes. “So, boring. Got it.”

Whatever response he had to that was quickly cut off with a sharp inhale as Eric slipped a finger past his rim, slowly pushing in knuckle by knuckle. “You didn’t happen to bring lube, did you?”

“No, but I can help,” you offer deviously, opening your legs for him and gathering your own wetness on your fingers. “Fuck me first? After all, halfer did insist he could fuck me better than you could. I’d like to see him try.”

“Ooh– “

Felix scoffs at that, scrambling back up and caging Eric between you as he leans over him to slip his finger in you. “I made you come with just my mouth in two minutes, sweetheart. What makes you think you can last longer around my cock?”

“That was a fluke,” you insist – it’s got to be. It’s got to be, because if this man could consistently make you come within minutes just by eating you out, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. “What makes you think you’d last any longer than a minute and a half? And that was just from some grinding and kissing…”

“That was a fluke,” he parrots back while Eric struggles to keep fingering him from the awkward angle, but he’s determined. Felix smirks at you over his shoulder and it’s somehow both incredibly hot but also almost cute, the way it pulls at his features, the combination making your head spin. He’s calling your bluff – at least, he thinks it’s a bluff, but you aren’t entirely sure. He pulls his now-sticky fingers away replace Eric’s with his own, gently shoving him off with his free hand. “Go ahead. I’ll enjoy the show.”

“If you insist,” Eric chuckles, shifting around on the seats, finally taking off his jockstrap and letting his hard cock spring free. He presses into you slowly, then all at once with little resistance from you. “Mmh, you’re so fucking wet.”

You tense as he brings his hand down on the outer side of your thigh, hissing at the sting. “You know it, baby. Now fuck me like you mean it, I’m ready.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, hiking your leg up over his shoulder enough to lift your hips off the cushion beneath you and putting those dancer hips of his to work. The angle draws embarrassingly loud cries from your throat before you can do anything to stop it, but he’s quick to grab the wrist of the hand you attempt to slap over your mouth.

“Nuh-uh-uh baby, I want to hear you – and I’m sure our audience would love it too,” Eric croons, grinning almost sadistically. It’s not like you’re embarrassed at him hearing you – he’s heard you babble and cry and moan and scream on multiple occasions, but something about Felix watching has you wanting to keep it together, wanting to stay the untouchable and powerful character you hold yourself to around him. Of course, Eric wouldn’t make that easy; he loves making you break your resolve far too much for that.

The realisation then hits you that you want – no, you need Eric to win this stupid little competition between you, and that isn’t going to happen by holding back. On the contrary, you need to show Felix how much you love Eric’s cock and how his would never compare, so you swallow your pride just to, ironically, be more prideful in the end.

“Fuck– there!” There’s no playing up necessary at all. Eric knows your body at the back of his hand, the same hand that snakes up toward your neck and lightly wraps around it, barely touching you, just a tease of more to come. You cover his hand with yours and press down, but he simply retracts his hand and uses it to drag his nails along your abdomen as he fucks you, the blunt pressure leaving tingly red lines behind. “Eric–“

“That’s right baby, say my name,” he pants. You do, you do it over and over, each time his hand trails closer up your body. This time, when you put your hand over his, he doesn’t pull back, wrapping around your neck and pressing down exactly where he needs to; very quickly, the lack of air has your body tingling and senses hazy.

You already know what he’s going to do next, the excitement furthering every physical sensation around you. After a few more toe-curling thrusts he lets go of your neck entirely, immediately bringing his thumb to your clit. The air rushing back to your head only makes the touch that much more electric, your head flying back with a broken gasp and cry of his name.

“Oh fuck, he’s clenching around me so tight right now,” Eric grunts through gritted teeth, looking down at where he can see his cock disappearing into you. He’s entranced at the sight, while your eyes follow the hypnotic swing of the chain around his neck with each thrust. “Fuuuck, this pussy is heaven. Keep doing that baby, and I’ll fill you up till you’re dripping, watch Felix fuck it out of you, shit!”

Your body responds to his words before you can string together a coherent sentence, that familiar tightness building in your core under the onslaught of his practiced ministrations. A deep moan rings through the air from where Felix watches, leisurely pushing his fingers in and out of himself on the table next to you, and you’ll be damned if you ever admit it but that noise and the sight in front of you is ultimately what sends you plummeting over the edge.

“I’m– fuck, I’m gonna– Eric– I’m–!”

“Good boy,” he groans, not letting up the pace as you clench and writhe around him. “Just like that, come all over my cock, that’s it baby…”

It’s dizzying, he’s dizzying, everything’s dizzying but you love it. You love the intensity that washes over you and the intensity of every frenzied touch after that from the sheer sensitivity. He pumps you full of him with a groan of your name and a shudder, finally stilling, then pulling out slowly, watching his cum drip from you before gathering it on his tip and shoving it back inside.

He casts a breathless grin at his ex-lover, panting still. “There. Your turn.”

“You,” you pant heavily, trying to catch your breath while pointing a wobbly finger at the freckled boy, “Condom.”

He’s transfixed on the sight between your legs, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’m clean. Do you want to see my results–“

“Fine,” you quickly relent mid-scramble to grab his phone, saving him the trouble. His eagerness is endearing; he doesn’t seem to try to hide it, or if he does, he does a pretty terrible job at it. “Wanna get Eric’s cum all over you for real, huh?”

He huffs, swapping places with Eric again (who mercifully unties him, finally,) now fully hard once more. “Only if you lick it all off me.”

You don’t need to look at Eric to know how that’d make his dick twitch; you’re not much better off, just better at playing it cool. “Last that long, halfer, then we’ll talk.”

“Sure, two-minutes,” he jests back, shoving his dick all the way into you without waiting for a response. Expecting it, you manage to bite back any noise threatening to leave you, but he’s bigger than Eric – not as big as Mingi, but enough to fill you up so fucking good.

“Is that how long you expect to go for? Suppose that’s longer than a minute thirty, but you’re setting the bar real low–“

He cuts you off by shoving two fingers past your lips and slamming his hips forward with a growl. “Shut up.”

Thinking about the sweet, conflict-averse boy from the bar earlier being so forceful with you now goes straight to your metaphorical dick. He’s determined to prove you wrong about him, show you he’s not someone that can be so easily messed with – but he doesn’t seem to realise that he’s falling exactly where you want him to. When he’s this hot when he’s mad, you only want to mess with him even more.

Just so long as you don’t give him enough power to mess with you back.

What he doesn’t expect is for you to bite down on his fingers, making him retract them quickly with a yelp. “No. Make me,” you taunt, knowing full well that’s usually more of an invitation than a taunt, but considering he just tried exactly that, it’s a tough act to follow. You can practically see the gears turning in his mind – shoving his dick in your mouth is probably tempting, but against the point of fucking you better than Eric, and clearly his fingers weren’t about to work again.

For a moment you think you have him pinned, but then he grabs his cum-covered boxers from behind him and shoves them in your mouth.

“Mmph–!” Before you can remove them, he grabs both your wrists and pins them over your head, holding them there by leaning his body weight on it. The restraint is one thing, but it’s the way that this position brings your faces so close that has you eyes-wide and reeling.

“Hm,” he hums, searching for something in your eyes you can’t tell if he finds or not, his dick still buried inside you but not yet moving. “You have pretty eyes when they’re not being so condescending, you know.”

His expression is unreadable for a moment; is it wonder in his eyes, curiosity, or something else? You can’t put your finger on it so you just glare back at him, attempting and failing to spit out the wet fabric.

“Ah, there you are.”

Ah, there you are. As if in that moment you disappeared, replaced with someone else; someone kinder, perhaps? Someone more desirable? There you are, the demeaning, prideful whore staring back at him, defined by the malice in your eyes and the sex appeal of your actions. Yes, that’s exactly who you are – the obnoxiously attractive bastard that would give this man the fuck of his life as if your own depended on it just to prove a point. The point being, you’re better than him, tattoos and piercings and all, better than him and the way he treated Eric and better than him and all his buddies–

When did you get so in over your head?

He finally starts to fuck you, hard and fast but still fluid in a way that only a dancer can be, and you buck your hips to meet him each time, legs locked tightly around him. The improvised gag turns out more useful than you thought, helping to muffle the moans that slip from your lips as you try to grit your teeth and take whatever he has to give, but he’s so addictingly intense. You thought his intensity was just in his style and his stare – that same stare that fuels the flames beneath your skin now boring into you, unravelling you in the close proximity – once you saw the softness beneath it, but there’s more. With every layer you peel back, you’re drawn in even more, and right now you want to see more of the beast in him.

You flex your arms and rip yourself free from his grip, but his small yet calloused hands grab at your wrists again before you can remove the fabric on your face, forcefully manoeuvring them back above you. The protruding veins on his arms speak to the effort he’s exerting for his show of strength, so you try again. He’s ready this time, holding you down firmly while continuing the ruthless pace of his hips that has yours uncontrollably quivering and biting back whimpers.

“Nice try,” he grunts, smirking down at you with no more softness, no more cute edge to his features, to the point where it amazes you that you’re looking at the same man who came in his pants not all that long ago. God, you like it, you like how good he fucks you, you like the fact that you’re losing and he’s getting a kick out of it, how he’s so damn smug and it’s so damn attractive you’re mad all over again.

“A-Ah– F–“ You are not about to give him the satisfaction of moaning his name. “F-Fuck you!” You hiss through gritted teeth. The line between anger and lust is quick to blur; it sends a rush through you that you could get high off, but you don’t need that right now – it’d be humiliating for both you and Eric if you came already and actually lose, but Felix shifts the angle of his hips just right and you can feel your high coming even without any clitoral stimulation.

“I’m working on that, gorgeous.”

Fuck, he’s good. Too good.

With another surge of strength, using all your upper body strength this time, you push yourself up enough to make him stop, trying to pin you down again, but you’re stronger than you look. You manage you end up in a sitting position, the wet boxers falling to the floor in the struggle, leaving you free to grin wildly at him before shoving him back to climb on top.

“Fuck,” he groans, and you pause to look down at where he’s looking – he had slipped out of you during your tussle, and now that you hover over him, Eric’s cum leaks out and drips onto Felix’s cock, each drip making him twitch. He speaks your thoughts before you do. “That’s hot.” He looks back up at you now that you’ve paused, “How am I meant to fuck you good if you want to fuck me that badly?”

“Can’t fuck me from the bottom?” You tease, grabbing his dick and dragging the tip along your folds, letting the cum drip everywhere and making Felix’s breath hitch. It’ll be a pain for the cleaning staff, though not unusual – with the face he makes and the way he’s almost entranced by it, you don’t have it in you to care. “I think you’ve done enough, freckles. It’s not much of a competition.”

“You’re bluffing,” Felix declares boldly, staring you down. The defiance burns outwardly from him now, refusing to bend any more for you; now it’s merely a game of who breaks first. “You were clenching around me like you wanted to milk me dry and trying so damn hard not to scream.”

He’s right. You don’t like that. You don’t like the fact that any longer with him in control, you might’ve just unravelled for him, and he might’ve won… whatever this is. So, you do what you do best, and you keep bluffing.

“You wish, hotshot.” You sink down on him all at once, and he throws his head back with a loud moan that has you relieved at the effect it has on him – you still have control, you remind yourself. Good. Broken and writhing, that’s how you want him. You lift yourself back up. “Eric, why don’t we show this kitten his place, mm?”

Felix’s eyes widen exponentially – both at the inclusion of his ex and at the new pet name – as Eric gets up and moves behind you, pushing his cock back into you a few times before pulling it back out and pressing it to Felix’s ass. “Thanks for prepping yourself for me already, baby. You missed my cock this bad?”

He finally seems lost for words, glancing almost frantically between you, like he’s finally putting together the pieces of the puzzle but the whole board keeps rotating. “You… You really are different now, Eric.”

“Can’t handle it, sweetheart?”

You know Eric usually opts to stick to baby, sometimes even babyboy, but you can’t help but think he’s picking your go-to pet name to try and gain some of your confidence through it somehow. It’s working; Felix does the stupidly hot tongue thing again while he mulls it over for a second, then stares him down decidedly. “Try me.”

Eric pushes into him carefully, first fucking just the tip into him before pressing in more. Felix’s eyes squeeze shut, his face contorting beautifully at the stretch, and after a few long moments, Eric’s chest is pressed to your back as he sits fully sheathed inside the man.

