#why can’t we just have a fucking bus

[machiavellli]

what’s up with me and plane crashing dreams. perhaps my life long obsession with the show air crash investigations is hitting or smth

[bibleofficial]

went to the beach w kp & 4 other indian friends & 3 of us had NEVER surfed before girl WHEW it’s SO fun literally only 20quid to rent a wetsuit & board & i fucking smashed my toes on the sand so much, but also we 1) got the wrong tickets so we got off 1 stop early 2) went to find a bus & the bus that was supposed to be 15 min turned into an HOUR 3) on our way to find a bus back everyone’s phones are dying or dead bc it took us 3hrs longer to get there, cigarettes are out 4) all of the shops in town are closed & the town seems to have ONLY a tesco extra & 1 off license that sells a PACK FOR 15.65 A PACK WHICH IS FUCKING CRIMINAL ITS CHEAPER TO BUY IT FROM TESCO ARE U INSANE 5) the bus back to the other town kept skipping us bc the bus stop wasn’t the ACTUAL bus stop - i had 1 bowl since literally 11a & we got back at fucking 11p 😭😭😭

[lady-tortilla-chip]

.

[hoshigray]

꯳⃘꤫⃛✿ contents: Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! gym friends - oral (f! + m! receving) - clitoral play (licking + sucking) - boobjob - prone bone position - unprotected sex - creampies - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - gojo is a perv, ngl - pussywhipped + whiny! gojo - mention of sweat and drool/spit.

Been going to the gym lately and can’t stop thinking about gym friend! Gojo, who indisputably has a massive crush on you. 

Why else would he drag you in to do something that he loves to do? To share the same interests as his POI? To see you all the time? His reasons could be endless; however, those exact reasons seem to be doing more harm than good as his eyes can’t stop watching your body move on the elliptical, the sweat on your body shimmering on your gorgeous skin, or the positions you do as you stretch. All it does is add more fuel to the erotic thoughts that gnaw his heart out the more his azure orbs gawk at you. 

“Ahaahhn!! S-Satoru, don’t lick so fa—Mmm!—Fffuuuhuuck!!”

Or stir up more guilty fantasies for his perverted brain to think about.

On his life, Gojo wishes he’d snatch you off your feet and take you to the locker rooms to devour you utterly. If he has to look at your ass shielded under those leggings one more time, he will rip them off the seams and stuff his face into your panties. And he knows you’d make the cutest sounds as he does so, shrilling up above with hands grabbing tuffs of his silver snow hair while his teeth tug your panties to the side and latch your folds to his mouth. 

You looked way too good not to do so! He would have you hunched on the locker room bench, your knees to your chest, while his tongue ravishes your labia and eats you out. Jesus, your taste is intoxicating enough for his head to pound, spiraling the muscle to every cranny of the orifice to drink your fluids. “Holy fuck, so good…”

“‘Toruuu, waait!!” You plead with teary eyes, unsuccessful attempts to escape the tall man’s hold. “You’re going too fassst. Please…! Slow do—Oohoo!”

“No can do, baby~,” he’d lift his face and reveal his chin, just drenched with your essence mixed with his spit, before placing his tongue back to lap around your clitoris. “You said you’d cum for me three times, remember? Can’t just stop with one!”

“Bu-But…! I cannn’t, I’m too sweaty—“ you hasped aloud at the suck of your clit, Gojo letting his tongue run wild by licking and pressing on the pearl feverishly before sucking it in again. “—Tahaaa…!! Stop, stop! Let me shower firsst!!”

“C’mon, angel,” he kisses your vulva idly, enjoying the shudder of your thighs. “We can shower plenty together right after this, ‘kay? So, just keep cumming on my tongue for me, yeah?”

It doesn’t stop there. Because what’s hidden under your pants isn’t the only thing that drives him crazy — your cleavage peaking from your sports bras will always have him in a chokehold, the sweat shimmering across your attractive skin…All it needs is for his cock to be stuffed inside.

Oh fuck, it’s insane to even think about! Those lovely tits of yours giving his aching cock the time of its life has shivers crawling up his spine. That’s a sight that he’d store in his memory forever, watching his dick be swallowed up by the understrap of your bra and into the warmth of your chest. Fuck—he can’t think of anything better!

“Gosh, Satoru,” you’d look at him with a hooded gaze and smile while your hands press on your breasts to push together and trap his erection. The plush sensation makes Gojo’s hips buck, and you giggle. “What am I going to do with you? I can’t even work out in peace without you eyeing up my tits. Hmm, what do you have to say about that?”

“Hahhh…ahaaa, shit, I can’t—“ Gojo bites his lip at the display of your chest motioning up and down, his cock gliding in between your soft mounds making his eye twitch.

“Oh? Do you like watching my tits?” You inquire with a playful glint in your eyes, blowing on the pink tip to make the man moan. Precum trickles down your chest and joins the excess fluid that pools down to your bra and his sticky pelvis. “Does my pervert friend like my tits so much he wants to stuff his dick inside and make them dirty like him?”

“Fucking shit, yesss,” he throws his head back, his thighs trembling. “Yes, I love those cute tits like crazy.”

“Really?” You bat your eyes — holy hell, you were too much for him. “Would you like to cum on them again? Tell me, tell your gym partner how much you wanna stain these precious boobs you love so much.” You tease the cockhead with a flick of your tongue, nearly having Gojo bite on his. 

“Oh, my God, sweetie, please!” His blue eyes sparkle with a misty wanton, drunk on this sensation between his legs. “I can’t think right now…Lemme fuck your tits like crazy!”

You smirk with no words, sticking your tongue out to drizzle your warm saliva on his tip, the poor partner choking on the air before you suck his entire tip into your mouth. Greeting his sensitive glans with your tongue, your chest continues to squeeze and stroke his shaft to have him a whining mess. Shaky hands find your shoulders, but it doesn’t stop your rhythm that can easily have him melt to the floor. And if that doesn’t do it, then your tongue flicking and teasing his urethra sure will—shocks travel across his body as you suck harshly for his precum, and his head is too mushy to stop his peak from crumbling down.

He surprises you with a burst of his semen, screaming with a gleeful smile as his white substance protrudes out and paints your chin and your messy chest. You lift a bit to have him come into your bra, seeing his come create a damp and sticky spot as your nipple rubs on him. “You’re so bad, Satoru~,” you titter. “So naughty and dirty.”

That’s precisely what he feels: bad and dirty for thinking of you like this…and worse, he keeps going.

“Ohhh!! ’T-Toruuu, yer going so faast! Nooohh!!

If Gojo is likely to lose his mind at your chest, it’s entirely plausible that he’d go wild at the snug feeling of your vaginal walls clamping around his dick. Oh, he can just picture it: your legs locked between his as he pummels his cock into your bare cunt, your hands tied to your back with a headband, and your firm hands placed on your shoulders as he drills himself to churn your insides. 

Nothing can keep him at bay; his hips going buck-wild, slamming his pelvis down to your ass to make the flesh jiggle, moaning aloud at the sensation of you squeezing him whenever the tip grazes your sweet spots accurately, and thinking about nothing more than stuffing you full of his load. Fuck, you’d look so pretty, all fucked out and coated in his cum, filling it to the brim nonstop until his limb goes limp. Now that’s a workout he’ll get behind til the end of his days!

“Satoruuu!” You cry out his name, drooling escaping your pretty lips as you writhe. “It’s shoo muuuch, ‘oo muuuch!!”

His eyes roll to his skull from how much you are clenching around him, grinding his hips down to your ass to rub on your G-spot to the point of unintelligible babbles. Tighter, tighter! “Ahhhh, shiiit, baby, you feel so good,” he hiccups with abrupt ruts to your chasm. “So fucking…good!”

“Nnnmm, mmph!” Your eyes are sewn shut as the pleasure becomes overwhelming to bear, Gojo’s curved dick making it easier to scratch your vaginal walls to a euphoric itch. A poke to your cervix causes a sharp gasp and eyes to widen again. “—Gahaaa, wa-wait, Satoru, stop! If you keep—Mmmph!”

“Ahaah, there it is,” he draws his length outward before shoving it back inside to hit your womb once more. You yelp and tighten around him again. “Your little weak spot is right here, huh?” More gnashes to your ass cause frequent jabs to your womb, your lower half jerking to every single one.

“Ohhh fuuck, I’m gonna cummm…!!”

“Yeah, I can feel it,” Gojo licks his lips before kissing your nape. “But not yet, right? You said you’d help me with my endurance training, so hold on a little longer, okay, my princess?”

Before you could retort, his hips began to jackhammer into your cunt at an irregular pace, your screams only fueling him to pound you even more. “OhhhhGod, Satoru, go slooow…’Toru, please!!”

SNAP, SNAP!!

“Hey, Satoru, you okay? You’re daydreaming again.”

With the snap of your fingers, Gojo is brought back to reality, realizing he’s been adrift with his thoughts yet again as he sits aimlessly on the adjustable bench. “Ah, sorry, what were you saying?”

“I said, let’s get outta here; I’ll treat you to some burgers.” You beam before turning on your heel. “Now, hurry up; the place is closing soon!”

The white-haired man watches you go, eyes lingering on your finger and thanking the stars you hadn’t noticed the pink of his cheeks and ears flourishing. Nor the white towel that he held by his groin and quickly covering the tent protruding from his shorts.

…Fuck!

© HOSHIGRAY2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[mioons]

“how could my day be bad when i’m with you.”

pairing. enhypen ot7 x fem. reader (hcs)

genre. fluff, est. relationship wc. 928 warnings. skinship, mentions of wedding, petnames, swearing

— enhypen as cute things that couples do. extra. guys idk why this took me sooo long to write like the thinking put into this is insane.

LEE HEESEUNG — sharing wired earpieces

it could be on the way to school. or on the way to that cafe you wanted to go to since forever. lee heeseung thinks he wants to somehow be connected to you at all times, even when you two were on the train or the bus; not just physically but emotionally too.

this is why he feels headphones aren’t his thing; because he can’t share it with you.

he’d put on his favourite album on repeat. he loves sharing his favourite things with his favourite person. his favourite pretty girl.

holding out one side of the earpiece, he’d gesture you to take it, “put it on,” he’d request.

you two sat on the train in silence but your hearts were connected, beating in tandem.

SIM JAEYUN — wearing his hoodie

he’d want you to have a piece of him everytime you two were not together. needed you to wear something that said that you were his. you were his beloved girlfriend whom he cherished so much.

honestly even if you weren’t apart he’d still make you wear his hoodie, claiming that it looked better on you than him. he likes the fact that the sleeves cover your entire arm, leaving only the tips on your fingernails to be seen; the way it almost reaches your knees—fucking adorable he thinks.

“by the way here’s your hoodie, i think i forgot to return it the other day,” you’d say as you passed him his hoodie.

he purposely didn’t ask for it back because he wanted you to have it. forever.

“no no darling, you keep it m’kay? everytime we have movie nights on fridays make sure to wear it.”

PARK JONGSEONG — helping you with your shoes + carrying you

tying your shoelaces? no no don’t worry, he’ll help you. slipping on heels your for you? he’d be down on his knees to help you with it. putting on socks? “of course my love, which pair of socks?”

don’t even move an inch, he’ll take care of you.

“you too tired to walk pretty?” he’d ask as he caressed the small of your back with his thumb, rubbing circles on it.

you’d shake your head, “no it’s okay seongie, i got it.”

you actually didn’t ‘got it’. every few minutes while you two were walking along the bustling street, you’d take a short pause to adjust your shoe.

“baby, cmon don’t be stubborn, let me help you,” he’d sigh and wrap his arms around your hip, lifting you off the ground, gaining a small yelp sound from you. “seongie you don’t need to carry me!”

“i know princess; i just want to carry you.”

PARK SUNGHOON — breakfast, be in bed or in public

the moment sunghoon found out you don’t eat breakfast he got worried but he didn’t say anything.

“yn, can we go out for breakfast tomorrow?” he’d ask while you two were calling on the phone.

“mm, sure, why not? tomorrow 9am?” you asked.

“mhm.”

he’d make sure you were well fed, made sure you had enough energy to sustain throughout the day. he wouldn’t want to see his pretty girl collapsing in school or when she’s out.

on days where you two stayed over at each others house, he’d wake up early just to cook something for you; to surprise you with breakfast in bed.

“good morning darling, eat up m’kay?”

KIM SUNOO — matching items

it started when you saw a couple bracelet on instagram and you decided to buy it for sunoo and yourself.

“what’s this for?” he’d ask as you helped you put on the bracelet.

“it’s matching bracelets, you don’t want it?” you pouted and looked up at him through your lashes

he sighed and chuckled, “no no baby, i just didn’t know you liked matching things.”

from then on he’d buy you guys anything matching. matching shirts? don’t worry he’d customise two just for the both of you. matching phone charms? he’d go and find one online for the both of you.

one day he’d get matching wedding rings too.

YANG JUNGWON — playing with your hair

if he’s not clinging onto your hand, he’s playing with your hair.

he likes the way your hair is so so smooth and he can just thread his fingers through it, how it smells like vanilla and lavender.

on some days he’d ask you, “hey darling, could i braid your hair please?”

of course you’d say yes. you loved the feeling of his fingers gently massaging your scalp as he styled your hair. even if your hair was short or long, he’d still play with it.

he’d pick flowers for you just to insert them into your hair. yang jungwon thinks you look like a bride like that.

NISHIMURA RIKI — love letters

he loves writing love letters to you. he’d spend hours and hours drafting and writing them. just for you.

when he’s not around to pass it to you, sometimes he’d send it to you via text to make sure you still get your daily love letters; life is too short for him not to send paragraphs professing his love for you.

his friends would ask him why he wouldn’t just want to tell you straight up and chose to write letters. to be honest he’s shy and too scared to say everything to you upfront, he’d rather just write for you so you could keep it forever with the other stacks of love letters he wrote you.

don’t worry, he’s already wrote his wedding vows.

luvlyhee 2024 :: taglist open ,, send an ask to be added

tl: @en-gelic @dioll @luv-sims @minjubie

[gimmethatagustd]

morals on sundays | myg

You're still in love with your ex-boyfriend. Yoongi offers some help to get over him.

○ Pairing: BFF!Yoongi x f!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Friends with benefits, angst, smut, fluff

○ 6 / 100 Drabble Challenge (FWB)

○ Word Count: 2,177

○ Warnings: MC's boyfriend cheated on her, post-breakup blues, questionable decision making, fingering so good you'll try to run away from it, pussy eating, too much tongue sucking probably, Yoongi is a boob guy, they have matching Spongebob and Patrick coffee mugs so why aren't they married?? Idiots

○ Notes: Shout out to @sailoryooons for also writing about a daegu boy eating pussy tonight 😌 And, as usual, I wrote this with scrambled eggs for brains and didn't proofread it, so if you see any errors, no you didn't

○ Post Date: January 22, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? Imported - Jessie Reyez ft. 6LACK

Lately, you’ve felt like disappearing – not into a crowded city street in another country or down an unlit dirt road into the unknown, but into the warm folds of Yoongi’s hoodie. You’re already halfway there, with your fingers interlaced with his, shoved into the large front pocket, and your face tucked into his shoulder. 

“Fuck, I hate taking the bus,” he curses, his words turning into a cloud that disappears into the cold air. 

“How much time do we have?” 

Yoongi turns his head, and his lips briefly touch the cold curve of your ear. 

“You’re mumbling. What’d you say?”

“How much time until it comes?” You squint up at him, cheek still pressed against his shoulder. It’s too warm here to want to move. 

“Can’t check the app on my phone unless you give me my hands.” 

“No.” 

Yoongi chuckles and jostles your head by bobbing his shoulders. 

“I thought our date would cheer you up.” His complaint is playful, eyes sparkling in the streetlights when he returns his gaze to the empty road. You should have gotten a taxi. 

“I’m gonna die alone. Doesn’t matter how much late-night pizza I eat or how many stupid action movies I watch,” you grumble into Yoongi’s shoulder. 

“Even when the action movie lead has a super hot sex scene that’s poorly timed and irrelevant to the plot?” 

“Nope.”

“Even when the coolest guy on the entire planet was the one who took you?” Yoongi smiles cheekily, his gaze back on you. He wiggles his shoulders again, hard enough to bounce your head. 

Annoyed, you straighten up, hands still shoved in his pockets. The movie wasn’t that bad. The pizza was actually great. You’re just depressed. 

“I didn’t think it would take this long…” You whisper into the little space between your body and Yoongi’s. He knows you aren’t talking about the bus. 

Yoongi squeezes your hands inside his hoodie. The rest of you might be freezing in the winter night air, but at least Yoongi keeps your hands warm. He keeps your heart warm, too, with his sincere gaze when he looks at you. 

“You were too good for him.” 

Yoongi’s right. He’s always right. 

You’re sufficiently frozen by the time the bus finally arrives. Yoongi pays for you both because he’s trying to make life easy. No bumps in the road, no unnecessary stress. He lets you sit in a window seat so you can stare out at the blurry night scenery and have your sad main character moment for as long as it takes to get to your apartment. 

Once you arrive, he follows you inside and heads straight to the kitchen while you slump down the hall to your bedroom. The cold seeps so deeply into your bones that the sweatpants and sweater you change into barely help increase your body temperature. 

Maybe it’s because the sweatpants and sweater are your ex-boyfriend’s, and the universe wants to keep your body as cold as his heart was. 

In the kitchen, Yoongi uses a wooden spoon to stir hot chocolate in a small pot, your favorite kind that comes in a block of chocolate that melts with milk. It’s likely been years since Yoongi has made you hot chocolate. Cozy winter nights indoors were once commonplace, the two of you alternating between apartments to make each other snacks and treat cuddles like currency. The appearance of your ex put an end to the comfort you shared with Yoongi. It put an end to most things that brought you comfort. 

As you expect, Yoongi has two mugs out on the counter. You reach for yours, twisting it in your hands as you wait for him to finish. 

“Remember when Spongebob tried to become best friends with Squidward instead of Patrick?” Yoongi asks, turning off the stove. He uses a ladle to pour hot chocolate into his pink mug, then pours some into your yellow one. 

“Yes.” 

“He was Squidward. I’m just mad I didn’t get to blow up his house–” Yoongi laughs and nearly spills his drink when you smack him in the arm, “–with bubbles! With bubbles. I’m not homicidal.” 

Rolling your eyes, you set down your mug next to Yoongi’s, both drinks too hot to drink quickly. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, hooking your finger into his hoodie pocket and tugging lightly, the action absentminded. You keep your eyes cast downward because you don’t want him to see your tears if they run. “I’m sorry I’ve been in such a shitty mood. I know it’s been a while, but, it just… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about him, and everything fucking hurts…” 

Yoongi slips his fingers under your sleeve and circles your wrist, pulling your hand away from his pocket so he can lace your fingers together. They’re so much warmer now, defrosted by the heat blasting through your apartment and Yoongi’s hot chocolate. 

“Maybe you could start by not wearing his clothes?” Yoongi offers quietly. “Can’t imagine it’s easy to get over someone when you keep them on your body like that.” 

You sniffle and nod. Again, Yoongi is always right. 

“Easier said than done…” you mumble, giving him a weak smile when you finally meet his eyes. There’s something there in his expression, something that seems different. 

You don’t move away when Yoongi steps closer, even when he has you backed against the counter, even when you feel like you’re going to swallow your heart. 

“I could take them off for you,” Yoongi says softly. He lets go of your sleeve to pinch the hem of your sweater, tugging it lightly. “If you can’t do it, I can.” 

“Yeah?” You feel out of breath, maybe because you suck in your stomach when Yoongi’s fingers brush against it. 

“Yeah,” he echoes, fingers sliding along your ribs as he pushes your sweater up. “So you can get over him.” 

It’s a terrible idea, but your stomach flutters when he looks at you with sleepy eyes weighed down by the late hour and lust. He bites his bottom lip, and you feel your resolve slip as easily as Yoongi’s fingers do beneath your clothes. 

“I want to.” The declaration is desperate, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare into Yoongi’s eyes with an all-consuming sadness that eats at your insides, gnawing on bones and biting holes into your lungs. “God, Yoongi, I want to.” 

Yoongi touches his forehead to yours, making you close your eyes because he’s too close and you’re too much of a coward. 

