#idk it felt fitting for him . dont @ me

[huldrabitch]

All the DA2 romances alsmost feel a bit unfullfilling to me, are there many others that prefer Hawke single with the subtext of an unspoken Varric thing?

[hanzajesthanza]

nooo like reading maria janion's such comprehensive overview of vampires and what defines a vampire and how the myth changes through times and authors, as entirely expected, has contributed to my regis brainrot.

because though it's obvious how many tropes regis subverts as he literally talks about himself, it's more overwhelming when they're all summarized focused on examples from across history and the literature canon, and pretty much hitting none of them or fucking with all of them. because it's not that he just doesn't fit in within his own fantasy universe, but that he doesn't fit in within the broader canonical definition...

"my personal vision of fantasy (...) he is not the typical vampire bloodsucker, according to the dictates of the canon" ... uggghhhh sapkowski, in his witcher, by challenging all genre expectations and tropes, creates all of these characters that don't fit in anywhere, neither in their universe or in the broader canon. and thus, can only find fraternity with each other

i was just reading like 'so... so he doesn't fit in *anywhere*... 🥺'. regis in baptism of fire explaining how he doesn't conform to either vampiric expectations of vampires (socially, for his personal principles) nor of human expectations of vampires (biologically, for his literal existence). but it even goes farther when you look beyond the witcher and to the broader literary and mythological canon. in practically every understanding of a vampire he would not be recognized as one of them... and does he even want to.

[himbear]

this guy listens to death grips

[kurtcore]

cried at work today! i’m now 3/3 for crying at jobs :)

[flugame-mp3]

SEASON NINE FINALE WAS WILD. I HAVE MANY MANY THOUGHTS. WHAT JUST HAPPENED. A FUCKING ROLLER COASTER FOR SURE

[mydr3aminvi0let]

i wear a lot of skirts and pink and whatnot as my style has developed with me & my personality but when one of those age regression girlies latch onto me....i do not like that

[theguardianace]

gender my beloved behated

[theclosetedskeleton]

off topic WHAT was all of the hype for victorious a decent time ago

[angelhound]

.

[periwinkle-the-11th]

Okay but dreams are the weirdest freaking thing. Like I had a dream last night about this dude right, and I think I've had dreams about him before cause it felt like I knew him you know? Like I could tell we'd interacted before?? And he was my neighbor, which is weird cause I've never even spoken to either of my neighbors. And it started with me and my little sister dancing around our backyard and he was out sweeping by his pool, and he said something about I didn't hear him so I went to ask him to repeat it and he said "your dancing is cute" and I don't remember what happened after that but the next this I do remember he's in my backyard and we're fixing something (?) And we're talking to each other about something And I'm thinking about weather or not to mention a note he'd given me previously(?) Where he asked me to meet him or gave me him number text him and I just never did(?)I never did mention the note and I think we either became really close friends or started dating idk but we both very obviously had crushes on each other, The next thing I remember it's clearly been a few days/weeks and we're in his pool cage cause one of the two dogs, got into some kind of silver glitter flakes and they were every where so the both of us are like panicking to clean them up before his parents notice and once we do and he checks on both dogs he says something like 'oh thank god maybe they'll keep me' which is weird but makes sense with the last part of the dream, But about a few hours after the glitter thing I had to go to my dads house (My dad moved half way across the country about 2-3 years ago and I haven't had to 'go to his house for a weekend' in forever so I have so idea where that came from) bit I had to go there for a week and by the time I came back the dude (I don't remember his name, just that it started with a D(maybe) and was around 4 letters so I've been referring to him as dude) was gone and their was some new blond kid with a slightly grown out buzz cut(my dude had shaggy brown hair it wasn't very long but it definitely isn't this kid) and I went over (with my 3y/o sister in my arms) and started interrogating who I thought was my dudes mom and we go in the house and she just starts ordering me to do things (get her water, sit down etc) idk she was terrifying tho and when she gave me this half amused look for actually listening to her I told her she was scary, and next thing I know I'm sitting on her couch and asking her where my dude is and why he isn't here and she didn't answer me but I just knew like I could feel it in my heart that I would never see him again and then I woke up. And now I'm sitting here crying over this boy that probably doesn't even exist, and that I'll never meet/see just because of a dream. And we never got each other's phone numbers because we lived next to each other and if we wanted to talk we'd literally just go and talk (weird part about this is I'm pretty sure interrogating his mom was the first time I ever met one of his parents.) But idk I'm laying in bed feeling heartbroken of a dream romance. Like heartbroken over this boy who's name I don't even remember.