“F-Fuck, Eric, hold on,” he whines, and the jump in pitch has you biting your lip in excitement. Oh, how you want to ruin him. Experimentally, you roll your hips down onto him; he gasps, and you pause, but he doesn’t protest, so you do it again to draw that same sweet noise from his lips. And again. And again.

His hands fly to grip at your hips as you set a rhythm, riding him as he crumbles beneath you, finally caving into the warm drag of your heat around him and the fullness of Eric’s cock. “Mm, that’s better,” you moan, lifting yourself up more to slam on him harder, and the strangled groan it pulls from him only has you tightening around him.

“Move, you can move,” he exhales, and barely finished before Eric is already moving again, fucking him languidly then quickly picking up speed. “O-Oh, oh fuck, ____– fuck, Eric, please, please–“

“What are you pleading for, babyboy?” You coo at him, leaning down to stroke his hair out of his face in what you hoped looked like a condescending sweetness, but might have actually looked more like affection. Hell, with how pretty he looks like this, it might’ve been affection – but you can’t think about that. “More?” You prompt, continuing to bounce on his cock all the while, “Need to come?”

He nods fervently, at least, as much as he can with his whole body shaking like a leaf. “M-Make me come, please, fuck, please.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” Eric huffs cockily, fucking him faster and leaning on you to reach forward and pinch at his nipples. “Don’t we?”

“Mmh- Mhm,” you manage to moan out, your own legs starting to tremble with the effort to keep yourself upright and moving while the high from before creeps up on you again against your will. You just need to hold on a little longer, spur him on a little more, and one of the others could take care of you once you get home. “Fuck yes, that’s a good boy.”

Felix’s moans become high pitched whimpers, and it’s such a contrast to his usual deep voice that you wish you were recording it to save for later. It’s really unfair, the effect his voice has on you, but clearly you and Eric have a stronger effect on him to render him such a whiny wreck. “M-M’close–!”

Leaning down next to his ear, you scrape your teeth along the shell. “Come for us.”

You don’t expect it to work so well, but right on cue, his body tenses up and he cries out – you lift yourself off him just in time, his cum splattering against the outside of your pussy, then all over his own defined abs. You climb off him only to jerk him through it while Eric continues to fuck him until he’s cringing from overstimulation and Eric is following behind, filling him up with another throaty groan.

The three of you sit there, sticky and out of breath, staring at each other; there are tears in Felix’s eyes from how he came, sweat drips from Eric’s chin from all the exertion tonight, and you can only just feel your legs. It’s a long minute of silence before Eric laughs, breathless and obnoxious and oh-so-attractive, finally pulling out and watching his cum drip out of Felix too.

“And you’re still cute, Lix.”

He really is cute, covered in his own cum and Eric’s, hair thoroughly fucked from how much you pulled at it, lips kissed and bitten swollen, complete with your dark-ass bite mark you left on his neck.

He looks like a dream come to life.

You get up, wiping the cum on your core and bringing it to your lips, making sure to lock eyes with him as you lick your fingers clean. “It was fun playing with you, freckles. Here’s to some healthy competition.”

Competition. That seems to spark something in him, lifting his head up. “Who really fucked you better?”

“You’re seriously asking that?” You scoff at him incredulously, scrounging around for your underwear to start getting dressed again. “Look at you. I think you know the answer.”

“Be honest.” He holds out his pinkie finger towards you – a pinkie promise. You haven’t made one of those in a long, long time, such a thing seeming childish after a certain point, but he looks at you like he knows pinkie promises are fucking sacred. Maybe you’re childish for thinking so too, but you’ve never broken a pinkie promise before, and it makes you wary to reach out back.

“And if I still say it wasn’t you?”

He shrugs, head tiredly falling back on the seat, but his pinkie stays up. “Then I’ll just have to take your word for it and believe you.”

Why would he do that? He puzzles you, truly – he knows you and your band are all wolves, yet there’s an underlying earnestness to the way he treats you still. If he can see past your bluff already, why would he ever take your word for it? You know it, he knows it, you know he knows it. But for some reason, he expects honesty from you.

You wrap your pinkie around his, then stick your thumbs together.

“It wasn’t a fair contest anyway. Eric knows me and my body way more than you do.”

Felix laughs in defeat, pulling his hand back and dropping his arm over his face. “You guys fucking suck.”

“Oh, we sure do. It’s even better when I have my vibrating tongue stud in,” you tease, to which he wordlessly flips you off. “Aw, you too sweetheart.”

He stays lying there while you and Eric shimmy your clothes back on and prepare to leave – you can tell the others to stay out of this room for the rest of the night on your way out. You almost feel bad leaving Felix behind there, all fucked out and ruined and covered in sweat and cum – you’re usually better at aftercare than this, but the idea wasn’t to be soft with him tonight. It only takes your brain reminding you of how quick he was to discard Eric along with your interactions with his leader for you to no longer feel such pity for him, and once fully dressed, marched right out of the room with Eric in tow.

Technically, you still have never broken a pinkie promise.

You didn’t lie at all.

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #male reader #nonbinary reader #transmasc reader #ateez x reader #atz x reader #poly stray kids #poly stray kids smut #poly the boyz #poly the boyz smut #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #eric sohn x reader #tbz eric x reader #skz felix x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids smut #the boyz smut #skz felix smut #bang chan smut #what goes on in neverland #diverseinsertsknet

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Hi!! I wanted to ask, in celebration of Deltarune CH. 2, do you have any updated thoughts and head canons about the game?? Like, y'know, similar to a previous ask about Kris in your Deltarune tag? Thanks!

thoughts on kris part 2 i guess???? (part 1 from ch1 here lol)

spoilers for deltarune like woah. this wont be kris focused just random thoughts on everything. thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk

not that many thoughts for this chapter tbh! EDIT LOL: this was a lie i have a lot of thoughts

-just in general i feel like the player isn't the only one controlling kris... like yes the player forced kris to do what happened in the snowgrave route but AT THE SAME TIME idk it feels like there's someone else too. just because of the terrifying voice i suppose. and also the jerky movement kris does every time they get their soul out? unless there's another reason for it... maybe getting your soul out means you walk weird lol

-BUT ALSO i feel like kris is 100% in control when they create fountains. idk it just makes sense kris would create them. to create another world, a better world, A WORLD WHERE THEIR BROTHER IS HERE PERHAPS? i do wonder why they get their soul out then though. i'm all for it sweetie! do whatever! i support you!

-(i am and will be playing deltarune with only kris' best interests in mind. i will not hurt anyone unless kris wants me to. dont worry my little meow meow im on your side! talk to me! no? okay ill stay under the sink its fine)

-speaking of asriel. SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER (starts crying) V-VACATION COLLEGE WHEN

-kris misses their brother so much it's so sad. if you make kris steal 5$ from asriel they take it "reluctantly"? talking to asriel online so often even alphys knows?? the google search?? GOING INTO ASRIEL'S GOOGLE SEARCH ROOM WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED BECAUSE THEY'RE CONVINCED THEY ALREADY KNOW WHATS IN THERE? THAT ONE IS LESS OF A MISSING THING BUT IM LIKE OH MY GOD

-the city walk with susie at the end makes it clear to me that kris really values susie's friendship... kris even sits with her if you spend long enough near the lake like aaaaah ;_;

-and even in snowgrave you spend your last acts with the final boss calling for your friends like YES there's a way bigger creepy aspect to this (kris as more of a Leader who Commands and commands their subjects to come) but still :'0 (and then noelle answers oh my god noelle im so sorry for the trauma)

-berdly. listen. listen. listen. liste

-berdly sucks but [berdly hurts his arm in the battle against queen if you don't save him because he doesnt want to hurt you] [berdly realizing smg's wrong in snowgrave and immediately taking steps to save noelle] berdly is my little crumb nugget. i will protect him.

-noelle. noelle. girlboss!

-like ooooh listen. hearing about the genocide path for undertale. made me go "that is SO COOL. i HAVE to experience it myself this is great. hehehe killing time" and like no regrets. i was fully enjoying the experience knowing i was an awful person. SNOWGRAVE THOUGH. i will never try this myself its too fucked up. casually grooming your childhood friend to murder people <3 and also acting like a weird stalker towards her <3 stockholm syndrome speedrun i will get all the info i can about this but i will never do this myself

-people remarking the kris/player>noelle relationship is similar to the relationship between player>chara in genocide path is like yes. chefs kiss. don't worry we just are making you stronger and everything will be fine "you made me kill my friend? and for what?" this is fine sweetie don't worry about it!!!!!!

-like the amount of details added to snowgrave, like if you equip noelle's watch she notices later? and her battle animations change as time goes on, she gets an ice shield and stops sighing in relief after battle? oh my god? oh my god.

-(berdly is not awake.) JUST KILL ME RIGHT HERE I HAVEN'T STOPPED THINKING ABOUT BERDLY NOT BEING AWAKE!!!!!

-also why didnt he turn into dust. so many possible reasons. is magic a thing in the normal world and perhaps no magic means no dust (theres graves). maybe he isnt dead. maybe hes braindead. maybe he'll come back. either way that boy is now in the closet big enough to put someone in

-also dess' name probably being december AND THATS WHY NOELLE LOST THE SPELLING BEE?!?!??! FUCK ME UP!!!!! JUST FUCK ME UP!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!

-also so many good pixel art this chapter. too many? i didnt need pixel art of cardboard noelle falling on the statue. like thank you but please. please it hurts my game artist brain.

-the expressions in this chapter were also top notch. all the unsettling noelle expressions like (i fall over face first)

-i threw away the ball of junk (which i already tried in ch1) and this time the game was like "ARE YOU SURE BC THIS IS A BAD IDEA" and kris felt bitter :'( (it deletes all your items in the dark world)

-i uh fucked up and skipped the susie+noelle scene bc listen last time ralsei mentionned seeing what susie is doing we missed some PRIMO LORE. turns out it just makes you skip the scene and you dont get anything new. welp

-speaking of ralsei well you know. he exists. but im stuck on him going "i just wonder what being ralsei-like even is...?" ralsei my dude there's so much i could say about this. do you feel like you can't be ralsei-like because you feel like you have to be asriel-like

-but also that makes no sense bc susie hasnt even mentioned ralsei looks like asriel. and i cant imagine asriel being so meek. so WHAT GIVES

-ralsei as kris’ “i wish i was a monster just like my bro and family and i’d look like asriel but with red horns [THE HALLOWEEN COSTUME] and my name would be something cool like ralsei instead of a boring human name like kris and im sweet and cute because thats how i act with asriel because ASRIEL MADE ME” theory because that would be cute.

-ASRIEL GOING TO THE CHURCH TO CONFESS HIS "SINS" WHEN "SINS" AREN'T A THING IN THE ANGEL BELIEF LIKE I KNOW THIS INTERACTION WAS TREATED AS A JOKE BUT WHAT THE FUCK ASRIEL?

-kris definitely has a connection with the big red door in the city, judging by what the kids say they probably went there... i feel like this place's dark world will be the Final Dungeon you KNOW some shit happened there. also the sounds you hear when you go there is the phone dark world call's sound slowed down? AND AFTER SNOWGRAVE APPARENTLY YOU CANT HEAR IT ANYMORE? HUWAH?

-speaking of songs the songs were all so good, My Castle Town rules, the berdly snowgrave music is stuck in my head, flashback is uwah wuahah, Until Next Time is so good, AND ALSO A FRIEND NOTICED THE DARK WORLD CITY THEME IS JUST tHE SONG 74 (MOST NOTICEABLE WITH THE SNOWGRAVE VERSION)?????? WHAT DOES IT MEAN????? it might be just "hey its just reuse" BUT MR FOX YOU KNOW WE'RE GONNA READ INTO THIS IS NOELLE THE ONE SINGING IDK BRO!!!!!!!!!!