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers. His voice is as gentle as his hands on your bare waist, his thumbs caressing your sensitive skin. 

You raise your arms for Yoongi to pull off your sweater. He’s confident when he squeezes your tits, doesn’t even seem caught off guard when he realizes you’re not wearing anything under the sweater. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples as he leans in to kiss you, his tongue tasting sweet from the hot chocolate when he flicks it against yours. 

“Yoongi,” you call out with an airy sigh that harmonizes nicely with the sound of him sucking open-mouthed kisses down your neck. 

“Hmm?” Yoongi hums against the base of your throat, the vibration sending a tingling sensation straight to your clit. He keeps one hand on the counter beside your waist, caging you in, while his other hand cups your pussy over your sweatpants. 

“Oh,” you gasp, your hands immediately finding Yoongi’s firm shoulders when he starts rubbing your clit, occasionally dipping his fingers lower to press against your entrance, soaking the fabric. 

“These are his, too, right?” 

“Y-yes,” you moan as Yoongi pulls down your sweatpants, taking your underwear with them. 

You can’t say you never thought about how attractive Yoongi is; it’s hard to ignore. It’s just that Yoongi is your best friend. If anything were to happen between the two of you, you don’t know if you’d be able to survive losing him, too. You love him. 

But you also love your ex. 

It’s hard to think about that, though, with two of Yoongi’s fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. They’re long, reaching deeper than your own can when you finger yourself, always late at night when you’re lonely. It never feels good after. The clarity always seems to hit too quickly, like being dunked in a pool of ice water. 

Three months. That’s how long it’s been since another person touched you, since you found out your ex-boyfriend had been cheating on you. You didn’t realize how much you missed it until you’ve got your head thrown back and your thighs quivering as Yoongi fucks you with his fingers. You nearly climb up the counter, both wanting him to touch you more and trying to get away because it’s too good. 

Your ex never searched for the spot that would make your legs shake, but Yoongi does. He curls his fingers against your front wall and keeps up his rhythm, moving with your body when you can’t control where it goes. 

“Fuck, right there.” You’re burning up, veins turned to lava that’s rushing toward your core as Yoongi fucks you closer and closer to your orgasm until you’re on the verge of tears because you haven’t been touched in so long and you’re so lonely and you weren’t good enough. You weren’t enough. 

“Wanna make you cum,” Yoongi groans, deep and gravelly, between licking a stripe up your tits and sucking your nipples. 

“Please,” you moan, “Please, I’m so close.” 

Your arousal gushes around his fingers, slicking them up and making your pussy squelch when Yoongi flutters them inside you. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, almost too hard. It stops you from bucking your hips, but you can barely stand as it is. 

Yoongi’s lips are back on yours, red from sucking your nipples until it hurt. He whispers against your lips and opens his mouth to let you suck on his tongue with a pathetic whimper. 

“Not yet, though.” 

“Wha– Yoongi, no–” It’s embarrassing how loudly you cry out when Yoongi slips his fingers out of your pussy. You feel the fire in your core simmer until you’re left with a painfully throbbing clit and your juices smeared on your inner thighs. 

“Shhh, you know I always take care of you.” Yoongi shuts you up with a bite to your bottom lip. He leans down slightly to squeeze the backs of your thighs and hoist you up onto the counter. “Lean back.” 

The cold marble counter sends shivers across your body, but it can’t keep up with the heat of Yoongi’s mouth on your pussy. He kisses your lips so gently that you think you might actually cry before he pushes your thighs back, opening you up. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan as Yoongi goes straight for your clit, sucking on it as he swirls his tongue around it. You dig your hands into his hair and tug the strands hard enough to make him moan into your pussy. “Use your, use–” 

Yoongi laps at your clit in quick, consistent bursts that fall in line with the tempo he’s fucking you to with two fingers again. His free hand presses against your lower abdomen, keeping your body taunt so you don’t buck into his face or curl inward. It’s bad enough that you can’t stop your legs from shaking when one rests on his shoulder and the other drapes over the crook of his arm. 

It’s messy and loud, Yoongi licking and sucking your pussy like he really is trying to empty your mind of everything but the way the tip of his hot, wet tongue feels swirling your clit and the stretch of his fingers when he slips a third inside you and focuses on massaging the sensitive part of your walls. It’s working. He completely consumes your senses, down to how gorgeous he looks staring at you from between your thighs. 

Your Yoongi, fingerfucking you and sucking your clit like you’re his favorite meal. 

You try not to bang your head against the counter when you finally cum, instead focusing the overwhelming energy into pulling Yoongi’s hair to keep his face in your pussy.

He continues fucking you with his fingers through your orgasm, to the point that you can’t lie still any longer. 

“Yoongi, oh my god, Yoongi, it’s too much,” you whimper and gasp, thighs closing around his head until he finally eases his fingers out of you. 

Strings of your arousal connect his lips with your pussy until he swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, cutting them off. His bangs are pushed off his forehead and his hair sticks up from you pulling on it, but his eyes sparkle and his cheeks are just as rosy as his pink, slicked-up lips. 

“Shit,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning over you on the counter to kiss you. He shoves his tongue in your mouth and lets you suck your juices from it. 

You think you taste better on Yoongi’s tongue than on your ex’s. 

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here. 

@jooniesxbby @seokteoksworld @taegeum @dprmoon @chimmisbae

[taexoxosgf]

THIS DECEMBER

PAIRING park jisung x fem!reader | ft. friendgroup!nct dream

WORDS 5k

SYNOPSIS Your horny friends try to pull a little prank on you in the days leading up to Christmas. One thing Park Jisung likes to remind them is: he totally doesn’t want any part in it. Except, he totally does.

WARNINGS smut, ANGST, fluff, lots of dialogue, vag fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, vanilla vanilla vanilla, they're in love basically

NOTES I have to admit, this isn’t my best work lolllllll. though this was supposed to be posted on christmas, this can be my new years gift! 2024 here we come babyyy

★ Part of A Dreamy Christmas Collab!

“Why don’t we all be her secret Santa?” 

“What are you talking about?” Jaemin chuckles, eyes dancing as he seems intrigued by the idea.  But what pervades his mind was nothing like what Donghyuck was about to propose. 

“Think about it…” he trails.  “She used to say, if it’s an SOS, and we need help in that department,” he points to his crotch– “She would help us out.” 

“You’re fucking crazy,” Jisung rolls his eyes when he catches on to Hyuck’s sudden idea.  

“So you’re saying we all get her a present?” Chenle asks.

“Yes… But we all have to give her the same… present,” he walks between each of the men like a devil hovering over their shoulders.   

“Hyuck, just get to the point,” Jeno huffs. 

“Okay, bu–”

“No ‘buts!’ Get to your point,” Renjun groans.  

“The gift we’re giving her can’t be put into a shitty little box.”

“Oh my god, NO!” Mark whines.  

“What’s so wrong with a little fun?” 

“Are you seriously suggesting an… orgy?” 

“No, you idiot,” Hyuck pinches his nose bridge.  “Let’s all give her our present one by one leading up to Christmas… Like an advent calendar,” he shrugs, unable to hide the pride beaming off of him from the simile.  

“So you’re suggesting we all have sex with her in the days leading up to Christmas?  Am I hearing this right?” Jaemin intervenes once more, orbs gleaming with interest. 

“Ding Ding! We have a winner!”

“Jisung’s right. You’ve gone insane,” Renjun fully laughs.

“You know I’m insane, and that’s why we have fun.  But you know what? Let’s make this more interesting… When we tell her after Christmas, the person who she says is her best fuck, get’s her secret Santa present,” Hyuck smirks. “You know she goes all out.” 

“I’m in, but it might be hard for Mark because he’s actually in love with her,” Jaemin turns his body towards his friend who avoids eye contact before offering a retort. 

“Why just me? You guys are all in love with her!” His claim is met with a group of huffs and groans.

“How do you know she’ll even agree to this?” Jeno points out, earning a nod from the others. 

“She doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to.  If she does, then great! Amazing even! But if she doesn’t, then man, I feel kinda bad because we all got a thing for her.” Hyuck accepts the facts of the predicament. “Hopefully we can laugh about this on New Years.”

“I don’t.  I guess I’m the only one,” the youngest of the group speaks out but it’s not taken seriously by his older friends as a fit of laughter echoes within the small space.  

Hyuck’s the first one to speak– placing a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, “You’re the worst out of all of us.”  

“What are you talking about?”

“You guys always bicker and talk shit but I know all you want to do is rip each other’s clothes off,” Jeno jumps in. “Nice try though.  I almost believed it.”

“I’m not! She’s annoying as hell!”

“So annoying you want to fuck it out of her, right?” Jaemin joins. 

“You guys are jumping me right now, I’m leaving,” Jisung excuses himself earning a look of victory from his friends.

“Wait!  So you agree to it, right? Jisung?!  Hello?”  Chenle and Renjun yell out in unison, but the only reply heard is the slam of a door.  

“You’re serious about this Hyuck?” Mark asks one last time. 

“No, but this is just so those two kids will finally admit they’re down bad for each other.  I think this will be their breaking point.” 

“Damn,” all the other boys yell in unison. 

“I know right? Someone needs to hire me for something!  I don’t know for what, but something!” he crosses his arms to bask in his actions. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mark laughs at his friend.  “You’re so dumb.” 

“Just wait and see.  He won’t make it to Christmas…”

Everyone is being… weird. 

On the very first day of December, you and all your friends come together to pick a name out of a jar.  The game of Secret Santa is an annual tradition you love partaking in. But once the weather dropped thirty degrees, all the boys started acting shady.  They were canceling plans with you on purpose, avoiding eye contact when you spoke to any one of them, and just running away the first chance they got.  It was easy to get mad, even call them out for it, but the replies would always be the same– that there was nothing wrong or they were just tired.  

And you’re not going to lie, it was starting to make your skin crawl.  The sudden shift in dynamic between you and the boys has you wondering if you did something wrong. But if they were trying to pull something, then they had another thing coming. It was frustrating, trying to shake it out of them in every way possible, but no one would budge.

December eighth rolls around and you know everyone is free today because you all collectively promised Sunghoon that every year until the day you die, this day will always be open for him.  It’s always an annual trip to the snowy mountains– a secluded cabin and powdery snow that’s fit for snowboarding. Surprisingly, but not so surprisingly, everyone’s busy up until the car ride to the cabin. 

Their persistent avoidance, even for an event like this, just pulls on the strings even harder. 

You’re leaning against the island of the kitchen, glaring into their souls from across the room as the music's bass reverberates throughout the warm cabin; and the bitter liquid in your plastic cup disappears like water down a drain.  

“Why are you standing here all by yourself?” 

You turn to the voice, sporting a grin once you realize who it is. “Hey, birthday boy. Just glaring at the boys.  Don’t know if they notice though,” you squint a little harder, hoping they’ll finally notice. 

Sunghoon’s orbs follow the seven of them scattered around the living room. “They notice alright. I’m sure they’ll come crawling back when they realize you don’t play.” 

“Oh, they know I don’t.  But they’re still gonna try anyway,” you let out a heavy sigh.  “I just wish I knew what they’re up to.  It’s killing me.” 

“Just ask Jisung.” 

“Why Jisung?” The mention of your friend’s name causes the subject of your orbs to shift to him, but he’s already looking your way.  When you make eye contact, he hurriedly glances away, confirming the suspicion that something’s up. 

“I feel like whatever they’re planning, he’s telling them he doesn’t want to do it.” 

“Why is that so detailed? Do you know what they’re up to? Spill right now!”

Sunghoon shakes his head in denial, raising the cup to his lips before responding. “Nah, you guys are always going at it. That’s all. It’s just a hunch.” 

“Fine, maybe I will. But I was gonna do it anyway.” 

You’re already making your way towards Jisung when Sunghoon blurbs out.  “If it doesn’t work, I’m always available.”

“You wish, Park.”  But you stop in your tracks.  “Wait, what?” 

Sunghoon walks off in a hurry, “Nothing! Had to try at least once!” 

Rolling your eyes at the birthday boy, you finally make your way to your destination but all seven of your friends go completely mute once you reach it.  There’s not a sound emitting from them, and it practically forces smoke out of your ears. 

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Jeno murmurs.

“You guys have been ignoring me ever since December started! Spill your evil plans right now!” 

“Nothing’s going on,” Chenle adds, but it’s met with a crack of his voice at the final word, and you know one hundred percent they're lying. 

“Haechan! I know you’re the mastermind,” you turn to your friend, but all he does is shrug, eyes still looking everywhere but yours as he nonchalantly sips from his drink. 

“Nothing whatsoever. We’ve just been busy that’s all,” Jisung speaks out, but you chuckle, knowing he’ll eventually give in if you press him hard enough. 

“Of course, you’re a part of this! Sunghoon told me you weren’t, but I doubted him as soon as those words left his mouth!” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung’s tone changes, as if he’s warning you.

“That little shithead!” Jaemin groans.

“I knew it!” you exclaim.

“What did he tell you?” Renjun interrupts.

“Nothing, just what I said before.”

“Nothing is going on. You don’t believe us?” Jisung is still firm on his decision to make you believe otherwise. With that stupid smirk he’s trying to hide and how his form influences you to shift back. 

“Of course, you’re still on that even though Jaemin just admitted you guys are planning something! You’re the worst!” 

“And you’re a dumbass,” Jisung mumbles once you turn away.

“Look who’s fucking talking,” you don’t realize you’re stepping closer at every syllable exchanged and you don’t know why your friend loves to push your buttons so much.

“You always say I’m the worst and then you come right back.  I don’t think you hate me as much as you say you do,” Jisung’s eyes glimmer with a playfulness to them, closing the space between the two of you as the bickering reaches its climax.  But his words only fuel your rage.

At this point, you can only see red.  

All you do with Jisung is bicker or fight about stupid shit. Your friendship with the other boys is the glue that holds you and Jisung together.  No one could guess that you met all the boys through him. You both had been friends with benefits long ago— practically another lifetime. But you’d jump off a cliff before admitting that the shards of glass remain. And that it still cuts. 

It’s impossible to act like everything is fine and you both can get along.  So instead, you fight and fight until no more words can be said.  

“Ooooo,” you hear Jeno say, reminding you you’re still in a place full of swarming bodies. 

“What about you? You either hate me or you love me. It can’t be both,” you mutter, condemning yourself as you catch a glimpse of his lips hovering above yours.  You're both staring one another down, and you notice the same vein on the side of his temple, and his jaw clenches with each phrase that escapes your lips. 

“Watch it,” Jisung seethes.

“What? If you wanna play this game, let’s pla—“

“Okay! Enough of this,” Hyuck groans before dragging the both of you by the wrist and out of the main room.

“What are you doing Hyuck?” you urgently inquire, but he doesn’t reply.  He only hurriedly rushes along, throwing you both into a bedroom you don’t recognize.  And as you rush to escape the enclosed space, your friend shuts the door in front of your face– leaving you with your hands practically clawing at the door.  

“Lee Donghyuck! Open the fucking door right now!” you yell out, unable to comprehend how your friend could think this was a solution.  “Open the door before I beat your ass!” 

“He’s not going to open the door,” Jisung reminds you of his presence amidst the chaos.  “Not until the morning.”  

“What?! No. No. No. This is not happening right now.”  

“Let’s just sleep.  So when we wake up, we can just get outta here.”  

You scan the room, realizing there’s nothing for you to rest on except the bed in the center– the one Jisung is currently sitting on.  “You think I can fall asleep with everything that’s going on?  And I don’t even know what’s going on,” you’re shifting awkwardly, habitually rocking yourself on the heel of your feet following the eye of the storm.  

“Just sleep.  It’ll be over soon,” Jisung already makes himself comfy, placing his legs under the covers and rearranging the pillow to his liking.  He’s too calm.  Way too calm for what just occurred. 

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” 

“I don’t know, figure it out,” he mumbles, lids already fluttering shut.  You hate how you admire how long his eyelashes are.  

His eagerness to ignore the dilemma influences you to the bed to pry his lids open.  As Jisung opens his eyes willingly, you finally take notice of how close you both are.  His eyes widen at the proximity and he shifts back to the edge of the bed in surprise. You’re caught off guard because there seems to be something lingering in the air between the two of you.  And you brush it off because you know it’s annoyance. 

“Just sleep,” he softly lets out before returning to his original position.  “Next to me.” 

His softness in these last words has you admitting some defeat– realizing fighting won’t solve anything.  “Fine.”  

There are still zero answers that will satisfy your scrambled mind.  

And you’re trapped in a room with someone you can’t stand for more than five minutes.

It’ll be over soon.  Right? 

You’re fucking drenched. 

As the daze of sleep washes over, you notice the stickiness between your thighs. And not the good kind. 

It felt as if you just entered the fiery pits of hell. 

“What the fuck?” you whine. The air was so humid, you were practically suffocating.  And as you turn to the side, you see an irritated Jisung.  If you thought you looked gross, Jisung didn’t have a dry spot on his clothing.   

You try your hardest not to stare at the clothing sticking to his abs.  This is not the time.

“Don’t,” he warns, thinking you’re about to poke fun at him.

You chuckle at the sight of his discomfort, offering a half-assed apology.  “Sorry.”  

“Lee Donghyuck! Turn off the fucking heater!” he yells out, but there’s no answer.  

“Fuck.  We’re going to die.” 

“I’m not dying here with you.  That’s not how I’m going out.”  

“Is that so bad?  Chill the fuck out,” you roll your eyes. 

“Yes it is! I’m gonna kick the door down and beat Donghyuck’s ass.”

You don’t know if it’s the unbearable heat, or the constant fucking attitude from Jisung all night.  Maybe it was the pent-up frustration from all the other times you both didn’t get along.  But you’ve decided enough is enough. 

“What’s your fucking problem?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You’re always so fucking mad at me.  I do nothing and you’re mad.  I breathe and you’re mad.  It pisses me off!  At this point, I should be the one giving you the attitude you give me!”  

“And you know what?  I always cared what you thought.  But not anymore. I’m done caring so pretend I don’t even exist,” your heart is beating out of your chest as the words spill out like vomit.  

“That’s no–” Jisung’s unable to finish his sentence when suddenly his orbs follow your fingertips gripping the hem of your top to bring over your head– leaving you in a bra.  “Wha-”

“It’s hot as shit and I’m not going to suffer.  Do what you want,” you huff, continuing with the removal of your jeans. You notice Jisung's stare lingering on your contours as you eventually pull them off, and it appears as if a million different things are running through his mind when he suddenly glances away and shakes his head.  

You’re not going to lie, it’s amusing seeing Jisung’s usual persona falter. Your boldness and the situation it creates masks the uncomfortable predicament the two of you are in.  “It’s not like you haven’t seen me like this before.”  

“What did you mean by ‘you used to care about what I thought?’” He swallows nervously.

His words have you stopping in your tracks, not realizing your words were true candor. “Nothing, I was just saying nonsense,” is all you can render as you make your way to the bed, but Jisung beats you to it, grabbing your wrist to prevent you from escaping.  

“Tell me. Please.  I know it wasn’t nonsense,” his voice is like syrup, the usual bite to it completely gone.  

You turn to face him, though you regret it the moment you notice how his eyes match his voice. “Well, I cared what you thought because of what we did before we all became friends.  And us… Or whatever we are.  I don’t know what we are now but I cared about you and what you thought about me.”

“Cared?”

“I still do…”  

“Then why do we fight?” 

“I don’t know.  I guess you hate me so I just returned that energy.” 

“I don’t hate you,” he sounds hurt, the similar bite of his voice attempting to escape.  “You annoy the hell out of me, but I could never hate you.”

“Oh…” 

“You really act like you hate me though,” Jisung offers a small smile.  

“I don’t hate you. You’re annoying as hell. And I just don’t know what to do with everything lingering in the air when I’m around you,” you bite your lip at the confession, realizing it wasn’t a very good one. And you see him watch you do so. 

“You mean the tension?” 

“Yeah… The tension… The tension causes us to fight. Right?” The air becomes more suffocating than it already is. Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s Jisung so close to you, or how you’re basically naked in front of him.  

“What else would we do?” his eyes are still trained on your lips.  

“I don’t know,” you murmur not above a whisper. “You tell me.”

