Gangsta: Dumb Doug X Reader

One

Reader's POV:

"Doug..." You laid in bed on your stomach, bare back exposed to the air, peering at him with your naturally seductive (e/c) eyes.

The clinking of his tags resounded in the dark room, with little to no sunlight, as he placed his shirt over his head finally responding, "What is it?"

You momentarily thought about what it was you were going to say. He recently took on a job to kill a few people just for the fun of it and you were worried sick that something had happened to him since he didn't contact you for weeks until now.

He seems to think he's invincible or something, but he's just a fucking Twilight. Who gives a shit though? Just because he's the product of Celebrer users and has increased agility, and such, doesn't mean he should be using that strength. You wanted him to live peacefully while he's still alive since his lifespan is already shortened from being born as he was.

You rolled out of bed, bending over to slip your (f/c) panties on, pulling your arms through the sleeves of your shirt afterward.

If I approach the subject wrong, we could get into another fight. I better choose my words wisely.

"Are you going to fucking say something, or not?" He growled lowly slipping his black sneakers on while you slowly fiddled with buttons on your shirt due to having long nails.

"I was just thinking... that we should go on a trip or something. Take a break from the madness of this city. It'd do us both some good. Maybe even help us contemplate our futures while we relax."

You managed to somehow secure each button in its hole. In some way, you think you selected your words very carefully.

"(F/n)."

Softly, "Yeah?" You turned around only to be rudely snatched up.

"The fuck did I tell you about that shit?" He tightly held you by the collar of your white blouse, practically choking you.

"Getting your fucking hands off me, Dog..." You roughly brushed him off, fixing your shirt with an obvious attitude as you walked away with your brows knitted together angrily.

He gets highly pissed when you call him that, to the point where he gets physical with you. He wrapped his cold fingers around your throat, your feet dangling in the air.

"Call me by my real fucking name. And though I've said this a million times, I'll say it again: You're not my fucking GIRLFRIEND. There is no future for 'us', nor is their room for 'we'. I can't take care of a bitch and myself."

"I'm not planning our lives together or anything, and FYI, I don't need you to take care of me! For crying out loud, I just want to take a vacation with you, Doug!"

"What for? We're not friends or anything. We're just fucking. Simple shit." He placed your feet on the ground again but had yet to remove his hand from your neck.

"Yeah, and I'm sick of it."

His sensitive brown eyes bore into you, making you mentally bow down and appease him like puppets on strings. He shifted closer, hips against your own, hand slithering to the nape of your neck as your eyes stuck on his like magnets.

In one breath, "Stop fucking me then..."

"You're the one who brought me here, the fuck..." You grumbled, wiping his lips with your tongue. Yeah, you were in the middle of an argument, but you couldn't help but think that Doug was sexiest when he was angry with you, especially the tone of voice he took with you; Calm, yet hostile all at once.

"Get the fuck out of here." He pushed your face away with little to no force, his mop-like locks swaying behind him. He threw his hoodie on walking towards the main entrance, unlocking the door.