-asgore dreemurr fired from the force what happun!!!!! game theory is that asgore is related to dess' death/disappearance but eh who knows

-you start the chapter at lvl2 and get to lvl3 after the final boss, a friend mentioned this is probably because we destroyed a world and im :0

-to go back to kris it's still so interesting to figure out who they are based on how they act/people mention them. like kris shaking the ferris wheel car? yeah makes sense i can imagine a pranking kid do this. kris' dance? yeah thats a little silly but i can buy it. doing cool anime poses? well i dunno this doesnt line up PERFECTLY but sure. BUT EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN SNOWGRAVE... especially >proceed like that is such a weird thing that i can't imagine them doing, but i can't completely see the "player" doing either (compare with going to sans -which kris doesnt know- and going "SANS!" because of course the player would know sans), like THATS one of the reasons i feel like there's someone else in there. the weird robotic merciless actions. if im going super meta it feels like there'd be someone else like writing the choices into existence for us to pick you know? gaster probably? god i need to read more gaster theories i completely sidestepped the gaster shit bc i wasnt interested. anyway just spitballing

-(looks at big shot guy) please dont make him the next tumblr guy i beg you

-obligatory "queen was great" mention if only because this part made me laugh a little bit too hard

that was a lot. thank you for letting me talk

#ask tag #deltarune #deltarune spoilers #snowgrave spoilers

[rae-gar-targaryen]

loved you once [angel reyes x fem!reader]

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

And so you didn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it. 

No "I'm sorry, querida." 

No "I hope we can stay friends." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To you? It was perfection. It was remembrance. 

‘Cause I loved you, once… 

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oliver here?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But?" He pressed.

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you think of that one?” 

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

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

Um, wow.

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

All you could do was nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel nodded. 

“Do your worst, Vince.” 

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

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

You rolled your eyes. 

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

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

“You gotta earn ‘Frida,’ dulcita.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He seemed puzzled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The heat had returned to your cheeks, standing quickly. 

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

You spun back toward him before he could get up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

Cheeky.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. So she knew who you were. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a hard no. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He took mercy on you nevertheless. 

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

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

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

You felt EZ stiffen from your other side. 

Great. 

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

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

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

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

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

You really were doing great, weren’t you? 

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

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

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

What the fuck.  

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

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

That stung.

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

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

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

That was you, ever the professional. 

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

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

“You got it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hated his use of “we,” like he was in any way, shape, or form worthy to be in the class of man EZ, Coco, Bishop, or, hell, even Angel, was. None of them would talk to you like this. No matter what Angel had done. 

You shut off the gun, pushing back from the space with Andres, spinning in your chair, and grabbing the clean wipes for Andres’ fresh ink. As you dabbed the area and made to bandage it, the oblivious biker grabbed your wrist. None of the teasing fun or gentleness in the same gesture that Angel had imparted when you had first met. No, Andres’ grip hurt. It was all bruising possession and entitlement. 

“I think we would have fun, you and I.” He leaned forward and far too into your space, the stale stink of warm beer heavy on his breath. 

You wrenched your grip from his, standing quickly and offering him a tight smile, cheeks flaming with your anger and embarrassment. How dare he speak so trivially of your relationship with Angel. How dare he think you were so easily won with his kutte and shitty attitude. 

“Uhm,” you tugged your fingers agitatedly through the ends of your hair, chewing your lip. “You’re all set, Andres. Aftercare sheet is on the table next to you. It’s on the house. Happy patch party!” Your voice sounded so shrill and fake in your own head, but you just didn’t have it in you to care at the moment. 

With that, you quickly whirled on your heel, in a distressed flurry past the Angel-shaped blur who had been watching the entire encounter, and out of the clubhouse door into the cooler late-night air. 

Getting heavy to breathe in this room together. It’s so awkward, we can’t seem to do it better. Can’t we just fake a smile and put our shit to the side? 

---

Angel had waited a whopping 18 hours to text you after your clandestine tattooed meet-cute. 

You were in the middle of exchanging consultation e-mails with a prospective client when your phone had buzzed. 

“Vince?” The text read. 

You bit back a smirk before responding,

“Vince? No Vince here. This is Frida’s phone.”

You watched as the little bubbles appeared in the corner, disappeared for a second, and then reappeared. You were grateful for the little manifestation of Angel’s hesitance. It made him seem more human. And it made you appreciative that he was clearly trying to choose his words with you, when words had seemed to come so easily to him when you had met. 

“My bad. Oh, beautiful, talented Frida.” 

You couldn’t hold back the smile on your features now. Grateful it was still you and only you in the shop so that no one could see your “obviously-texting-a-cute-guy” face. 

“It’s nice to hear from you, Angel. Good thing you didn’t throw away the card.” 

“That card was clearly a gift, querida. Much like the pretty flowers on my arm.” He snapped you a picture of his tattoo, the healing process underway. 

“Looks great!” You sent, cringing at your lack of ability to effectively flirt via text. It was something that your friends had teased you relentlessly about back in the Town -- your notorious lack of game. No! New home, new you! Be cute. Be cute. 

“So, if I’ve given you all the gifts, what do I get?” You sent with a “thinking” emoji. 

Angel at least had the decency to wait a minute or two before replying, either thinking about his response or keeping you in suspense… you weren’t sure. But you were grateful for the little opportunity to catch your breath. How did he make you so speechless when he wasn’t even in the room with you? Some things just weren’t fair. 

“Niña, I paid you for this ink. What more could you possibly want from me?” 

Tricky Angel. Zorro. Like a little fox, he had effectively maneuvered the conversation back to you -- the ball was in your court. Would you tell him what you wanted?

You chewed the end of your fingernail thoughtfully before responding. 

“You texted me, boy. Are you sure it isn’t you who wants something?”

If only your friends could see you now. That was damn smooth. 

“Boy?” 

You snorted to yourself. Trust a guy like Angel to get hung up on something small like that. The bubbles reappeared. 

“I was thinking about this pretty girl I met the other day. Hell of an artist. But a shit poet. Thought I would see if she was free sometime?” 

Angel was merciful. You could kiss him. Had he seriously just taken all the weight out of this conversation? Your heart felt a million pounds lighter in your chest, knowing he was asking you. The wave of relief that he wanted to see you again crashed through you, replaced in the tide with the backdraft of a feeling of mischievousness. You wouldn’t let him off so easily.

So you waited before responding. Let him sweat a little, right?

Only… you weren’t sure Angel was sweating as much as you were, fingers itching with the desire to text him back and accept immediately. 

When what had felt like an eternity (but in reality had only been about seven minutes) had passed, you picked up your phone, opening the conversation with Angel. 

“She’s free next Thursday … After your bike week, el rey de los bandoleros.” 

You put your phone back down on the counter, grinning like an idiot, feeling like you had just swallowed a bunch of bubbles. You entertained the notion that if your combat boots weren’t keeping your feet weighted to the floor, you would have floated away. 

Your phone dinged once more.

“See you then, mi reina.” 

Time passes slowly the more you want it to go quickly. And whenever you have a deadline you’re dreading, it gallops ahead. Time really is that bitch, and she does not give a fuck about your feelings. 

The following Thursday felt like it took a year to arrive. But it found you closing up the shop, your stomach fluttering with butterflies and pop rocks, adorned in your favorite pair of jeans and boots, a clean, flattering tank top that showed off your own ink. You hoped it was fine for whatever Angel had in mind. 

Honestly, he hadn’t said anything about your date. A few flirtatious texts here and there? Obviously. You sent him photos of the pieces you had done for new clients. He sent you ridiculous selfies and a couple of group pics of him and his friends at the biker event. One guy who kept popping up in the photos, Angel had told you, was his “little” brother. But there was nothing “little” about that dude. 

You loved seeing all of Angel’s goofy, smiling faces. Treasuring the photos in your small moments of quiet downtime. 

The rumbling of a bike engine greeted your ears, like the seductive purr of a large cat. You glanced up, a full Cheshire grin alighting your features at the sight of Angel’s gorgeous, deep forest green bike, and the man of the hour looking very at home on the seat. 

He rolled to a stop in front of you, unclipping his helmet and dismounting with his winning trademark smirk, ambling over to greet you. 

“Frida,” he scooped you into a hug, his tall frame causing you to lift, your toes now barely brushing the ground as he brought you to his height. He pressed a soft kiss to your check, setting you down gently and letting you get your bearings, chuckling pleasantly at the obvious, dizzying effect his greeting had had on you.

“Angelito,” you returned. “Back in one piece?”

“Hail to the king, baby,” he countered. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, scuffing the toe of your boot into the gravel of the lot. “So, where are you taking me, o benevolent one?”

“Just gonna hafta find out.” He handed his helmet to you, helping you clip and tighten it beneath your chin. “Ever ridden before?”

“Uhm, well, sure” you replied too assuredly, quickly realizing your slip. “I mean, no. Not like that. I mean, yes, like that. But not on one of these.” Fuck. Could you be more embarrassing? 

Angel released a full-bellied laugh at your response, his head tossing back a little. 

“You’ll have to tell me more about alla that later, cielo.” You put your head in your palm willing the embarrassment to go away. Angel quickly pried your hands away, cupping your cheeks with his own warm hands, long fingers brushing your cheekbones reverently. “In the meantime, just hang on, okay?” 

You nodded, still cursing your idiot-brain that had partnered with the dirtiest corners of your mind to take over your mouth. Shut the fuck up, dumb-dumb. 

You clung to Angel as he drove, your hands roaming his firm torso probably a little too-familiarly. You enjoyed the way the wind whipped around you, tugging at yours and Angel’s clothes as you made your way up the canyon overlooking the desert that was Santo Padre. 

Angel parked his bike on the ridge overlooking the town, the sun beginning its descent in the desert sky in swirling hues of pastels and cotton candy pink-purple-blue overtaking the orange hue. 

You had never been up here before, and you told Angel as much. He looked pleased at that, pleased that he was the one to show you the best view of the Santo Padre sunset. 

Angel busied himself unpacking the bags on the side of his bike while you enjoyed the scenery. Pulling out a couple of wrapped sandwiches and bottles of water, he handed yours to you, coming to stand next to you on the ridge. 

"Thanks," you acknowledged, looking at the offerings. "What, no beer?"

Angel chuckled a little at that.

"I ain't tryna liquor you up, niña. Besides, you want warm beer that's been rattling around on my bike all afternoon?"

You crinkled your nose a little at that. "No," you decided. "Never mind. Besides, I'm more of a whiskey girl."

Angel glanced at you, sipping on his own water idly.

"Really?"

"Really," you confirmed. "Don't tell me you're one of those guys who thinks it's impressive when a girl drinks whiskey because it's such a 'man thing.' "

Angel held up one hand, defensively. 

"Nunca. Just took you for more of a… dunno? Maybe a rum kinda girl?"

"Don't think so. For now, though? Water and sandwiches do me just fine. Whiskey can come later." You took a bite of the now-unwrapped sandwich. "This is good," you confirmed around a slightly-full mouth. "Did you make this?"

"Of course. Pop owns the butcher shop down the street from your parlour. Sliced the meat myself, an' all," he said, a little proudly now that he knew you approved of his sandwich-making skills.

"Bueno," you giggled. "Thank you for this, Angel. Really. This is one of the nicest nights I've had since moving here." You shuffled a little closer to where he was standing, looking in his eyes as you thanked him.

"Bah," he waved away your compliments, "it ain't alla that. This can't be the most exciting thing you've done since getting here."

"Maybe it is," you pressed. "I dunno. Maybe I'm too boring for the king of the bikers?"

"I doubt that very seriously, querida," he turned his body so he was facing you now, sandwich long gone, fiddling with the water bottle in his hands. "You play your cards right, I'll introduce you to the rest of the club. Then things'll get really exciting."

You blinked. One date and he already was thinking about introducing you to his friends? Your inner shy romantic (okay, not so "inner," right? You're pretty clear about who you are) was doing little somersaults in your chest. 

You must've been silent a beat too long because Angel was quick to supplement, "Only if you want."

"I'd like that," you confirmed, nodding and smiling gently. 

"So, are you gonna tell me what brings an East Bay girl here?" 

You raised a brow. You didn't remember telling him where you moved from. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck nervously, realizing you'd caught his slip. 

"I maaaay have scrolled your Instagram?"

You finished your sandwich, thinking about how much you wanted to tell him.

"Just time for a change of scenery. Olí is an old friend, and he offered me a job. I think he wants to travel more." You shrugged, "It just felt like it was time. Plus, I dunno… I like it here. Much quieter."

Angel nodded at that, not having the heart to tell you that his club was not at all quiet and was the source of the disruption in the otherwise-quaint town. 

You kept talking, telling him about the friends you'd left behind, your old shop, weekends spent in the park surrounding Lake Merritt, and going to Raiders games. Angel took in your features as you spoke, the golden light of the sunset making you glow like something out of a dream he'd had once. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about things you loved, the books and art that inspired your poetry. How you'd gone to art school. You were something.

"-- Sorry, I'm rambling," you breathed in a rush, flush with the amount of talking you'd been doing in a record amount of time. "What? Do I have something in my teeth?"