“Let me try something,” he takes a step forward, shortening the small space between the two of you. “Promise you won’t get mad.” 

“No promises,” you urge, because you’re unsure of what Jisung planned to do after the indirect confessions made in the room today.  One things for sure. This territory hadn’t been visited in ages and it scares the shit out of you.  

“What are you go–” You’re cut off the lips that make its way onto yours. 

When you see Jisung dipping his head down to capture your lips onto his, you're taken aback.  However, the minute he makes contact, your legs almost buckle.  It's a familiar sensation, and you melt into him as he tests the waters with increasing devotion.  

When you reciprocate the kiss, it gets feverish, and your trembling lips work together haphazardly, interwoven with airy sighs.  His arms reach for your waist, pulling you into him harder than ever before.  He knows your body like no one else, and it drives parts of your brain haywire.  It feels like only yesterday that you both would rendezvous.

He groans into your mouth and squeezes your ass as you tug on his hair the way he likes it.  It makes you whimper since the combination of the sloppy kiss and the rush of pleasure is far too satisfying. 

 It feels good.  Way too good.  

That's why when Jisung pulls away, you chase his lips and he emits a small chuckle at the action. “Tell me you missed me.  Tell me you don’t hate me and never did,” his shoulders rise and fall at a rapid pace as he catches his breath. 

“I don’t,” you look up at him, and you want nothing more to kiss him again.  It feels like all the frustration aimed at him was sexual.  It’s honestly his fault for always looking so tempting while offering some smartass retort.  “I never did.” 

"God, I missed you," he smashes his lips against yours again, this time much more aggressive, and the back of your knees reach the edge of the bed, briefly disconnecting your lips.  You laugh, and he smirks before diving back into you as soon as your back comes into contact the mattress.  

Something possesses him at that moment, makes his hands glide up the back of your thighs, to kiss down your neck, sucking and biting to leave small bites that he later licks over to soothe the sting.  “Know how much you love to be marked.” 

“And I know how much you love me choking on your dick,” you giggle, licking a long stripe along his neck up to his jaw.  

“You’re dangerous,” Jisung hooks your thong aside, unsurprised when he notices the sticky arousal coating his fingers.  “Fuck, I forgot how wet you get.” 

“It’s from the heat.”  Your words contradict themselves as noises of pleasure leave your lips when he runs his fingers along your folds.  Jisung, on the other hand, knows the meaning behind your words like no other.  “All this stickiness is from the heat? I don’t think so baby,” he offers some stimulation to your clit and your back arches once he comes in contact with your bud.  

You shake your head and he dips his head down onto your neck offering a small kiss against the side of your neck.  God, he looks so hot, with the sweat dripping down the side of his temple and his puffy lips from kissing.  

The lewd sounds from his fingers running along your folds sends you into a frenzy.  You’re attempting to gain more friction, bucking your hips to feel more.  You’re so needy for his touch.   You've been longing for this touch.  "I'll be nice, baby," he says, inserting one finger inside your hole, your walls engulfing him up to the knuckle.  Jisung experiments with twisting and curling his fingers, enjoying the way you gasp and pulse around his fingertips. 

The wet glide is so satisfying and you moan, basically fucking yourself onto his fingers. “Sung–” is all you can choke out as he begins thrusting with a rhythm you both can’t forget.  “Wai–”

But Jisung can’t withhold any longer, not with you looking so pretty underneath him.  Not with the sounds that he remembers all too well.  His cock practically throbs at these thoughts, begging to be free from its confines when you’re already a mess.  He’s pressing against your clit along with the constant thrust of his fingers.  “Shit, Sung!” you wail, already foreseeing your high from the short time.  

Your nails dig into his forearm, body twitching from the overwhelming pleasure only he can give you.  “Oh, fuck,” the words are combined with a moan as your orgasm takes you by surprise, coating his fingers in a creamy pearl substance.  It drips down your folds as he pulls away, and the wash of the aftermath runs from your toes to the crown of your head.  It’s blissful, but your hunger for him doesn’t stay satiated.  “Good girl,” he says as he revels in your figure. 

“I need you,” you pant.  “Now.”  

“Whatever you say, Mom,” he jokes as he pulls his shirt over his head before discarding the rest of his clothing.  

“Ewww. Never say that again,” you say, earning a laugh from Jisung.  

“Like words ever stopped me before pretty girl.”

He's tugging the side of your panties, dragging them down the side of your legs while practically gaping. He continues with your bra and he gazes, unable to believe everything taking place currently.  You're like a dream, sprawled out beneath him. The pretty girl he could never get close to after being so close with.  

“Ready?” he asks after he shakes himself out of the trance you have him in.  

“Mhm,” you nod.  

He pushes inside, sighing into your ear at the creaminess of your cunt.  Your arms are wrapped around his neck as he bottoms out, fingers burrowing further into his scalp.  Jisung, rather than staying against your neck, takes advantage of the chance to peer at you.  When his nose brushes up against yours, all he sees are your lips caught between your teeth.  

At the feeling of his big cock inside of you, you clench around him.  He groans against your mouth, habitually bucking his hips forward.  “Fuck,” you moan out, back arching at the feel of his cock dragging against your walls. Your brain is already a mess and it has been since the moment he kissed you.  But Jisung loves how you’re a mess around him.  He takes pride in how he makes you feel, and that turns him on beyond belief. 

“Move Sungie, please,”  you plead and Jisung groans at the nickname you know he loves so much.  It’s enough for him to grab your wrists to pin them above your head before he begins moving.  

“Sung,” you call out again when he begins to move.  His calculated movements have you squirming beneath him, but you’re still perfectly fit against him and it’s as if you both never stopped this routine.  

“You’re mine.  I’m not letting anyone touch you,” he coos, and you’re quick to agree.  “Yours.” 

The constant rhythm he keeps has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and you're shivering when he picks up the pace--giving him a look that seems to make Jisung's cock practically explode.  He snaps his hips forward, so close to the edge that you shudder at the perspective. 

He's fucking you so well that your eyesight is fuzzy, and the brush of his dick against the spot that drives you insane only adds to the sensation. "I-I'm so close," you warn, your irregular breathing hitting his face.  

“Wait S-sung-g no.” Just as you’re about to hit your peak, Jisung flips you over so that you’re sitting on his thighs.  Though you’re disappointed in the delay of your orgasm, the angle has his cock pushing deeper than before, tip nudging against your velvety walls harshly.  “Fuck, I can’t,” you beg as your back arches at the smallest movements.  

As fast as words leave his throat, Jisung dips down to suck on your nipple, occasionally leaving purple blossoms.  “Wait I’ll–” 

“You’ll what?” he says, chuckling when he sees you instinctively grinding forward against his member. “Cream my cock?” He watches your fucked out expressions, loving how your eyes are lined with tears.  

“I’m planning on it, “ he smirks before thrusting up into you.  

“J-jisung!” you’re a sobbing mess above him as his harsh thrusts sends pure pleasure up your spine.  His name falls off your lips like a mantra, and the gibberish he can’t make out only urges him to move furiously into you.  Though your brain is a puddle of mush, the band in your lower abdomen is about to snap, so you grind your hips against him with newly found fervor, stimulating your clit in the best way possible. 

Jisung watches you above him as his fingers dig into your waist.  You’re so beautiful, he thinks.  Everything about you, every part of your mind and body he worships, and he swears he’s not going to let go of you this time. 

“S-sung,” you moan again and again, and Jisung continues to abuse your boob, kissing up your throat as you inch closer to your high. “So perfect.” 

You let out a high-pitched moan at a specific thrust, and your thighs tremble against his.  "I got you," he says as he places a gentle kiss on your lips.  And after a few thrusts, you're collapsing against him, again repeating his name.  You're just a lick away from teetering off the edge.  

“I want it so bad,” you blabber against his neck.  “S-so close.  Don’t stop.” 

“Give it to me,” he dips underneath to circle your bundle of nerves with the perfect pressure and you come undone, high-pitched moans and whimpers against his ear.  

 The mix of cum and the slick from prior allows the glide to be that much easier for Jisung to glide against as he tips over the edge as well.  You’re still pulsing and gripping his cock like a vice and it’s a done deal for Jisung.  “Inside?” 

“Inside me,” you kiss the side of his neck.  He feels euphoric as your noises against his ear urges him on and his arms hold you tightly.  And after a few more thrusts and desperate hips, his cum shoots inside you.  “Fuck.” 

It's so much energy that when the sensation of your high washes over you, you collapse against Jisung, who also collapses against the mattress. 

“You’re sticky,” you look at his face and admire how good the afterglow of sex looks on him.  

 Jisung massages little circles across the small of your back in comforting stillness.  

“I’m going to murder Hyuck,” he realizes how much the humidity encases the room. 

“Maybe not too brutal, because his plan to lock us in here so we can finally make up worked,” you notify him and his eyes light up.

“I think everyone’s asleep.  How about we torture them some more?” he smirks at you.  

“I say Hyuck isn’t going to get a wink of sleep tonight,” you mischievously grin and it’s enough for Jisung to dive down and continue drowning in your lips. 

DECEMBER 31  11:59 PM

“Damn, I can’t believe my plan worked! You guys are attached to the fucking hip,” Hyuck comes over to you and Jisung hand-in-hand.  

10

“Your plan worked for once dumbass,” Jeno butts in abruptly, almost spilling the alcohol in his cup. 

9

“We have no more arguing but I don’t know if it’s worth it,” Jaemin points.  

8

“You guys are like rabbits!” Mark yells out.

7

“Gross! Not the fucking time! I need to find someone to kiss,” Renjun groans. 

6

“Yeah but everything Hyuck does to end our suffering, it just reappears as something else!” Chenle laughs, earning a middle-finger from the subject of his words. 

5

“Guess you were right.  We can laugh about this on New Year's,” Jeno turns to Hyuck.  

4

“Happy new year motherfuckers,” Chenle says before clinking all the cups together.  

3

You turn to Jisung as the clock counts down, his arm around your waist. “Happy New Year, boyfriend.” 

2

“Happy New Year, Girlfriend,” he smiles the hardest you’ve seen him in a while.  

1

“Happy fucking new year,” he says before smashing his lips onto yours. 

Happy fucking new year indeed. 

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - DEFEND YOUR HONOUR

A/N: And another one-shot with my precious Logan. This has angst and some fluff. Enjoy!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant! female reader

Warning: angst, some fluff

Words: 3700+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - DEFEND YOUR HONOUR

It was a wild, exhausting day. Well, more like five days. The last time I visited my parents was almost a year ago. They knew nothing about my new life, only the lies I told them.  That’s why I didn’t have time to see them as often as they wanted to. 

I missed them. That’s why I came back. I thought my short vacation with them in my home town would be without incidents and fights. Oh how wrong I was. 

It was eleven in the evening. I was sitting on the front porch, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. The night was cold. Autumn hit with full force. I wished I could return to the place where I felt more at home. Unfortunately, the school was over four hours drive away from my hometown. 

I had my phone in my hands, contemplating whether to call the person who could make me smile or not. My eyes were on the contact name, and I was not sure whether to press the button or forget about it and head back to bed. It was too late for a phone call even when I knew he’d be up. After a couple of deep breaths, I decided to tap the screen and call my boyfriend Logan. 

<< Hey baby. 

Hearing his voice made me smile. Logan picked up the call quickly. “Hi. I hope I didn’t wake you up.” 

<< No, of course not. I’m reading that book you got me before you left. Damn, good choice, baby. 

I laughed. “Yeah, it’s that good? Glad you like it. Maybe I’ll get you to read more. Even if they are historical memoirs or anything that has to do with history. We could start our own club, just the two of us.” I heard him laugh. Quickly, he changed the topic.

<< So, how’s the visit going? Everything good? 

I sighed, not knowing what to say to him. I didn’t want to complain. I already told him something about my parents - how they treat me even when they care about me. My relationship with my family was complicated. “It’s okay,” I said simply. “It’s okay. Really, okay.”

<< One more and I’ll believe ya.

“It is what it is. I always believe it’ll be better and it’s not,” I admitted. “Only two more days and I’ll head to the mansion. I have the bus tickets and everything planned to get back.” 

<< What happened, darlin’? You know you can talk to me.

“I know,” I kept shaking my head, nodding to no one. “I just don’t want to complain. I hate complaining. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” 

<< I get that you hate it. But maybe it’s time you did complain a little. I am here for you, darlin’. I’ll listen and we can talk about it. I don’t want you to feel miserable. Just… can’t believe you decided to visit them when they treat you like shit. 

He was right. They always treated me like shit. As an only child, I was the black sheep of the family. Or they saw me as one. My parents didn’t mind ridiculing me in front of our other relatives or their friends. Even as an adult, they continued to do this to me. I was dumb enough to let them. 

<< Tell me what happened, Y/N.

“We visited my relatives, my father’s sister, and they all ganged up on me,” I said. My voice was low. I whispered most of the time, not to wake anyone up. 

I didn’t trust anyone from my family. They didn’t know I was a mutant, where I was working or that I saved the day multiple times since becoming an X-man. They lost my trust the moment they decided to invade my privacy as a teen and snoop around my messages, diaries and stuff. It wasn’t just that. I was ridiculed for liking books, and for being too excited about the little things in life. My taste for music was weird and laughable. My lack of interest in boys was concerning. It was a whole story. 

“My friend and I wanted to go to a concert in a few months. I got excited someone wanted to attend with me - no, baby, you don’t listen to that kind of music -  and they decided to make me feel miserable for my excitement,” I explained. 

<< Darlin’, why do you always let them do this to you? 

“Because I am dumb,” I rolled my eyes. “Because I hate fights and any type of quarrels. I don’t like conflicts.” 

Logan knew I never mentioned to my family that I was seeing someone. I wasn’t ashamed of the relationship - the opposite, honestly. My family didn’t deserve to know anything about me. 

<< I think it’s time you cut contact with them. I know it sounds horrible when I say it. As If I tried to influence you in some way. Just, fuck, I hate when they make you miserable. Baby, to me, it seems like they don’t care and don’t give a shit about your well-being. 

I knew he was right. And yet, I was afraid to do that step. “They are my parents-”

<<Whom treat you like shit, Y/N. I am so fucking angry at them. I should have come with you. I’d be there to teach them a fucking lesson about respecting the woman I love. 

Those words made me smile. Never in my life have I had someone to defend me like Logan would. The grump, my grump, was there for me when no one was. He was mine for over a year now. 

“You love me, yay,” I said happily. 

<< Baby, you know damn well I love you. I should have been there tonight. I should have been there to let them know how shitty they are. 

I hummed. “That’s okay. I know you’d defend my honour. And I love you for that. I need to survive two more days before I head back to school. The bus drive will be the best thing from this trip.” 

<< The school is your home. So, come back home. Change the bus tickets and leave. I want you here with me, darlin’. 

“No,” I shook my head. “That would be rude. I need to toughen up and survive these last two days. Afterwards, I’m done. Besides, I don’t have a good emergency story.” 

<< You don’t need one. 

“Logan, come on,” I sighed. “I’ll be back in two days. I miss you. Can’t wait to be with you. I’m staying.”

<< Miss you too, darlin’. Two fucking days.

I had to laugh. He was cute and he didn’t know that. After that, we ended the call. I remained sitting on the porch swing, looking at the silent street. Everyone was asleep. The whole neighbourhood calmed down as their residents rested for the night. 

The air got colder, so I moved from the porch, back to my old room and headed to bed. What if I was exaggerating the problem with my parents? What if it was me creating conflict when there wasn’t any? With a heavy sigh, I went to bed. 

The next day was a chaos. Around lunch, my father’s aunt and her family came to the house. “Didn’t your mother tell you? We’ll have lunch together and we wanted to be with you some more before you leave again,” my aunt chuckled at her words. 

“Great,” I said, but I wasn’t thrilled at all.

Her kids were loud, spoilt brats. They’d let them do anything they wanted. It pissed me off. I knew they were my cousins. Unfortunately. As much as I wanted to teach them a lesson and tell them no, their mother would always allow everything. 

Both boys were running around the house, screaming and throwing toys around. To calm them down, they got tablets to do whatever they wanted -  a movie, a game? Why not both? 

Logan was right. I should have left. I didn’t want to spend the rest of the day with them. And with lunch approaching, I knew it would be a stressful one. All the yelling, the bitching and moaning…

We were about to head to the dining table when we heard the doorbell ring once the food was ready to be served. “I’ll get it,” I said. I was the closest to them. 

As I walked to the door, I put my hair in a messy bun, to keep them away when I’d eat. I expected to see a neighbour or another family member that I wasn’t interested in seeing. When I opened the door, I gasped.

“Hey, darlin’.” 

Logan was leaning against the doorframe. He had black sunglasses on his face, dressed in those damn jeans and a green-blue flannel shirt. A brown leather jacket was resting on his shoulders. Dressed to kill… me. Fuck. He looked hot.

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” My eyes widened, lips twitched because they wanted to curl into a smile. I grabbed him by the leather jacket to pull myself closer to him. He smelled like cigars and nice minty body spray. 

“I came to rescue my princess from this hellhole,” he said, voice firm and serious. 

I coughed. “What? Baby, we’re having an unexpected family lunch,” I made a face. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you are here,” I hummed with a smile. “Wait, did you ask Charles to help you get here? You went through my file!” 

“I needed to get here somehow,” said Logan innocently. “And it seems I am on time for lunch. I am starving.”

My mouth dropped to the floor when I heard him say that. I wanted to say something, anything. Unluckily, my mother decided to make herself present by approaching us. “Oh, hello, is everything okay?” she asked us. 

Logan put down his glasses and grinned at my mother. “I came to see your daughter.” 

“Oh?” 

I looked up at the ceiling, cursing mentally. I felt stress crawl up my back. Not because Logan decided to show up. It was my mother’s subtle reactions. How her brows rose, how I could sense the tension in her body. Or was it thrill?

“This… is… Logan,” I lazily turned to my mother. “He’s my boyfriend.” 

“You have a boyfriend?!” she squealed. “And you didn’t tell us?” It seemed she was offended. “You never tell us anything! Ah! This is a big deal. Oh my god!”

Deep breath in and slow exhale. I did it multiple times. Immediately, Logan approached me as I tried to calm myself down. He rested his hand on my lower back. 

One last deep breath. “Uh, we’ll be right there. I need to talk to Logan for a moment, okay?” 

My mother nodded, grinning like a maniac. She clapped her hands and ran back to the dining room. I knew she would let her mouth run wild and comment on what she saw. Lunch was about to turn into a nightmare. 

“You okay, baby?” Logan asked me gently. 

I pushed him outside and closed the door behind us. I was panicking a little. “This day is crazy,” I mumbled. “Oh my god.” I panicked a little. 

As I got closer to Logan, he wrapped his arms around my body, pressing me to his chest. “Everything will be fine,” he assured me. “You angry at me?” 

“No,” I said. “Quite the opposite. I’m glad you are here,” I inhaled his scent which helped me calm down a bit. “Fuck, you are like a gift from heaven. I should have listened to you and headed back to school. I’ve been receiving shit since the very morning. And now, my aunt and her family are here and… I want to run away.” 

He pressed a kiss on top of my head. “So, let’s go. Fuck them,” he said. “I’ll get your stuff and we are out of here.” 

“It’s not that easy,” I sighed. 

He growled, thinking. “Okay, listen to me,” he pushed me enough to look into my face. “Here’s the deal. One shit, one stupid thing from them, we are out. I don’t give a shit they are your family. They will not disrespect you. I won’t allow that.” 

I didn’t have the chance to say something. Logan took my hand and led me back into the house. He trusted his instinct which led him to a room filled with my family members. The moment we stepped into the dining room, all eyes were on us. 

First came the introductions. My father tried to be intimidating. My uncle used his dumb intelligent humour to impress Logan. Neither of us found it funny. My aunt was too touchy. I wanted to step on her foot for that. My cousins didn’t give a shit. They were interested in their mobile games. 

“How long have you been together?” 

It was the first of many questions. Logan and I sat next to each other. My mother brought a plate for him. One of his hands found my thigh, squeezing it reassuringly. “It’s been over a year now,” he said, voice low and gruff. 

“Where did you meet?” my aunt asked. 

