#*it's literally pouring rain outside* 'it's raining.'

[campingwiththecharmings]

i've been an adult for over a decade and i still don't understand why some people feel the need to question/comment on obvious things.

[yakultii]

5 October

[soldierandawar]

what if Tommy got in his car and started blasting the other side of the door.

[darkside-0f-the-sun]

ladies, ladies, one at a time😏😘😉

[juice-thief-frog]

Hypothesis: Rejecting Dark Magic Could Save Viren's Life? Season 5-6 Theory!

This theory/speculation/thought experiment won't leave me alone so I'm gonna officially shout it out into the world!

There's a chance that Viren could maybe have unfucked saved himself.

We're all wondering - did Viren survive season 5? Has he kicked the bucket for good this time? Or is he like that cockroach you just can't get rid of?

I have some unfortunate (or maybe fortunate) news! Viren could definitely be alive!

And it's about dark magic, power, and fever dreams!

Those dark magic dreams Viren had all season had to mean something more! A push for Claudia to go full baddie? Yeah, most likely. We've all seen the Season 6 teaser.

But what if those fever dreams meant something... more?

What if it leads up to more than just Viren's ultimate end?

tl;dr - What if by rejecting dark magic, Viren unknowingly saved his own life? AKA: I dive into Viren's mind, and try to decipher his character arc a teeny bit.

Let's goooooo-

I have little evidence to back up this 'what if'. But I have something, however small.

So, to start this off:

"Tomorrow, the sun will rise, and you will not."

At first this sounds pretty clear - and it might still be! Viren could be sleepin' with the Xadian fishes. But when has Aaravos ever been perfectly clear? Mr 'I Swallowed Her' speaks in riddles and rhymes, and does he even know what the fuck he's talking about? (of course he knows, he's Aaravos, what am I thinking-)

One alternative take on this cryptic little message could be that the old Viren can't come to the phone right now. Because he's dead.

Viren rejected dark magic for the first time ever! He finally sees what Harrow has been seeing all along - dark magic twists you, twists everything around you, into corruption. We can see this with the corrupted Banthers - and Viren's face.

The sun will rise, and the old Viren will be dead.

But perhaps in his place will come a new man - one with a new goal, a new purpose, new motivations. In writing-terms, this means Viren will basically be a whole new character.

Characters are defined by their goals and motivations.

Since the beginning, Viren's goal has been somewhat the same (a bright future for humanity by using dark magic and overthrowing Xadia). But things have changed for Viren, especially during Seasons 4-5. Viren is completely powerless for the first time since Arc One.

Lord Viren has always been a character defined by his power. Even without using dark magic, he can still influence others to bend to his will.

Example image: Lord Viren threatening the young Crowmaster to summon the Pentarchy.

Lord Viren also takes Gren off the mission to find the missing princes, effortlessly placing Soren and Claudia in charge seconds after Amaya left. Viren convinced Soren to go and kill the princes on this mission.

Whenever his power and authority is threatened, Viren keeps pushing forward. Like the dark mage he was, Lord Viren keeps pushing until he gets the desired outcome. Soren said it best:

So, the truth is, someone who wants you to do horrible things, and convinces you that they're good, that's a villain. My dad... is a villain. And he's only gonna get more powerful, and the more powerful he gets, the more people will listen to him, and believe him, and follow him.

Meeting Aaravos is a pivotal moment in Viren's further pursuit of more power. Aaravos promises Viren more power and influence than ever before. Aaravos guides Viren to send the smoke assassins after the other kingdoms to motivate them by fear. Aaravos brings out the worst in Viren by targeting this fatal weakness.

Ultimately, Aaravos guides Viren to further pursue his hunger for more power. Viren convinced Claudia that Soren misunderstood the assignment of 'kill the princes' (dick move, Viren).

Then they march into Xadia, and take down the Sunfire Kingdom. And Aaravos takes Viren to the top of the Storm Spire to capture every essence of magic from baby Zym.

Power, power, and more power. Take a sip of water every time I write 'power', honestly.

So Viren falls to his death, and Claudia brings him back 2 years later. The fourth season begins, and Viren is already different. He is powerless. He isn't even wearing his High Mage attire, instead he's in bloodied and dirty prisoner clothes.

He's travelling with an elf, and he doesn't have his staff. He realises he doesn't even want his staff anymore. He's suddenly horribly afraid of heights, and is obviously frustrated about how he's losing power over everything.

His own mind and body are warring against him. He's going to die in 30 days, and he's experiencing panic attacks. Viren is falling apart worse than his tattered clothes.

And after he finally uses dark magic? He ends up passing out, and missing out on his last few days alive. Instead he's thrust into visions for days on end. Interesting to note that Callum didn't suffer from his own visions as long as Viren did. (perhaps because Viren does indeed have a long history of dark magic?)

These visions take Viren into his past, makes him look at everything in a new way. He sees the harm he caused, sees every scar he left on the world. In his pursuit of power, he ripped everything he loved apart. Including his own children. Soren hates him, and Claudia is diving deeper and further than Viren had ever gone.

It is the vision of Claudia that seems to shake Viren the most. To see what corrupted path he has laid out for his children horrifies him. To see Claudia follow this path so eagerly puts the final nail in the coffin.

No dark magic, never again.

Viren is done with dark magic, and he's done with Aaravos. He's done with his pursuit of power. He's ready to be free.

Interesting to note is that his past self is the one reaching out and holding on here. Reconnecting with his roots, his oldest beliefs.

--

At the end of the season, Viren is the most powerless he has ever been.

Laying under the stars, he cannot even find comfort in their shine. They remind him of Aaravos, and of all the mistakes Lord Viren has made. He certainly doesn't feel free.

He's chosen not to kill The Being, he's chosen to align himself with his roots. His roots as a young man dreaming of things far bigger than himself. He turns his eyes away from the stars, no longer reaching for them. Instead he closes his eyes, and awaits death's embrace.

What happens next?

Well, maybe the rejection of his old life leads him to find a new path. Maybe rejecting the call of dark magic puts him out of Aaravos' reach, and he can finally become someone better.

But I guess we won't know for certain until Season 6. So pls share your own thoughts and observations! I'd love to see what you all come up with!

[keeps-ache]

yay yippee yay :3 🎉

[rackartyg]

the problem. with drawing on some of your worst experiences when writing. is that you do. kind of resurrect those experience into the present. because you called them here.

[strawberry-cowmilk]

it's nice weather for once here I hope it stays like this for a while

[citrusmaxxer]

i lowkey hate this house

[madaei]

i have such a love hate relationship w/ japanese onomatopoeia rn. like on one hand i think theyre really cool and fun and on the other hand. theyre so. hard to memorise. no kanji to rely on. i have like 3 cards in my review cards rotation rn - 2 for dizzy and one for shaky/unstable and every other few days i get at least one of them wrongGod please help me

[grokebaby]

Hiiiii please send me some of my latest blorbos I would like to do small(er) oc posting today!

Ask Game for someone’s OC(s)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

💼 - What do they do for a living?

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

🎯 -What do they do best?

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

�� - Does your OC have any phobias?

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

[insomtiny]

having one of those stupid days where everything is stupid

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: A missing key and a terrible storm leaves you and Eddie stranded in the back of his van. What ever shall you do to pass the time?

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, friends-to-lovers, kinda sub!Eddie but he's mostly just a simp.

A/N: This will be my last 1k+ fic for a while, as I'll be focusing on writing blurbs for Corroded Coffin Fest throughout July. Why not go out with a (literal) bang?