Angel realized he'd been staring as long as you'd been talking.

"No, querida. Nothing in your teeth." He gave you a dazzlingly white smile.

"Oh thank God," you returned his smile with a small one of your own, shying a little under his gaze, and wondering how long he had been looking at you like that as you'd talked.

He leaned over you now, his height giving him the definite advantage as he'd -- not unwelcomely-- invaded your space. He brought one hand up to cup your chin, his dark eyes revealing flecks of sparkling gold in the pastel wash of the sunset as his gaze once again met yours.

You saw his quick glance down at your lips, you unconsciously giving a small nod before his warm lips met yours.

Oh.

You had obviously been kissed before, been the recipient of past romantic attention. All of that paled in comparison, melting away as Angel's full lips maneuvered over yours, both of his large, calloused hands gently brushing your cheeks as he cupped your face, sliding one hand down to rest on the side of your neck.

You sighed lightly, one of your own hands twined into his shirt, the other resting on the side of his firm torso. 

Angel took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, your own brushing against his as the kiss deepened.

 You were in no hurry for the kiss to end, enjoying the way everything about Angel was so warm, something that was surprisingly welcome, despite the ever-present desert heat of Santo Padre. You could get used to this. 

You had only known Angel a short time, realistically. Your one meeting spawning a series of flirtatious texts and snaps, and now this date that, while low-key, felt almost too perfect to be real. He made you feel safe, desired.

You could already feel him slipping beneath your skin to rest in a special place in your heart. And while you as a person were generally reticent to share that part of yourself with anyone, you had a feeling Angel could take up permanent residence there. If he wanted. 

You dropped from your tip-toes, effectively breaking the kiss.

Angel blinked, looking down at you and noting the pleasant glow on your skin, lips now slightly swollen from his kiss. He could get used to this.

The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant blur, trading quips and stories as the sun went down. Angel told you about his club, his brothers. About his pop and Ezekiel, and how at one time, he enjoyed being the bigger brother, teasing, pranking and lording over EZ until EZ had hit his growth spurt and could (and would) definitely hit back. 

As he drove you home, you snuggled a little bit against him, pressing yourself into his back and enjoying the way you swore you could feel his heart pounding through the kutte and over the rumble of the bike and the road.

He'd dropped you off with a parting kiss and the promise of another date.

Another date turned into several. Time you weren't at the shop was now spent with Angel, showing him what you were working on, inviting him over for dinners and to watch mindless television while he told you what he could about his day. 

The both of you were slowly peeling back the layers around your respectively guarded hearts, revealing more of yourselves only to be met with pure acceptance by the other. Even blindados had to take off their armour at some point. 

You cherished your time with Angel, and he quickly found himself stumbling, head over his own biker-booted heels for you.

After a few months had passed, he had brought you to meet the club. You had manifested nothing but general acceptance of his lifestyle and were eager to meet the people Angel had so obviously cared for. Who had helped shape him into the brash but conscientious person he was with you. 

And one sunny afternoon had found you bringing lunch you had made for the entire club over to the scrapyard, Angel agreeing with your plan. You never were one to show up empty-handed. 

As you walked across the yard, past the gate, and into the clubhouse, your eyes adjusting to the dim interior from the blinding sun outdoors, Angel bounded over to greet you. Taking the bag full of homemade goodies from your arms, he pressed quick kisses to your cheeks, and one to your forehead. 

He turned, met with the pleasantly-surprised stares of his brothers. He announced your name to the room before turning to you, pointing at each man and supplying a name. You nodded, smiling and offering a warm wave to each. 

The man you knew to be EZ from all of Angel's initial texts and photos quickly strode over to you, shaking your hand in his impressively firm grip before bending down to press a quick kiss to your cheek with a,

"Bienvenido, hermanita. Angel's told me a lot about you. Won't shut up, really," giving you a sly wink as Angel swatted EZ's arm in annoyance at his brother's revelation.

Boys.

The smaller man with the sharp eyes and full curls you knew to be Coco made his way over to where you were now seated as Angel went to get you both drinks, the other men digging into your offerings as you made yourself comfortable.

He sat next to you, tossing you a, "You mind?" Lighting his cigarette after you’d shaken your head.

He studied you through his own plumes of smoke before leaning across the table and speaking to you, lowly and with an almost conspiratorial rasp to his voice,

"You did that cover-up for Angel?" He asked on a smooth exhale.

"Mhmm," you nodded. "He gave me free reign. I was nervous he'd hate it."

Coco seemed to chew over your words for a dragging moment. You shifted in your seat. He was definitely sizing you up.

"Bold move, pequeña, giving the secretario of a biker club a sleeve of flowers." 

"I suppose it was," you sighed, more than a little uncertain now. "But it felt meaningful, right, I guess. I just sort of… started drawing. I… think it worked out, though?" You trailed off.

Coco nodded. "It's a fuckin' good piece, mami. Angel told me what you'd said about memories making you who you are." He snorted lightly through his nose. "It's funny. We've never even met before, and you're already sounding like me." 

A small smile played across his lips, returning it with one of your own.

"I'm glad you approve," you nodded. "Angel's opinion obviously matters, and don't tell him I told you this, but it means alot coming from one of his family." 

And that's what they were. His family. You could see it. The obvious camaraderie and care underlying each of their actions with the other. You admired the system of support, cushioned by good humor, despite being flung regularly into harsh reality. It was clear -- they were there for one another.

Coco's voice broke your train of thought,

"Maybe you got space for me in your books one-a these days?"

Your small smile was a full-blown, sunny grin now.

"Of course. Anytime you want to drop by, you're more than welcome." 

"Gracias, chica." Coco leaned across the table and patted your shoulder before getting up and taking his leave.

And so it went. The boys would filter through your shop. Olí teasing you about his offense that all of his most lucrative, inked clients were now going to you. 

You enjoyed the time working on pieces for them afforded you -- offering you a glimpse into their inner workings, what they felt was important enough to take up permanent residence along their skin. Making idle chit-chat with you while you worked. And always, always sharing embarrassing little anecdotes about Angel. 

The months passed with you and Angel, finding comfort in your unpredictable, but welcome, respective routines. 

One night in particular found Angel wrapped up in your embrace, the physical embodiment of your gradual and growing trust in one another.

He had arrived home more than a little rattled, his eyes wildly darting to the corners of the room before settling in you, exhaling a shaky breath before striding the length of the room and crushing you to him, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. 

You understood he probably couldn't tell you what had happened, but you asked anyway, needing him to know you would hear him.

"Angelito, everything okay?" 

He shook his head softly in the negative, but didn't elaborate. 

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"Okay. We don't have to talk about it," you wound your arms up and around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you. "But it's going to be okay. I've got you. I won't let go."

He gripped your wrists, pulling your hands from his neck and sliding your arms down, bringing them to rest around his waist. Once he had positioned you where he wanted, he brought his hands to cup your cheeks, eyes heavy and dark with the weight of his stormy thoughts. 

He nodded at what you had said before bringing his lips back to yours. 

You brought one hand up to meet his, where it rested along your cheek. You twined your fingers through, joining your hands while breaking the kiss. You lead him through the apartment, bringing him to the bedroom. You had music softly playing from your speaker in the corner, candles lit to bathe the room in ambient glow and a warm, honey smell, all in anticipation of Angel's eventual arrival home.

You silently gestured for him to sit on the edge of the bed, where you took your seat next to him. 

You tugged the leather kutte from his shoulders, folding it reverently and placing it on the chair near the bed. He exhaled in relief, shoulders sagging once the leather manifestation of his obligation to a darker world had been removed. The weight of the world a little less on the mantle of his shoulders. 

You turned your attention to his feet next, unlacing and tugging off his boots. Then, his belt. 

Once he was just in his jeans and his t-shirt, you resumed your seat at his side, bringing him back into your embrace and carding your hands through his hair, as his head rested on your shoulder. 

Angel spoke, voice cracking as he broke the seal of silence in the room. 

"It was… it was awful, Frida." He sighed. "I do everything they ask. It's my job … Fuck. Sometimes I wonder how much more my heart can take. But then, I get to come home to you." 

His breath was shuddering now.

And while you didn't always know what to say -- it was a rare sight to see Angel so rattled. But you were a caregiver by nature, ready to give him the pieces of yourself that would make him feel whole.

You guided him down so that he could recline, you came to rest at his side, winding your arms around his torso, your face turned into his neck, cuddling him as he came down from the mania of his emotional high.

The moments passed, Angel's breathing leveling again as you stroked his hair in time to the soft music.

He turned his head to look at you, admiring the flutter of your lashes as you blinked at him, your gaze warm and adoring, full of twinkling fairy light and starshine. 

"Te amo, querida," Angel breathed. This was not the first time he had said it to you during your months together. But each time felt as momentous as the first, each declaration of love felt like the slip of something sweet, and you were determined to store it in your heart and mind forever.

"I love you too, Angel. More than anything," you murmured. "I love your smile, your sense of humor, your strength." You pressed kisses to his face and neck with each admission. "Mostly, I love your strength. And that you trust me enough to tell me when you don't always feel it."

He sucked in a shuddering breath before whispering to you,

"I love your mind. How creative you are. How you see everything so beautiful, just like you," he hmm’d. "Mostly I love your trust. And that you choose to give it to me." 

You kissed him again, leaning over him with your entire body, pressing your palms gently into his shoulders. 

As your kiss deepened, you each began to tug at the other. His hands carded through your hair, tugging gently, but firmly. You lifted his shirt from his torso, the kiss breaking so you could peel it away.

You divested one another of each layer, baring yourselves to the other, body and soul. Again, this wasn't the first time you had done this. But this felt momentous nonetheless. 

Angel skimmed his hands over your form, running his hands softly down and over your breasts, loving your soft sigh at his touch. 

You leaned over him once more, reluctantly removing his hands from you, and placing them gently down at his sides. 

"Your heart is mine, mine to protect," You hummed softly, invading his senses and placing kisses down Angel's neck and to his chest, trailing your lips lovingly over Angel's heart, and pressing one last deliberate kiss there. "And I take my job very seriously." 

As you kissed him, you lightly trailed your fingers down his torso, coming to rest at his hip.

Your declaration was met with silence; you glanced up at Angel through your lashes only to find him already looking down through heavy-lidded eyes at you, his now swirling with some unnamed, weighted emotion.

You trailed your hand across his hip, not breaking eye contact as you took his hardening length into your hand. He inhaled sharply at the sensation of your grip, but refused to look away as you began to pump him slowly, still pressing kisses to his hips, torso and thighs. 

"Please, querida," Angel gasped.

"Please, what?" You murmured back, your voice taking a throaty register you reserved strictly for private moments with your beloved.

"Please… use your pretty mouth?" 

You nodded. 

"Relájate, baby, I've got you," you assured. Sweeping your hair back, the action washing Angel with the sweeping comfort of your scent as you made your way lower down his body. 

Angel slumped back against the bedspread, glittering galaxy eyes still trained on you as you lavished him with attention. 

You took the opportunity to flatten your tongue, licking a broad stripe up the length of him, one hand braced against his firm thigh, the other holding him gently at the base of his cock as you worked.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of him, delighted at his throaty moans, feeling the effect they had on you, making you feel like you were burning from the inside, feeling the slickness from your own center as your thighs rubbed together. 

Taking Angel wholly into your mouth now, you bobbed over him, relishing in the heavy feel of him in your mouth and the throaty groans you received from Angel in response. 

Before you could spend too long lavishing him with attention, Angel tugged on your hair at the base of your neck. Following his grip, you lifted your head and released him from, watching (a little greedily) as his thick length bobbed against him when you relinquished him from the confines of your mouth. 

He guided you up his body, hand still knotted in your hair, pushing his mouth onto yours, uncaring of the saliva on your lips and chin, and the taste of himself on your tongue. 

You straddled his hips, surging the rest of the way up his body and effectively deepening the kiss. The hand that was once in your hair now made its way to loosely grip at your throat, the other skimming his way down your breasts, across your ribs and toward your center.

As his fingers traced through your folds, you involuntarily rolled your hips into his hand, alight at his touch, and desperately seeking more. 

Angel touching you was like the shock of a live wire. Every time felt just as electric as the last, goosebumps erupting across your flesh as his fingers traced across your skin. 

He chuckled through your fused mouths, drawing back at your reaction and the wetness he found between your legs.

"Eager, amor?" Every word fell that fell from his lips sounded like a dangerous purr.