“At work,” I said quickly. “We work in the same building.” 

“Really?” My father didn’t believe that. “He doesn’t look like someone who would work in a big corporate company.”

“Dad!” I glared at him. 

No one knew what I was, what was my real job. I told them a story about my life in New York, working for a big company. For them, I was the daughter who moved to New York. I wasn’t the mutant, the whiny girl they used to call me. Of course, Logan knew it all.

My aunt eyed Logan once more. “They take you seriously with that hair?” she asked him. 

My eyes almost popped out of my head. I couldn’t believe she dared to say it. “Excuse me?” was all I got out of my mouth.

And it got worse. 

“We always believed our Y/N would move to Europe and live her life there. Empty promises how she’d become a writer, leave the country and live a better life,” my mother laughed. “We believed she would be the one to leave the county and do great things. And here we are.” 

“Still can’t believe she didn’t settle down. But what do you want from someone who’s not fond of kids? She always hated kids, so be prepared she wouldn’t want a family with you,” said my aunt. 

“She never went to college. She lied to us about applying, her interest in decusation.” 

“Always complaining and crying.” 

“She was a sensible child.”

“She suffered from depression and anxiety.”

Logan smashed a hand against the table. All the plates and cutlery rang. I closed my eyes, ready to release my last breath from all the humiliation. My family went rampage - saying shit that even they knew was not true. But here we were. 

“Everyone shut your goddamn mouths,” he snarled, slowly rising from the table. “She is your goddamn daughter and you’ve been treating her like shit the moment I sat behind this damn table. How the fuck do you think you make her feel?” 

“Language!” my aunt glared at him. “Children are present.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your two spoilt bastards,” Logan glared at her. “You can’t even make them put the damn tablets down while eating.”

“Who do you think you are?” my mother asked. She was offended by Logan’s behaviour. 

“I am the guy who needs to put you in your fucking place. You do not respect your daughter and you keep humiliating her in front of me. Instead of saying something nice, something positive, you’ve been running your mouth off with a lot of bullshit and I am sick of it.” 

Logan grabbed me by my arm and helped me get up. I barely listened to a word they all said. My mind was spiralling. I felt like the biggest loser, the black sheep of the family. Someone who shouldn’t be born.

“Don’t you fucking dare say one more word about her,” Logan spat at them. “Or I swear, I will make your lives miserable. She’s the most amazing woman in this godforsaken world. She means the world to me. She’s the definition of goodness, kindness and love. And fuck, I don’t deserve her. But I will defend her and show her how worthy of love she is because it seems you never loved her in the first place!” 

Silence. Everyone was glaring at Logan, shocked by the words he said. As if they all forget how to speak. 

“Y/N? How can you be with this rude man?” 

“Rude?” I raised a brow. “You’ve been rude to me the whole week I was here. Logan defended me when no one else did. Even I couldn’t stand up for myself and send you to hell and back! You are the rude here, not him.” 

“That’s not true,” my uncle chimed in.

I got up from the table. “I’m gonna go pack and we’ll be on our way.” 

“I’ll wait for you in the car,” said Logan, quickly pressing a kiss to my temple as I walked by him. 

The packing took me less than five minutes. I threw everything into my suitcase. I made sure I had my documents. The moment I got downstairs with my belongings, my mother was the first by my side. 

“You can’t be serious,” she said. 

“I am.”

“And with that man?”

I stopped and glared at her. My feelings were battling inside of me. I wanted to scream, shout nasty words and throw a tantrum like a child would. However, I would never do that. I hated conflicts. I hated this moment.

“Bye, Mother,” I said and left the house. 

Once I stepped out of the house I grew up in, I felt relief and grief. A chapter, that was supposed to end sooner, finally closed. It was not a happy ending, but it had to happen to move on. Without Logan’s help, I wouldn’t be able to do that. Thank god he came here so unexpectedly. He got my back.

Logan was leaning against the car, cigar in his mouth. When I approached him, he took my suitcase and put it inside the car. 

“Thanks,” I whispered. 

I ended up in his tight embrace. The cigar long forgotten. He had to put it off on his hand. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get going.” 

“Take me home,” I said with a broken voice. 

“Home?” I knew he was smiling when he said that.

“Yes,” I nodded. “ Like you said - the X-mansion is my home. You are my home. Not this, not here.” 

Logan lifted my head by pressing a finger under my chin. Our eyes met. “I’m sorry they never treated you right. I’m sorry they saw you as something damaged, broken, now worthy of their time” He took a deep breath. “I’ll do everything to show you, that you are the best thing that ever happened to me. You…” Logan sighed. “You are the love of my life.” 

“Logan,” I gasped. We told each other many times the three beautiful words. This was something new, deep. It was an undiscovered territory that didn’t feel intimidating. 

His lips found mine in a simple kiss. I tasted the cigars and the coke he had during unfinished lunch. It was perfect. Like a definition of our relationship. “Let’s get you home, darlin’.” 

[moonstruckme]

hi mae, if its not too much trouble could you do something with james and r where r has to deal with likr a creep on a train or smth. ive just had a real weird experience rn and its just.hm

Ugh I'm so sorry babe, I wish we each had a James with us all the time

cw: man being creepy (no sa or harassment, just gross behavior)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 934 words

You clock the danger long before your boyfriend does, but you suppose it’s a lot more drilled into one of you than the other. 

The man gets on a few stops after you do, and his gaze seems aimless until it lands on you. It’s not a busy time; the bus is nearly empty, but of course he goes and stands next to you as if there are no open seats. You should have known better than to sit by the aisle. 

James’ chatter fades into the background as your mind starts to whirl with possibilities. What if this man grabs you? What if he tries to keep you from getting off at your stop? What if he waits until you get off, and then follows you home? 

“Hey.” James is looking at you quizzically. He reaches for your opposite arm, scrubbing up and down lightly. “You okay?” 

You use the touch as an excuse to lean into his side, murmuring so the man can’t hear you. “If that guy’s still here when it’s my stop, will you get off with me? Or I could ride to yours, if that’s better.” 

James looks past you, noticing the man for the first time, and you see clarity dawn on his expression as he does the same math you had. You can feel the man’s stare burning into the side of your head; he’s not even being subtle about it. James pulls you closer to his side. 

“Hey, mate,” he says, tension underlying his jovial tone. “Do you wanna take a seat? There are plenty open.” 

You chance a look over, and the man’s eyes lock with yours like it’s the opportunity he’s been waiting for. You feel James’ arm tense. 

“You have pretty hair,” the man says. 

You smile tersely. Polite, carefully unfriendly. “Thanks.” 

That seems to satisfy him; the man does take a seat. The one directly behind you. Anxiety prickles over your skin at not being able to see him. 

You at least feel better now that James is aware, too. He keeps his face turned to you, one eye on the seat behind you, as he picks up your conversation about the film you’ve just seen. Remus and Sirius were the ones who wanted to see it in the cinema; they thought it was artistic and meaningful, whereas you and James are in agreement it was dull and pretentious. Odd, aimless dialogue, experimental camera angles, hardly any plot. James thinks if you can get Sirius away from Remus he’ll agree. Competitive thing that he is, he’s hatching a plan to do so when the man leans forward and pushes his nose into your hair. 

The sound of his inhale sends goosebumps racing down every inch of your skin. You go rigid, attempting subtly to lean forward while all the nerves in your body scream at you to run. 

“Hey, what the fuck?” James doesn’t take care to lower his voice. 

As though you’d been waiting for permission, you jump away, getting as far out of reach as possible before turning around. James’ arm has barred across the back of your seat, his hand gripping the pole on the opposite side and the muscles in his forearm strained with tension. 

“What makes you think you can do that to someone?” he asks, equal parts incredulous and irate. 

People in the bus have turned to look. The bus slows as you approach the next stop. 

“Let’s get off,” you tell James. 

“What?” He turns to you for a second before seeming to remember he should be keeping an eye on the man. Who has been silent, but for what he said to you. He looks entertained by James’ outburst, which almost scares you worse than anything that’s happened thus far. You know James is very fit, but you don’t want to get him in a fight. “Why should we get off? We haven’t done anything wrong!” 

The doors open, and people start to file off. “James,” you say, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and giving a slight tug. “Please.” 

He hesitates a second longer, looking somewhere between bewildered and outraged, before he says, “Fine, okay,” and grabs your bag. You tug him into the aisle, careful to keep both of you out of reach of the man. Once you’re off the bus, you start walking quickly, pulling James along and casting glances over your shoulder to be sure the man from the bus doesn’t follow. It’s only when the bus pulls away and he hasn’t gotten off that you stop. 

“Ugh.” You heave a tremendous sigh, hugging James around the middle and dropping your forehead to his chest. “Sorry.” 

“That was fucking insane,” he says, cupping the back of your head protectively. “Does that happen to you often?” 

You let out a little laugh. “That specifically? No. But I know better than to talk to guys like that.” 

“Sorry.” James kisses your hairline. Lets his lips rest there. “I thought it was going to help.” 

“It’s not your fault, he was going to be weird either way. I’m really glad you were there.” 

He squeezes you tighter. It helps you release the tension from your shoulders, giving in to him. “That was fucking disgusting,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m ever not there.” 

You shudder. “Is it weird that I feel like I need to shower?” 

“Nope. But do it at mine. I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about that guy finding your place for the next several days.” 

“How would he do that, James?” 

“Dunno. But just to be safe.”

[tinytennisskirt]

best friend!patrick zweig who is totally not in love with you…

headcanons with a plot <3

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing, marijuana, smoking, casual touches, jealousy, and silent yearningggg

- insists that he drives you home even if you’re the slightest bit tired. you yawn at his place- you’re not driving home. he says it’s to keep you safe but really, he just wants more time with you.

“it’s like twenty minutes out, i’ll drive, it’s nothing.”

“i’m perfectly fine to drive! i just yawned, i’m not tired.”

his foot is down. “yeah, that’s not happening.”

“you’re going to take a bus home? patrick…”

“i’ll take a taxi if it makes you feel better?”

“uh huh.”

- he follows the sidewalk rule. he’s never heard of it before but he does it, just on his own.

- saves you the last slice or even bite of anything he’s eating that’s worth it. he orders a really good burger, the very last bit left is yours. ordering a pizza, the last slice is yours. even a slice of cheesecake, the last bite is yours. bonus points to him for making sure the last bite contains all elements of what he had. the burger has all toppings left on the last bite, the cheesecake has the crust and the caramel drizzle, etc.

- doesn’t get why you choose such shitty men to go out with and waste your best dresses for the wrong eyes. he plays it off as caring about you, but he’s jealousss

“i have another date tonight with tony,” you tell him. he looks up from the can of ravioli he’s opening.

“tony with the hair or tony with the fake hair?”

you tsk, “with the hair.”

“the guy with the weird moustache who runs the laundromat? really?”

“he’s nice!”

“just nice shouldn’t cut it. and doesn’t he have the weird butt-chin thing? come on.”

“he treats me well! compliments me, pays for things…”

“yeah okay, with the laundromat money, you’re sure it’s not going on credit?”

by the end of the conversation he’s telling you that you look nice, a little defeated, but he means it. he can’t talk you out of it truly without first admitting he likes you and secondly, admitting to you he likes you.

- he’s always down to spend time with you. he might say he’s busy but he’s not. and when he is, he moves things around just to see you, but he won’t tell you that.

- he buys the drinks you like just to keep them in the fridge. he buys more every time he goes out so the stock of it keeps growing and soon enough it’s taking up two shelves in his fridge.

“i’m going to make something to eat for dinner,” you say, opening the fridge. and the fridge is near-full of your favourite drink. he usually gets it for you, you’d assume he just had a few but no. he has so many. and the thing is, he doesn’t like the drinks. so it’s just really weird. there’s a million of your drinks and then in the empty spaces, ketchup, mustard, milk, ground beef, cheese, and two red peppers next to the can of opened redbull. what for? who knows. you walk back out to where patrick is sitting and he looks up from his phone.

“we can get groceries. don’t have much right now,” he reaches for his keys and you laugh just a little, which stops him. you hold up one of the drinks and he just stares at it, knowing you know about the shelves upon shelves of it. “they were on sale, fuck off.”

- any time you’ve slept at his place he either gives up his bed and sleeps on the couch, or if you fall asleep on the couch you always wake up the next morning with a comfy blanket over you and a proper pillow under your head. he won’t move you, he’s too afraid to wake you. or on nights when you know you’re staying over or even on a whim, he’s used to giving you his clothes to sleep in because he knows you like the fit of them. they’re comfortable.

- without you coming over, patrick wouldn’t do any of his chores. he’s only motivated by the idea that you might come over and think he’s a slob. you already know he’s a slob, but he does a good job at hiding it. it always smells a bit like febreeze when you come over and not that you mind it- it smells good. but it can’t mask the slight cigarette scent and the scent of his cologne which is without a doubt on every surface he’s ever layed on.

- he’s the guy you can go to for honest opinions because he’ll always shamelessly side with you. a fight with a friend who was clearly in the wrong? he doesn’t even try to see the other perspective, he’s on your side no matter what. your ex and his new girl? he thinks she’s ugly and a downgrade and he’s an asshole for posting the grocery store flowers he got for her. he’s jealous, but he’s good knowing your ex fumbled you.

“they’re yellow.”

“he got her yellow chrysanthemums?”

you chuckle and look at him. “you know what flowers those are?”

“saw them the other day at the store. on sale, $5. same ones, look at the wrapping.” he says, pointing at the laptop. “he’s broke and she doesn’t even know it.”

you laugh. he’s glad to hear it.

- when you go out to bars he pays for your drinks. says you deserve it- you do come over and cook all the time so why not?

- patrick is known to crack a few jokes but when you’re serious, so is he. you’re upset? he’s listening, he won’t make fun of you unless he knows it’ll make you feel better. he’ll sit next to you, let you talk, cry, get really angry, get really sad. he’s there. and he’ll comfort you in whichever way you need. it’s his softer side, the one you bring out. lets you lean against him, he’ll even hug you if you ask.

- he’s a GOOD HUGGER. he gives amazing hugs, they are so enveloping, so comfortable. his arms wrap all the way around and not only do his arms squeeze you the perfect amount of tight, but his hands as well. he’s always warm but not hot, and he smells like good cologne and slightly of cigarettes. he’ll take any chance to hug you and you’ll gladly have it.

- struggling not to think about fucking you when you’re trying on dresses for a date. he’s thinking ‘what will these guys think when they see you?’ and his mind is on one thing that they’ll be thinking. but his mind is on it too, when you come out in a little black tube dress and you ask him if it’s too short. it’s too short for sure.

“what about the cleavage though? too much? not enough?”

“hm?” he’s not paying attention to your words.

“the cleavage. too much?”

“yeah. maybe try a turtleneck.”

yeah yeah it’s wrong to think about sex with your best friend, but the dresses, each shorter and showing more skin than the next we’re making him so incredibly horny. he doesn’t do well with that. goes home and fucks his own hand at the thought. helps to distract himself from the fact you’re out on a date with someone else who might actually get to take off that dress :(

- he’ll show up at your place with whatever it is you say you’ve been wanting and he will make a night out of it. wings? he’s at your door with them in an hour. drinks? yeah he stopped for a six pack of whatever he grabbed. he’s always down to get food. you want to go out? he’ll pick you up to go get whatever it is you’ve been wanting. a good excuse to actually work on bulking. not that it’s date-like.

- he’s got a photo of you in his wallet. it’s a platonic thing, he swears to the girl he takes on a date. she’s pretty but she’s not you. the photo of you sitting pretty with a potted plant doesn’t give off ‘available’ and yeah he kisses her but she is not you. he leaves early and calls you on his way back. he’s pretty sure he’s fucked forever because he’s realizing he only wants you.

- he’s protective at parties. he’s already watching you dance and have fun but when you come there with him and start flirting with guys it provokes him just a little more than it would if he were sober. he’ll walk over and slip his arm around your shoulder or even your waist if he’s had enough to drink and he’ll ask the guy how he’s doing and he’s 100% running interference pretending he’s just out of it from the alcohol and it isn’t the fact he’s jealous.

“hey man,” patrick usually greets the guy, hand resting on the small of your back. he’s always got a big smirk on his face, tongue against his cheek. “what’s up?” the move usually scares the guy off and you playfully hit or elbow him, but it’s worth it.

- his doors are always open to you. you have a key if you need it. so when you show up, soaked from the rain, upset over tony the laundromat guy being the dick patrick was so right about him being (despite not knowing the guy at all), he wraps you in his arms and he listens to the whole story. you’re complaining about genuine men being so hard to find and he’s sitting right there. he just brings his hand to rest against his jaw and looks off to the side at something as you continue speaking and he’s listening, he just hates what he’s hearing.

- he’ll take off whatever jacket he’s wearing if you’re cold. he won’t be happy about it- or look happy about it, but he might be a little happy about it… he’ll complain about what he’s going to do in the cold but the sweater or jacket is on you within five minutes of your ask.

- he’ll begrudgingly do whatever you ask of him. like he does not want to get up at 4:50 in the morning and drive to the hilltop to watch the sunrise. he wants to stay asleep, snoring in his bed, but you wake him up and he hates it, but it’s you and it’s the sunset so he goes with you. but in his still-tired state all he can seem to focus on is the light of the sunrise hitting your skin. he’ll either do it super slowly or begrudgingly, sometimes he might even say no. but it never stays a no.

- again. can’t stand that you keep giving your time to men who don’t know how to treat you. he goes to the bar, he drinks about it a little, he talks to the bartender about you. the bartender knows you by name, knows your favourite album, knows you go out with guys who aren’t him, and he knows you’re beautiful, having your features described by a drunk patrick who uses his hands a lot to gesture. it’s weird when you go to the bar with patrick another night and the bartender already knows your name and the drink you want.

- drunk patrick uses all the self control he has not to tell you he wants you. he almost lets it slip with unfinished sentences. does everything he can to fend himself off, but he’s very close to you when he’s drunk, his already-bad spatial awareness so much worse while impaired. his face always close to yours, nose sometimes hitting yours, he comes so close. hands reach for your waist when he’s near you. you don’t mind it- it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. it’s a different feeling. you manage to wrangle him into his bed and make him drink water. he’s talking to you like there are important things you need to know before he absolutely passes out.

“if that tony guy comes around again i hope he knows i owe him a broken nose,” he’ll say and he’s grinning and you’re just rolling your eyes at him, he’s so stupid. “you have to stop dating these guys, fucking douchebags. i know i’m not much better, but at least i don’t wear axe body spray and pick you up in a beat up honda.”

“patrick, you drive a honda,”

“mine isn’t beat up.” he says. so honest. you laugh at him and hand him back the cup of water. but he says it, “you deserve more than that kind of guy. want you to have someone who really gives a fuck, you know?”

“if i could find one,” you say. half-oblivious, half-looking for him to say something that’ll have meaning. it’s the first time his drunk mind is telling him the feeling in his chest is heartache. oh my god, he feels like such a girl- he just grins, dimples on his cheek crawling all the way up. he covers his face.

- when you’re hanging out with mutual friends, smoking, talking, he’s always taking the seat next to you. your friends all know he’s into you- most of them suspect you’re already dating on the down low, the way you guys are so close. you’re sitting on the couch and his arm is up on the back of the couch behind you, your hand sometimes resting on his leg, you have your own conversations on the side and you’re laughing and leaning toward each other. it’s obvious. he’s obvious. YOU are obvious. and oblivious! painfully.

- patrick will shave his beard for your birthday. he’ll trim it regularly but on your birthday he shaves it all off, it’s an annual thing. bare-faced and you find it so so fun to see him without.

- the dress you wear on your birthday is a little too perfect. the mix of you and your hair done and your makeup and the intention of drinking with your girl friends and asking him how you look before you leave. you usually ask him before you go out. he’s going out with you and your friends, but he comes over a little early, just how things are. he’s always honest.

“you look… wow.” he’s looking at you. you’re standing in front of him, little dress, perfectly fit to your body. and you’re smiling, doing a little spin. and you’re beautiful and god you’re so fucking hot. patrick fears for the possibility of his sober thoughts becoming drunk words later. you’re already unbearably fucking beautiful what is he going to do with himself?