[fandomhopped]

first love/late spring

pairing: fwb!logan howlett x fem!reader; 2nd person pov

summary: logan and reader have been sleeping together for a while with an unspoken rule to keep it casual, but that goes to hell when logan catches feelings. however, reader is an independent boss bitch and hates men<3

warnings: heavy swearing, hella mentions of sexual situations, substance abuse, brief sexual content(nothing serious fr), creepy guy in a bar, blood, bar fight, mentions of sex trafficking and resulting trauma, daddy issues, fluff, angst asf, lowkey scott slander (i dont mean it i love him)

word count: 9.1k

a/n: reader has light manipulation abilities but theyre not mentioned that often lol, also reader takes a lotta shots at jean just cuz she pisses me off. side note: idk the true meaning of the song i used as the title, there are many different interpretations. i found the song after i had alr written the story and the lyrics resonated pls don’t jump down my throat if it doesn’t align <3

there’s not a millimeter of space between you and logan as he holds you against his body. you’re sleeping soundly, and he watches you breathe all night, not bothering to even think about sleep for himself. the sun came up three hours ago, he felt it on his back.

when you drink, you always wake up early the next morning. you two drank a lot together last night. and like every time you drink with logan, you ended up in his bed.

he tries to block the sun from your face with his body so it won’t wake you up. he knows when you finally do, this little illusion that you're his will all be over. everything you said last night won’t matter. you’ll go back to your room. he���ll stay in bed. you’ll both go back to acting like it never happened.

you always leave him swiftly. you always go downstairs and drink coffee from the same mug and act like nothing happened. without a stutter, it’s a routine.

since he moved into the mansion, he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that the female teachers were attractive. and, of course, he was first drawn to jean. he won’t deny that he still harbored some feelings for her when you came to his room all those months ago, but she made it abundantly clear that she loves scott.

then one night, you slipped a bottle of whiskey into the mansion and invited him to join you in drinking it. you said some things that made him sit closer to you. that was just the beginning. he woke up the next morning to an empty bed but distinctly remembers you falling asleep next to him, so he assumed you woke up and left.

logan is a pro at acting like some things never happen, but he wasn’t expecting you to act the same. he dismissed it as a one-off, drunken night.

then it happened again… and again and again, and you continued to act like it never happened.

which, he was fine with. this wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a with-benefits situation, but there’s something different about you. you’re badass. you’re beautiful. he really respects you. you fit him perfectly.

and you’re mean. you don’t smile all that much, really only when you’re drinking is what logan soon found out. you’re not always outright mean to people, it’s usually deserved. you don’t take anybody’s shit. you’ll let people know when they’re in the wrong or they’re pissing you off. you’re sarcastic and rudely witty.

that was just another thing that attracted him to you. but, God, were you the meanest in the mornings, especially when you’re hungover.

unfortunately for logan, he has developed a small, tiny, itty bitty, barely-there crush on you. just catching a scent of your perfume has him rolling his eyes in the back of his head and white-knuckling whatever is directly in front of him.

the thoughts of you under him, on top of him, in front of him, on your knees for him plague his mind all. day. long. then last night, you had him rock solid from just a few drunken words.

“you’ve ruined all men for me,” you said as he kissed down your neck.

“hmm?” he hummed as his hands roamed your body under your shirt.

“nobody could ever fuck me like you do,” you told him, pulling at his hair roughly. he lets out a deep groan at the feeling.

he’s never picked up his pace of getting someone’s clothes off so quickly. he ripped your favorite pair of pj shorts in the process, mumbling that he’ll buy you a new pair.

with him deeply inside you, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other sending you over the edge with his mouth leaving marks all over your chest, you say breathily, “fuck, you’re perfect for me.”

the moment hasn’t left his mind since.

“i’m hot,” you mutter, pushing the sheets from your legs. “you’re hot.”

“oh, yeah?” he whispers in your ear, his lips turned up.

“i’m about to have a heat stroke,” you return, squirming around and shoving his arms from around you.

he lets go of you and gives you some space, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. a deep sigh leaves him.

“i’m gonna throw up,” you tell him, groaning and curling up into the fetal position.

“are you serious? don’t puke in my bed,” he says, leaning up to look at you.

you roll your eyes. “no, i’m not serious,” you snap at him.

“‘you wanna take a shower?” he asks, his lip curling up at the thought of you ruining his sheets (and not in the way he usually prefers).

“i feel like shit right now, logan. i don’t want to fuck you in the shower,” you tell him roughly, sitting up and glaring over at him.

he watches you stand up out of his bed and put yout shirt on. “‘s not what i meant,” he grumbles, looking away from her. he throws the sheets off his body and grabs his jeans from the night before.

he runs his hands down his face and then looks up only to see the door closing behind you as you leave him. again.

“whew, late night?” ororo asks you as soon as you walk into the kitchen, changed into some presentable clothes rather than the ripped shorts and oversized tshirt you walked back to your room in.

you ignore the woman as you open the cabinet to grab your mug. the same one you use every morning.

but it’s not there.