You nodded, drunk on the way Angel's hand gently squeezed your throat, while the other was teasingly making its way to-and-fro across your wet folds, occasionally making his way up to lightly circle and press his thumb over your clit, making your eyelids flutter. Your hips continued to rock against his hand, silently begging for more, his teasing touch making you more than a little crazy.

"Yeah?" Angel asked, his voice thick and syrupy, the timbre like dark clouds. "That shit turn you on? Sucking my cock?"

His words combined with his touch made another rush of heat flood through you. You were certain you would pass out, that your knees would buckle. And you were doing so well, holding your place up and over his hips while he played with you.

The hand on your throat gripped a little tighter, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

"Nuh-uh, baby," he shook you lightly, all mirth gone from his eyes, no more pleasant, smiling crinkles at the corners. His full lips pressed firmly together. "I asked you a question. You answer that shit"

He pressed two fingers teasingly against your entrance, refusing to insert them, despite the little roll of your hips.

"Y-yeaahh," you sighed, head tossed back, "I-I fucking love it -- love you, Angel."

He rewarded you by sliding a long finger into you, allowing you to ride his hand. The hand still around your throat guiding you forward, over him, allowing him to press hot, open-mouthed kisses, first to your lips, dirty and raw, like an exposed nerve in his unabashed want for you. 

He relinquished his hold on your neck, allowing him to trail his lips and his tongue there, kissing you softly behind your ear, down and around your neck to your collarbones, all while his fingers continued their earnest treatment inside of you, his thumb now pressing to your clit, your warming crescendo building.

Using his height and the fact that you were straddling him, Angel encouraged you to lean forward, allowing him to capture one of your breasts in his grip, his mouth following. His warm tongue swirled around your nipple before he sucked the bud into his mouth, grazing his teeth ever so gently over your sensitive flesh.

Angel's attention was rewarded with your gasping sighs and breathy moans. How anyone could make you feel this good was beyond you. Angel had an uncanny ability to elicit responses and feelings like no other person before him.

You felt the thrumming hum and warm, sticky wave of your orgasm building as Angel worked his fingers inside of you, stroking that particular spot from within that he knew would be your undoing.

"O-oh," you whined, keening noises caught in your throat. "Please, baby, I n-need you. Need you inside." 

The room was sweltering. Or was it just you? Angel withdrew his fingers smoothly, not sparing you the chance to be disappointed at the loss of feeling as he smoothly flipped the two of you, guiding you down to the mattress and hovering over your trembling form. 

"Yeah?" Angel asked. "You ready for that, querida?"

You gazed up at him through your lashes, longingly. He would give everything, anything, that he had in the world if you only looked at him like that forever, gaze full of warmth, heat, and unfiltered, starry adoration. 

"Mmm," you nodded, "Please? Angel?"

He was only a man, after all. Who was he to refuse when you asked so prettily for him?

He gently turned you over so that your back was to him, running his hands down the slope of your back and guiding you to your knees, propping your hips up.

Positioning himself behind you, Angel resumed his grip on your throat, using it to guide your head around so that he could kiss you again while he guided himself inside of you. You moaned into the kiss at the sensation, never tired of feeling every ridge of his thick cock sliding into you like he belonged there.

Angel groaned, breaking the kiss and shaking his head, chuckling darkly, his eyes flashing as he swore, 

"Never fuckin' get tired of that shit," he began to move his hips, using his other hand that was gripping your hip to guide you along his lengthy, meeting his thrusts. "Never tired of your pussy … You're so … good."

Angel's words coupled with his thrusts were driving you crazy, causing you to eagerly meet him with the momentum of your own hips, the heat in the room spliced with the distinctive noise of his skin meeting yours. 

Angel, leaning over your back, crowded your every sense, the taste of him, of his kisses still lingering on your tongue. Your ears met with the harmony of your two bodies and the filthy words and sounds coming from Angel's mouth. The sight of him was as intoxicating as ever, as you looked over your shoulder at him, the shadows of the room playing across his tawny skin, glimmering in the low light with the sheen of sweat you knew was also present on yours.

“Say my name,” Angel pants into the slick skin on your back, kissing a line down your spine, his body covering yours possessively.

You were too caught up in everything Angel, failing to respond quickly enough for his liking as you gasped at every thrust.

A crack of heat flashed across your ass, Angel swatting you there once. You should be annoyed, but you couldn't lie -- you fucking loved it when he was like this. Only for you. 

"A-angel," you sighed, the crescendo of your orgasm climbing, threatening to burst any second, you tightening around Angel.

"Bueno," he purred. "You close? Yeah, you fucking are," Angel snarled, taking in the way you threw your hips back desperately to meet him, squirming one hand beneath you to touch yourself. "You can have it, baby, I'll make it good. You just gotta ask pretty for me." 

You deepened the arch in your back, flexing your hips back toward Angel, and gripping the bedspread before you in your fingers, face pressed flush with the sheets, your other hand still pressed to your clit.

Angel tilted your head, leaning over further and gripping your jaw, squeezing to pucker your cheeks. He kissed you, sucking your lower lip between his. He kissed you gently, a deceptive contrast to the hand gripping your face, his hips snapping into yours at a now-brutish pace. He pecked another light kiss to your lips, followed by another, gently biting your lip and dragging it lightly as he drew his face from yours.

He released your lips as you whispered another plea into his mouth.

"Come on then, baby." 

Your orgasm washed over you, pinpricks of striking matches splintering across your skin, followed by a euphoric wave of white-heat, blissfully soothing every nerve it had just lit.

Angel followed, emptying himself into you with a few final thrusts, groaning at the way you tightened just so around him. 

He withdrew gently, collapsing next to you as you both caught your breath. 

Your lashes fanned your cheeks as you blinked hazily at the form of your love through the soft glow of the room.

"I do love you, Angel," you told him, leaning across the sheets to rub your nose back and forth against his, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, grazing your soft fingers against the lines of his forehead, easing them away into an expression of soft serenity. "Always."

---

Now, you walked out of the clubhouse, around to the side of the porch, a quiet corner away from the noise. Willing yourself to calm down as small, hot tears trickled their way, uninvited, down your cheeks. 

Your thoughts were moving a million miles a second, the battle of luck you were waging with the universe saw you quickly losing. 

The year you spent with Angel replaying itself in your mind. Every word, every touch, that goddamn tattoo. Remembrance, my ass. How you would hold him when he came home too high-strung and strung-out emotionally for words. How you would save the best leftovers for him when you knew he had been away and would be craving the Chinese food from the place down the block when he got back. How he felt inside of you on the coldest nights and in the most tender mornings. How he would whisper enchanting endearments into the shell of your ear as he rolled his hips into yours, your mind and body completely his. How you would wear his shirts and overly-large socks around his apartment, leaving doodles and scribbled poems on sticky notes for him to find in his moments alone. How he kissed you warmly, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like syrupy possession that you never wanted to end. 

How it did end. How he had thrown out your world, crumpled it into a crushed paper ball and tossing it away with the carelessness of a child. Ending things with seemingly no spare thought for your feelings. How EZ had let slip when he saw you in town that Angel was expecting a kid, the timing of everything suddenly making a little more sense. How it made you feel, now that you knew you were wholly his, but he was never entirely yours. How you had kept to yourself in the months that followed, the cracks in your heart widening until you felt like you would drown in them. 

The pulse of your feelings for him, always strong; they warm you. But it was still you they all left behind. 

Your thoughts were still swirling when, off to the side, you heard the porch door open and close again, and you prayed that whomever was coming outside was going to have a smoke out front, or that they were on their way out. That they wouldn’t find you. 

But of course, these things never worked out how you wanted them. You cursed any god you could think of for just how un-fucking-lucky you were sometimes. 

Because, really, who other than Angel was making his way around the porch to you? Taking in your hunched form as you leaned over the railing, looking anywhere but at him. 

Of fucking course.

You kept your eyes down, focused in your clasped hands as you leaned over the railing, refusing to look at him. 

And now? Now he was looking at you, and it's the one time you wished he wouldn't. 

One thing you wouldn't do, now that he was here, was break the silence first. He didn't want to hear what you'd had to say, so why would you grace him with your thoughts now? Petty? Sure. But you weren't the one in there with your hands on some ass while a so-called friend harassed your ex. 

A few uncomfortable beats dragged on before Angel broke the silence, shattering it like glass with a verbal hammer.

"What'd he say to you?"

You remained silent.

"What the fuck did he say, Frida?" His voice angry now, demanding. The same tone he used to break your heart. 

"It ain't working. Not my fuckin’ fault you can't see it."

You rolled your eyes, another shard of icy glass painfully wedging into your heart at his use of the name. Still refusing to look in his direction when you replied, softly but sharply, 

"You know exactly what he said. What I'm trying to figure out is why, exactly, you care."

"I care, Frida," was all he offered.

You snorted in response. Undignified, sure. But couldn't he see this was killing you? Where was his mercy?

"I do," he insisted, the thud of his boots across the wood of the porch indicating that he was crossing to you, coming to stand a ways behind you.

"I'm not going to do this with you. He said some shit. It's over. We move on. What more could you have to say about that?"  

Keep it simple, keep yourself safe. You gave him nothing to say back. And then… 

"And if I told you I wanted you? I wanted you back?"

You whipped your head around to -- finally -- meet Angel's eyes, which you did for a fleeting moment before zeroing in once more on your shoes, staring resolutely at the ground. You were not going to let him see you cry again, godfuckingdamnit.

The fleeting glimpse of his face, of his eyes meeting yours once more after all this time, was enough. He looked more tired up close than he had before. Still unfair in his striking beauty, his midnight eyes still enough to pull you in, drown you in their oceanic depths. You hated it. Hated that he still had that power over you. But try as you might, you couldn't hate him. 

Your silence was killing Angel with the precision of a thousand miniscule cuts. Each deeper than the last. Until he couldn’t take it any longer. He reached through the space between, for where your hand rested on the railing. You saw the gesture coming, and whipped your hand away at the last moment, cradling it to your chest like he had burned you. You faced him fully now.

You chuckled softly, wryly, and devoid of any humor before you muttered, "You don't want me, baby. Please don't lie."

“And how do you know that’s a lie?” Angel mumbled thickly, working his tongue around the words, through his own emotion. 

You scuffed your toe into the hewn wood of the deck, shrugging before you responded, simply, 

“If I was what you wanted, you wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere. And you certainly wouldn't have found someone else. You wouldn’t have said what you said, ended it like you did, with everything on just your terms.” You sighed deeply, with the rattle of tears lodged into your chest before you spoke again, “You made up your mind and never even let me say a word. If you wanted anything to do with me, you could have at least given me a word.” 

Angel blinked, hard. The familiar pressure of real tears building behind his eyes. You were right of course. And fuck, weren't you always? You'd always told him like it was, harsh truths that only you could cushion in your gentle, empathetic way. 

"Please, querida, just let me explain what happened--" 

You held up your hand, shaking your head firmly, effectively silencing Angel.

"No!" Much softer now, "No. I- I'm sorry, Angel, I don't mean to be rude. But, no." Your voice small, but clear, as you'd finally gotten your opportunity to say something back to him. "I, uh, I don't want to hear any explanation, and you really don't have to?"

You lilted the last part like it was a question, but continued on. 

"You, um, you've had a lot of time to tell me something, anything, about what the fuck happened. And you didn't. You left me with nothing. Just confusion and hurt, and I've made peace with that. It's taken a while, but … I just… I don't need that from you. I gave you space, always respected your decisions and opinions, and now you won't do the same. You're still trying to take from me. Offering me an explanation now?" You scoffed. "That isn't for me, and don't fuckin’ act like it is -- it's for you. And I understand that, that's fine. I'm not angry at you for that, but I'm also not going to humor it." 

You exhaled shakily, you couldn't believe you'd said all of that, that you had made it through.

Angel was speechless. It made your heart feel even sicker -- all of this silence from him for so long, and he'd offered to explain himself and you'd (gracefully) told him to fuck off. Why had you done that??

It was about time you'd stood up for yourself, that's why. 

An explanation would be nice, sure. But where Angel's words, whispered affirmations and heady declarations of love, had once made your soul swell and sing… now, you knew, anything he'd had to say to you would only serve to do the opposite. 

And your heart, perpetually bruised by nature of you being a hopeless romantic, just couldn't take it. 

You hopped off the porch, spinning around to face Angel, finding his eyes on you still. Hadn't you wished for him to look at you? To really see you once more? 