--

“What do you mean, you forgot your key?”

Your eyes widen as Eddie flicks through the keyring. He shakes his head in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I was switching keychains…I thought I put them all back…” He huffs out an irritated laugh. “Must’ve left the house key on the table.”

A warm breeze siphons through the humidity, gray clouds rolling in. August in Hawkins is unbearable as it is, and the sticky heat before a storm is downright brutal. 

Eddie jiggles the doorknob once more, to no avail. “Jesus H. Christ.” He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy and knotted from the hot weather. “Back to your place?”

Before you can agree, lightning flashes and is swiftly accompanied by booming thunder. Your heart leaps into your throat and you jump. 

“Scared the shit outta me, too.” Eddie laughs nervously. A fat raindrop falls from the sky and plops on his nose, rolling off of the side. Another lands on his cheek, then one lands on yours, until rain pours in a steady sheet. 

Eddie grabs your hand, tugging you off of the trailer’s front steps and pulling you back to his van. He flings open the back doors, always kept unlocked unless he’s hauling concert equipment. 

“Get in,” he orders, and you follow his instructions without a second though. Rainwater pools in the grass, dirt turning into mud beneath your sneakered feet. His hands grip your waist, steadying you as you climb up. “We’ll wait in here until the rain dies down.”

You ignore the lingering flames that his touch leaves behind and the way he’s now sitting right next to you. “It’s like a monsoon out there.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the storm raging outside. Raindrops sound like drum beats against the van’s exterior, a song you’ve heard many times before. 

A chill sweeps over you, reminding you of the wet cotton of your t-shirt clinging to your torso. Your miniskirt hasn't fared much better, the light-washed denim now dark. 

“Do you have a blanket back here?”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s, like, the one thing I don’t have.” He gestures to the cluttered space. 

You offer a half-smile. “S’okay.” Your palms glide up and down your goosebump-covered arms. 

He notices this, frowning. “Here,” he says. “My hands are bigger than yours.” He clumsily positions himself behind you, knees knocking against your sides. His grasp is strong but gentle, hands warming you up from the outside in. 

“Thanks.” He’s close—so close—yet it feels like he’s never been farther away. Without thinking, you scoot back until your ass brushes against his fly. 

“Sh-Shit.” Eddie inhales sharply. “That’s, um, dangerous territory.”

You raise your brows, though he can’t see them. “And rubbing my arms isn’t?”

Eddie peers around, chin resting on your shoulder. He looks up and says, “it doesn’t turn you on though.”

“Says who?”

He breathes out a laugh, stopping immediately when he realizes that you’re not joking. His voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “This…this turns you on?” 

You nod, suddenly shy at the admission. 

“How about this?” Eddie’s lips press against the back of your neck. One calloused hand reaches for the collar of your shirt, tugging it down to expose your shoulder. He kisses that, too, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. 

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.” His other hand snakes around your throat, holding it firmly but being careful not to squeeze. “We shouldn’t do this. S’gonna ruin our friendship.”

Gently, you turn to face him, legs straddling his waist. “I’m fine with ruining it if you are.” The words are murmured, muffled by the proximity of your lips and his. 

Eddie swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with trepidation. “Just want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

He grabs your ass and pulls you closer until you can feel his erection straining against his jeans. You roll your hips, eliciting a moan from him. 

“You—I gotta—” He unbuckles his belt, tossing it amongst the van’s clutter. “I’m so hard it hurts.”

You reach for his pants button, but he shakes his head. “I’ll bust if you touch me,” he sheepishly explains. 

He takes off his own pants, which is much more of a chore than usual because of the rain-soaked fabric. He doesn’t bother to remove his Hellfire shirt, but you hardly notice. His tented boxers hold your focus, and despite his warning, you strip them away. You need to see what’s beneath them. 

The sight before you is nothing less than glorious. 

His cock is hard, curved slightly left, the pinkish-purple tip already leaking pre-cum. Your thumb traces the vein that runs along the shaft, and he shivers at your touch. When he looks at you with wide, wet eyes, you nearly melt on the spot.

“Is…Is this what you want?” Eddie’s voice is so soft you can barely hear it above the pouring rain. “Because…I want this so bad. So fucking bad.” Pleading, desperate, bordering on pathetic. Everything he showed outwardly, you felt on the inside.

You lean in, capturing his lips and pouring all of your desire into one searing kiss. “Don’t just want it. Need it. Need you,” you reassure him, feeling his length twitch against you. Taking it in your hand, you move your panties out of the way and rub the head against your clit. Every nudge sends a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. “Mmmph, please, please.”

Eddie wraps his hand around yours, guiding his cock into you. “There you go,” he whispers, hissing as you sink down. He fills you completely, bringing a pinch of pain as you adjust to him. “You okay?”

“Mhm. M-More than okay.” You grip his shoulders, curling your fingers into the shirt’s cotton fabric.  Moving your hips, you work him deeper until he’s bottomed out, sheathed within you down to the curls at his base. 

Everything is Eddie, and it feels so good. 

“Can’t believe I’m inside you.” He tries to kiss you, the action hindered by a small laugh. “I’m actually—we’re actually doing this. Fuck, you feel so good!” The last sentence is a growl, raw and primal. 

You hold on to him, knees scraping against the van’s worn carpet as your movements find their rhythm. There’s no more time for self-control. Only Eddie, his hips bucking to meet your core. 

“Might…might not last long,” he admits, swiping at a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “You’re even better than my fantasies. Never knew you’d feel this f-fucking warm. Tight. Like you’re m-made for me.”

“Maybe I am.” You swoop down to suck on his neck. “Maybe I am made for you, and I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back and exposing more of his neck, which you dutifully continue marking. His thoughts are clouded by lust; neither of you speak for a while, the only noises are moans and the van squeaking on its axles. 

“It’s always you.”

Your eyes meet his. “What?”

“In my fantasies. It’s always you. Every time I jerk off, I imagine your hands, your mouth, your perfect pussy—”

“Eddie.” His name is barely a breath. You clench around him just as he kisses you, and his teeth sink into your lower lip. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it produces a twinge of pain that has you skyrocketing towards climax. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He grabs your hips harshly, keeping you flush against him. The denim waistband of your skirt digs into your skin but you don’t care. Nothing matters, only Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…

“I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming.” He thrusts upwards in short, punctuated strokes, heaving as he spills into you. 

The two of you stay like that for a few moments, catching your breath and processing what just happened. You confessed that Eddie’s touch turned you on, you rode him in the back of his van, and then he confessed that he thinks about you when he touches himself. 

Oh, and he gave you an earth-shattering orgasm. 

As if reading your mind, Eddie says softly, “you came…right? Because if you didn’t, I can—”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but giggle, silencing him with a kiss. “I definitely came.”

His chest sags with relief. “Good. Me, too. I mean, obviously. It’s right…” He withdraws, cock softening, his cum trickling down your thigh. “Holy fucking shit.” 

There’s no masking his grin, visible through the t-shirt’s thin fabric as he pulls it over his head. With a careful touch, he wipes away his mess. 

“I think I owe you a new shirt.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, tossing the shirt aside. “I have a million of these. Not the first time one’s been, uh, stained.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn crimson at his admission. He averts his gaze from you, bringing his attention to the foggy window. The condensation squeaks under his forefinger as he draws a smiley face through it. 

“What do you wanna do till my uncle gets home?”