“where’s my mug?” you ask, glancing around the kitchen to see it’s not just ororo but also jean and scott there.

“is this yours?” scott asks, holding up the mug in his hand.

your gaze darkens. “yes,” she grits out, tightening her jaw.

“that’s my bad. i didn’t know this was yours,” he says, standing up and walking over to the sink. “i’ll wash it and you can use it.”

you feel your skin crawl as he turns on the hot water. “stop,” you say lowly, walking to him and turning off the water. “you can’t—.” you stop yourself as you breathe heavily. you rip the cup from his hands.

“hey, it’s just a mug,” ororo says to you, “what’s up?”

“it’s not—,” you cut yourself off again and take a deep breath, shaking your head. you turn on the cold water from the sink and carefully wash the mug.

“seriously, what’s going on with you?” jean asks as scott rejoins her side.

you roll your neck. “i’ve been here for years, and you don’t know which one is my mug?” you ask scott, not looking anywhere but your mug until you’re sure it’s clean.

“i never noticed before, ‘sorry,” he says then turns to jean with a shrug.

the light beaming in through the window shines a little brighter as you continue to shake your head, muttering things under your breath that the others can’t make out.

“it really is just a mug,” ororo says carefully, looking over your figure in concern.

“except it’s not,” you retort, attentively drying off the ceramic with a towel. you then pour some coffee into the mug and hold it close to your chest, turning back to the other mutants.

“what—,” jean begins but logan walks into the kitchen just as she starts and she stops herself.

her surveys everyone’s demeanor then looks at you. “what’s wrong with you?” he asks, walking to the cabinet and grabbing whichever cup is closest to his hand when he reaches in. he pours himself some coffee and turns back to them expectantly.

“scott was using my mug,” you tell him, leaning against the counter.

“why?” he asks scott, eyeing the man.

“to drink coffee. why does it matter?” he asks in return, scoffing.

“it’s hers,” logan returns, his stare hardens and he looks at scott like he’s an idiot.

ororo laughs humorlessly. “what does that mean? it’s just a mug,” she asks, looking between you.

you glare at her. “it was my father’s and now it’s mine.”

“the same father that sold you?” jean asks, her face contorting. you shift your weight uncomfortably. “why would you want that?”

“why don’t you just back the fuck off, bitch?” you snap at her, stepping toward her.

“woah, girl, calm down,” ororo intervenes, holding her hand toward you like you’re a wild animal. you scoff. “we get it. it’s special to you. that’s all you had to say.”

you roll your eyes at them. you leave the group and return to your room. logan watches you go then turns back to the others with his eyebrows raised. “did you say sold her?” he asks jean.

“when he found out she was a mutant—,” she begins.

“jean,” ororo interrupts her, shaking her head at the girl.

jean continues, “—her father sold her into a mutant sex trafficking ring,” she reveals, looking only at logan, “that’s where we found her and then brought her here.”

his face contorts, and he looks down into his coffee. “shit,” he comments.

“she doesn’t talk about it to anybody, and, out of respect, we don’t talk about it either,” ororo says pointedly at the telepath.

logan is seething all day over the new information. he hates to think you went through that for God knows how long.

after the incident, logan doesn’t see you for a while. he doesn’t know how. you’re a teacher and you live down the hall from him, yet he still doesn’t even catch a whiff of your perfume.

“logan, meet me in my office,” he hears charles’ voice in his head. he obeys and within a minute, he’s standing before the professor. “you should leave her alone for a bit.”

her brow furrows. “come again?”

charles says your name and logan clenches his jaw. “she’s destructive right now. you should let her be.”

“is she okay?” the wolverine asks, concern growing in his stomach, and it makes him feel sick.

“she’ll be just fine. this happens from time to time,” he tells him, pressing his lips into a thin line. “you know of her circumstances.”

“her circumstances?” logan growls, scowling down at the old man, “you knew what she went through and didn’t think to tell me? you know what’s going on between us and didn’t think maybe i needed to know that? what if she had a breakdown when we were together? i wouldn’t have known what was happening.”

charles’ lips turn down into a small frown. “that’s not my information to tell.”

logan storms off in a huff, muttering under his breath.

that friday, he’s smoking a cigar in his bed, looking out the window at the moon, which is shining rather bright tonight. he hears a few quiet knocks on his door. he opens the door, expecting it to be a student.

“hey,” you say, waving a bottle of jack in his face before pushing past him into the room. “'hope you don’t mind, i got started without you.”

“you always do,” he comments, closing the door, putting out the cigar, and following you to sit on his bed. “listen —.”

“i think i like that vodka more than this. this one makes my mouth taste weird,” you tell him, taking another sip out of the bottle before handing it to him.

he holds it and sighs. “look, we should—.”