"I'm out," you tossed a thumb over your shoulder toward where you'd parked your car. "Sorry, I don't mean to abandon the old post, but uh, I'm sure you guys have someone to fill in. I'll text Aneesa to grab my stuff, don't worry about it." 

Like he would, you thought.

You were mostly rambling to yourself, and not really to Angel, as you backed away, fleeing to your car. 

Angel watched you go, the resonant ache in his chest that had been ever-present since tossing your stuff out, amplified when Luisa had left him, and now sure to be permanent, buried in cement beneath the weight of his every decision, and every word.

You looked good, he thought. Your hair was longer than when he'd seen you last. Your little skirt flouncing as you strode away. Your skin still glowed, full lips still twisted into that wry smile of yours that he had seen from across the room. All of that was true, but your eyes were also tired, and your smile never quite reached them. 

The thought that he was responsible for dimming that sparkle made him feel sicker than he already had. The way you had brushed off Andres, despite his obnoxious insistence, and the things the cocky  new patch had said to you -- may as well add those to the ever-growing pile of things stained and tainted by Angel's guilt.

And he was left alone with that guilt as you left the lot. He turned back to the party. His cool facade slipping back into place. Not ready to face the wrath of EZ and Coco, surely waiting inside to proverbially beat his ass.

What would you say if I come over? And we stand face to face now that we're older?

---

Angel shuffled into his apartment, the late hour catching up to his weary form as he ambled over to his bedside, flicking on the lamp. 

Rubbing a large hand down his face, he sat on his bed in a huff of exhaustion. Your first encounter in months since he'd all-but tossed you from this very room was pricking him with a kind of nauseating nervous  energy. But all he wanted to feel in that moment was you, whether he deserved it or not.

He'd still had it, didn't he? Where was it?

He pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fishing through its contents for what he hoped was still in there.

His fingers curled over his prize -- a slip of paper adorned with your handwriting. Scrawled lines of poetry on a neon pink Post-It note, curled with age and disuse, something you had left for him while he slept in one morning. 

“I was thinking of you,” you had said when he had asked you about it later, shrugging as if it were the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. 

Your love for him was clean in its simplicity and forwardness, whenever he could wade his way through the mire of your shy demeanor. You had stuck the Post-It to his nightstand while he was sleeping and you made your way to work. Your words were cramped and crunched into the small paper square, but ready to greet him with the shining light of a sunny new day. 

“I see your ardor through a pearlescent lense, and all is pleasantly pink and blurry with you-- Resplendent in your love's solar hope. You are so warm beneath the brush of my fingertips, and I burn. So in love with you, as I am and as I do."

Now, his eyes scanned the words for the millionth time since you had written them. He had committed it to memory by now, wishing he could hold you instead of this crumpled piece of paper, mocking him with its annoyingly bright pink hue.

But how could he? Angel was the kind of man who simmered in his emotion -- burning slowly, lowly, only to reach a pitch. He kept to himself until he couldn’t any longer -- and then it was all bleeding hearts on a very crisp sleeve. 

He had done what he had thought was right. Cutting you out with all of the brutality and finesse of a battleaxe, to focus on Luisa and his unborn son. He thought she was what he wanted. But now, he didn’t even have them. He had nothing to show for his decisions but the lonely, sick feeling ever-present in his chest. 

The you at the beginning of your relationship would have kissed each bruise in his soul, one by one, until they were better. Would have gifted him with the warmth of your time and attention until he was made whole again with the molten heat of your gracious heart. But the you now? 

Angel could never, would never, cover the tattoo on his arm, though he had thought about it. Blacking it out once and for all, so the piece of you he wore on his sleeve would finally match the  pitch, and emptiness inside. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was, as he’d said all that time ago, your gift to him. And he’d made you a promise that he wouldn’t. 

All he wanted was to look you in the eyes so he could remember that he loved you once.

And not that he had any reason to know it, but across town, you had made it home. Your phone shoved to the bottom of your bag, lighting up with texts from Aneesa, EZ, and Coco. But the only person on your mind was Angel. 

How much of what he had said was true? You weren't sure. But you were sure that you knew where you stood, still painfully alone and in love as ever, the cracks in your heart only fillable by the very person you had brushed off earlier.

And, while Angel readied himself for bed, snapping the lights off and attempting to cut through the oppressive darkness by staring at the ceiling with his own penetrative gaze, the empty side of the bed had never felt more cavernous, but more weighted. Mocking. 

If Angel was being honest with himself -- something he was never too keen on being in his more sobering moments -- he didn't love you once. He still loved you.

Thinking after all this time, I just wanna meet your eyes so I can remember why... Why I loved you once.

Tagging:

@themarcusmoreno @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @steeeeeeeviebb @qveenbvtch @mxsamwilson @ifimayhaveaword @huliabitch @pettyprocrastination @phoenixhalliwell @flightlessangelwings @cinewhore @velvetmel0n @moonlight-prose @rebeccasficrecs @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @aerolanya @djvrins @jenrebloggingfics @ciriswife @justanotherblonde23 @superhoeva @witching-hour​ @luckyharley1903​

#angel reyes fic #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x fem!reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes angst #angel reyes smut #angel reyes #clayton cardenas #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans #mayans mc fic #my writing #rachel writes #holy shittttt this boy is long #it just got away from me #sorry #loved you once

[jikook-yoonmin-trash]

YOONGI X READER (DIRTY IMAGINE)

Rating: E for Explicit

No one asked for this but I'll deliver anyways. I know I'm not consistent but I'm trying to be committed to something to stay sane. Lets go.

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Yoongi had been locked in his studio all week. Being the perfectionist that he was, you knew it would take a miracle to get him out of there. He was working on a new Hip Hop piece with some foreign artist and it stirred something inside, deep and longing. You knew he was passionate and you knew how much he wanted to get this done.

But seeing him so focused and concentrated at the small window of time you visited stirred something in you, deep and longing. Your relationship with him hadn't always been physical, he sought after comfort and companionship, but you'd be lying if you said he didn't turn you on.

Especially on days where he wear shirts that dipped to low, or days where he came straight from his schedule with Bangtan- fully decked out from head to toe with perfect hair and accessories for days.

Like right now for instance.

You weren't sure who was sitting in front of you; Min Yoongi, Suga or Agust D. Whomever it was, you were ready to please.

"Got you some coffee and snack."

Yoongi took a break from writing to look up at you with a little smile. Cute. His hair was pushed back and he looked so devastatingly handsome that for a second you forgot that he was yours, and you forgot to breathe. You couldn't help but notice the thick silver rings on his fingers as he reached for the coffee. You've always had a thing for his hands.

"Thank you babe, wanna sit for a while?" Yoongi asked, looking up at you from mid sip.

With his legs sprawled out like that, it seemed like an invitation- open and inviting. The material of his pants were thick but you could make out the outline of his legs just fine. Perfect legs. Perfect seat.

Feeling bold, you rushed forward and found yourself sitting between his legs. His hands were immediately around you with the gentle sound of his laughter.

"You did say sit." You teased, leaning into his warm chest.

"I did."

Yoongi hummed and swiveled the chair to face his computer. With the coffee set aside and his hands occasionally clicking the keys on his laptop, you both fell into a comfortable silence. Yoongi's head nuzzled against your neck as he furiously wrote down lyrics. All you were concerned about was his hands. He had beautiful hands.

As time progressed, you found the urge to be fondled or even feel him move against you was increasing. Yoongi knew all your tricks. If you tried grinding against him that would only warrant a scolding or worst, him banning any kind of sexual activity until next week. He'd do it, you knew him well enough to not cross him. Especially because he's so busy.

"Yoongi?"

"Mmm." He hummed, kissing your neck.

"You look cute today."

"Mmm, Namjoon called me Daddy. He thought you would like it."

"Namjoon's not wrong."

One of his hand wrapped around you, while the other worked with a pen and paper. He rubbed small circles into your stomach and hummed appreciatively.

"What did you do today beautiful?" His deep voice was calming, you were stuck between wanting to bask in his touches or fall asleep to whatever hypnotic trance he had you in.

"Work was good as usual. I also got my paper done, I'm really proud of it."

"Good girl. You've worked so hard."

You received another kiss on the neck. Before you could respond, his hand dipped under your shirt (his shirt) and cupped both of your breasts in his hands. His ringed thumb swiped over your nipple leaving a cool shocking sensation behind.

"You're not wearing a bra?" His tone was teasing. Had you not seen the small smile tugging on his lips you would think he was upset.

"Hate wearing those."

"Mmm. Anything else I should know." He asked, still fondling your breasts.

"Perhaps a couple things."

"Oh yeah, like what."

You were about to tease him, but the tugging and pinching of your nipple was enough to sedate your urge to toy with Yoongi. It felt really good, especially since you were already worked up earlier.

"Like what baby?"

He was now pressing kisses up your neck with little bites. The pen and paper was abandoned and his now free hand took refuge in the inside of your thigh, prying your legs open.

"Like, I think you should use your hands to make me cum."

He laughed, his chest vibrating against your back.

"Mmm, figured as much. You just sat right on my lap with no hesitation." You were squirming under his touch. "Take off your pants baby. I'll make you cum right here."

Without question, those pants along with your panty were flying to the other side of the room and Yoongi was spreading your legs until they hooked on the handle of either sides of the chair. From his angle, he could see your entire pussy spread out. He could see how wet you were from just a simple touch.

"Dirty."

He sucked a finger and circled it around your clenching core, feeling the heat of your wetness. His finger was teasing you in small strokes and he purposely flicked your clit.

Your body laid flush against his, lifeless even with your head lolled off to the side as he slowly rubbed circles around your clit, missing it on purpose. Yoongi was a nasty tease, he loved drawing out your orgasm and then letting it hit you in waves when you'd least expect it.

"Did you miss me this much? Had to storm into my workplace and demand that I make you cum with my hands."

His free hand was busy rolling your nipple between his thumb and index, tugging whenever he felt like it.

"Not my fault you look so good." You hummed.

"Wanna taste you, let me taste you please."

"Yeaah. Please Yoongi."

In seconds you found yourself being thrown on the desk in front of you. Your legs were splayed out with your hands resting on either side of your body for support. Yoongi ducked his head, laid close to your inner thigh and gazed up at you.

There was a glint of mischievousness sparkling in his dark gaze. He pushed you back hard, your back knocking into the monitor, your hand was busy smashing into the keyboard to find purchase.

"Yoongi!" You hissed, "Your fucking computer is behind me."

His tongue found its way on the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to the new heart beat centered in your hot dripping pussy.

"I will crush your head if you keep teasing me." You threatened. Yoongi had the nerve to laugh, as if he didn't believe you.

"An honorable death for an honorable man."

He finally gave in, and sucked lightly around your clit. His tongue flicking softly at the sensitive spot. You were too busy moaning and heaving, so when he inserted a finger, followed by another you found it extremely taxing to hold back your screams. They were loud and needy. And Yoongi was tending to them.

The thing about Yoongi is that, he knew how to use his fingers and he was an expert with his mouth. Every time he angled his fingers upwards to rub at area that made you see stars, he also added pressure to his tongue. He was sucking and licking your orgasm closer while he finger fucked you. The noises were loud and sinful. The room was heated with wet squelches each time his finger thrust into you.

"Uuuuhgh, Just like that Yoongi. Fuuuuuuuck mee!"

Unable to control the intensity of the feeling, you grabbed onto his hair and pressed him closer- possibly suffocating him in the process. Your hips were grinding circles into his face, finding it easier to chase your own orgasm this way.

"Yeaah!"

"Yeaaaaah!"

"Fuuuuuck Yooongi Mmmmmhhh!"

Your leg wrapped around his neck and pulled him in, locking his head in place as your orgasm hit. It was so intense, your ears were ringing and eyes rolled back as the endorphins wore off. Yoongi was still working his tongue, slowly, sending light shockwaves through your core.

"Baby, I love you and your pussy but please let go."

"No Yoongi, not when you make me cum like that. I feel like I'm floating."

"Oh yeah, I feel like I'm drowning in you."

Reluctantly, you let go. Yoongi's face was glossy with your arousal but he hadn't made any attempts to clean it, only smiling at you in return.

You heard the familiar sound of his belt being unbuckled and the zipper running down. His cock was standing upright, shining with his own arousal. Yoongi looked spent leaning back in his chair. He looked like he owned you and everyone else in this building with his cocky smile and the wicked look in his eye.