You, you think, but the last thing you need is for Wayne to find the van a-rockin’. “Maybe I could hear more about those fantasies of yours? And I could tell you some of mine?”

Eddie looks back at you, his spent cock still managing a small twitch. “Mmm.” His lips find your throat, sending vibrations through you when he speaks. One hand snakes between your bodies, his middle finger landing on your clit. He makes small, deliberate circles as he murmurs.

“Ladies first.”

--

[letsbangts]

umbrella || jjk

⤷ summary: when rain pours more into your life instead of washing things away

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 2k+

⟶ genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, established relationship au

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, college au, kook is a flirty tease, mainly just a fluffy couple in love with a barely there argument because of a protective jk

⟶ warnings: explicit language

↬ a/n: so this is a very old piece I polished up a bit. it was inspired by a narration in a scene from the drama ‘goblin’, so that tells you how old it is haha. hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo

masterlist

on this rainy night, what is your umbrella?

I stood under the awning outside the building, which I was supposed to be far from as of 2 o’clock. My other classmates were long gone, having made their way off campus through the rain by running to their cars with the protection of a coat or umbrella. None of the things I have because I continue not to be an adult and watch the news, missing the weather report that everyone else was aware of. Watching the heavy raindrops smack against the pavement, I contemplate how I’m getting home.

Should I make a run for it? A run for 30 minutes? Yeah, that’s not happening. I could call a taxi. But I’m not going to pay for that so no.

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot,” I say quietly to myself, or so I thought.

“Jeez, that’s a little harsh don’t you think.” a beautiful deep voice says.

Startled I turn my head quickly to be met with what I could have sworn was a literal angel in disguise as a twenty-something-year-old boy. The tall boy looks away from the rain and towards me. He gives me a quick look over and sees my empty hands and smiles.

“Ah! You don’t have an umbrella. You didn’t watch the news?” he asks. I shake my head to answer him.

He smirks and nods his head while looking back out at the downpour.

“Maybe you are an idiot.” He says all too casually while shrugging, clearly teasing me.

“Hey!” I scoff out with a laugh, finally speaking.

“I mean, today is one of the worst days we are supposed to get this year! How can you not have an umbrella or at least a hood?” He laughs out loud, gesturing his hand at me from head to toe.

His laugh and my current predicament both cause me to join in. Once we both settle down the dark-haired boy looks at me with round eyes still slightly crinkled from laughter although nothing but kindness is present in them.

“How far do you live from here?” he asks with a melodic voice and an endearing head tilt to match it.

Upon first look, he may seem like someone with an edge to them; dark-coloured clothes, piercings and some tattoos. But it is ever present that there is an apparent softness to him, one that accompanied by his calm demeanour is pouring a level of comfort over me that I can not explain.

“30 minutes that way,” I point out the way to my home, “Pretty close to Bam's House Cafe.”

“Hmm, I’m headed the same way, so it looks like you're a lucky idiot.” He says shooting me a wink while opening his umbrella held in his tattooed hand.

“Gee thanks, but I’d feel more lucky if you’d stop rubbing my idiocy in my face.” I chuckle.

“I would call you by name if you told me it.” He says with a slight, dare I say flirtatious smirk that causes my breath to get stuck in my throat.

“It’s Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, I’m Jungkook. The handsome, well-prepared gentleman escorting you through this storm today.” He sends me a beaming smile that almost sends me to my grave.

He holds out the clear vinyl plastic for me to stand under it. I do just that and as I step close to him, arms brushing I'm hit with his clean fresh scent.

“Thank you again, Jungkook," I reply looking down to hide my sudden blush.

"Shall we get going?” He asks flicking his head out to the direction I earlier pointed out, and with a nod of my head, we step out starting on our journey to my home. And so much more.  

the voice that responds when you call.

The ringing in my ears finally stops when I hear the voice on the other end of the phone say, “Hello?”

But it is no surprise to me, knowing he would answer because Jungkook always did. I knew once he saw my name flash across his screen he would not hesitate to slide to answer.

“Hey.” my voice is small when I reply.

“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately concerned, because just like how Jungkook always answers, he always knows. He knows you.

“I just miss you, I wanted to hear your voice.”

“I know I miss you too. But I’ll be back in two days.”

“Ugh! That’s going to feel like forever.” a whiny sadness to my tone.

“Hey, I told you you could come with me. My mom is still upset I didn’t bring you.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I know but taking a trip to Busan is not an option with work right now.” I sigh.

I hear him sigh as well and there is a long pause between us.

“Then quit your job.” He states in an all too serious tone.

“What? Jungkook have you lost your mind? You know I can’t qu-“

“Sure you can! I’ll quit my own too! Then we can move out here and buy a house. We can live by the water and have a bunch of kids, it will be perfect.” His tone gets more excited as he hears my giggles pleased with my happiness.

“So what do you say, babe? Sounds good right?” he asks still joking.

“Sounds perfect,” I reply with a content smile.

And just like that you were no longer sad because Jungkook knew how to make you happy. Jungkook always knew.

the memories of seeing the same thing at the same time.

It was Monday, and although I was not as fond of it as any other person towards that day of the week, I had one thing to look forward to on Mondays. That was the one day of the week Jungkook would meet me at work and we would walk home together.

So here we are walking through the park, which was a shortcut to our home. My hand in his, fingers interlocked this being the beckon of light at the end of my work day. I feel him rubbing his thumb across the back of my hand and I glance at him to see him just looking off into the distance. My usually chatty boyfriend is now just quietly at my side. I use my free hand and pull him by the elbow holding him close to my side, gaining his attention eyebrows raised in question.

“Rough day?” I ask looking up at him.

He breathes out an airy laugh through his nose.

“Yeah you know, just one of those days.” He glances back at me with a small shrug then continues.

“It was one of those days I wished I was just with you at home, just had you beside me,” he squeezes my hand  “Only me and you, the rest of the world blocked out.”

He looks down at me and softly smiles that eye smile I could never fall out of love with.

“I wish for that every day” I reply returning the squeeze to his hand while smiling up at him.

While we share this moment I notice small white flakes landing on his raven-coloured hair. He must have taken notice too as we both look up.

We are met with flurries quickly floating down all around us making their way to the ground.

“The first snowfall.” He states almost in a whisper.

“It's so pretty,” I say fascinated and fully entranced with the beauty of Mother Nature.

I feel his gaze on my face and turn to make eye contact. He has the most delicate look, eyes filled with adoration.

“I may not have had you by my side all day, but I’m glad I have you here right now.” He says lovingly.

And at that moment, witnessing the beginning of a new season with my love and sharing this memory, I could have sworn the rest of the world was blocked out and it was just us two.

the first time you matched each other’s pace.

Angry.

No, that’s not even the right word, enraged. Yes, enraged that is what I am feeling right now. And why was I so mad you ask? My boyfriend seemed to think that a guy having a friendly conversation with me, albeit a drunken one on his part but innocent, was the perfect reason to cause a huge scene in the middle of a party with all our friends and more to see.

So now here we are walking home furious with one another because I think he overreacted while he thinks I underreacted. Not only am I annoyed with him for how he acted but now I’m annoyed with myself for wearing heels knowing I would have to walk home after a whole night in them.

My pace starts to get slower because my feet start killing me and it suddenly feels like Jungkook is running a marathon instead of walking home. I glance up and see the distance between his back and me getting bigger and bigger. I focus on trying to ignore the pain soaring through my feet and as I continue walking with my head down staring at the shoes I have come to despise I suddenly bump into a shoulder.