“—take our clothes off?” you finish his sentence, smiling darkly at him. “i mean, it’s a little early, but i agree.”

“that’s not what i—.”

“—was going to say?” you guess his words, cutting him off again. “look at us finishing each other’s…” you trail off, looking at him expectantly. he sends you a deadpanned glance. “this is the part where you say ‘sentences.’ i think i’m better at this game than you are.”

he takes a long sip from the bottle before he looks at you. “can you be serious for a second?” he asks.

you scoff and take the bottle from his hands. “i don’t come to you like this to be serious, logan,” you say, putting the whiskey to your lips again.

“why do you come to me at all?” he asks quietly and gruffly.

you take another sip and place the bottle on the floor, scooting closer to him. “because you’re hot,” you say in a sultry voice, putting a hand on his thigh and slowly dragging it up, “and you call me ‘princess’ and ‘darling’,” you continue, reaching for his belt buckle. he doesn’t do anything to stop you, “and your hands.” you push the buckle out the way and unbutton his pants, dragging down the zipper slowly. “and your tongue.” you reach your hand into his pants. “and this.”

he breathes heavily, completely lost in the euphoria that is you.

he forces himself to snap out of him and shakes his head. he pushes your hand away and stands up, taking a few steps away.

“what’s wrong?” you ask him, grabbing the bottle and standing also. “do you need some more?” you ask, holding the drink out for him, confusion written all over your face.

he holds his hands out in front of him as if to deny the offer. “it’s…,” he trails off, pushing a deep breath through his nose.

your shoulders drop along your face. you tilt your head in disbelief. “oh, my fuck. they told you,” you conclude. you turn around and sit back down on the bed. he stays silent, just looking at you. “okay, so what now? you don’t want me anymore ‘cause i’m used up?” you ask, slurring your words a little.

“no,” he denies without hesitation.

your sober personality is back even though you’re still drinking the whiskey like you’ve been in the dry desert for weeks without water.

“then what is it, logan? you don’t wanna do this ‘cause my hair isn’t blood red?” you ask next, raising your brow and looking at him expectantly.

his face contorts. “what’re you talking about?” he asks gruffly.

you chuckle at him. “i’m not a fucking idiot, old man. i know you want jean so bad, but she doesn’t want you so i'm second choice” you say, then you shrug with one shoulder. “i’d’a gone with ororo, to be honest. have you seen her? i’d show her a good time,” you add.

“that’s not what this is,” he tells you, taking a step forward but not within arm's length of you.

“then what is it? just fucking tell me,” you say loudly, the room lights up as the moon shines brighter. “d’you want me to tell you ‘bout how i was a good, little daddy’s girl until i almost blinded my brother when i first got my powers? how about how my dad gave me away like he didn’t love me? d’you want me to cry in your arms about how i was passed around by mean men like a blunt when i was 14? why do you think i can only let you fuck me when i’m drunk?” you ask him sarcastically, but your voice breaks on your last words. you let out an unsteady breath. logan watches you cautiously, unsure of what to do. “is that what you want, logan?! you wanna be the big, strong man here?!” you ask him, crying now as you yell at the man in front of you.

your body slumps forward as you let the tears drop from your eyes, and you grip the bottle in your hands like a lifeline. you feel the bed dip beside you and the bottle pulled from your hands. you move your hands to your face, trying to pull yourself together.

you feel his big arms envelope you and pull you into his chest. that’s when the waterworks really break out.

logan’s never been to best with tears. he hasn’t had to deal with them too much, but his first instinct was to hold you as close as you would let him. he hates to see you like this. in all honesty, he wants to hunt down every man that ever put a finger on you and rip them to shreds. but, for now, he’ll hold you. as long as you would let him.

you wake up with araging headache. you’re hot, burning up, actually. you kick the blankets from your legs and turn over in the arms of the incredibly attractive man in bed next to you. you look at his sleeping face and sigh.

this is the part where you leave, but this time, you just snuggle into his chest and fall back asleep.

logan wakes up later than he usually does after nights like the last one. it’s normally the sound of the door closing wakes him up. but, this time, he sees your cute face smushed against his pec. he doesn’t fight the smile on his face.

you stir quickly after he wakes up. you rub your eyes and look around the room, then to logan. “i’m gonna puke,” you tell him, the remnants of the smile fall from his face. you pull away from him as your face blanches. “seriously,” you add and sit up quickly.

he reaches for the trash can beside his bed and holds it in front of you just in time. he holds your hair back with a look of absolute disgust while you clutch the bin close to your face and your body jerks with each gag.

once you're done, you wipe your mouth with the bottom of your shirt. you groan loudly and stand up from the bed. “i’m gonna take this with me,” you tell him, holding the can in your arms and moving toward the door.