"Come sit on my cock baby. Lets finish this song together." He smirked.

And just like that, his cock was nestled into your warm sensitive pussy as he worked on lyrics to his new song. This was going to be a long night.

"You know the rules baby, don't move and don't touch your pussy. If you want something you ask me. Okay baby."

"Yes Yoongi."

"Good girl. This is going to take a while."

#min yoongi #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #bts fic #smut #grapefruit #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smit #bts smut #bts fanfic #i'm not really confident in this piece but lmk if it was okay #jyvadmin

[alexlwrites]

Idol AU one-shot where soulmates can feel each other's pain after they... ahem ahem... make their bond official.

Cut to the boys leaving you, their soulmate, alone at home while you were having the Godzilla of periods, soon to find out the absolute shit of a mistake they made leaving the dorms that day.

I started writing these months ago and just found the doc... Should I finish it? Here's what i got:

---

Men are useless, you concluded while dragging yourself from the big kitchen to an even bigger living room, a blanket thrown around your shoulders and an ostensibly big tub of ice cream in your hands.

You had seven soulmates. Seven. Seven men who were supposed to be there for you and love you unconditionally. And yet not a single one of them managed to be home to support you while going through what could only be described as the world’s worst period.

You would’ve understood if it was a comeback week - having only officiated your soulmate bond a few weeks before, you had yet to experience those but you could only imagine how brutal they would be. But at that moment, their schedule was sparse and they still chose to spend their free time at the studio due to a burst of creativity on Yoongi’s part instead of staying with you in what you considered a desperate time of need.

One of them would do, you thought to yourself while you lied down on the sofa and turned on the TV. You didn’t need all seven of them to take care of you, although that was the ideal scenario. One of them to give you a back rub would suffice. A soothing hand placed on your lower abdomen would do. Instead, you had to resign to your hand pressing down on your skin and a marathon of couple goals videos on Youtube.

“Oh my god, imagine having an idol as your soulmate?” you mock exclaimed to the empty room “What a dream!” you waved the spoon at the couple with matching outfits on the screen “A dream, my ass. Gonna find myself another soulmate and then what? They are going to regret the day they left me home alone! I might even get a song after this…”

You mumbling was interrupted by the sound of your phone, the screen lighting up with a notification from the group chat you had with the boys.

Yoongi [2:00pm]: hey babe, are you feeling any better?

You [2:01pm]: I hope you lost all inspiration and I hope all your verses only rhyme with the word “farts”

Seokjin [2:02pm]: quick game change a word in a song title for “farts”

Jungkook [2:02pm]: war of farts

Seokjin [2:03pm]: magic farts

You [2:04pm]: seokjin farts

Seokjin [2:04pm]: okay your judgement is clouded by anger so I’m gonna let that one slide

You [2:04pm]: your face is clouded by anger

Seokjin [2:05pm]: that doesn’t even make sense. Cmon honey you cant be that mad

You [2:05pm]: yes i can im cutting the nipples out of all your shirts fuck off

[Y/N left the chat]

You were aware that you were being the slightest bit unreasonable. But your awareness did not mean you cared, so you threw your phone back onto the couch, screen down you wouldn’t see any upcoming massages. Curling into a ball, you felt the pain on you lower back fluctuate between bearable and absurd as you allowed yourself a moment of self pity and loneliness.

---

“We’re fucked” Yoogi announced to the room, Seokjin wincing by his side.

When they left earlier in the morning, they didn’t think you would be upset. Generally speaking, you were very understanding and reasonable, always sending them off to work with a kiss and a smile, always being there to comfort them when they came home exhausted. They should’ve known today was not going to be like that when you woke up with a scowl, hands clutching your tummy as you made your way to the kitchen to inhale an atrocious amount of food. When you didn’t say good morning, just sighed a breathless “yeah” when Jimin asked if you were okay.

They should’ve known you would be upset when they started getting ready and you looked up with big, glassy eyes and asked why they were leaving. Yoongi explained how they had some recordings to do and your bottom lip started trembling.

“Can’t you stay with me just for today? Please?” you begged, but they were already half the door, too focused on their obligations as artists and not enough on their duties as soulmates.

“Sorry, baby. We’ll be home later, okay?”

They should’ve known they were fucked when you frowned, eyes quickly becoming stormy as you dodged Taehyung’s kiss. “Whatever” you murmured, walking back into the bedroom and slamming the door.

There was no explanation for how oblivious they were to your state when you made your discountent clear as day, so there was no one to blame for the unsettling feeling of guilt they shared but themselves.

“Do you think she’s really mad?” Jungkook asked, nervously biting his nails.

“Maybe she’s just joking?” added Jimin, ever the hopeful.

Taehyung shook his head “She seemed really off this morning, I don’t think she’s joking” he said, still upset about how you stepped away from him.

Hoseok stood up, clapping his hands together as he started giving out orders “Well, then let’s wrap up as quick as possible so we can go home and try to save the situation as best as we c-WOAH”

Suddenly he was on his knees, clutching his stomach like his life depended on it. “Hobi!” Namjoon called, quickly kneeling beside his friend “Are you okay?”

“No!” wailed the other “What the hell is going on?”

Yoongi got up to call a staff member when his body decided to rebel against him, sending him stumbling back his steps back onto his chair, his abdomen on fire “Ow, ow, ow, what is this? What’s going on?”

One by one, the member started to feel it, an insistent pressure on their just under the bellybutton that expanded to their lower back. It didn’t give, simultaneously feeling like someone was pressing down on them or something was clawing its way out.

#bts x reader #bts imagines #bts au fanfic #bts x y/n #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #jin x reader #bts fluff

[thunderheadfred]

❄️Todoroki HC's🔥

Aged-up pro hero Shouto. NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - -

General

Might as well be tied with Bakugou for the #1 pro hero spot; they seem to pass the crown back and forth every other year. Everyone knows about their intense frenemies uber-rivalry. Well. Everyone but Shouto.

He's asked to speak at a lot of charity events. If he has time to prepare (and hire a speech writer) he is capable of stirring crowds to standing ovations. But if caught unawares... he gets cornered into hilarious on-the-spot interviews. He's been memed. Mercilessly.

He's an OP character, but unfortunately he rolled -500 in fashion sense. Eventually he wises up and hires a stylist. When he finally cuts his hair a slightly different and even more flattering way, it's a national event. People faint in the street.

Does god-awful sleight-of-hand magic tricks when he meets young fans, even though nobody asked him to. The second-hand embarrassment is palpable. But he keeps doing it. God, why does he keep doing it?

Has hovering arm syndrome in every fan photo.

Super into pop music. Not a fan of any particular group or artist, couldn't tell you the name of a single song. But every time he turns up the volume on the radio it's like... really? THIS? Probably pumps that shit through his hero agency to keep up morale. Has no idea what you mean when you tell him his music taste doesn't match his personality.

Similarly, he enjoys brainless romantic comedies and old silent movies. Doesn't laugh at jokes but loses it over physical comedy. Thinks Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd are the funniest people who ever walked the earth.

He's long and limber. Runs practically a hundred miles every day just to "relax." Doesn't even get sweaty doing it. A filthy yoga addict. He'll probably live to be 200 years old.

He can regulate his body temperature for quirk use but in everyday life he's always half a degree outside the Goldilocks zone. It drives him quietly insane; he has an epic love-hate relationship with his thermostat.

Has a therapy animal pet. Doesn't matter if it's a dog or a cat or a bird or an iguana or a teeny tiny rodent. It's the best-behaved animal in the country and speaks more languages than you. It has its own room and an instagram account with millions of followers.

Lives in a traditional Japanese estate that doubles as a national treasure. Probably has government-appointed snipers at the gate, and he's just like, "don't worry about it." You are afraid to touch anything. Fuck, don't even look at anything, just to be safe.

Has an outstanding personal chef who only gets to cook five things unless (thank fuck!!) company comes over. Impossibly picky eater. He rotates between a few "safe" foods and suspiciously side-eyes everything else. If you cook something unfamiliar for him it will be the most awkward meal of your life, because he'd never tell you he doesn't like it. But oh lord, just look at his face.

This clashes directly with his love of traveling. Frequently uses his hero earnings to visit exotic foreign locales over long weekends... but rarely tries the food.

- - -

Dating

A grey-ace demisexual disaster. You could count the number of people he's been attracted to on one hand. He falls madly in love every time and always gets his heart smashed to pieces when his crush can't magically intuit the meaning of his frigid longing glances and generically courteous romantic gestures.

Which is stupid, because he gets propositioned constantly. He can't walk out the door without being flirted with. People keep slipping him their phone numbers and he always directs them to his agency like a moron. It's a good thing he will never understand how attractive he is because that's the only thing keeping him from total world domination.

Conventional attractiveness does not compute. Shouto doesn't have a type, doesn't care that he's an eleven whilst you are merely mortal. He will fall for your personality above all else.

Probably falls head over heels because your schedules overlap in a completely ordinary way and he witnesses you doing something endearing or brave or most likely: utterly mundane.

Pick a favorite, because you're his favorite coworker, or his favorite barista, or his favorite random bystander in line at the grocery store. You made him smile once; then he spent the next three months daydreaming about your future together before you accidentally stomped on his foot, initiating your first real conversation.

He's big on healthy communication. HUGE. He goes to therapy and it shows. Will talk through literally everything to the point of delirium. Sometimes his dedication to resolving every issue right away can get overwhelming; sometimes you just need some frickin time alone. But it pays off, because the two of you have practically never have a "real fight." There's just no way for bad vibes to fester.

STILL, his family wasn't exactly... erm... verbally or emotionally supportive, shall we say. For that reason, he might not give you all the compliments you deserve, because it simply doesn't occur to him to do so. He assumes you know how he feels. If you're self-conscious or insecure in the relationship, it might take him a while to notice. But when he figures it out (or even better, when you tell him directly) he will make it up to you with enthusiasm.

Will take you on lavish dates. Spoils you rotten without actually intending to. He's clueless about money. If you wanted a sugar daddy, you just hit the fucking jackpot. But if the word valet makes you uncomfortable, perhaps suggest some romantic picnics instead. He can still go all out with the food and five-star location without making you see cartoon dollar signs.

Chronic Insomniac. Stays up too late watching YouTube every night. His viewing history is an incomprehensible blur of k-pop music videos, serial killer icebergs, and super girly crafty ASMR channels. When he's watching a video, he is unreachable. Please call back later and try again.

He's disgustingly cute when he sleeps. Doesn't snore, but drools. Sometimes the drool freezes and leaves frost trails on his face in the morning. Still sleeps with the giant stuffed cat pillow that his mother gave him when he was like, zero. He'll inadvertently suffocate you with it, and you will welcome death with open arms because awwwwww!!!!!

The first time he tells you he loves you will be after your traditional Japanese shinto wedding. You won't hear it again until you start a family. Honestly, it's a good thing he doesn't say it often and is always holding you when it happens. It's a knee-buckler.

- - -

Icy-Hot

I don't even need to say it. Shouto is as old-fashioned as they come. You will never open another door or pull out another chair for yourself as long as you live. He will ask before he holds your hand. He will ask before he kisses you. He will stop and check in if you so much as breathe funny during sex.

If you don't orgasm at exactly the same time while staring into one another's eyes, he'll consider himself a failed lover. God forbid you want him to pound you into the futon... cause you are going to have to present that scenario to him in writing first.

Physical intimacy rarely leads to sex. He loves cuddling, craves physical affection. He'll sprawl all over you and turn into goo while you hold him close. He's an amazing, astounding, phenomenally good kisser. And that's... nice and all... but sometimes you have to grab his face and say, "Shouto, I'm horny," before he's like so that's why you're currently dry-humping me?

Even if he isn't technically a virgin the first time (or the millionth time) you sleep together, you won't know the difference. He's a blushing violet. Every. Fucking. Time. This doesn't mean he's a bad lay, oh no. But there's always ten minutes of confused bumbling before he hits his stride and remembers oh yeah, I DO know how to fuck good.

Absolutely silent during sex. Focused. Intense. Sometimes you have to push him a little to make any kind of noise at all, just so you know you're pleasing him (oh don't worry, you are).

His cock is Just Right. Not to big or too small. Perfectly proportioned and symmetrical. Somehow pretty. Like a fucking factory prototype. It truly is not fair.

Gets handsy and restless at night, even if you both have work the next day. Seems to crave sex at three in the morning. You've given him more than one exhausted handjob.