I look up to my side and notice the man that was ahead of me seconds ago now right beside me.

“If you can’t keep up just say so,” he grumbles, the first words I hear from him since we left the party.

I notice how he starts walking slower for me and does not move an inch further from my side. I continue my struggle to walk, feet pulsing more with every step.

“Ah fuck it,” I mumble to myself as I take off my heels.

Jungkook halts and turns towards me once he notices I stopped walking. Once I start to continue I feel my heels being ripped out of my hands, as I'm about to ask what he’s doing he kneels in front of me, wordlessly telling me to get on his back.

“Kook, you don’t-“

“Get on.” He quietly demands.

I don’t argue because my feet yell at me not to. I get on his back, arms around his neck and he tucks his hand under my knees immediately standing up with ease and continues our journey home.

“I told you not to wear those damn shoes.” He says after a couple of minutes.

For some reason that comment brings a slight smile to me, as I realize that my anger has disappeared without me even being aware.

“Thank you,” I say into his neck as I tighten my arms and lock my ankles around his torso hugging him closer to me.

He adjusts his hands to my thighs as I pull us closer together.

“For what?” he questions taking a peek at me.

“For trying to take care of me before and still taking care of me now,” I answer giving his neck a peck.

“You know I’ll always do that, it’s my job too. A little fight won’t stop that, taking care of you comes naturally to me now.”

“I mean it kind of has to look at our situation right now.” he continues with a breathy laugh as he squeezes my thighs to emphasize his statement.

I giggle at his response knowing the truth behind it. Jungkook has always taken care of me. We’ve always looked out for each other. We have always matched ourselves to each other.

did someone come to mind?

I hear the lock of the front door opening and the jingling of keys, followed by some rustling around, most likely the removal of outerwear. A few seconds later I see the handsome tattooed man I call my boyfriend walking into our living room. He smiles as he sits beside me on the couch wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head. I look up at him head on his shoulder and begin to stare unconsciously as thoughts run around my head.

“What?” he asks me with a confused chuckle.

I smile at him, “I love you.”

He gives me that butterfly-inducing eye smile and kisses me on the lips.

 “I love you too.”

yes, that’s the person.

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: stuck at the chateau with jj— who hates you— during a hurricane turns into a night you definitely didn’t expect.

— pairing: jj maybank x kook princess!reader

— warnings: smut! 18+ hate sex!! dub con, fingering, protected sex, degrading, hair pulling, choking, spanking, some language, jj is a so mean in this. i think that’s all.

↠ note— i literally found this in my notes from back in June lmao. thought i’d finish it and post it.

❥ the storm— j.m

“i’m not afraid, sare! i just don’t necessarily like storms. i don’t understand why you and john b. couldn’t stay here tonight”

a sigh leaves your lips, fingertips pushing the thin curtains of the room you’re in to the side as you watched the rain pour down, the trees roughly swayed from the strong winds as booms of thunder and cracks of lightning fill your ears.

sarah chuckles. “y/n/n you’re going to be fine! besides jj is there too, why don’t you go hang out with him? the storm should be passed by morning”

you groan, letting the curtains fall from your fingers. quickly turning your body, you make your way toward the bed, tossing yourself back onto the mattress as you roll your eyes.

you’d gladly hang out with jj, but he hated you. you never understood why, but he always acted like he would rather be anywhere else when you were around.

“jj hates me, sare. you know that”

the sound of john b’s voice and sarah’s giggles fill your ears, making you roll your eyes again.

“he doesn’t hate you! he just doesn’t like kooks, so he’s taking his time on warming up to us”

boom!

a loud rumble of thunder causes you to slightly jump. you completely throw the fact that jj hates you out the window and jump up from the bed, slowly making your way toward the door. “okay sare, i’m going to find jj, y’all have a good night”

sarah says her goodbyes and you hang up the phone. you slowly pull open the bedroom door, slipping out of the room in search of jj.

you make your way down the small hallway and into the living room, finding a shirtless jj standing at the screen door of the house as he watched the storm roll in.

you find yourself staring at him longer than you probably should, but you couldn’t help yourself. you had thought jj was attractive from the moment you first laid eyes on him, and how couldn’t you? he was beautifully tanned and toned, his back muscles contracting with every move he made, his messy blond hair framed his face perfectly, his perfect plump, pink lips, and his eyes. his bright, ocean blue eyes could make any girl melt.

but you would never openly admit any of that.

“hey j, can’t sleep either?”

your voice startles him, making him jump and turn to face you. his face quickly turns into a look of annoyance when he sees it’s you, not like he could see anyone else, you’re the only two here.

he turns back toward the door, his focus back on the storm outside. “what do you want?”

you sigh, running a hand through your hair and sitting on the old couch.

“i just couldn’t sleep, it’s really coming down out there huh?”

jj groans, resting his head against the screen door before he pulls back and turns to face you. “are you really trying to make small talk with me right now? you and i don’t get along, so let’s not pretend we do”

you scoff, turning yourself on the couch and sitting on your knees to face jj fully. “you don’t like me, i try to be nice, but you make it so goddamn hard when you act like you can’t stand me!”

jj opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it when a loud rumble of thunder shakes the small house. you jump slightly at the sound, your eyes going wide as you frantically look around the small house, cursing yourself for coming here in the first place and getting stuck overnight with jj fucking maybank.

jj notices your tense demeanor, snorting out a laugh as he smirks in amusement. “you’re seriously scared of a hurricane? haven’t you like lived here your entire life?” he pauses, snapping his fingers in mock realization as he laughs darkly. “oh wait, that’s right. kook princess is used to her generators and big fancy house on figure eight, never been stuck in a small house on the cut during one of these i assume?”

you sigh exasperatedly. “why are you such a dick, jj? what the fuck have i ever done to you?”

“i just don’t fucking like you”

you groan, pulling yourself from the couch and making your way into the kitchen. you pull the fridge open harshly, grabbing a beer and popping it open. you bring the rim to your lips, taking a long sip from it before harshly sitting it on the counter. “well good to know. i don’t fucking like you either, you’re a complete asshole who thinks he’s some hot shot because he’s attractive, but newsflash, you’re not special jj”

jj’s head whips in your direction, his eyes narrowed toward you. he takes a few long strides toward you, making your breathing accelerate the closer he got. your bodies were so close together you could feel his breath fanning over your face, and you were sure he could hear your heart rapidly beating in your chest. you swallow thickly, straightening yourself and locking your eyes with his.

you gasp loudly, your hand hitting the counter and knocking your beer bottle onto the floor when he wraps his large hand around your throat, squeezing so tightly your vision began to instantly blur from the tears forming in your eyes.

“and you’re a fucking kook princess who thinks the world revolves around her. you think everyone has to fucking like you, but newsflash. you ain’t special either, princess”

you begin clawing at his hand, trying to pry him off of you, but he was much stronger than you. you whimper as he squeezes tighter, his fingers surely bruising the skin of your neck, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched you struggle under his hold. you tried to get words out, wanting to beg him to let you go, but you couldn’t breathe, much less talk, due to the grip he had on you.