“keep it,” he remarks, his lip curled up.

monday morning rolls around quicker than anybody wants. you walk into the kitchen and grab your mug, pouring coffee and looking around at others in the kitchen.

they’re talking amongst themselves, mentions of grading papers and some stupid answer a kid put as their answer on an assignment.

you just listen and sip your coffee peacefully. that is, until logan walks in. you move from in front of the coffee pot for him to get some. he nods in thanks as he joins your side.

“this coffee is awful,” you comment, pouring it out in the sink next to you. he chuckles at your comment but doesn’t say anything. “scott, did you make the coffee this morning?” you ask him. the three look over to you, almost as if they didn’t see you come in.

“yeah,” he answers.

“don’t do it again,” you tell him, filling the mug with water and leaving the kitchen.

as you watch a group of students take a test, you see logan walk back in his jacket he usually only wears when leaving campus.

“hey,” you call out. all the students look up at you. “keep taking your tests. i’m going to the hallway for a second,” you tell them and move into the hallway. “logan,” you call and he turns around, walking back toward you. “where are you going?”

“to pick up some more cigars,” he answers, gesturing over his shoulder.

“will you pick me up a pack of cigarettes?” you ask him, reaching into your pocket for some money.

his brow furrows. “you smoke?” he asks.

“sometimes, yeah,” you reply, handing him $20.

he shakes his head. “i’ll cover it,” he answers.

“thanks,” you reply, placing a hand on his forearm before returning to your classroom.

he looks down to his arm and blinks. that’s new.

“brad, i know you’re not talking during a test. are you begging for a failing grade?” he hears you say before he turns back toward the front door of the mansion.

logan returns a while later, after the school day is over and the students are training. he finds you in your classroom, grading papers.

“hey,” he greets. you look up at him.

“hey,” you return, eyes dancing all over his body.

“these are for you,” he says, holding out the page of cigarettes.

“right, thanks,” you say and reach for them, your fingers brushing his as you grab them.

“‘you need any help?” he asks, looking at the papers before you.

“do you know anything about math?” you ask him, pursing your lips.

“uh, no,” he answers, shaking his head. “don’t you have an answer key or something?”

“i have to check their work to make sure they didn’t just get the answer from the person beside them,” you reply, looking back down to the papers. “some of these kids are dumbasses.”

he chuckles. “no kid wants to do math,” he comments.

“how would you know? weren’t you born before there were schools?” you ask him without looking up. there’s a beat of silence before you eventually glance up at him. “was that insensitive?” you ask instead.

he just shrugs. “i’m not that old,” he says, sitting in the desk in front of yours.

“sure,” you respond and go back to grading.

the two of you sit in without a word as you grade, and he watches you in complete admiration. after a while, he stands up and walks toward the door.

“you’re leaving?” you question.

“‘didn’t think you wanted your room smelling like cigars,” he replies.

“i’ll join you,” you say, grabbing the pack he bought you and putting the tests in a drawer. he doesn’t object and you two walk outside, to a bench in the gardens, away from the students.

the two of you sit in silence as you inhale smoke and slowly release it from your lungs.

“i’ve never seen you smoke before,” he comments after a while.

“i only smoke when i give up drinking, i only drink when i give up smoking,” you answer, tossing the burnt cigarette onto the ground and stepping on it, then picking another one from the pack.

you pick up your lighter and flick it a few times but it won’t light. you put your head and lighter inside your shirt to block the wind, trying again and failing again.

“motherfucker,” you mutter as you try to cover the lighter.

“here,” he offers his lighter with the fire shining brightly above it. with the cigarette between your lips, lean toward the lighter, looking up into his eyes as you do. he meets your eyes and clears his throat, closing the flame into the top of the lighter and shifting his eyes to the cigar between his fingers. you let a small smile rest on your face afterward.

“so you’re not drinking anymore?” he asks you.

“figured i should go on a sobriety cleanse for a bit,” you reply, “‘t’s probably for the best.”

“probably,” he adds and silence takes over again.

he glances over at her for a second and he sees you bite at the skin of your bottom lip the way you always do when you’re thinking, contemplating. he’s tempted to ask what’s on your mind but before he can break the silence, you let out a hard sigh.

“i don’t apologize for things,” you begin and pause, biting at your lip again.

“okay…?”

“i don’t apologize for my actions or words because i stand by every decision i make,” you continue and pause again. he’s looking at you and you’re looking directly ahead of you. “i’m not good at apologizing,” you sigh again, “but i’m…sorry for some of the things i said the other night. there’s no excuse. i apologize. take that how you will.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he replies.

you huff. “so i just said all that for nothing? you could at least accept the damn apology,” she snaps at him then rubs the crease between her eyebrows out.

“you called me an old man. i don’t know if i want to accept your apology,” he teases with a crooked smile. you send him a look that turns into a hint of a smile before turning your head away.