- he’s a touchy drunk. not with everyone, not the same way he is with you. when he drinks his hands are magnetic to you, resting on your hands, hand on the small of your back, your waist, your arm. like i said before, you’re used to it, you don’t mind it, but it’s different when he’s staying somewhat sober because he’s afraid of how he’d act if he had more than three shots. he wouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with- it’s not that, it’s the fact he’s scared if he drinks tonight that you in your element, dancing, laughing, having fun in that little dress would provoke him to spill all of his secrets. he’s got a stoic form of self-understanding he’s taking to prevent anything dumb from falling out of his mouth under the influence.

- he does, however, fend off the creepy guys or just the assholes who try and buy you more drinks or even talk to you. he won’t let them get so far as to ask for your name. you whine but he just tells you, “you wouldn’t want to talk to them sober.” and you’re like hmm true. the defender position includes closing your tab, getting you home, and getting you inside safely. and usually you take care of him when he’s drunk or high, but he takes the opportunity very seriously. before he’s helped you get to bed but this particular time you’re asking him to undo the zipper on your dress and you’re lifting your hair.

he’s not going to tell you no, so he undoes the zipper and in seconds you’re stripping in front of him unabashedly and he turns around, arms folded, grinning to himself because of course this was happening. he is not an asshole, so he won’t turn around until you’re dressed, but when he turns around you’re only in one of his shirts that he’s been wondering where it went- and your underwear and you’re asking him to come sit with you because it’s still technically your birthday (it’s not).

he will, but he doesn’t want to stick around too long. despite the lack of alcohol, there’s still a pull to tell you how he feels, but that’s girly. and you’re drunk. he puts you to bed after making you drink water.

- he’s the kind of guy to keep a condom in his wallet- he’s never going to use it, it’s probably expired and worn in front his wallet being in his pocket but he has it in there. in fact it’s right behind the photo of you.

- he also has a stolen street sign in his living room from when he was on tour after high school. it’s custom for all guests visiting his place to slap it before they enter the room. if you don’t, there’s no consequences, but it’s just wrong not to. he will, however, catch YOU on it if you forget. holds you to it in whichever way he can.

- he’s totally debating on kissing you almost every time he’s with you. it’s getting progressively worse every time he’s with you he swears he’s going to do it but he doesn’t want to. (he wants to sooo fucking badly, it’s insane). any time you pass him by, every time you say his name, when you sit next to him, when you’re talking to him about anything, engaging with him, looking him in his eyes. it’s a struggle not to.

and you’re friends, longtime friends so the casual touches get to be too much, even. you cup his face with your hands saying he needs to shave and he’s only staring at your lips.

or you sit sideways next to him on the couch facing him and your hand is on his shoulder and you’re so close to him when you talk he really could just reach over and kiss you.

you sit on his counter while he’s making spaghetti and you’re eating the shredded cheese out of the bag and it’s weird but the height your at, it would be perfect.

- you are the cause of his biggest grins and most laughter. you don’t even have to try. he enjoys your company more than anyone else’s. platonically, romantically, in every way. you are his best friend. you get him on a level even art didn’t.

- he’ll pick you up whenever you need him to. doctors appointment, from a friend’s- so when your self-proclaimed final attempt at a date ends up terribly, he’s the first person you call. you’re all pretty for another piece of shit and patrick has to pretend he’s not happy the guy was so weird. you get in the car and his eyes fall on your collarbone and your thighs and you yourself catch it. his eyes. you pull a knowing little look. “shut up,” he says, driving away without even letting you get your seatbelt on.

- he’s not a door holder very often. maybe for old ladies and kids, and the occasional friend, but he’s holding every door open for you. he even opens the car door for you most times. get back to his place, you don’t want to go home yet, he holds the door for you on your way in. you hit the street sign on the wall before flopping down on his couch. it smells like citrusy febreeze and a bit like his cologne. out of his personal needs of restraint, he tosses you one of his comfy shirts and shorts so you can be out of that little dress. and after you take them to his bathroom to get changed, he’s still feeling the same way about the way you look. it was not the dress’ fault.

- the thing with patrick and other women is he’s never been afraid to go up to a girl, hit on her, he’s hardly been afraid to kiss a girl. he’s pretty confident all around but you are so different. the need to kiss you is all-consuming. he wonders if he should talk to you about things first when he’s never considered more than the flavour of a girl’s lip balm in the past. you make him nervous, sitting there in his clothes. i say there, but you’re next to him, hair behind your ears, talking about how you think you’re done with dating and you’re going to wait until the perfect guy falls into your lap. you’re playing some angle but he’s thinking that it’s a good thing. the conversation turns to joking, he’s teasing you, you tease back it’s just normal.

- of course patrick has a snack pantry. if he doesn’t have groceries, he has snacks. at a random point in conversation you tell him you could really go for an oreo right now and he’s so on that. so you both take a trip to the kitchen and you’re looking in the cabinet and you find the oreos and share them while continuing to talk at the counter. you’re going on about how strange your date was and how you felt if you stayed you’d be on a true crime document and the conversation begins to turn to thanking him for coming to get you. but like mentioned before, he’d always come get you. didn’t matter how far you were but he wouldn’t say that.

“it’s different, it’s not like you picking me up from the dentist, it’s you picking me up when i know you were busy.” you say. he smiles because he really wasn’t that busy- he was just out with friends of course he’d drop them for you. “i just want you to know i’m grateful is all.”

“don’t need to be-“ he says with his mouth full of oreo. “it was nothing, i was nearby anyway.” he wasn’t. he sped. in his honda.

“you’re so weird,” you giggle. “why can’t you just be normal about people thanking you for things you do? you go out of your way far too often.”

patrick chuckles to himself, shutting the package of oreos. he doesn’t do it for anyone else. “how do i be normal about it?”

“you could say ‘you’re welcome’, maybe?” you say. he nods. “i say i’m grateful for you and the things you do for the people you care about, namely me and you say ‘you’re welcome’.”

“we’re rehearsing?” he straightened himself as if getting ready and you pressed your hand to your forehead, smiling. “go for it. say how grateful you are for me and the things i do for you. only you.”

“so stupid, just say you’re welcome.” you giggle, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. he grins, a sly grin, dimple on full display, gorgeous. he turns away from you to put away the oreos (if you weren’t there he wouldn’t have put them away). he shuts the cabinet door. “patrick?”

“yeah?”

and he’s met with your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

- the way patrick kisses is very passionately. that’s who he is. he kissed a lot of girls in high school, met a few on tour that were worth making out with. his kisses are full of passion. but this kiss is from you, so he receives it like a gift. surprisingly politely. he’s never ever been caught so off-guard by a kiss. he didn’t see it coming at all. it’s a small kiss, a few seconds of lips fitting together perfectly, but you pull away. his face stays close to yours. he’s never had a kiss like this before. in the crowd of girls he’s ever kissed. it’s never felt like this. and it was so small.

“i’m sorry,” you say, hushed, but you’re smiling, so how sorry are you? he grins and in an instant, you’re kissing again, deeper, more, hands in his hair and his on your waist, holding tight. it’s all he’s thought about for a month on end. there’s something better than drugs and it’s this, patrick thinks. your back against the pantry door, him against you.

- he’s never been so in need of a kiss before. he’s never been kissed like this before. it’s somehow everything he’s ever wanted and everything he’s never gotten from every girl he’s ever kissed. and the thing about patrick is, like mentioned, he’s a moderately horny guy but this to him is all he wants. he only wants to kiss you. a few minutes pass and he’s doing something he’s never done and that’s talking it out with you. but as soon as he admits he likes you, he’s telling you to shut up because you’re giggling and it’s adorable and you can’t be calling him out on his crush like that…

- you admit to being a little oblivious and maybe admitting to repressing feelings because you weren’t entirely sure- and he’s instantly on making fun of you for it. he makes fun of himself for not seeing it sooner or for making a move sooner but there’s no room for apologies between another kiss. a kiss full of laughter where you just can’t stop laughing but you also won’t stop kissing him and it’s kind of perfect.

[xoxoladyaz]

locked in lowercase (inside a vault)

For @steddie-week Day 3: Longing (1,032 words)

Tags: Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Light Angst, Hopeful Ending

“Eddie, man. I think you should talk to him.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, really? What’s with the sudden change of heart, Emerson? That desperate to knock me down a peg?”

“Dude,” Gareth sighs, and the defenses he’d so easily garnered up fall just a little. “Look, I know I wasn’t all that thrilled about Harrington in the first place – ”

“Oh, that’s the understatement of the fucking century, Gare-bear - ”

“ – but,” Gareth ignores Eddie’s attempts at cutting him off, “that was before I saw how miserable you are without him. Like, dude. We made it. We’re on tour right now, and all you wanna do when we’re not on stage is sit on the bus and play Patsy Cline. You,” Gareth taps Eddie on the chest, “you should be having the time of your fucking life right now, but it’s like you’re not really here with us, man.”

Eddie lets Gareth’s words sink in for a moment. The kid’s not wrong, of course, but he doesn’t get it. He can’t. Eddie barely has the words to describe how the feelings started or what his feelings even are, but any time he bumps into anyone that has that look in their eye, that whole I wanna take an up-and-coming rock star for a ride shine, Eddie turns tail and practically runs the other way. It’s not to say that he hasn’t tried – oh, he tried, especially in those first few cities after first leaving Indiana – but it either didn’t happen or it didn’t end well for either party and eventually he just stopped trying. 

Because none of them were Steve. 

And the worst part is, it’s fucking hopeless. The King never, ever gave Eddie even the slightest inclination that it wasn’t just “babes” for him. (Although, to be fair to Steve, Eddie himself didn’t really know until he was too far away to do anything about it, and that’s assuming Eddie’s balls got big enough to even fucking try something.) Steve was kind to Eddie, sure; hell, he was even calling Harrington his best friend at the end, before they left for tour. But then Eddie started wanting and, even worse, started knowing that he wanted any eyes that looked at him in pleasure to be big and brown and belong to Steve and – well, he hasn’t been playing on this side of the field for long, but even a newbie like him knows just how this is going to play out. 

(Which translates to: he slowly stops calling Steve until he isn’t calling him at all. He takes “Head Over Heels” off the set list. He puts the swim team sweater he stole from Steve’s closet at the bottom of the “extra clothes” pile in the back of the bus. And instead of going out after every show, instead of trying and failing to find some peace in the bottom of a bottle like his dad, he sits in the tour bus and plays Patsy Cline on his acoustic under his fingers bleed.)

“It’ll only make things worse, Gare,” Eddie replies, fishing aimlessly in his pockets for the last of his Camels. “I’ll get over it. Eventually.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you will, but he won’t.”

Eddie’s fingers still in his pocket. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me. You don’t think Robin chews my head off every time I call to check in?”

(It’s just Eddie’s luck, of course, that Gareth’s first-cousin-and-childhood-best-friend happens to be Steve’s other half.)

“Then why don’t you stop calling?” Eddie finally finds a cig and pulls it out of his pocket, only for it to get snatched out of his fingers.

“Because I’m not an asshole, asshole,” Gareth snaps. “And I’m getting really sick and tired of getting yelled at every time I call home because somebody refuses to man up and deal with his feelings.”

Eddie turns in place, glaring at Gareth. “I am dealing with my feelings!”

“By not dealing with them, dumbass! And for the record, you’re making it even more noticeable by notdealing with them! Hell, even Byers asked me about it the last time he called, because why else would you just drop Harrington all together? It’s been like a year, man, you have to deal with this at some point.”

“I – I didn’t know until a month and a half ago, Gareth, what the hell do you mean by the last year?”

Gareth snorts. “Seriously? Seriously. Holy shit, you’re serious. Fucking – really, man? Now I owe Jeff money.”

“GARETH!” Eddie snaps. “What do you mean, the last year?”

Something is on Eddie’s face, some expression that he can’t control, because Gareth’s eyes soften and grow sad. “Eds, man, you wear your heart on your fuckin’ sleeve and your feelings all over your face. All anyone gotta do is see you look at Steve and know.”

“Know? Know what?”

Gareth’s voice is almost a whisper now. “Do I really need to say it?”

The wounded beast in Eddie’s chest shudders. “No.” He pulls his eyes away from Gareth, refocuses on the rings on his hands – and more specifically, the ring made from an antique spoon that Steve had made him when they were going through his parents’ shit.

(It was the only piece of Steve he couldn’t bear to hide away these last six weeks.)

“Does – does he?”

(Eddie can’t finish the question; hell, Eddie doesn’t even know what he’s asking.

Thankfully, somehow Gareth does.)

“Go call him, Eds,” Gareth says. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, a benediction for courage, and then leaves the tour bus, leaving Eddie alone and staring at the phone at the end of the bus.

(Maybe there’s a world where Steve feels, can feel, has felt the same. Maybe there’s a world where, when he told Eddie that he’s taking a break from dating that it meant taking a break from dating someone who wasn’t Eddie. Maybe Steve’s been trying and failing to get past this too, and is spending his nights by the phone like Eddie, waiting for someone to call.)

The phone only rings twice.

“This is Steve.”

(And maybe that world is this one.

But he won’t know until he tries.)

“Hey, Stevie. Got a minute?”

[blushweddinggowns]

There were a lot of things that Eddie loved about going on tour. He loved traveling, exploring the country and beyond with his best friends. He loved the feeling of being on stage, all eyes on them as they played their asses ass. He even loved the tiny twin beds of the tour bus, especially since it usually led to Steve sleeping right on top of him. 

But he especially loved the little rituals they had before a show. 

“Eddie, baby, you gotta, fuck, go soon,” Steve groaned. He was trying to be the voice of reason, even if he was technically still pulling Eddie closer. Eddie was sucking a bruise into his neck, a hand slowly slinking under his shirt. 

“Mmhm,” Eddie mumbled, making no moves to get up. The show didn’t start for another few hours and if he was ten minutes late for mic check, they’d live. Eddie could do a lot in those ten minutes, “Just a little more-”

But then Gareth was pounding on the green room door, “Munson for the love of God, stop making out and get your ass out here!”

“Told you so,” Steve laughed, breathless as Eddie reluntaly got off of him, “Now you’re going to have to rehearse with an erection.”

“Well you have to watch it with one, so we both lose,” Eddie sighed as he stood, stopping to kiss Steve’s forehead.

“Do we? Because last time I checked that door locked. And…” Steve leaned past him, grabbing one of the Rolling Stone magazines from the coffee table. The one that Eddie was on the cover of. He grinned as he lifted it up, “I have the best jerk-off material available. You’re on your own.”

“Oh, you brat,” Eddie groaned just as Gareth started pounding on the door again, “You’re going to pay for that tonight.”

Steve smirked as Eddie walked away backwards, having the audacity to give him a little wave, “I would hope so.”

Eddie forced himself to turn away, comforted by the fact that Steve would barely be able to sit by the time he was done with him.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, Jesus,” He groaned as he swung the door open, nearly getting himself punched in the face in the process. 

Gareth retracted his hand just in time. He looked Eddie up and down with a sigh, “Why am I even surprised?”

“Hi Steve,” He added, waving at him from the doorway, “You mind if I fuck your husband up for being a late asshole? Just a little bit?”

“Just make sure not to hit him in the head,” Steve laughed, face flushed as he buttoned up his shirt, “We can’t have anymore concussions between the two of us.”

“I’ll take it,” Gareth sighed as he grabbed Eddie’s arm. Eddie barely managed to squeak out a quick Love you! before Gareth was dragging him away. 

“Next time you ask us why we make you pay for after-parties please, remember this moment.”

“Will you fault a man for his addiction?” Eddie asked, dramatically putting a hand over his heart, “It’s a dependency I have no fault over-”

“No fault my ass,” Gareth huffed, the smallest hint of a smile hiding behind his grimace, “You’ve been an addict for a goddamn decade.”

from the soon-to-be-published epilogue of this fic

@jjoesjonas because I picked up writing this again after they sent me those Joe Keery audio clips from Fargo 👀👀

[babygorewhore]

10 things I hate about you part three.

Logan Howlett x fem reader

The tension between you and Logan finally comes to a head in this final part.

Part one.

Part two

I found out my dog has cancer today. It’s been a horrible day but I still wanted to write and finish this series. I apologize if it’s shitty but I’m just tired. Can’t wait to write more of him. And if I didn’t tag you when you’ve asked, I simply didn’t remember.

Warnings! Angst! Talks of troubled past! Talk of death! Violence! Arguing! Oral! Fem receiving! Degrading! Praise! Unprotected sex! Hair pulling! Age gap! Reader is late 20s and Logan is late 40s!

“Keep glaring at me and your face is gonna get stuck like that.” You say without looking at Logan who was grumbling to himself.

You both were sitting at a diner the next morning from the all night ride on the bus. Your clothes were messy and your entire body worn out. Logan did allow you to rest on his shoulder until he nudged you awake and told you that you were getting off at this stop.

The waitress set down a pot of coffee, sugar and creams prepared. You were shocked to see Logan give her something close to a smile.

“I take it you want the usual order, James?” The older woman asked and he nodded. She turned to you and grinned.

“Ah, who’s this lovely lady?” You told her your name and she glanced between you both. “I’m glad to see him with someone.” His soft expression hardened and you cleared your throat.

“May I please have blueberry muffins?”

“Of course, sugar. Coming right up.” She chirped and walked away.

“I’ve never heard anyone call you by your first name.” You spoke and Logan rolled his broad shoulders.

“Yeah well that’s how I introduced myself to her.” He replied tiredly and leaned back. “Why didn’t you tell me what your power was?”

Logan’s question was one you wanted to keep avoiding at all costs. Your answer was complicated and you anticipated a poor reaction from you. You didn’t answer and his jaw flexed.

“Alright, bub. You wanna play this game with me? Fine. But I hope for your sake you have one hell of a reason for what you did.”

“Can we just not argue for five minutes?” You sighed and widened your eyes. “It fucking sucked. I get it. You don’t need to keep repeating it.”

To your surprise, he mumbled “Fine.” And watched you take a drink of the hot coffee. “Where are your parents?”

His personal inquiry took you by surprise and you paused. Logan’s dark eyebrow raised in expectation and you purposely took a long sip of coffee.

“They’re gone.” You answered in response and he tilted his head to the side. You exhaled and cleared your throat, setting your mug down. “My father is in prison. And my mother is dead. I killed her.”

Logan snorted and rolled his eyes but then focused when he saw your gaze hardened. He realized you weren’t joking. He opened his mouth but the waitress came with a tray, she set down his meal and two blueberry muffins for you.

“Can I get you a refill?” She asked and you nodded with a wide smile in thanks.

“Yes, please.”

You could tell Logan was itching to ask you more but waited for her to come back. “Leave the pot if you don’t mind.” He quietly asked and she took the hint.

You weren’t getting out of this conversation and you pushed around the food on your plate. “You heard me correctly. I murdered my mother.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Nice try but I’m not a dumbass. I know well enough. You’re not a killer. Something happened and she ended up dead.”

You flicked a hair out of your face and crossed your arms. “You don’t know anything about me. That’s something you’re missing. You just make assumptions about people because you’re bitter and angry at the world.”

This bravery was coming from exhaustion and discomfort but Logan wasn’t falling for your attempt. “She tried to kill me. And I had to stop her.”

“So you cover up all this shit with false charm and wit to distract people from the past? Interesting.”

You smirk. “It’s not false.”

“And you make some bet with the iceman, who wants to fuck you, that you can make me like you because of some dumb crush on me?”

Your heart plummets and you begin to shake.

“You also think I’m stupid. You think I’m so fuckin dumb that I don’t these games you play with people. All of this? All this pretending you do? It’s just an act to keep everyone from seeing what’s really inside. A sad little girl who was abandoned. And you’re hoping someone will help pick up the pieces. Well, it’s not me. Get it through your head.”

You sat in silence after he finished grounding out his lecture with a wave of different emotions. Shame that he knew about the bet. Sadness from him using that against you even though it was true and finally anger coursed through you.

Your first instinct was to get up. Run out of the building and hide away. Maybe even just leave him there and escape back to the school on your own. But that’s not what you did.

Your focus sharpened and Logan blinked a few times as he realized that he couldn’t talk or move. He was extremely strong, stronger than you could have ever imagined as he resisted but your growing temper was keeping him still as you leaned in close.