“what was that princess? i didn’t quite catch that”

you dig your fingernails into the back of his hand, leaving half crescent shapes in the skin. you use your free hand to continue pushing at his chest, hot tears flowing down your cheeks as you felt your head becoming fuzzy from the lack of oxygen.

jj finally releases your throat, pushing you back into the fridge when he does. you begin gasping for air, trying to suck as much oxygen as you could back into your lungs. “what the fuck jj? are you fucking psychotic?”

you begin rubbing at your throat, trying to ease the sting from where his hands were. another gasp leaves your mouth when jj is in front of you again, bodies so close you could feel his bulge against your thigh through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. he takes his hands and tightly grabs your arms, turning your bodies and pushing your back into the countertop, more pain shoots through you from the impact.

“you really need a fucking attitude adjustment, princess. and i think i know just how to fix it”

your breath hitches in your throat as jj inches his face closer to you, his lips ghosting over yours. you’d be lying if you said the aggression that spewed from him wasn’t a turn on to you, the ache between your legs and arousal pooling into your panties an obvious indicator that you were in fact turned on.

“what- what’re you gonna do? hmm? i bet you don’t even know how to properly fuck a girl” you spit out, your noses brushing over one another as you keep your eyes locked on his.

this just made jj even angrier, he places his hands back around your throat, smashing his lips against yours roughly. you let out a strangled moan when he slips his tongue into your mouth, using the grip on your throat to pull you further into him.

you melt into him for a moment, your lips moving fervently with his. it’s a mess of teeth and tongues, the feel of jj’s hard cock pressed firmly into your thigh making you wetter, needier. he releases your throat, running his hands up the sides of your face and digging his finger into your hair, tugging at it lightly.

your mind begins racing, your senses finally hitting you. you push jj off, slapping him across the face, his head whips to the side from the impact.

“i’m not sleeping with you, jj”

jj slowly turns his head toward you, bringing a hand up to rub at the spot you’d just slapped. “oh yeah? i’d bet you’ve soaked those pretty little panties of yours, why don’t we find out, hmm?”

you begin rapidly shaking your head, biting down on your bottom lip so hard you taste blood. you try to push past jj’s body, but he has you caged in, your back firmly pressed against the counter top. jj’s hands fly to the waistband of your sleep shorts, pushing a hand down and into your panties, his thick fingers running through your slick folds making your head throw back in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut as you try and stave off your moans.

“what’d i say? you’re fucking soaked, your pussy is begging to be fucked by me”

a small whimper escapes your lips when jj shoves his index finger into your soaked core, thrusting it in and out of you slowly as his dark eyes stay locked on yours. you could see the enjoyment on his face, he enjoyed watching you fall apart for him, he loved the control he had over you in the moment.

and as much as you wanted to push him off of you, tell him to go fuck himself, you were enjoying this too much.

“jj” you breathe out, chest heaving up and down.

he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, shoving another finger into your cunt. he begins harshly thrusting them in and out of you, his palm firmly pressed against your clit.

you feel your orgasm building inside you, the band threatening to snap when he curves his fingers slightly, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you that no man has ever found.

“i-i’m gonna cum, jj. fuck, s’close!” you whine, grinding yourself against his hand, chasing your high as he pushes his fingers roughly into you. you begin clenching around his fingers, your release threatening to burst out of you.

jj stops, pulling his fingers from inside you and sucking them clean. “mmm, the princess tastes so good, who knew?”

you throw your head up, eyes narrowed toward him in annoyance. “jj what the fuck, why’d you stop?!”

jj chuckles darkly, his hands flying to the back of your hair as he smashes his lips to yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. you moan against his lips when you taste yourself on his tongue.

he pulls your lips from his, holding your head back as his dark eyes burn into yours. “bratty little sluts like you don’t get to cum that easily”

you pout. “but-“ you begin but your words die on your tongue, jj’s tight grip on your hair pulling a whine from your lips. he begins pulling you to the couch by your hair, your legs failing to keep up with his long strides causing you to stumble and trip over your own two feet.

jj tosses you onto the couch, a dark laugh falling from his mouth as he watches you stare back at him in frustration.

“take your clothes off, now”

you hesitantly pull your shirt over your head, tossing it onto the floor in front of you before you move to pull your shorts and panties down your legs. you feel your face heating up, feeling a little too exposed in front of jj for your liking.

jj sucks in a sharp breath, his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes scanned the length of your naked body.

he takes a step toward you, making you flinch and scoot yourself further into the couch. you weren’t afraid of him, but after the way he’s been all night, it was out of instinct to flinch away from him.

“don’t be scared, gonna fuck the attitude right out of you, and then we can go back to acting like the other doesn’t exist, got it?”

“o-okay”

jj pulls at the waistband of his sweatpants, shoving them down his legs and kicking them to the side. your eyes go wide when you see his impressive length pressed against his thigh through the fabric of his briefs. you’d always heard rumors about jj’s size, but seeing it for yourself, he looked much bigger than you’d expected.

jj leans forward, gripping at your arms and yanking you upright. he pulls you to your feet, sitting on the couch and patting at his legs, making you cock your head to the side in confusion.

“c’mon, lay across my lap”

you do as he says, laying your body across his lap. you weren’t sure what his plan was, but you were too turned on to care, whatever he had in store for you would be worth it.

slap!

you wince, the feel of jj’s hand landing harshly on your ass making you whimper. “what’re you-“ slap! jj’s hand lands another harsh slap against your ass, tears forming in your eyes from the pain left behind.

“just a little discipline, you need to learn not to talk back all the fucking time, not to have such a fucking attitude”

he lands another harsh slap to the other side of your ass, the burn you felt from his hands making tears flow quickly down your face.

jj begins rubbing at your ass, his large hands kneading at the flesh. you sigh in relief when you think he’s finally done with the spanking, but your mind goes blank when you feel him land yet another rough smack.

he pulls you up, sitting you on the couch and wiping his thumb across your cheek. “stop fucking crying”

you sniffle, nodding your head and wiping your tears away from your face.

you watch as jj makes his way toward john b’s room, returning quickly with a condom in hand. you watch in awe as he slides his briefs down his legs, his large cock springing free and slapping at his stomach.

“stop staring, princess. s’not nice” your eyes meet his, an amused smirk on his face when he sees the look of fear in your eyes. he strokes himself a few times before he rips the foil packet open with his teeth, sliding the condom down his length and stepping toward you. “it’ll fit, don’t worry. and if it doesn’t, i’ll make it fit”

you swallow the lump in your throat, nodding your head as you watch him fall onto the couch. “come sit on my cock, want you to ride me”

you stand from your spot on the couch so quickly you trip over your own feet, stumbling forward, hands pressed firmly into jj’s chest. you throw one leg over his waist, straddling him and gripping his cock in one hand. you begin grinding your hips over his length, a low groan pulled from him.