“i need to get back to grading those tests. i’ll see you later, logan.” you stomp out another cigarette and stand up from the bench.

“see ya, sweetheart,” he says lowly but you still hear it.

as you look over tests, ororo enters your classroom. “ooh, what’s got you all smiley?” she asks as she strolls in.

the previous smile you didn’t even realize you were wearing falls when you look up at the mutant. “huh?”

“don’t try to deny it. i saw that smile,” she says teasingly. you just roll your eyes lightheartedly. ororo’s brow furrows as she sniffs the air. “are you smoking again?”

“yeah, i quit drinking,” you answer, “what’s up?”

“i was coming in here to ask you if you wanted to go out with the rest of us friday night. we’re planning on going that bar we always go to,” she says, “but if you’re not drinking, i don’t wanna make you go.”

“yeah, no. that’s okay,” you decline the offer.

“alright, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to join us. sober or not,” she adds before leaving out.

the week drags on painfully slow. it’s a week of tests and starting new units in all your classes and you really just want to bang your head against a wall and tell the kids class is canceled.

by the end of it, you actually do want to join your colleagues in going out to that bar in town that they love so much. you offer to be the designated driver, not trusting anyone but yourself to drive you anywhere.

“are you going with us to the bar?” you ask logan as he rummages around the cabinets for something to eat.

“no,” he answers, opening the fridge, “are you?”

“yeah, i’m driving,” you tell him. there’s a beat of silence before you add, “you should come.”

he turns toward you at your words with a crooked smile. “oh yeah?” he questions, “why? ‘you want me there?”

you scoff with no heat behind it. “i was just trying to be nice,” you say.

“you? nice?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“what? you don’t think i’m nice?” you ask him defensively, crossing your arms.

“no,” he replies, not skipping a beat.

“i’m very nice,” you counter.

“no, you’re not,” he denies again, also crossing his arms.

in his white beater, crossing his arms makes his arms flex and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the veins of his biceps.

“you have nice hair. there, nice,” you compliment, then add right after, “you’re not balding or anything, which is quite common for men your age.”

“you’re not good at this,” he tells you, looking at your plate to see what you're eating.

“do you want some?” you ask him. you hold your plate across the counter for him to pick off of. he grabs one of your chips and eats it.

“thanks,” he mutters.

“look at me being nice,” you comment and he chuckles deeply.

“shut up,” he returns playfully.

the five of you go to the bar that night, logan joining at your request. he sits at the bar, ordering drink after drink and scanning the bar every so often to make sure you’re alright.

you spend most of your time at ororo’s side. before long, you’re accompanied by a couple of men. you and ororo share side-eyes as they continue to tell stupid jokes. ororo excuses the both of you to go to the bathroom only to move next to logan at the bar.

“having fun?” he asks sarcastically, looking at you then glancing to ororo.

“they could’ve at least been funny, but they weren’t. there terribly unfunny,” you tell him, sitting next to him on a barstool and ororo laughs.

“yeah, that was awful,” she comments and sips her drink. “oh, i see jean and scott. i’ll be back later.” she leaves the two of you. you order a club soda and turn to logan, who is hunched over his drink.

“you have really bad posture,” you tell him as the bartender hands you your drink. he just shrugs and refills his glass with the bottle the bartender left in front of him. you dig your finger into his spine and he straightens up, looking at you wildly.

“why?” is all he asks.

“it’ll help you look more presentable. you’re not looking for anybody tonight?” you ask and glance around the bar for women.

“no, i’m not,” he answers and slumps back down. you dig your finger into his back again and he looks down at you. “stop,” he says seriously.

“oh, what’re you gonna do? stab me?” she asks him challengingly. he looks back down to his drink and shakes his head dismissively. “oh, come on. you’re good-looking, you’re good in bed, you’ve got this hot, animalistic thing going on. why not look for somebody?”

“‘cause i don’t want anybody,” he answers. “did you say i’m good in bed?”

“well, yeah,” you confirm with a one-shouldered shrug.

he stares at you for a beat. this is the first time you’ve ever mentioned it before. you don’t talk about the things you two have done. ever.

“i would know,” you add after he stays quiet.

“you would know what?” ororo asks as she rejoins you, along with scott and jean. they all stand directly behind the man, looking at you expectantly. logan’s waiting for you to make up a lie.

“that logan’s good in bed,” you answer, gesturing to the man next to you. his eyebrows raise and he looks directly in front of him, a smirk playing on his lips as he drinks down all of what’s left in his glass and refills it again. you surprise him more and more every day.

“he’s what?” ororo questions, shock written all over her.

you roll your eyes. “you don’t have to do the clueless bit. jean reads minds and i know she’s told you two,” you state, pointing between ororo and scott.