“I’m sorry about the bet. I shouldn’t have done something so stupid and I know that. But don’t you ever act like you have some kind of idea about me or my life. That would require you to think of anyone else but yourself. Don’t ever bring up that my parents abandoned me. I wish they did. I wish they would have left me instead of what happened.”

At the last word, you finally released him and Logan jerked. He huffed a breath as he watched you stand with red rimmed eyes.

“Xavier found me underneath a pile of a broken house. If it wasn’t for the table above me, I would have been dead that night. And now, I’m just trying to help other people. I’m just trying to be a good person. I didn’t mean to like you and sometimes I don’t even know why. You’re not nice to me. You’ve treated me like shit the entire time. And I don’t deserve that.”

You exited the diner as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your footsteps carried you back to the bus stop for this never ending trip. You’d have to get a new phone, otherwise you’d call someone to come and get you.

You sat on the bench for almost an hour when you heard his heavy footsteps approaching but your eyes remained on the road. Logan sat down next to you, his thigh almost touching yours.

“You’re right. You didn’t deserve that.”

You didn’t give him a response and through the corner of your eye, he faced you. “Susan, the waitress let me use her phone. Couple of people are headed our way to get us.”

You still remained quiet and Logan sighed.

“There’s also a trailer she owns behind the diner. She offered for us to stay there until they arrive.”

“No thanks.” You aimed your body to the side.

“I’m trying to make things right.” He started and you whipped to face him.

“And you’re doing a really shitty job, Wolverine.” You hissed his xmen name like venom and he actually recoiled. The big strong warrior flinched from you. “So please. Spare me the poor attempt and shut the fuck up.”

You’d never spoken to him like that and you got up. You began to storm off, searching for the trailer he spoke of when you felt a hand graze your elbow. In a rage, you twirled on your heel and put your hand on his firm chest.

“Stop chasing after me. You made your point. I was so fucking stupid for making the bet. The only thing you will ever care about is a woman who never chose you. She never chose you! I hid my powers from you because I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want you to think of her when you’d see me use them. I just wanted to spend time with you.” You whispered the last part and Logan’s eyes squeezed shut.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist but to your surprise he gently stroked the skin. Logan’s hold firmed and he tugged you closer to him. Your shoes touched his and he leaned his head down.

“Staying away from me is the best thing anyone can do. Everyone who gets close to me ends up dead. And I won’t have more blood on my hands.” Logan was rejecting you again but his gaze darted to your lips.

But you were the one to pull away.

Logan allowed you to move towards the trailer without another word and you both scanned the small space. There was only one bed but there was a couch as well. You automatically leaned towards the sofa and he stopped you.

“I’ll take the couch. You sleep on the mattress.” He grunted.

You didn’t argue.

You woke to Logan shouting in his sleep. His claws shot out of his knuckles and you kept a safe distance as he woke himself up. Your lower lip was pulled between your teeth as sweat came from his skin and he wildly looked around.

He heaved and sunk his claws back into the bone.

“I get them too.” You offered and he looked up at you.

“I would give anything to have one peaceful night of fucking sleep.” He whispered and you nodded. You took a risk and shifted around. Your legs hung off the bed and you climbed off. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I can help you sleep.”

Logan’s lips tightened. “Pills don’t work for me.”

“I mean using my mutation.” When he didn’t reply you deflated. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive. I know you probably don’t like anyone in your head-“

“Yes.”

His agreement surprised you and you stopped short. You didn’t want him to change his mind about it so you quickly extended a hand. You rested your hand on his dark hair, absentmindedly stroking the soft strands and your heart fluttered.

“Just breathe.”

Logan shut his eyes and allowed you to search his mind for a happy memory. You half expected to see Jean but you instead saw him overseeing a class you instructed. You were smiling in his mind, unaware of him watching and you drew a diagram on a board. It was a calm class that was just an ordinary day.

You continued moving around his thoughts and saw even more images of yourself. Moments of you in the kitchen, play fighting with friends. You saw a time where you played with a service dog outside.

You then proceeded to dig deeper and saw young him. Quietly reading in a large bedroom, decorated in items that were older.

You dropped your hand and came back to the present. Logan’s breathing slowed and he didn’t look tense.

“You’re always so kind to people. Even when they don’t deserve it.” He chuckled. “You’re funny. Especially at night when you try to make the kids go to bed.” Logan looked into your eyes. “You don’t care what people think of you.”

“I didn’t know you even saw those things.” You whispered.

“Why would I want to ruin someone’s sunshine?” He countered and you leaned down.

“You don’t ruin anything, Wolverine.”

“I like that you use my name.” He admitted in a low voice and you swallowed thickly.

“Logan, I wouldn’t hurt you. Not on purpose. I didn’t mean to be so annoying-“

“I like that you push my buttons. You don’t let me be an asshole. You’re like a…puppy.” Logan smiled. It was a genuine one then it dropped. “I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier. Whatever happened between you and your family-it must have been a nightmare.”

“My mother was convinced I was a demon. She did things that were crazy but one night she snapped. And she tried to kill me. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just wanted her to stop.” You shuddered at the memory. “I have nightmares about her. That’s why I always stay up late.”

“Can’t say it gets better. Wish I could. After hundreds of years, I still remember every life I’ve taken. But you-“ He struggled to find the words. “Eventually, you can find meaning in this shitty world. You’re doing it with all those kids.”

“Well, well, Logan, you’ve given me a compliment.” Your teasing made him look at your proximity.

“Yeah. Think you’ve heard enough of me being a dick. Might as well tell ya something nice.” He huffed and you didn’t know what came over you. You bent down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

You yanked back, startled by your own action. “I’m so sorry, you just-“

“Fuck it.”

Logan stood up and wrapped his massive hand around the back of your head. Your parted lips allowed him to easily crush his mouth to yours and you felt the back of your knees hit the mattress.

His kiss was bruising at first, hungry the way he moved on top of you between your legs. Logan’s hair fell forward and grazed your forehead as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You yelped as he tore away from your lips and peppered needy kisses along your jaw. “Logan-I don’t want you to feel like you need to-“

“Wanted to fuck you when you were on that goddamn stage.” He growled, tearing apart the top of your clothing. Exposing your chest and bra, Logan ran his tongue across your skin and nipped it with his teeth.

“I’m gonna fuckin ruin you.” He promises and you whimper.

Logan trails his fingers along your curves, his warmth searing against your bare flesh and his facial hair tickling your neck. “Such a pretty body. I’m gonna taste that pretty pussy and you’re gonna take it like a good girl, huh?” He huskily announces.

Even in your wildest dreams, you still couldn’t have imagined the moment of Logan Howlett tearing away your panties and groaning deeply. Your nipples hardened as he rolled two girthy fingers around your clit and gave it a spank.

“What’s the matter? Can’t handle being smacked around a little?” Logan darkly whispered and smeared your wetness around your folds. You threw your head back and whined as he dragged his lips down your stomach, pelvis and finally hovered above your cunt.

He eagerly dragged his tongue and licked you like melting ice cream. You buried your hands in his hair and pulled, moaning a slew of swear words as Logan drooled against your pussy. He slipped inside your entrance, filling you partially and you cried out.

Logan roughly turned you around, separating your ass and continued to eat your pussy. This angle was somehow deeper as your chest pressed against the mattress and you let out pornographic sounds. He held your calves down as he sucked and licked your cunt.

It was overwhelming and you were just about to hit your peak when he yanked away. But you didn’t have time to miss the contact when you heard Logan unbuckle his belt. You turned your head and looked over your shoulder.

You needed to enjoy every second of this so you maneuvered around and sat on your heels. You were breathless as Logan pulled down his pants and boxers. His dick was big, as you expected but it was so thick and leaked with precum.

“Don’t look so scared now, princess.” He hoarsely laughed and you stopped him from taking his shirt off.

“Let me.” He allowed you to peel it off and you admired his muscular torso. Your hands traced every avenue and his stomach tightened as your fingers moved above his v-line.

“Like what you see?”

“Mhm. You’re perfect.” You said sincerely and he pressed his lips to yours again. You tasted yourself on his tongue as he laid you on your back.

Logan wasn’t a gentle man by any means but he was tender in the way he held back his superhuman strength. He didn’t want to hurt you. He ran the tip of his cock along your slit and breathed through gritted teeth.

He pushed inside you, his dick stretching your cunt and you let out a throaty groan. You felt it pulse as he thrusted, filling you to the brim and his balls slapped against your ass.

“Cmon. You can take it, now you’re not so mouthy.” Logan snarled as your eyes rolled back and he lifted your legs up. Adding to the intensity as he fucked you. “Such a good girl, pussy squeezing me.”

You were nearly wailing and your nails dug into his back. He ran his tongue along your pulse point. “I’m-I can’t-fuck!” You squealed as Logan wrapped his hand around your neck.

“You gonna let me fill you up? Cum in you over and over again?”

You nodded rapidly.

“I’m not some little bitch. I don’t just bust a load in two seconds. You’re gonna cum and suck my cock with that pretty pussy till you can’t see anymore.” He promised and your vision whitened.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave and you were sobbing. Logan fucked you through it, using your leaking arousal to add further slip as he pounded you. Your head lulled to the side but he shook his head.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna hold you up.”

You were back on your knees and looking at the wall as he slammed back into you.

“That’s it, milk my cock like the slut you are. You gonna be a good girl and take it all for me?” He mocked and you gasped for air between crying.

“Cum in me, god please, cum in me, please! Please!” You begged and Logan slapped your ass so hard you squeaked.

He tangled his big fingers in your hair and controlled your rhythm as he made you bounce on it.

Logan shouted and rested his head on your back as he creamed in you. You felt warm ropes of cum spill and leak out. Another orgasm hit you hard and you bit the top of your hand.

His stamina was endless, you knew that but he did finally pull you into his chest after five rounds.

You laid there in silent bliss for several seconds and felt him press a sweet kiss to your temper.

“You free Friday night?” He asked and you perked up with a grin spreading across your face.

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m trying to-“

You giggle and cup his face, kissing him hard. Logan rests his hand on your lower back.

“Yes. I’m free.” He gives you another rare soft smile and hums.

“Gives me time to find a decent car. Gotta do at least one thing right.” You gently touch his cheek and nuzzle against him.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m feeling deep urges to bite you.”

“Oh, here we go.”

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @marchsfreakshow @taintandviolent @starkeysprincess @nemesyaaa

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 1/2

masterlist.

PART 1/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. handcuffs. cat-and-mouse. eventual smut will be kinky dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. (chapter word count: 7400 words.)

-

Seungmin is one of your best friends and also a conniving master of manipulation.  Being a malevolent source of wicked verbal wizardry, he convinced you and Minho that it would be totally super easy to sneak into the Hwang Hyunjin concert.  It’s only the final night of the pop-star’s sold-out world tour and the most anticipated concert of the year.  What could go wrong?  

It sounded like a good idea when Seungmin said it.  Now the three of you are standing in a pushy crowd of overeager fans with some very intimidating looking security guards at the end of the queue. 

“Reconvene,” you say.  You grab the boys by their scruff and drag them out of the line. 

“Ah, hey!” Minho snaps at you like piranha.

You release him to grab Seungmin by his collar.  “You better have an idea for getting us past security,” you say, “because I do not like the look of the Incredible Hulk up there.”

The three of you look at the shortstack beefcake who looks like he could bench all three of you at the same time. 

“Yeaaaah,” Seungmin says.  He flashes you a not-so-innocent smile as his strawberry-pink bangs flop into his eyes.  “I didn’t really think this far ahead.  I thought you’d have a plan.”

“Why would I have a plan?” you ask.  “This whole thing was your idea.  Seungmin.”  You drag him close so your noses touch, going cross-eyed at the proximity.  It does not lessen the severity of your frustration when you state, “I waxed for this.  And you know how I feel about waxing.” 

“You waxed?” Minho asks loudly.  It draws a few glances your way which might be because Minho is so loud, or might be because he’s so good looking, or a combination of the two.  His dark eyes narrow at you like you’re a completely alien creature.   “Why would you wax for a concert?” he asks. 

“Wax,” Seungmin parrots.  Your hands are on his collar like you intend to shake him up but it doesn’t deter him asking, “Like… like wax-wax?  Like your human body waxed?”

“Like your human pussy?” Minho asks.  “For a concert?  What did you think was gonna happen?”  He is on the very visible verge of hysterical laughter when a thought lights his eyes.  “Wait,” he says.  “I know how we can get in—”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You shove Seungmin and grab Minho by the collar instead.  “I’m not fucking our way in.  And I waxed,” you drop your voice, “just in case.”

“Just in case…?” Minho tips his head.  “Just in case you had to fuck your way in…?”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You push him away too.  “Never mind.”

“Did you think Hyunjin was going to summon you out of the crowd for a green room quickie?”  Seungmin asks with a shit-eating grin. 

Minho cackles.  “No way she’d even go,” he says.  “She doesn’t get summoned.  She likes to be chased.” 

“She is walking away now,” you say.    

“Bet she’ll walk away quickly,” Seungmin says.  “She waxed so she’ll be aerodynamic.”

You stomp away from the stadium but only make it a few steps before Seungmin runs in front of you. 

“We can’t just give up here,” Seungmin says.  “We made it this far already.”

“One bus stop?” you ask dryly.  “We literally live like five minutes away—”

“Exactly!” Seungmin says.  “That’s called destiny.”

“We might as well try,” Minho says.  He cups a hand over his eyes to look at the stadium in the fading light of the sun.  “We all got dressed up.  Seungmin skipped a class.  You waxed.” 

“There’s no way we’re getting through those doors,” you say. 

“We’ve done it before,” Seungmin says.  He turns you to face the stadium and massages your shoulders like a boxing coach, all the while regaling you with tales of your past victories.  “Remember all the other concerts we snuck into?  The sports games?  That celebrity wedding—”   

“Well,” Minho interrupts, “we did get arrested at that one.” 

“Yeah and we got arrested together,” Seungmin says, “because that’s what friends do.” 

“I don’t know why,” you say, “but for some reason this is working.”  Maybe it’s Seungmin’s words, or Minho’s cologne, or maybe it’s the soft glow of a perfect summer sunset as it pours over the stadium like a pink-orange waterfall.  Or maybe it’s because this really is the concert of the year, and you love a challenge, and you fucking waxed. 

You throw your head back and sigh, soulfully resigning yourself to your imminent fate.

“Fine,” you say.  “So how are we doing this?”   

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin says thoughtfully.  “I think I have a plan.”

Seungmin proceeds to explain the plan.  It is hardly the pinnacle of heist endeavours but is more feasible than rappelling down the stadium walls into the concert arena.

Basically, the plan is to find a group of people with a solitary ticket holder and leech onto their tail with the hopes security will miscount the party and let you sneak past.  It means you will have to split up because security will definitely notice three extra people.  You will then hopefully reunite inside the arena.

You scamper around the periphery of the stadium, perusing lines for oblivious groups of excited fans with an e-ticket-wielding ringleader.  You also double-check which security guards seem the most lax or checked out. 

“I get that one,” Minho says. 

He points to a trim, athletic guard with floppy brown hair and a giggly smile.  You and Seungmin protest because that guard is an easy mark so you all want him, but Minho takes off running for the queue. 

The thing about Lee Minho is that he never hauls ass.  He coasts through life with a casual slouch, but he is completely capable of annihilating everyone if he deigns to do so. 

He does.  So he did.

You and Seungmin look around.  Your grin widens when you spy the next easiest target.

“Aha!” you say.  “I call dibs on that one!  Good luck, Seungmin!”

“Hey!” Seungmin bellows.

He is far too late.  You are already booking it towards the line with a pretty, chipper, skinny security guard.  He is in jeans and a loose windbreaker that says SECURITY across the back, about the only indication he is a man of any authority.  His hair is a vibrant, neon blue and is delicately styled, long enough to pull back in a pretty half-ponytail.  His features are sharp, cheekbones sloping, but there is a natural tenderness to his whole countenance.  He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

Also, he really is lean.  Worst case scenario, you can probably push your way past him and disappear into the crowd before he can do anything about it.  

You find a group of girls to sidle alongside anyway.  You are satisfied you will easily slip into the stadium. 

The group reaches the front of the line, a couple of them giggling at the security guard’s friendly attention.  His name tag reads Felix, a cute name for a cute guy.  Up close, you can see a smattering of dark freckles across his face, as well as a few playful glitter stars for the concert.  He is admittedly pretty but as a professional gate crasher, you refrain from distraction.  You successfully avoid his gaze and stick close to the girl in front of you. 

Felix gives them each a friendly nod, smiling brightly.  He laughs at one of their comments and it’s a charming, low sound. 

“Enjoy the show, ladies,” he says, his voice about a hundred decibels deeper than you expected.  

Maybe that’s what trips you up.  It has to be something, because you were doing everything right.  But just as you go to follow the girls into the arena, a skinny arm shoots out and you smack right into it.   

“Sorry,” Felix says.  He drops his arm and smiles.  “I just need to see your ticket.” 

“My…?”  You look ahead at the group of girls, but they are already gone.  Oops.  “Ha, ha,” you say, looking at Felix. 

He is staring back at you, still smiling a close-lipped smile.  He blinks a couple times then lifts an eyebrow.

“Uh, ticket?” he says.  He holds out his hand.  

“Right,” you say.  You smile at him with all the saccharine sweetness you can.  “I have funny story about that, Felix,” you say. 

“Hm.”  His smile turns into a line, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.  “And what’s that?” 

“Well, you see…”

It’s all you say before you bolt, fast on your feet.  You sprint for the entryway behind the guarded queue.  There’s a crowd inside and you’re an expert at disappearing into a crowd.  You just need to get in there and find your boys then you are home free.  Hwang Hyunjin, here you come. 

There’s just one problem.  

Felix is fast.  

Like, track star fast.  Like, road runner fast.  Like, you’re that dumb coyote getting an anvil dropped on your head, except this anvil is a skinny blue-haired Australian with a voice like a god and the apparent hidden strength of one too. 

You make it a few desperate steps before Felix literally sweeps you off your feet.  You shriek when he hauls you under his arm, dragging you away from the stadium door.  He deposits you a few feet from the queue then swiftly resumes his position. 

“Hello,” he says to the next person in line.  “Sorry about that.  Ticket?”   

Your mouth is agape.  

No one has ever got the jump on you like that.

“Hey!” you say, but Felix has moved on.  He is smiling at the next guest as he checks their ticket, not paying you any mind.  “Excuse me,” you say, despite the people between you and him.  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  I do have a ticket.”

“Uh-huh,” Felix says.  He doesn’t look at you, scanning someone’s e-ticket with a little device.  It lights up green and he smiles at them.  “Enjoy the show,” he says. 

You jump into the queue, cutting off the next person.  Felix’s smile vanishes and is replaced with an astoundingly sassy expression.

“Uh, this line is for ticket-holders,” he says. 

“I have a ticket,” you say.  You unzip your purse and spend a minute rifling around, ignoring him when he sighs.  He apologizes to the people behind you.  You turn and offer a tight-lipped apology of your own.  “I was in line,” you say, as if they didn’t just witness this ten-pound bully haul you around like a sack of potatoes.  “There was just a misunderstanding.”

Felix rolls his eyes. 

You pull out your cell phone and flip through a folder of fake screenshotted tickets, hoping at least one of them marginally resembles the tickets for tonight.  You pick one and flash it at Felix. 

“Happy?” you say with a lot of false indignation.  You turn off the screen when Felix goes to grab your phone.  You give him a snooty, squinty-eyed look, then saunter right past him. 

This time when he comes after you, you are better prepared for his speed.   You zig-zag and he stumbles, cussing very unprofessionally.  You make it all the way to the door before he grabs you.  You have no idea where he is getting all that muscle because he feels like a sturdy stick when you grab at him, but he puts you over his shoulder like it’s easy. 

“Um, excuse me!” you shout.  “Hello!  Someone film this!  I’m being assailed!”

Felix intentionally jostles you on his shoulder.  He is even less gentle when he drops you this time, though you do manage to keep your footing. 

“Try that again,” Felix says, “and it will be trouble.  Got it?” 