“stop fucking teasing me, i don’t want to have to hurt you again, but i will”

you nod your head, reaching behind you and grasping his cock in your hands, stroking him softly and lining him up with your entrance. you push the head in slowly, gasping when the thick head pushes into you.

jj groans. “fuuuck”

you fully sink yourself onto him, a loud moan falling past your lips. you dig your fingernails into his shoulders, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you sit still, trying to adjust to his size.

jj grips your hips, sliding you up slowly before pushing you back down harshly. your breath hitches in your throat when the head of his cock hits your g-spot. “fuck, jj, fuck!”

he lands a slap to your ass, a whimper falling from your lips at the action. “move, now” jj demands, both his hands landing harsh slaps to your ass cheeks again.

you quickly do as he says, bouncing yourself up and down his length. the sounds of both your skin slapping together, soft whimpers and loud moans fill the room.

jj runs his hands from your hips to your ass, gripping at the flesh hard, landing smacks as you continue to bounce yourself up and down. “such a good fucking slut, bouncing yourself on my cock, the cock of the man that fucking hates you”

you whimper, jj’s cock pushing into you so deep you could feel it in your stomach. the head of his cock continuously hits at your sweet spot, the band in your belly begins to tighten, your vision blurred with tears. “jj, i’m gonna cum- fuck! i’m gonna cum!”

you hear jj tsk, his hands making purchase on your hips again as he stops your movements. “you don’t fucking cum until i say you can, got it? brats don’t get to cum whenever they fucking want”

you whine, your hand slithering between the two of you, fingers finding your clit instantly. you begin rubbing slow circles around your sensitive bud, trying to chase your orgasm despite jj’s telling you no.

jj’s hand grabs yours, pulling it from your clit and twisting your arm behind your back. “are you disobeying me, princess? i would recommend you not do that”

jj begins pounding his hips up into yours, his cock repeatedly hitting your g-spot, a string of curses and moans falling from your lips at his continued abuse to your cunt.

“such a tight fucking pussy. who knew the girl i fucking hate would feel so fucking good” jj groans, his voice low and raspy.

he begins placing sloppy kisses around your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. you feel his thrusts getting sloppy, letting you know he was close to his orgasm. “j, can i please cum? please” you whine, tears flowing down your face from the pressure you felt between your thighs.

jj sinks his teeth into your shoulder, his dick stiffening as he bursts into the condom.

“fuckfuck, go on, cum. be a good slut and cum all over me”

his words were all it took to send you flying over the edge, your release bursting from you in body shaking euphoria.

“jj, shit, feels so fucking good jj” you cry out, his hips pounding into you a few more times before he goes limp beneath you.

you rest your head on his shoulder, trying to slow your breathing. jj slaps at your ass, making you lift your head as he lifts you from his lap, tossing you to the side.

jj chuckles, standing from the couch and pulling the condom off of himself, tossing it into the trash. “thanks for that, i’m gonna sleep good now”

he opens the fridge, pulling out a beer and opening it. he takes a long sip as he makes his way back into the living room, grabbing his underwear and sweatpants from the floor and slipping them back on.

“we don’t talk about this, ever. got it? it was just.. hate sex? someone had to fuck the attitude out of you. this changes nothing, you mean nothing to me, and i still hate you”

you sit on the couch, tears beginning to fill your eyes again as you stare at him in shock. you felt dirty, used, hurt. he just fucked you for fun? he still hated you? you were regretting your decision to sleep with him now, even though you never fully said you wanted to, you never said no, never stopped him.

jj laughs darkly at the expression on your face, taking another sip from his beer, his head shaking in amusement as he disappears down the hallway and into john b’s room.

you bring your knees up to your chest, letting silent, choked sobs escape your throat. jj fucking maybank. this changed everything, and now, you fucking hated him as much as he hated you.

jj masterlist | taglist form

[avocado-writing]

hi!! I read your fics and I love your writing style! I was wondering if you could do something with a human reader, maybe she works in a bookshop or she’s a teacher? And it’s all cute because he finds her genuine??? Maybe some angst because she finds herself in danger? Idk sorry I’m rambling I just wanted something with a human reader 🧍🏻‍♀️💐

the place where the pages meet

logan howlett x bookseller!reader

4k words, rated explicit.

cocky!logan; awkward!reader; excessive book references; threat of physical violence (quickly averted); anti-mutant language & sentiments; smut (oral - reader receiving, penetrative sex). minors dni. thank you @saradika-graphics for dividers!

The sky is heavy with the promise of rain, and you suck your breath in through your teeth. It’s fifty-fifty on days like these: either people will seek shelter in your little store, or they’ll scurry away with the fear any purchases they make will get soaked and ruined.

God damn it, what kind of fool opens an independent book shop in New York?

You’re the kind of fool, apparently. Still, it’s your home, both figuratively between all the old paperbacks and literally with your tiny apartment on the top floor. Barely more than a studio, but enough for you. A piece for yourself carved out of this world. 

Outside it starts to pour. You sigh. Well, at least you know you’ll get one visitor today.

Charles, your dear friend and long-time financial supporter of your store, had called earlier to let you know that the usual face wouldn’t be coming to grab his order. It’s a shame, you like Ororo, enjoy sitting and sharing a pot of oolong with her on quiet days. Also she could have chased away this terrible weather for you. Ah well. 

“Who can I expect?” you’d asked. 

Charles had laughed, a warm and friendly sound. 

“Ahh, you’ll know Logan when you see him.”

You don’t know what you’d do without Charles. Between orders of rare books for his personal collections and en-masse copies of classics for the kids, he pretty much keeps this place running for you. Bless that man, honestly, because you’re not sure where you’d be without him. 

The sound of someone pulling up outside has you putting down your book and turning towards the shop window. 

A pickup truck parks up by the kerbside and you watch the man in the driver’s seat emerge into the rain. He cuts a fine figure, tall and strong, but you don’t get a good look at him until he walks through the front door. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome. 

Leather jacket now pocked with raindrops, very obvious white vest beneath it showing off his broad chest. He shakes like a dog to get the moisture out of his hair as he stamps his boots on the doormat, pausing only briefly to scrutinise its no admittance expect on party business slogan. 

“Logan?” you ask. He looks up and when his eyes first meet yours? Oh, a fire is sent down your spine. 

“Yeah,” he confirms, looking around to take in the place. You can’t tell if he’s impressed or not. He has a remarkably neutral face, careful, the sort of man who doesn’t want to give anything away about himself. 

“You’re… here for Charles’ books?”

He’s sauntering over to the counter now. Cocks an eyebrow. It goes right through you. Fuck. 

“That’d be me.” There’s a beat. “Why, you think someone’d try and steal them?”

“People can steal books!” you say, defensively. 

“People named Logan who you’re clearly expecting?”

You bristle, because he’s got you. Something flickers over his face for a second: a smile. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome and he’s an asshole.

Huffing, you fish the box out from under the desk and groan with effort as you lift it up. Logan takes it from your grasp as if it weighs nothing at all. Your fingers touch as you do. You try to ignore it.

“Thanks,” he says, easily.

“Mm. Mind the rain. It’d be a shame if you slipped.”

A proper smile crosses his face then, but he turns away too quickly for you to let it sink in. The bell on the door chimes as he heads back out into the rain.

Well, you hope you never see him again.

By the same time next week, you’re really hoping you see him again.

You’ve sort of not been able to get him out of your mind. He was kinda prickly, sure, but a welcome break from the mundanity of your life, and pretty good looking to boot. It’s probably just a pipe dream. You’re sure it’ll be Ororo again, and you can go back to the easy pattern of seeing your dear friend. That’s okay. You’re fine with it. Who needs a handsome man? You have your books, you have your store, you’re happy.

Yeah. You’re happy. 

Imagine your surprise, then, when you hear a motorbike outside your shop.

You must be blessed with street parking, because Logan pulls up right outside again. Same jacket, same well-worn jeans. He catches your eye through the window and you’re sure they glisten. You pretend to be engrossed in your book but it’s not fooling anyone, the words swim into soup on the page as you see him approach.

The door goes; he approaches the counter. Closer this time, you can smell him. Tobacco and leather. Fuck it’s good.

“You should wear a helmet,” you say, trying to be flippant. Logan lets out a single, solitary note of a chuckle from deep in his chest.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for your concern, though.”