“what? i haven’t—i didn’t—,” jean stutters over her words, laughing through them.

“liar,” you clock it in a high-pitched tone, sipping your drink. “i’ve heard you talk about it before. i’m just surprised you haven’t mentioned it yet.”

the three of them exchange glances. “okay, yeah, we knew. we thought you would deny it anyway so we didn’t bring it up,” ororo admits.

logan stays silent, drinking like he’s been thirsting for days. why are you doing this? “so…you two are…,” scott trails off. you shrug as your answer. “hmm.”

“hey, sweetheart, you never came back,” the guy from early comes up behind you and wraps an around your shoulders. you tense up at the feeling.

you remove his hand from you. “don’t touch me, and don’t call me sweetheart,” you tell him. he laughs and looks at your colleagues.

“why not? looks like everybody’s got a matchup here but you. let me help you fix that,” he says and runs the knuckles of his finger across your collarbone. he points at scott and jean, then logan and ororo. “i can make you feel good,” he whispers in your ear.

“seriously, don’t touch me,” you tell him firmly, pushing his hand off your shoulder and shifting your seat away from him.

logan doesn’t watch the encounter but he’s squeezing the glass in his hand so hard it’s about to shatter. he feels the red-hot rage crawl up his neck as he does every time he encounters some asshole in a bar.

“don’t be like that, sweetheart,” the man continues and reaches for the strap over your shoulder. chills cover your arms and legs and a shiver runs down your spine. you grab his hand roughly and shove it away from you.

“touch me again and i’m gonna break your fucking nose,” you tell him.

“ooh, i got a feisty one,” he comments to the rest of your group, laughing. “i like that.”

scott takes a step forward. “you need to lay off, man,” he tells him, trying to keep this civil and contained.

the man only laughs harder. “what are you gonna do, glasses?” he asks him and slings his arm over your shoulders. “come on, baby, let’s get out of here. i got a real nice spot for you in my bed.”

“she already told you not to touch her, bub,” logan chimes in, still looking straight ahead and not sparing the boy a glance. there’s a tightness in his shoulders as he uses all his self control to stay in his seat.

“woah, tell your bodyguards to stand down,” he says to you but your only response is to rear back and deck him directly in the nose.

he stumbles back, holding his nose as blood drips into his hand. “you dumb bitch—,” he lunges toward you but logan whips around and grabs him by the front of his shirt, shoving him up against a wall.

“what’d you say?” the mutant asks him lowly, a growl deep in his throat.

“hey, take it outside!” the bartender yells at the man.

“why don’t we do that? you wanna take it outside?” logan asks the scared man in his grasp, shoving him harder into the wall.

“logan, let’s go,” ororo tells him as she walks with you toward the door. he doesn’t move. “logan!”

he drops his hold on the man and turns his back to him. he doesn’t even take a step before the dumbass says, “yeah, listen to your bitch.”

logan turns back around and absolutely socks him in the jaw. the man falls to the ground. logan walks after his friends, rolling his shoulders.

when logan gets out to the car, he sees you in the driver's seat, holding your hand closely to his body. he sits in the passenger seat and looks at you.

“are you okay?” he asks you carefully.

“did you kill him?” you ask him flatly without meeting his gaze, and he shakes his head. “you should’ve,” you say coldly and start the engine, driving out of the parking lot and back to the mansion as quickly as possible.

when you arrive, logan accompanies you to the lab for jean to look at your hand. he wasn’t going to say anything but watching you cradle your hand makes him change his mind. “are you alright?” he asks you.

“fine,” you reply sharply, clenching your jaw tightly. he watches you bite at your lip.

“speak your mind,” he tells you, just outside the hidden elevator. you just shake your head at him. “if you don’t, you’ll take it out on jean.”

“why can’t i just do that?” you ask lowly.

“‘cause she doesn’t deserve it,” he reasons.

you take a deep, frustrated breath. “what happened tonight was stupid,” you say, “dumb fucking men thinking they can get whatever they want whenever they want. now my hand might be broken because i couldn’t—,” you cut yourself off and take another deep breath to steady yourself. “i’m done talking about this,” you say and open the door to the hidden elevator.

he blocks your path. “no, you’re not,” he says and waits for you to continue. that’s when the dam really breaks and you last out at him.

“it’s stupid. all of this is fucking stupid. i could’ve handled myself back there. i didn’t need you to step up and be my big, strong savior,” you tell him angrily, voice rising.

“i know,” he returns.

you’re shouting now, “then why couldn’t you just let me do it? i could’ve stopped him. i’m stronger now. i know how to fight now. i don’t need anybody to save me. i can save myself. i don’t need you. i don’t need any of you.” your voice cracks as the anger starts to shift into the feelings you hate to feel. “i’m not gonna let anyone take advantage of me ever again. and i’ll break every bone in my body before i let some drunk narcissistic man ever put his hands on me again,” you say your peace and breathe heavily and unsteadily.

there’s a long pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. logan doesn’t interrupt, giving you the floor to get it all out.