Felix is very good looking.  He’s an incredible combination of pretty and handsome, not to mention that voice, guh.  But what gets you going is how much you are clearly pissing him off.  It’s hot.  Out of nowhere, the freckled sunshine sweetheart is just oozing confidence, standing square and pointing at you with a very stern expression.  And if you get a little hiccup in your blood, a little skip in your heartbeat, a little stampede southward that makes your pussy hum like the interested kitten it is, well.  That’s not your fault.  It’s his.  Asshole.

You flip him off.  He ignores you, shaking his head as he returns to his position.

“Sorry,” he says to the queue.  “Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?”

Ugh. What a sexy bitch. 

You text to check in with the boys.  Minho made it inside, no surprise, but apparently Seungmin is also struggling for an in. 

what is with these security guards, Seungmin writes, are they military trained? fuck 

maybe you’re both just losing your touch, Minho replies.

never, you say.  we still have lots of time.  we'll get in there.  seungmin, meet me by the benches.  we need another plan.  

Usually, the best way to crash an event is with minimal attention and no theatrics.  It’s all about pretending you are exactly where you are supposed to be.  If you act like you belong, then you will.  

A spectacle is a desperate measure, but you are desperate people.  After a few hushed whispers on a bench, you and Seungmin spring into action. 

“Help!”  Seungmin shouts.  “My wife needs help!  Please!” 

“Your wife?” you whisper through gritted teeth, opening one eye to look at him.  You are currently laying on the pavement in a dramatic swoon, Seungmin hunched over you. 

“My companion of ambiguous relationship is hurt!” he says.  “Ouch,” he adds, because you swat his arm.

Fortunately, he does draw attention.  A few people run over, the beefy security guard one of them.  His nametag reads Changbin and he is in a black t-shirt at least two sizes too small.  You do not begrudge him this, as you would do the same if you had biceps like that.  

“What happened?” he asks, crouching down beside Seungmin. 

“My friend just passed out,” Seungmin says.  He hoists you into his arms as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.  “Is there somewhere inside I can take her to sit down?  I think all the chaos out here overstimulated her.” 

“One second,” Changbin says.  He pulls a walkie-talkie out of a holster.  It buzzes with static as he turns it on.  “Hey, we have a collapsed woman in front of Entry Door B.  Can I have back-up clear a path, and someone with First Aid training?”  The walkie-talkie buzzes again and Changbin puts it away.  He stands up, waving away the small crowd that has gathered.   “Yah, everyone back up!  This is an emergency!” 

“It’s really not,” Seungmin says.  He scoops you into a bridal hold then struggles to lift you off the ground. “I just need – whew – somewhere I can – agh – put her down.  I can just – AH! – carry her myself.”

Naturally, it is at that moment a familiar voice descends from above. 

A familiar, deep, Australian-accented voice.

“Move aside, please.”  

“Oh no,” you say, eyes closed.   You open them just in time for a glitter-faced, freckled, blue-haired pretty boy in a SECURITY windbreaker to cut through the crowd.   

Unfortunately, Felix is just as good looking at this angle.  He waves away the gathered onlookers as he approaches, but looks at Changbin first. 

“I have First Aid,” he says.  “What happened?”

“I just found her collapsed,” Changbin says.  “Her friend thinks it’s the crowd.  Should we bring her inside?” 

Felix looks at you.  The concerned furrow in his brow immediately gives way. 

You smile innocently. 

“No,” Felix says, frowning.  “We shouldn’t.” 

“Oh come on,” you say.  You smack the ground.  “I collapsed!  I need help!”

“No, you need a ticket,” Felix says.  He crosses his arms and stomps a foot.  “Seriously, what is wrong with you?  Some of us have a job to do, you know?”

“Naaaur ya need a ticket, mate,” you say in a mockingly deep chest voice. “Some of us have jobs ya knaaaaur!”

“Do you guys know each other?” Changbin asks, looking between you and Felix – who is growing increasingly red in the face and breathing much harder. 

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Seungmin says. 

“Ah!”  Felix yells, spinning to Changbin.  “She doesn’t have a ticket!  She’s just trying to sneak in!”

“She doesn’t have a ticket?”  Seungmin asks, gasping.  He drops you onto the concrete, ignoring your yelp of pain.   “But I thought she – she told me we – I – I –“

You watch in betrayed horror as Seungmin pretends to faint, flopping down beside you on the concrete.  You sit up, very tempted to slap him across the face but not wanting to give Felix more reasons to accost you. 

“Seungmin,” you say.  You grab him by the shirt and rattle him around like a ragdoll.  “Seungmin, you bastard, don’t even think about it!”

“You.”  Felix stomps up behind you.  “Get off the ground and come with me.” 

“No,” you say.  “I don’t want to and you can’t make me.” 

You shriek – again – when Felix grabs you under the arms and hoists you to your feet.  He manhandles you with only a modicum of effort, dragging you away from your stupid traitorous best friend. 

You step on Felix’s foot deliberately and he swears.  For such a pretty thing, he sure has a filthy mouth.  You grab a fistful of his hair and tug, to which he cusses up a storm and pries your hand off his head.   

You hear the distinct buzz of Changbin’s walkie-talkie.    

“We have a collapsed man in front of Entry Door B.  Can someone who isn’t going to start fighting the patrons come help me move him?”

“He’s faking it!” you cry in protest, watching Changbin scoop Seungmin off the ground. 

Changbin disregards your outburst.  Seungmin gives you a thumbs up behind his back.  Felix, of course, doesn’t see it because he’s too busy dragging you away.  You are left to sputter in bewildered protest at the injustice of it all. 

Felix marches you to the sidewalk, far away from the stadium queues.  You are both out of breath by the time you get there.  Even so, you attempt to manoeuvre under his arm to run away.   In a few quick moves, he knocks you onto your ass. 

 “Holy fuck!”  You are panting now.  A line of sweat dots your hairline.  You wipe at it and stare morosely at this stupidly competent minimum wage security guard.  “What are you, like some kind of karate master or something?”

“Taekwondo, actually,” he says, brushing off his jacket.  Then he tips his head and stares down at you.

You would be lying if you said the intensity of his stare didn’t have your heart racing for an entirely new reason.  Danger and desire have always danced a close dance for your tastes.  Felix is not helping matters, tucking back loose strands of vibrant hair as he looms over you, wetting his bottom lip and staring. 

You cross your arms and feign nonchalance, but you can’t look away from him.  When he crouches down slowly to meet you at eye level, everything below the belt goes pitter-patter. 

“No ticket,” Felix says slowly.  “No concert.  Do you understand me?” 

You stick out your tongue.

“Wow, mature,” he says.  His departing farewell is another snarky eyeroll.  He shakes his head as he stands, muttering to himself in obvious frustration. 

So much for not a mean bone in his body.  That bully is all business.   

So hot. 

You huff and puff for a bit.  Your phone is going berserk in your purse, probably the boys trying to reach you.  Eventually you succumb to the necessary confession of your twice thwarted efforts.  Minho teases that you are losing your touch for real.  It makes angry little fireworks pop out of your ears.  

Plenty of occasions you have assessed a situation and deemed it unreasonably complicated, but quitting while you’re ahead is not the same thing as admitting defeat.  You do not lose.  This isn’t even about the concert anymore.  Fuck Hwang Hyunjin, he was never worth the pain of a wax in the first place.  No.  This is about your pride.   This is about your dignity.  This is about your honour. 

You are getting into that concert, one way or another.   

First, you gather intel.  This comes in the form of snooping, running between queues to figure out the easiest mark.  You don’t judge the guards by their appearances this time, because apparently this security team has secret taekwondo masters hidden in their midst. 

You watch their every move, calculating and determining your odds therein.  Based on visual research and Minho’s confirmation, it seems your best bet is the smiling guard who let Minho through.  His nametag reads Jisung and he is a veritable flirt. 

Flash him your tits, Minho texts.

Uh, no, I’m not that desperate yet.       

Second, with your intel now acquired, you get into the dwindling line.  The sun is almost set and a breezy summer chill dances across your cheeks.  The concert will be starting soon.  You shuffle behind the other stragglers, adjusting your outfit.  The jean shorts hug your hips and flash a nice chunk of thigh, and your shirt is already low cut but you figure another tug won’t hurt.  You also pull your flannel down your arms to look as flirtatious as possible. 

Jisung is barely looking at the tickets as he scans them, chatting merrily to the guests as he lets them through.  You pull up a random ticket on your phone, something to hold out while you distract him. 

“Hi,” you say. 

His eyes flick down to your chest, then back up.  He smiles brightly.

“Hi!” he says.  “You look nice.  Excited for the concert?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say.  “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.  It wasn’t easy to get in.”

“I know what you mean,” he says.  “Tickets are hard to come by, and so expensive!”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you say, leaning in while he scans your phone.   This was a bad idea because he looks down at your chest again, just in time for his little device to flash red.

“Oh, oops!” he says.  He smiles at you as he shakes his device.  “Sorry!” he says.  “I think you showed me the wrong ticket.  Could you pull up the right one?”

“Ohhh!” you say, looking down at your phone with fake surprise.  Life is so unfair.  “I’m so sorry… Jisung.  Hehe, that’s such a nice name.”

“Haha, thanks,” Jisung says.  “My parents picked it, but, yeah, it’s cool.  Anyway.”  He wiggles his device.  “Ticket please!” 

You keep smiling and giggling, even as you turn around under the guise of searching through your phone.  You glare down at the stupid device, keeping your back to Jisung while you do so.  How the fuck are you getting out of this?  You flip through screenshots then open your text messenger.  Minho’s last words of wisdom blink up at you. 

Apparently, you are that desperate. 

With a sigh, you put your phone in your purse and zip it shut.  You shrug your shoulders and plaster that fake smile on your face again.  With a swift of flick of your thumbs, you lift your shirt and bra up over your tits and spin around to look at Jisung. 

“How’s this for a ticket—”

Jisung looks surprised and delighted.  Jisung, however, is standing a few feet back.  Probably because he was told to step back.  Probably by Felix who is standing in front of you with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.  

“Wow,” Felix says.  “Just committing crimes now, are we?”  

You shove your tits back into your bra indignity, not even embarrassed, just annoyed. 

“Tits aren’t a crime,” you say. 

“Public indecency is,” he replies.  

“You’re… publicly indecent…”  Not your best comeback.  You glare at him while fixing your shirt.  “There’s no way they pay you enough to be riding my ass this hard.” 

“They don’t,” Felix says, grabbing your arm.  “Believe me when I say riding your ass has been my pleasure.”

“Twisted fuck,” you reply. 

You wave at Jisung as Felix tugs you away.  He waves back but does nothing to rescue you, because all men are traitors. 

You groan loudly as Felix leads you away from the stadium yet again.  “Just let me innnnn,” you whine.  “Why do you hate meee.”

“I don’t even know you!” Felix says.  He deposits you on a bench and takes out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eying the device.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “You tried to break into a ticketed event three times.  You faked an injury.  You flashed yourself in a public place—”

“I wouldn’t have done any of that if you just let me through in the first place!”

“You cannot be serious.”  Felix looks ready to rip his hair out.  “You don’t have a ticket!  Why would I let you in, why would I – AH!  Why am I arguing with you!  Be quiet, I’m phoning the police.”

“The po— the police?!  How dare you!” You try to stand but he pushes you onto the bench one-handed.  He holds you there, palm on your shoulder, still way stronger than someone this scrawny should be. 

“Fine!” you exclaim.  “Fine!  You win!  I’m sorry, Felix, I was wrong.  I was wrong and you were right.”

Felix pauses.  “Really,” he says, sounding unconvinced. 

“Yes!”  You look up at him with the saddest, most watery eyes you can muster.  “I just wanted to see the concert but it was stupid to think I could break in.” 

He turns off his screen.  Success.   You watch him slip his phone in his pocket. 

“It’s not about being smart or stupid,” he says, the ire gone from his voice.  It takes a lot of willpower not to bite his fingers when he pats your shoulder.  “It’s about the fact we can’t always get what we want,” he says kindly as he crouches in front of you.  His hand goes from your shoulder to your knee, still patting it in a friendly manner. 

You bite your tongue because you want to tell him you liked him better when he was being a mean bitch, but that would be counterproductive to your escape attempt. 

It turns out, you don’t need to say anything, because he decides to be a bitch again anyway.  Felix looks at you with a too-sweet smile and says, “It’s about time someone taught you that lesson.”

“Um, excuse me?” you say, aghast.  You clasp your hand over your heart.  “Just who do you think you are?  First of all, you taught me nothing, I’m still a horrible bitch and I lied when I said you were right.  Second, you absolutely can get everything you want, you just have to want it enough to get it.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that.  You know why, Felix?” 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like he expected this, which he probably did, but you’re too far gone to retreat. 

You reach out and cup his face in both hands, turning it to you.  Those sharp eyes are unflinching, even with your fingers on his face.  You try really hard not to gulp. 

“It’s because you are a good boy,” you say.  “You always do what you’re told.  You always follow the rules.  I bet everyone thinks you’re the nicest guy on the team, don’t they?  I bet they call you cute little nicknames and all the nice little girls think you’re a sweet, innocent baby.  And you are, aren’t you, Felix?  You’re just such a good, good boy.  But me?  I’m not good.  I’m not bad.  I just like to win.  When I want something, I get it, because I chase it, and I don’t stop until I get it.  Until it’s all mine.”  You lean in close.  “Get it?” 

His gaze darkens, brows pinching.  You take his fleeting moment of vulnerability to shove him onto his back.  He sprawls on the ground with a surprised yelp.  You sprint away at top speed and flip him off over your shoulder. 

It’s a haphazard ploy at best but you are fresh out of plans.  What you need is distance between you and Security Guard of the Year, a breather long enough to come up with a final plan.  Maybe you can physically break in somewhere: an office window, a janitorial stairwell, something.  

You keep an eye out for potential openings as you run. 

And run.

And run. 

Hmm.  You’ve been running a long time.   Even with the head-start, Felix should have caught you by now.  You doubt he would have truly given up.  Felix had a deranged look in his eye, similar to the one you get when someone is trying to beat you at your own game.  He doesn’t want you to win anymore than you want to lose.  You suspect it isn’t about the concert for him either; this is a personal battle. 

You come to a gradual stop, hands on your hips as you catch your breath.  It’s quiet on this side of the stadium as the queues were on the opposite end. 

Quiet, yes.  Too quiet.   

There’s a stairwell that leads to second level just above your head.  Felix is good.  You have to give credit where credit is due.  If you weren’t a scheming nightmare with a penchant for con-artistry, he probably would have caught you.  But without turning around, you know he booked it up the stairs and is two seconds from springing an attack. 

You take off running, just in time for him to thump into the grass beside you.  You laugh at his strangled cry of frustration as he scrambles to his feet. 

Around the next corner is the parking lot.  You stop a split second to look over your shoulder and see him hot on your heels.   He discarded his jacket and is in a loose sleeveless shirt, revealing he does have some light toning to his lean body.  But you don’t stop to measure how proportionate it is to his strength, because he is focussed on you like a laser. 

Then he smiles.  A slow, slinky smile like a cocky predator about to swipe at its prey.  That cat has claws, nasty ones, and you almost want to get tangled in them.  Almost.  You want to win even more.   

And he just set you up for success.  There’s a SECURITY jacket on the ground somewhere nearby.  That’s your ticket in.  You just have to lose Felix in the parking lot and loop back around to find where he tossed it. 

You spare no time setting that plan into action, giving Felix a smile of your own before you run.  He thunders after you.

The pair of you weave in and out of parked cars.  He disappears for a second behind a row of trucks.  You whip your head around to figure out where he went, only for him to summersault around the corner and cut you off.  You yell instinctively but narrowly dodge his reaching hand.   He curses, running after you with his arm outstretched.   You duck behind a trailer and lose him, scurrying between some SUVs.  You peek at him through the windows, watching him turn in a circle to find where you went.  Smiling to yourself, you quietly but quickly back away.  

You leave the lot and run back the way you first came.  You find Felix’s jacket draped on a random bush. 

Your heart is practically singing with adrenaline.  Victory is in sight.  You push yourself to run faster and reach out with both hands –

— only to find yourself rolling in the grass, Felix’s arms tight around your middle as he tackles you to the ground. 

You push and pull at each other, cursing and scrambling very ungracefully.  You get out of his arms but he climbs on top of you, then you knee him in the gut so he rolls over, but when you start crawling he grabs your ankles and drags you back. 

Ultimately, he Taekwondo Masters you onto your front, hands clasped behind your back.  You kick your feet and wail despondently into the grass as he kneels over you, breathing raggedly and swearing again. 

“You’re a monster!” you shout.  “You’re a tyrant and a bully and you have no right to – HEY!”

He handcuffs you.

“Ha.”  He leans in close, speaking right into your ear.  “I win.” 

“That’s not fair,” you say.  “You can’t just—ahh!”  You wail in petulance as he lifts you onto your feet.  His grip on your bicep is unyielding so you are forced to stomp alongside him as he escorts you…

…back to the sidewalk.

“You’re not busting me?” you ask in confusion.  You thought for sure he was going to drag you into some shady office and plop you in a chair until the police arrived.   He would probably be super boring and professional about it, staring at you with his dumb horny eyes but not doing anything about it.  Nothing sucks more than being all trussed up by a pretty boy with manners. 

“I just want you to go and never come back,” Felix says. 

“Fine.”  You turn around and hold your arms straight behind you.  “But I’m like a wolf, Felix.  I have your scent for life.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.  “Not how wolves work by the way.  But fine.”

“Oh wow, sorry.  Didn’t realize you majored in Wolfology.  You got any other fun facts?”  

“You are so—”

You smirk at his grumbling.  You are just biding your time until he uncuffs one wrist, then you whip around faster than he can compute the action.  With one cuff still attached, you grab the second and clamp it down on his wrist.  He sputters in bewilderment, at which point you snatch the keys.

“What are you doing—”  He tries to grab them but your joined hands make the angle too awkward.  You spin around together in a few circles, bonk heads twice, until finally you reel back and chuck the keys as far into the distance as possible. 

He stands there, mouth agape.  You tap your foot impatiently. 

When he realizes what has happened – that you have handcuffed yourself to him and thrown away the keys – he looks at you with fiery eyes, fierce enough you stumble.  He yanks your joined hands, the chain ungiving.  You watch as he goes through several stages of grief in a matter of moments.  Then he closes his eyes and breathes in and out.    

“Why,” he says slowly, “did you just do that?” 

“I dunno, Felix,” you say.  You plop down on the ground and sit cross-legged.  It forces him to bend over, your cuffed wrist dragging him down.  “Guess we’ll have to go inside and get some back-up keys.  And when I’m in the stadium and you uncuff yourself from me, I promise not to run away.”   

“That’s your plan?” he snaps.  “That’s your plan?” 

“What, is there an echo out here?”

“That’s your plan?” he asks again, his deep voice pitching up an octave.  He crouches down and shoves his free hand into his hair, shaking his head.  “This can’t be happening,” Felix says, more out loud to himself than you.  “Why is this happening.  Oh my god.” 

You squeak when he tugs on the chain, yanking you close, nose to nose.

“What if I just called for back-up?” he asks. “Or skipped that and went right to the police?  How would you get out of that?”

“Wait,” you say.  “Why aren’t you doing that?” 

“Because.”

He leans back as far as he can, sitting on his heels.  You duck your head, trying to meet his eye to no avail.  He clenches his jaw.

“Felix,” you say.  “Why aren’t you just calling for back-up?”

“Because,” he says through gritted teeth.  “The handcuffs.  Are.  Not.  Regulation.” 

You look at each other.  There is a long moment of silence. 

Then, “What!”  You cackle with complete and utter abandon. 

A very unamused Felix glares at you while you throw your head back and laugh. 

“You?” you cry, poking your finger against his chest.  “You?  You?  You are just walking around with a pair of handcuffs that you aren’t supposed to have?  What the fuuuuuck—”  You think you might die laughing. 

“Jisung gave them to me before our shift!” he exclaims.  “It was a joke because— Never mind! I don’t have to explain myself to you!  Hello.  Hello.”  He grabs your chin with his free hand and turns your face roughly to his.   He jingles your joined hands.  “Not regulation,” he says.  “There are no other keys in this building.” 

Silence falls again. 

Then, “Oh.”  You stare at him.  “Shit.” 