You feel your cheeks heat up and try to hide it by looking for Charles’ order again. It’s a single book, a first edition you had to go through the backwater book depositories to hunt down. You’re the best at what you do, though, so it was no real problem. It’s why he always comes to you.

“Here you go. Let him know I’ll try and find the sequel if he’s interested, too.”

“Sure.”

Once again your fingers touch as you hand the book to Logan. No. No, this is too quick! You want to keep him here for a little while longer. He looks so out of place between the wonky shelves and hanging plants, it’s just perfect.

Your mouth tries to say two things at once: can you tell Charles I’ll have his other order ready same time next week, and, do you like to read often? 

Instead what comes out is, “can you read?”

You must wince when you ask the question, because Logan stands there transfixed. Baffled, just for a second.

“Can I… read?” he repeats slowly. 

I’ve failed you, I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t stop your mouth in time, says your brain.

“I didn’t mean… of course you read… I just… I didn’t want to assume… maybe you didn’t like books… erm…”

“Yeah, I read,” he says softly, as if you are an old dog and he is putting you out of your misery. You fucking wish he would. Jesus Christ, it’s like you’ve never spoken to another person before.

You can’t find a way to recover this. Your cheeks are on fire. You’re going to explode and burn down your store. Oh authors, you are so sorry for using all these works as kindling.

You expect Logan to turn on his heel and walk out but he… doesn’t. Instead he takes a step back so that he can look at the shelf nearest to the desk. Runs his fingers across the spines before picking one. It’s slim, no more than the width of his finger; he puts it on the counter and fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

In the Miso Soup by Ryū Murakami. You ring him up, punching the price into your old cash register, give him his change. His palm is soft as you drop coins into it. 

“See you next week,” he says, stashing both his book and Charles’ inside his jacket. 

“Okay,” you say, amazed you’re able to get any words out, and watch him walk away again.

He does see you next week.

The sun’s out, so he’s sans jacket, and oh fuck you can see how his arms are like treetrunks. The way this man has you reacting is unhealthy. You try and focus on the hardback in your hands but all you can picture is those veins which are bulging on his biceps, begging you to come and get to know them better.

“You’re always reading huh?” 

His voice makes you jump a little, you’re not expecting him to be so close. You look up. He slides his sunglasses up into his hair. Fuck it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Would you trust a bookstore owner who didn’t read?” you ask, bristling with the need to defend this little shop and your place in it. He holds his hands up in the universal sign of peace.

“Not an insult, just an observation.”

You sink back from attack mode, walls still a little high, but definitely coming down.

“How did you get on with the Murakami last week?”

Logan takes a moment to consider this, trying to piece his answer together in a way which won’t offend you.

“I liked it until the last chapter.”

You sit up in your chair. 

“Yes! A lot of people say that. It feels like it ends sort of abruptly, but if you just appreciate it for what it is, it’s a good book.”

He smiles a little as you speak. You fucking love talking about books, to a degree some people find absurd. You don’t want to babble though, so you force yourself to end your observations there.

Logan nods at the book in your hands.

“What are you reading now?”

You lift up your book so he can see the cover: A. S. Byatt’s The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye. 

“It’s very good! Byatt has such a wonderful way of writing. I love fairy tales and there’s such a wonderful voice in this one. They made the titular story into a movie a couple of years back, it’s quite good actually, it has Tilda Swinton in it.” You’re floundering. Don’t stray too far from the normal lines of conversation. Mouth, for fuck’s sake stay on course, begs your brain. It doesn’t. Instead you ask, “do you… like Tilda Swinton?”

Logan raises an eyebrow and you know this is a man who has never once had to consider the question of whether or not he likes the actress Tilda Swinton. 

Mouth still talking. MOUTH STILL TALKING, your brain screams. It’s true. It is. You were too busy being horrified to notice.

What your mouth says while being unchaperoned is, “There’s a little single-screen theatre nearby doing a showing of it this week, actually, do you wanna come with?”

DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT. DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT?!

Logan doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. He seems just as shocked that you’ve asked as you are. But then, just as you want to cast yourself into the street so that a passing garbage truck might take pity on you and sweep you away, he smiles. It’s slow, but it makes him look so much hotter.

“Sure, why not.”

Oh mouth you genius. I shall never doubt you again.

“Oh, okay, great! Uhh, are you free Friday?”

“I can be. What time’s the screening?”

“Seven. Meet me here at six-thirty?”

“It’s a date.”

Fuck, it is a date, isn’t it. It’s a date!

Logan stands there, awaiting something. You’re confused for a beat, then go up on your tiptoes, aiming your mouth towards his.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture… Charles’ book, honey.”

Hmmm, okay. Still time for the earth to just swallow you whole then, actually.

You sort of don’t expect him to turn up. You wouldn’t go on a date with you, all awkward edges and uncomfortable words. And he’s… the coolest fucking guy you’ve ever seen. 

Of course he won’t turn up. Of course he won’t. 

He turns up. 

He’s waiting for you outside the store, leaning against a lamppost, dressed in flannel and smelling like subtle cologne. You can’t help lighting up when you see him and hope you’re dressed suitably - your nicest pair of dungarees and a tight-fitting jumper. 

“Hey! You made it,” you say. 

“‘Course I did,” he replies with a little smile. Oh, you’re giddy. 

“C’mon, it’s not a long walk. It’s a nice night too.”

He lets you chatter as the two of you make the brief journey, content to have you talk his ear off about business and books. He’s happy to answer any questions you ask him about himself: what he does for a living, how he knows Charles, if he’s got anything else on his to-read list. The two of you skirt around the most obvious thing: if he lives at the mansion, he’s definitely a mutant. You can’t quite get the courage to ask him about it. Seems easier to just let it lie, so you do. It’s not that important anyway, you think, you like Logan, with or without any extra bits. 

When you arrive at the little hole-in-the-wall cinema, he gets the tickets and the popcorn and the drinks. You do your best not to feel absolutely pathetic by his side. Surely everyone here knows you’re punching above your weight with this absolute grade A specimen of a man? You’re so busy looking around the foyer to make sure nobody is staring that you almost don’t realise when he takes your hand in his.

“You with me, honey?” he asks, soft, low. You swallow thickly and nod because for once, you can’t find the words.

It’s not a very full screening, which is just fine, because you’re happy to be alone with Logan in the dark. You share a bucket of popcorn and a secret little thrill runs up your spine every time your fingers brush together. When that’s finished, he puts his arm around the back of your chair and you snuggle up against his side, cursing the damn plastic cupholder in the middle forcing you to keep a distance. 

One hundred and eight minutes. They’re not enough. You want to be here forever. But eventually the credits roll, the lights come up, and Logan has to pull his arm back; you hope the reluctance in the withdrawal of the gesture isn’t just your imagination. 

“What did you think?” you ask, standing up and stretching. Logan follows suit, mulling over the question. 

“It was… cute,” he decides. “I can see why you like it.” 

You beam. 

“I can lend you the book if you want. It goes into way more detail about the main character’s life at the start, it’s very stream-of-consciousness but I really enjoy it? It’s different to the other stories before it but definitely worth reading. I think that…”

You’re outside now, under the streetlights, fingers tangled easily with his, and when he stills you’re pulled to a stop too. 

“Hmm?”

He drops his grip on your hand so that he can put one under your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you. Your heart beats violently. He can definitely feel it. He knows. You don’t care. Fuck, he’s so near. 