Gets offended if you don't cum. Will go down on you for hours. Of course he uses his quirk to tease you. He doesn't typically use it during actual intercourse, but he's all about foreplay, and he'll use every tool in his arsenal.

His sex drive is completely fucking unpredictable. Sometimes he's all over you, other times he's an icy slab. His line of work leaves him busy and stressed on a near-constant basis, so you can't entirely blame his personality for this one. Just give him some time and help him take care of his basic needs. He'll come back around soon enough.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki x y/n #gender neutral reader #todoroki headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #smut #fred writes #bnha #mha

[swinterr]

fic rec vi ♡

hi!

this is a another new set of fic rec and i’ll probably do a compilation of genre (?) just like the first ones.

made some changes like tidying up a bit and adding summary, for those that doesn’t have any summary i’ll try my best to add my own summary (it will probably be shit tho, i ain’t making a smut summary guys, i’m not confident in my describing a fic ability but i’ll try my best. if its in italic it means i made the summary hehez )  if the summary is shit, i made it okay.

read and support the fic and authors here: the fic rec ♡

a for angst

f for fluff

s for smut

// for series or list

nct 

jeno

no title by @tyongf-nct | s

- smut blurb.

body guards and boyfriend by @pastelsicheng | f

-  sometimes the only way you can really get some alone time with your boyfriend is by making his job hard.

lipstick smears by @kopikokun | f

-  jeno never thought trying to get his makeup artist’s attention would be this hard.

jaehyun

[10:30] by @moonttaeil | 

- a lockdown moment.

[2:40] by @nct-jungjaehyun | f a

- cute quality fluff time with bf!jae with a dash of angst.

[11:41] by @jeongvision | f 

- family time with apples.

just like magic by @starryhyuck | f s

-  jung jaehyun’s body count is almost as high as yours. however, after yuta spreads a nasty rumor, you learn that jaehyun’s always imagined those girls to be you instead.

love to hate me by @moonctzeny | s a 

-  you and jaehyun meet as sm trainees, developing a friendship until he debuts and you decided to leave the company and pursue a solo career. when you reunite again in a music show and he acts like he barely knows you, you stubbornly begin a series of hate-brimmed sex rendez-vous. your touch-and-go relationship continues on, until a song collaboration will force you both to deal with all your repressed feelings for each other.

moving on by @ddeonghwaa | f a

- reader has been chasing jae for some time but when she moved on jae suddenly enter the picture.

sun&moon by @ppangjae | f a

-  asking jeong jaehyun to accompany you to your family’s 1-week christmas vacation as your boyfriend has its consequences. one can surely get through 1 week of pretending to be in love with an enemy, right?

snack run with a snack by @kopikokun | f 

-  on your usual movie night with the members, they assign you sudden snack collecting duty. you’re a little peeved, but at least jaehyun offers to tag along. Unfortunately for you, things really aren’t going in your favour tonight.

lover boy by @neoct-zen | f s

- bunch fics of lover boy jae and reader.

jungwoo

one more time, please by @haequarius | f s

-  you don’t know what you and Jungwoo are, but you are certainly weak for him.

jealous by @whiplashsan | s 

-  jungwoo is all smiles and sunshine until he gets jealous, and he just so happens to get jealous over the smallest things when it comes to you.

doyoung

sugar, spice and everything not nice by @alreadyblondenow | s

-  doyoung getting your ring size wrong, unprotected sex, kitchen sex, slight fingering, wedding tragedies.

no title by @ncteaxhoe | s

- dom!doyoung, rough? i need holy water.

the little one by @ethaeriyeol | f 

-  a gift of life; female reader x husband!Doyoung; fluff, light angst, married au

lucas

exquisite taste by @weishenkonbini | s f

- smut but with a fluffy ending.

for you always by @labyrinthsofyou | f

-  in which you surprise yukhei when he forgets about your date.

6:19 by @cozykpopblurbs | f

- a cute fluff ft kun and winwin.

10:18 pm by @nctsoftarchives | f

- reader supports lucas at his superm debut stage. 

16:47 by @sichengssmile | f s 

- a fluffy smut. lucas a big boi.

missed you by @tokyobts | a f

-  after you and yukhei broke up, yukhei still has feelings for you. he reaches out to you at school and tries to get you back. at first you avoid him but later his actions manage to make your heart flutter. you’ve come to a sudden conclusion that you maybe still want him in your life.

johnny

34 + 35 by @domjaehyun | s 

- you and your husband johnny decide to take your marriage to the next step.

i couldn’t wait a little longer by @alreadyblondenow | s f a

-  you two were never together longer than two days, but the feelings, oh the feelings that you have for each other is clear as the day. it was a never-ending try of making the relationship official. johnny tried, you tried but it never happens.

what happens in korea, not stays in korea by @alreadyblondenow | f s 

-  a week vacation in korea for your sister’s wedding became even more exciting when a famous dj had a crush on you. johnny was sure that it’s love at first sight. not putting both of your careers on the line, you two had no regrets when the time comes and you finally leave.

laundry day by @immabiteyou | s

- a domestic fluffy smut.

make a wish by @sluttyten | s f a

-  you’re jungwoo’s sister, and he’s made it clear he wants you and Johnny to have nothing to do with each other. so you and johnny start fake dating to piss him off.

want it all by @sluttyten | f s 

-  you are entirely innocent to the point of being naive. johnny is not innocent, but he loves that you are because it means he can teach you everything you don’t know.

sungchan

wish i was her by @softsungchan | f a 

-  you wished you were her, laying in Sungchan’s arms and feeling his warm breath on your neck, giggling about sweet nothings whispered into the starry night. You wished for it to be you, the girl he liked.

2:21 am by @the32ndbeat | f 

- sungchan being whipped, thru a text message.

haechan

14:52 by @ukiyoexo | f

- a cute haechan and reader ft the reader’s baby sister moment.

prince’s order by @nsheetee | f

-  prince haechan nurses you after you faint, and orders you to stay with him until you feel better.

sweet treat by @markresonates | s

-  haechan takes you for ice cream but all you can think about is sex with him.  when you act like a brat, eventually you end up in the bathroom. with no panties. 

clingy by @love-mi | f 

-  I’m not clingy! I just love your company and constantly want to be around you and have your full attention at all times

mark

hyuck is always right by @luvrenjun00 | f 

- ceo!mark x reader ft baby donghyuck. a tooth-rotting fluff.

taeyong

snow storm by @whereisten | f s 

- a fluffy smut whilst a snow storm.

1:59 by @smoll-tangerine | f

- reader and taeyong ft my favorite game (where i always die first) among us!

bts

taehyung

is this allowed 1 2 by @seokiie  | f s

- how were you supposed to know bts would be filming at your coffee shop today? how were you supposed to know a certain curly-haired boy would take a liking  to you?

cabin pressure | f by @jiminrings | f 

-  pilot!y/n who accidentally became famous bc of a viral post about her, best friend!jimin!, taehyung having a shy lil crush on you aND ot7 being meanies for a tad bit :((

art major!tae and biochem major!yn | f by @jiminrings | f

-  tae’s cold and probably needs a friend more than he needs a model, y/n feels this nEED to take care of him, a term of enderment then a dash of emotional constipation and a sprinkle of jealousy :D

gank mid lane by @kimtaehyunq | f s 

- gank / verb: (in a video game) use underhand means to defeat or kill (a less experienced opponent)

birthday surprise by @ephemeralkookie |

-  like every year, you prepare a little surprise for your boyfriend’s birthday, one that you’ve been preparing for days. and after a very tiring day, taehyung only wants to spend the night in your loving arms.

jungkook

cookies & cream | s by @1kook | f s 

-  jungkook will watch a thousand cheesy christmas movies if it meant making you happy. (and maybe having his dick sucked.)

unholy night | s by @ephemeralkookie | f s

-  after a christmas day passed with the Jeon’s family, Jungkook decides to transform the holy night into an unholy one.

‘a short’ abstinence | s a by @seokiie | s a

-  maybe blue-balling you boyfriend (who has an insanely high sexual drive) wasn’t the best.

in which she’s done with him by @minstrivia | a

-  jungkook angst/fluff where he always pushes oc away (who confesses her feelings but was cruelly rejected) and insults her but she always comes back to take care of him when he’s drunk or picks him up from his one night stands and she finally decides to leave him alone.

bad influence by @noteguk | s 

-  in which you know jungkook is a bad influence on you, but you can’t avoid falling for him every time.

jock!jk and shy art major!yn by @jiminrings | f

-  established relationship ft. jock!jk and shy art major!y/n, y/n gets an unexpected pep talk and jungkook doubts himself, and either so much tears or so much dUST according to kook

special affair by @1oserjk | f

-  sugar daddy au except it’s just jk spoiling u thru animal crossing

fairy of shampoo by @ironicarmy | f s

-  sundays are for relaxation, house cleaning, and happiness.

abstract ft bob ross by @mimithings97 | f

-  paintbrush in one hand, joint in the other and you sitting on his dick is what jeongguk wants. and what jeongguk wants, jeongguk gets.

badboy!jungkook by @jungshookz | f 

- badboy!jungkook falls for good girl reader ft the boys and the reader’s apple. 

growing by @lesgetittkookie | f

- dad!jungkook teacher his daughter how to walk. super super cute family/domestic fluff.

quiet, baby by @bratkook | s 

- i don’t how to write a summary on smuts so imma just put this. reader and jungkook doing something in the subway.

still want that by @whatifyoulivelikethat | s

-  fucking min yoongi ex-girlfriend? a terrible idea. being hopelessly in love with her at the same time? an even worse idea. knowing he was being used and still doing it anyway? ah, Jeon Jungkook, what are you doing? part 2 of savage love.

desiderium by @jeonggukingdom | f s 

-  “we’ve been at it like rabbits, how are you still so horny?”. a newlyweds!au smut.

chapstick by @softyoongiionly | f s

- based on the time Jungkook said he needed someone to scold him so he’d remember to put lip balm on. or jungkook’s had a really long day and the only that can make it better, is seeing you. 

lover boy by @jingukk | f 

-  jungkook likes you. a lot.

unexpected confession by @sunkissedjk | f

-  you gathered up the courage to confess your feelings, but it seems everyone in school knows about it before you could even find him.

string attached by @ephemeralkookie | s

-  jungkook is what we can call your sexfriend. No strings attached, just you and him having fun and releasing the huge pressure and stress of being idols. But after spending an entire day together, you realize that maybe he’s not just your sexfriend.

no title by @himbojk | f s 

- dilf jk.

astro

eunwoo

ceo!eunwoo by @m0onbean

no title by @yutopiada | f

- a cute idol!reader and eunwoo moment at a music show.

disney by @bangchan-sonyeondan | f

- a cute date with eunwoo at disney. reader likes vintage things hence using a disposable camera.

baby, it’s cold outside by @fresh-outta-jams | f 

- a cute cold christmas fluff with eunwoo ft. the boys. reader went to the boys’ place for a sweater and cocoa gift exchange.

got7

yugyeom

cruel brothers by @imsarabum | f

-  jackson and jaebum have always acted as if they were your big, overprotective brothers. so when they both walk in on you and yugyeom in a very intimate position, things get a little tense!

txt

soobin

a special night by @gyuluster | f

-  an intimate insight on the first night of choi soobin’s wedding, consisting of kitchen floors, witches and an eternity of love.

boughs & branches by @jeogiyall | f 

-  decorating the tree with boyfriend! choi soobin from txt! fluffity fluff fluff with a lot of cute fluff thrown in and a dash of christmastime fluff. 

sleepy binnie by @immabiteyou | s

-  “i’ll let you do anything if you just touch me now. “ a sleepy soobin smut.

cake by @immabiteyou | s

- reading waiting for mc soobin with the guys. a cute fluffy smut moment.

kpop oc/s

seri by @ggukkiedae

anyway, thank you again for the writers please take care and be safe!

please free to recommend your favorite fic that i haven’t feature yet.

if the links won’t work and i labelled some fics wrong please let me know and i’ll try to fix it as soon as possible!

support the fic and the writers!

#nct #nct fic rec #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno smut #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #jungwoo fluff #jungwoo smut #doyoung fluff #doyoung smut #lucas fluff #lucas smut #johnny smut #johnny fluff #sungchan fluff #haechan fluff #haechan smut #mark fluff #taeyong fluff #taeyong smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #eunwoo fluff #soobin fluff #swinterr: fic rec