A minute later, you and Felix are scuttling around trying to find the key.  You must have a very good arm because it landed near the stadium and disappeared in some bushes.   

You and Felix keep forgetting your wrists are connected, reaching in opposite directions only to snap back together.  You are certain you are going to end the night with a few bumps and bruises. 

The entire time you are searching for the key, Felix is grumbling irritably.  He tears his way through a bush, his deep voice pitching up with a miserable whine when he can’t find it. 

“This is so stupid,” he says.  He throws a stick at the wall.  “I am a good worker.  I never break the rules.  I am not getting in trouble for this. You did this.  You did this to me.” 

On he goes, grumble, grumble, grumble, bitch, bitch, bitch. 

“It’s not like the key disappeared,” you say, pushing some pebbles around.  “It has to be here somewhere.” 

It is starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple.  The stadium lights blare down on you.  Felix uses his phone flashlight to beam extra light at the ground.  The only time he stops grumbling is when the noise in the stadium changes, the concert clearly beginning.  He takes time out of his busy searching schedule to give you a mean smile. 

“When we find those keys,” you say, “I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and leaving you to freeze to death in your stupid tank top.”

“It’s not a tank top,” he says.  “It’s a t-shirt.  I cut the sleeves off.  And when we find those keys, I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and phoning the police.”

“Well then,” you say, “may the best key finder in a slutty tank top win.” 

“It’s not a tank top.”   

You continue to search.  It is utterly illogical that the keys would just vanish but the longer it takes, the more concerned you get.   It just doesn’t make sense!  Things don’t just disappear!  The keys landed somewhere over here, so they have to be…

You see it first.  You sit there in a stunned stupor.  You swat at Felix with your cuffed hand.

“What?” he says without looking at you.  You continue to slap him until he forces your hand down, tangling your fingers with his.  “What!” 

You point.  He crowds in behind you to look over your shoulder.  You feel him exhale. 

“Please don’t tell me…”   

You both lean to look down the sewer drain.  He flashes his phone light over it.  Something silver glints back in the darkness. 

“Fuck!” Felix says.  He doesn’t stop there.  What follows is a string of cusses so unbelievably foul and complex that you honestly believe it should quality him for Pulitzer in poetry.  When he has exhausted every expletive in several different languages, he plops down on his ass and stares up at the sky with mute despondency.   

“So what happens now?” you ask.  “Do we fuck?”

“What?”  He looks at you with utter bewilderment.  “What the fuck?  Why would you suggest that?  What would that solve?”

“Nothing,” you say.  “But it would kill the time and couldn’t make things worse.” 

“You are insane,” he says.  “I am handcuffed to an insane person.” 

“Hey, ‘mate’, you were the one with the non-regulation handcuffs in the first place.  I could solve this problem real quick by phoning the authorities myself and saying some crazy guy put me in cuffs.” 

“I dare you,” he says.  “Try.”

“No,” you say.  And not just because you have a record with the police and they would never take your side.  But Felix doesn’t need to know that.  Well, you suspect Felix is smart enough to guess it, but he doesn’t need the confirmation.  “I’d rather make you suffer,” you say instead.  You sit back in an insouciant slouch like the whole circumstance is beneath your attention.  “Figure it out, pretty boy.” 

“Well,” he says, “apparently if you break your wrists then you can force them through the cuffs.”

“Ew!” You push him in the middle of his chest.  He doesn’t fall, but he does glare at you.  “We’re not doing that!  What a stupid plan!  You’ve been guzzling the hair dye fumes, buddy.  Think of a plan that doesn’t involve injury, thank you.” 

“I didn’t want to do this,” Felix says with another put-upon sigh, “but fine.  I have another pair at home so the keys—”

“Wait,” you interrupt.  “I thought someone gave you the cuffs today?  Why do you have another key at home?”

“I have another pair,” he repeats, “of the same handcuffs.”

“You—”

“Already own a pair, yes, move on.”  He aggressively pushes hair out of his eyes.  “He clearly bought it from the same place so my key should work for this one too.”

“So despite your uppity school boy routine, you do own non-regulation handcuffs and not just as a joke.  Wow, Felix.”  You giggle helplessly.  “Be careful or I might start to like you.” 

He is glaring at you, no surprise, but the tips of his ears blush pink. 

“Let’s just go,” Felix says.  “The sooner I get you off, the sooner I can forget about your existence.”

“You can get me off as fast or slow as you like—ahh!” 

Once more, the secret superman is manhandling you onto your feet.  Without pausing for breath, he turns and marches away.  You are forced to stumble behind his swift strides, your hands swinging close enough that your fingertips brush every so often.   

“How do I know you’re not gonna murder me?” you ask.

“You don’t,” he replies.

“How do you know I’m not gonna murder you?” 

“I don’t.”  He sounds more annoyed than afraid.  “But it sounds better than being cuffed to you forever.  I’ll take my chances.  Come on.” 

“Not like I have a choice,” you grumble. 

He comes to an abrupt halt and you crash into him with a sharp exhale.  He grabs your hand and tugs you close. You blink at him with surprise while he tips his head in that studious way.

“You’re right,” he says. “You don’t.  In fact, it’s almost nice, you forced to finally do what I’m asking.  If you’re not careful, it might even make me like you.” 

It is so cold and sarcastic. 

It gets you so hot. 

Seriously, what is with your stupid brain?  How does it cross the wires of fear and desire like that?  Felix is speaking at you with that deep, dark, nasty voice of his and your heart should be skipping beats in concern, not because you think he’s sexy when he’s being a bitch.  

You hide it from him well enough, glaring at him like he glared at you.  He just snorts and shakes his head. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Interesting,” he replies.  “Very interesting.”   

“What?”

“Nothing.”  He smiles politely, for a moment looking like the unassuming pretty boy you thought he was.  He bats his long eyelashes at you, smiles a coy smile, and squeezes your hand.   “Come on,” he says.  “We tried this your way and it got us in trouble.  Time to be a good girl and do it my way.  No, stop, don’t say anything.  Be quiet.  Just walk.  Let’s go.” 

You stumble when he tugs you after him.  Your mouth is hanging open yet again.   

You are proud to say that in your many years of bad girl shenanigans, you have never truly met your match.  You’ve played pretend a few times, let a couple losers think they won, if only because you liked the game of it.  But no one has ever really taken control.  No one has ever really beat you.  No one has ever come close. 

No one.  Until today. 

You glare at the back of Felix’s head, brain stampeding as fast as your heart.   Because finally, you’ve found him, your perfect match.  Lashed to you through the metal manifestation of fate’s red string. 

You didn’t know what game you were playing before, but now you do.

And you’re going to win.  

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Make Me Wanna 6

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note:Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

As unsurprised as you were when Faye shunned you, you’re even less put off by her sudden reappearance. She does this. There was a whole month in high school when suddenly she was too busy trying to fit in with the local Regina George and her minions. You know she only came back then because she had to work to impress them. 

You’re not insulted. You know who and what you are, even without her father reminding you. You reread the text, tempted to hit those three dots and tap gleefully press ‘block’. You’re still friends, even if she can be a shitty one. You care about her.  

‘Can we meet?’ 

You already have your response typed in; ‘where?’ You’ve been trying to send it for the last hour. Something keeps you from push your thumb against that arrow. Is it worth it this time? 

Before you can think too much, your phone vibrates again. Almost as if she can sense your doubt. ‘Please. It’s serious.’ 

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck. As if you don’t have enough to deal with. 

You send the text and grab your bag. The kids are already asleep, your mom’s here, probably sleeping too. You hurry to the door without a response. This is it. The last time. You’re going to tell Faye exactly that. Next time she can call her dad. You don’t need the trouble. Besides, she’s doing all this to piss him off, it has nothing to do with you. 

You put your shoes on and leave as quietly as you can, double checking the locks behind you. You stomp down the front walk as the streetlights shine down and head down towards the bus stop. Your phone shakes. What the hell? 

At least it’s close. You read the address again. You know it. Two blocks away on Wilmington; dealer district. This isn’t good. 

You put your chin down and set your eyes ahead of you. Don’t look at anyone, just keep going. You sling your purse around your body, keeping your hand on it. You have your phone firmly in the other. 

Wilmington. Even your mother has enough sense to warn you against going around there. You head down and count the numbers from the corner of your eye. You slow as you near the house in question. What do you do? Knock on the door? You don’t know if that’s a great idea. Looks like a flop house. 

You hear your name and a shadow ripples on the crooked porch. You look up as a dark figure staggers to  the top of the steps. Faye looks willowy and drawn out as the moonlight hits her skin. The skin around her eyes baggy and discolored and she’s wearing the same outfit she wore to the club. 

“What the hell?” You hiss as you march forward. She stumbles down the stairs and you barely catch her, “Faye?” 

“I’m sorry. I was scared,” she murmurs as she latches onto you, “you gotta help me.” 

She reeks, she’s shaking, and she’s slurring her words. 

“Are you high?” You whisper at you hold her at arm’s length. 

“Not anymore,” she sniffles, “please, my head is killing me.” 

“What the fuck?!” You barely keep from shrieking, “how-- why the fuck would you do that?” 

“That guy... we were just snorting a little and then... I don’t know. I can’t remember.” 

“Faye,” you whine, “are you out of your mind?” 

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t...” she shakes her head and her voice drifts off, her frazzled eyes dimming, “I don’t know...” 

She scratches her arm and you notice the scabbing there. You sigh and shake your head. You’re so tired of this. As if you don’t have enough to deal with at home with three siblings. Faye isn’t your problem, she won’t be after this. 

“Fine. I’ll take you home. Your dad can deal with you--” 

“No, please. You can’t,” she pleads and grabs you again, “I can’t-- He’ll kill me.” 

“Faye, what the fuck am I supposed to do? I don’t have anywhere else to take you.” 

“I’ll stay in your room--” 

“No,” you say bluntly, “I have work and my siblings can’t be around you like this.” 

“Why are you being so mean?” She whines. 

You grit your teeth and look around as you hear voices from unseen mouths. You exhale and grab her wrist, dragging her hand from your arm. 

“Let’s get out of here first,” you turn and tug her after you. “Fucking Wilmington? Wilmington?” 

“Please, don’t be mad,” she snivels, “my dad’s gonna lose it if he knows. I need you. I need you to be nice--” 

“I need you to stop fucking me around,” you snarl, “don’t you understand? Every dumb shit decision you make her brings down on me?” 

“Huh?” She staggers heavily in her dirty wedges. 

“Your fucking dad. Thinks he rules the whole damn world. And who is he gonna blame for this? You’re in my neighbourhood. You think I want to deal with him?” 

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers. 

“You’re not,” you insist, “this is the last fucking time.” 

“Please--” 

“No, Faye,” you spin on her as you turn off of Wilmington. You have to keep yourself from shoving her, instead letting her go and throwing up your hands. “You have everything. You get to go back to school, you get to go home to your nice little suburban castle, you get to have your dad pay for it all. I have to go work at the goddamn grocery store and watch my life spin down the fucking sewer. I get to lay awake at night and worry if my siblings are gonna end up over here or if my mom’s going to come home at all when I haven’t seen her in two weeks!” 

You ball your hands to fists, overwhelmed by the eruption of repressed emotions, “you get to smile and cry and get out of it all.” 

“I...” she breathes, “I... didn’t know--” 

“You never cared. Never listened,” you drops your arms and slump. “Go and live your life. Live it up in college, move somewhere nice, get married, do all that fun shit. I’ll stay. I don’t get that choice.” 

The roll of tires near as you stand in tense silence. Faye mopes and hangs her head, swaying and scratching, “can I just stay one night?” She whispers. 

You sigh again. 

You sense a car draw up to the curb. Great, some jackass thinks you’re a street walker. You’re ready to tell him to fuck off but swallow the sneer. You could still say so. 

Walter steps out on the other side of the car, “Faye,” he snarls. 

“See,” you turn to her again, “don’t you realise who he’s going to blame now?” You face the man’s broad shadow, “don’t worry, Mr. Marshall, I was just telling her to go home and never come back. You win. I quit.” 

“Both of you, get in,” he growls. 

You scoff and Faye cowers behind you, “daddy--” 

“Faye, just go,” you try to nudge her ahead of you, “I have to go home.” 

“I said both,” Walter stomps around and rips open the back door. “In.” 

“Here, she can go--” you urge Faye towards the backseat as she fights weakly.  

As you push her head down and she surrenders, curling onto the seat, you’re shoved from behind. You barely keep from hitting your brow on the metal and throw your arm back at Walter. He catches your wrist and twists your arm behind you. 

“It’s late. I’m on duty. I can’t leave you here,” he insists. 

“What do you care?” You hiss and fight him. 

“Don’t make me get the cuffs.” 

You recoil at his threat and fall inside the car. You turn back to sneer at him but his face in covered in black shadow. Your nostrils flare and you shake your head. You bite down on a million insults and pull your legs inside. 

Once he has Faye safe, you’ll figure a way out. 

[knowyourplace-fool]

Umm, I loved bully gojo and 2 , what happened after he kidnapped her and yknow , non conned her , like is he just obsessed with her , ORRRR , is he obsessed with her aaanndd IN LOVE with her ? Will he force her to be his girlfriend and future wife. Will she try to pick herself up and make a good life for self even though gojo literally exists. Hmmmmmmmm???? Idk but anwyas that story atteee . Stay sexy , ..sexy 🥰💓

⚠️: NON CON, Kidnapping, Mean!Gojo, physically, mental and emotional abuse, manhandling, bullying, biting, groping, size difference, pregnancy sex

-> THIS IS REALLY DARK AND FUCKED UP PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !

-> Idk why but everyone ate that Gojo fic up for some reason😭

-> part 1

Oh boy, he is more than obsessed with you

You made it too easy for him

With your family being out of the picture and you having quite literally 0 friends

Isolating you… well you already did that to yourself

Your reputation at school burned to the ground the moment he decided to leak your sex tape

So there’s no going back to uni

He handed in a resignation letter on your behalf and though your boss was concerned, Satoru assured her that you’re alright, but your morning sickness has been brutal lately

She raised her eyebrows and smiled, telling Satoru to pass on her congratulations to you

Your roommate at your dorm didn’t give a crap (she has a big, fat crush on Satoru and when she found out he slept with you, she wanted to kill you.)

That urge only grew stronger when Satoru stopped by your dorm to move your stuff out and when she asked him why he was the one moving it, he simply stated,

“Well, she’s pregnant with my child so she’ll be living with me so I can take care of her.”

Safe to say your roommate spent the night ripping her hair out of her scalp

And you. You’re sitting in the sunroom with a cup of warm tea and a side of prenatal vitamins in front of you

You’re in deep thought when the door swings open and a tall figure enters in

He sits next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you onto his lap so that your back is relaxed on his chest

“Did you take a look at the blueprints?”

“I did but… what’s wrong with this house?”

“Nothing. I’d just like a bigger home to raise our family in.”

He’s met with silence

“You haven’t taken your vitamins.”

“I will, I just, I haven’t been feeling too good this morning.”

To that he hums and leave a kiss on your neck

“How’s the dress shopping going?”

You pause and put your hands over his

“Don’t you think we’re rushing this? Why can’t we wait till after I’ve given birth?”

“I don’t wanna wait that long.”

You wanted to ask him why, but you knew it would result in the back of his hand meeting your soft cheek

You had already experienced Satoru’s aggressive side and you’d rather not deal with it until this baby is out of you

“I’m sorry, but I need to pee.” You squeak, escaping his grip and leaving him alone in the sunroom

5 days passed, and it was a big day. Your wedding day. Even though it was put together on such short notice, it turned out marvellous.

For a girl, her wedding day is supposed to be one of the best days of her life, right? It’s supposed to be magical, exciting and memorable… right?

So why are you sitting on a chair labeled “bride”, with your hair and makeup complete, staring at a one way bus ticket to the neighbouring city?

That leaves right when the ceremony starts

You had known about the bus ticket. Actually, an unexpected someone had given you the bus tickets.

Suguru, Satoru’s ex-bestfriend.

They had a huge falling out over a business deal and even mentioning his name sets Satoru into a rage. Especially if it’s his fiancee.

So as a lick back, Suguru offered to help you escape him. And maybe by the end of it, you’ll warm his bed once or twice, or better yet, marry him.

From Suguru’s perspective, it was the perfect revenge. Nobody knows Satoru better than himself. He knows exactly how he thinks and what steps he would take to find you.

He also knew that today would be the only day that Satoru wouldn’t be breathing down your neck because you were getting ready to be his bride.

At first, you didn’t believe it. But Geto is convincing. He thought about everything — down to the last little detail. He made you picture a life where you’re far away from Satoru and given a chance to start fresh again.

Going to the neighbouring city means you could have an abortion so you won’t be tied to the blue eyed monster for eternity.

Geto left his number on a sticky note that was attached to the bus ticket. You walk over to the landline and dial his number. After a ring, he picks up and once he hears your sweet voice, he smiles.

“Meet me at the corner of Xander’s street, there’s plenty of trees there to keep you hidden.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and the tips of your ears were hot. You knew. You knew that if Satoru had the slightest hint about what you were about to do, he’d drag you to hell and back. But the idea of marrying him, having his child and building a home for your family, was far more petrifying.

You slip into some shorts and a tank top before sliding out of the bridal room and using the nearest exit to leave the venue. You scurry along the trees, hoping and praying no one sees. The corner of the street was quiet and secluded. You had plenty of cover and you waited until a blacked out Range Rover pulls over.

The window rolls down and it’s Suguru. He tells you to hop into the back seat quickly before anyone sees.

You do what he says, except when you open the back seat door, you’re met with icy blue eyes.

Your breath hitches and before you know it, you’re being pulled into the car with Satoru screaming at you.

“You fucking lying whore! How fucking stupid can you be, hm?”

He placed you on your back and wrapped his fingers around your neck, slightly chocking you

“When Suguru told me that you accepted the bus tickets, I let it slide. I let it slide because I thought you were smart enough to know not to cross me. But you, you fucking bitch, you really tried to leave me at the alter! You really thought you could get away from me?”

He tears your shorts apart, revealing your white undergarments that you were supposed to wear under your wedding dress.

You couldn’t help but cry, spewing apology after apology. But he wasn’t having any of it. He unbuckled his own pants, pulling his thick cock out of his trousers. He spat down on it for lube and without a care in the world, entered into you.

“You stupid bitch- you thought you could run away and abort my baby?!”

He leans down, his hot breath tickling your ear as he tugs on your hair to expose your neck.

“If you thought, even for a second that you could hide from me and live a normal life after killing my child. You’re just as sick as me… And clearly, you don’t know who the fuck I am. So let me teach you.”

He lifted your legs to mating press, ruthlessly thrusting into you while you sob beneath him. You try resisting by attempting to pry his fingers off the bottom of your thigh, but he has a death grip on them

“P-please stop… It hurts — I can’t move or b-breathe properly.”

You hiccup, but he ignores. Instead, he picks up the pace, making you cry even harder.

“I’m s-sorry please! Please it hurts! I can’t-”

“Shut the fuck up and take it. Or I’ll ask him to shut you up with his dick. I bet you’d like that, you fucking whore. So eager to leave me, is it because you have the hots for my best friend?”

Your eyes glance at the rear view mirror, and sure enough, his eyes are glued on you

Which only makes you sob harder. Hearing no response from you angered Satoru. Did you really like Suguru? He pressed on your neck, and by the look of his eyes, you knew he was waiting for an answer.

“N-no! I don’t- I swear I- I’m just not ready to be a mother, please!”

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

According to Satoru, the entire thing was a test for you. The falling out, Suguru giving you the bus ticket to help you escape, and meeting you at the corner of the street— it was all apart of the test. And you failed it. Miserably.

“And here I was, thinking that I had trained you to know better. To know better than to leave me. But you prove me wrong again and again.”

He finishes inside you. Suguru pulls into the back of the venue. Satoru pulls you up right and lays his forehead against your own.

“Go get your hair and makeup re-done. The next time I see you, you better be in your gown walking down the aisle to wed to me. Do you understand?”

“Mmh”

“Words”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good.”

Apologies for any mistakes. It’s pretty late. Also have mercy on me, I haven’t wrote anything in 9 months so it’s a bit rusty😭