“You talk a lot, huh?” he asks. It’s not unkind, the smile on his face is one of fondness, and all of your skeleton turns to jelly as you fucking melt under the affection in his gaze. 

“Please shut me up,” your beg comes out as a whisper, and he does. 

His lips are rough against yours, guiding, but sweet. The hair on his face tickles your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down to kiss him with more enthusiasm. This is not a public-appropriate display of affection, and someone honks their car horn at you both, but it just serves to make you laugh against his mouth and keep going. His hands slide onto your hips and hold you tight against him. Possessive. Wanting. Covetous. 

“You know,” he says when he pulls back for air, still running his lips along the line of your jaw to the hinge beneath your ear, “when Charles told me I should go and get those books, he said I’d like the person who runs the store. Didn’t expect you to be such a gorgeous little thing, though.”

You, gorgeous! Logan thinks you’re gorgeous! You could do a fucking cartwheel in celebration. You don’t though, you’d probably give yourself a concussion. 

His hand goes to his pocket and his brow furrows and, for a second, you panic. Has he started regretting kissing you already? Another quick kiss calms that down though, settling the simmer of worry in your stomach. 

“I think I left my wallet in the theatre. Hold on, I’ll grab it, then I’ll walk you home?”

“Only if you come in with me,” you breathe, and once again your mouth has taken the reins on that one. Logan huffs a laugh, a little incredulous, but mostly pleased at your gumption. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay.”

He leaves you standing there, feeling all tingly. This is happening. It’s fucking happening! Sometimes the stars align for a book nerd and a handsome guy wants to come up to their studio apartment. You thank Jesus, Buddha, Arthur C. Clarke - whoever is listening, they fucking deserve it. 

“You gonna fuck that mutant?”

The voice sends a chill down your throat. 

The trio of guys standing behind you do not look friendly. The biggest one, the one standing in the middle, sneers at your panic, crossing thick arms over a broad chest.

“Well? I asked you a question.”

You screw your courage to the sticking place, puffing up a little. 

“Don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you spit back, hoping that vitriol will deter them. It does not. Instead, they close in, hyenas around a cadaver. 

“Never had a human dick you down good enough, huh? Need a little help? C’mon baby, we’ll show you.”

He reaches out to grab your arm. You let out a noise of panic. 

At the same time, Logan’s fist collides with his face. 

The guy is sent stumbling back, spitting out a globule of blood. His friends step away with panic in their eyes. Logan moves in front of you, his bulk your shield, three metal claws extending from between his knuckles. 

Yeah. Mutant, huh?

“I think you were just leaving, pal,” says Logan in a voice which doesn’t bear messing with. The man bares his reddened teeth. 

“The fuck do you think you are, mutant scum--?!”

He lunges for Logan and the breath is sucked from your lungs when you see he’s pulling out a fucking knife, but another punch sends him flat on his ass. The blade clatters across the street and into the gutter. His friends grab either one of his arms and half stand him up, half drag him away.

“Shit, it’s not worth it—!” is their conclusion as they disappear into the night, shouting back expletives, blood trailing from their leader. Logan shakes out his fist, flexes his fingers; claws retract. He turns to you, slowly. 

“You okay?” he asks, hurriedly checking you over. You nod. 

“Y…yeah. Shaken.” you confess. 

“C'mon. Let’s get you home,” he sighs, and from the cadence of his voice you can tell he’s worried the night has been ruined. You place your hand on his bicep. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you still… will you still come up?”

He softens. 

“If it’ll make you feel safer, sweetheart.”

It does. 

And that’s how you find him sitting on your well-loved couch in between your needlepoint pillows, looking around your tiny home as you make a pot of coffee to share. 

“Jesus, you’ve got more books in here than in the store,” he mutters. 

“Well, some of them I couldn’t part with. I like them too much. And, as you pointed out, I am always reading.”

You look around at the shelves stuffed into your flat, the dozens of them holding hundreds of novels, plays, poems. You love them all dearly. They all hold a special piece of your heart, you can remember where you were when you read most of them. (Downstairs while manning the desk is often the answer). 

“Oh, even this?”

You can hear the smile in Logan’s voice. He’s holding up a copy of Fifty Shades. You scoff, rolling your eyes. 

“Christ, I read that as a professional courtesy to the art of bookselling. Got it for fifty cents at a thrift store. It’s crap. If you want some good erotica I can recommend…”

The sentence lingers unfinished. Logan raises his eyebrows. 

“You can recommend what, huh?”

The coffee is ready. You can smell its rich scent enveloping your little apartment. An idea forms. Creates a heavy anticipation on your tongue. Your brain screams at you. 

Locked. Loaded. Fire, mouth, fire!

“… then I’d recommend you take me to bed,” you say.

Logan stares, eyes wide. You’ve had an immediate effect on him. His pupils dilate. 

“I… honey, after earlier, I’m not sure if you should…”

You cross the room and sit on his lap, an easy feat when his legs are so thick and inviting. His sentence stops as you press your mouth to the pulse in his neck. Kiss. 

“I’m a consenting adult,” a kiss on his cheek, “who’s invited you into their home,” a kiss on his brow, “and is asking you to take them across their painfully tiny apartment and fuck them. If you don’t want to, that’s okay, but Logan? I’ve been game ever since you first walked in from the rain.”

He looks up at you to double check that you’re telling the truth, then kisses you with such ferocity that you squeak. 

You do not make it to the bed. 

He undresses you there on the sofa in the middle of your bookshelves, between Brontë and Austen, beside Carter and Rushdie. Your clothes end up in a messy little pile on the coffee table. It gets kicked and the pile of literary magazines slide to the floor as Logan moves to take off his shoes, letting you drag his jeans down and off of him, cupping his cock in his boxers.

Fuck. Thick, heavy, large, you want all of it. All of him. 

He leans you back against your kitschy little pillows with book quotes on them and pulls your dungarees off, an act both ridiculous and endearing. He catches your knee in his hand and begins to kiss up your thigh towards your underwear.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he presses a kiss to your sex over the fabric. He grins up at you from between your legs. 

“That was the plan.”

He fucks you with his mouth like a man starved, luxuriating in the little sounds you make for him, pressing fingers inside you without any effort at all. You cum all over his knuckles embarrassingly quickly. He looks sorta smug. 

“Baby, when was the last time someone took care of you…?” he asks, licking a stripe along your sex to taste what he’s done. You huff. 

“Too long. You gonna fix that?”

It’s a challenge and he takes it as one. You strip off his shirt, making sure to get a good feel of his muscles as you go, kissing his pectorals and abs just because you can. He slides inside you with one thrust, one of your legs in a crook at his hip; the other with its ankle resting on his shoulder. He starts moving and the couch shakes but all you can do is cling on for dear life to the crocheted blanket. 

“Holy shit… so fuckin’ tight… aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing…” he hisses. You reach up enough to tangle your fingers in his hair and drag him down for a kiss, sloppy and charged with heat. His hand moves in between your legs and you cum for the second time that night, hissing with satisfaction as he spills inside you. 

You collapse onto the sofa together, your heavy breaths harmonising. When he pulls back to kiss you this time it’s softer. With intention. With reference. 

“Uh, you know, they’re showing To Kill a Mockingbird next week. Maybe dinner beforehand, if you’re interested?”

He laughs affectionately and you can feel the rumble in his chest.

“Sounds good. You’ll have to lend me the book first.”

Fuck yeah. You’re never doubting your mouth again. 

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