“i know,” he repeats himself deeply, “but you shouldn't have to.”

you feel that familiar ache in the back of your throat as tears threaten to spill out. you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, pushing all the emotions back down. “my hand really hurts,” you tell him quietly, not trusting your voice. he puts his hand gently on your back and leads you into the elevator then into the lab.

by the time you’re in front of jean, you’ve pulled yourself together and let her examine your hand. you did break your hand. she wraps it up for you and sends you to your room with some pain meds.

logan doesn’t leave your side until you’re at your bedroom door. “i don’t want you to come inside,” you tell him quietly. he stays silent. “it’s just that you’ve never seen my room before and this is mostly where i use my abilities and it’s messy right now and—.”

“‘t’s fine,” he interrupts your rambling. “i don’t have to come inside.”

“right,” you mumble, hand gripping the doorknob. “good night.”

“‘night.” he doesn’t make his way to his room until you slip into yours, locking the door behind you.

the next mid-morning, logan walks into the kitchen to see jean scolding you like a child. he’s surprised you’re just sitting there and taking it without a word.

“i’m serious,” jean says, finishing her tongue lashing.

“i know,” you mumble before jean offers logan a soft ‘good morning’ as she leaves.

“what was that about?” he asks you, moving over to the table where you sit with paper spread in front of you.

“i need to grade these papers but my hand is broken and dr grey told me it would only cause more damage,” you explain, sighing heavily and holding the pen in your healthy hand.

“let me help,” he says, snatching the pen from your fingers and the paper from in front of you. the numbers on the sheet are all greek to him. he doesn’t know what the hell he’s looking at.

“you can’t,” you tell him, pulling the paper from his hands. “you don’t know how to do it.”

“then tell me,” he offers, moving his chair next to yours. “tell me what’s wrong and i’ll write it down.”

you shake your head a few times before giving in. “fine,” you cave and look over the student’s work. you place the page in front of the man and point a certain part of a problem. “okay, so he should’ve foil’d here but he didn’t so the rest of the work is wrong. put a line through it and write ‘foil’,” you instruct him and he follows your orders.

“like that?” he asks, showing you. you nod in approval.

“your handwriting actually isn’t that bad. i was expecting a lot worse,” you comment, leaning into him as you look over the next problem. “that one’s right, so put a check,” you tell him and he follows.

the process continues on. every time there’s a gap of silence as you examine the math that he would never even try to understand, he watches you in complete admiration. there are practically hearts in his eyes while the gears turn in your brain.

as the next few days progress, you and logan spend more time together than you ever have. whether he’s in your classroom during your free period or you watch whatever movie’s on tv together on the couch, if someone’s looking for logan, you’re right beside him and vice versa.

of course, the others have taken notice of it. it’s new and after you confirmed you had been sleeping together, they draw their own conclusions about the two of you.

“‘y’know what i would like to see?” you prompt logan as you watch a show with a lumberjack in it.

“what’s that, darlin’?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“you chop wood,” you tell him, looking up at him from your spot under his arm.

“chop wood?” he questions.

“yeah, like, axe, wood, outside, shirtless, sweaty, and muscly, chopping wood,” you tell him, “lumberjack style.”

“lumberj—.”

“with the cigar,” you add excitedly, cutting him off. “maybe add in a little dehydration too.”

“i think you’re drooling a little bit,” he tells you, pointing at your mouth as a lazy smile rests on his face.

“probably, that’s hot,” you tell him, looking back at the screen.

as the credits roll, logan looks down to see you sound asleep with your head resting on his chest. he carefully picks you up in his arms and carries you to your room.

he opens the door and pauses his movements, eyes dancing across your room. there are no personal touches on the walls or shelves. it looks exactly like his did when he first got to the mansion. well, except for one obvious difference.

your room looks completely dilapidated, like an abandoned home that the sun and time have destroyed. the dark color of the wooden floors and furniture has faded, every surface dry and brittle. in some parts, mostly near the window, the wood is completely bleached of its color.

he lays you in your bed and covers you up, taking in the room once more before he leaves.

“why don’t you have another name like everyone else?” he asks as you sit next to him on the bench where you now regularly take your smoke breaks on.

“like a last name? i do have one,” you answer, flicking the butt of your cigarette onto the pavement.

“scott has cyclops, marie’s got rogue,” he elaborates, glancing over at you. you’re sitting right beside him, his arm thrown over the back of the bench in a way that your head rests on it.

“i don’t know. i guess i never understood why i have to change my name just because i’m a mutant. i am who i am, human or mutant,” you answer, messing with a loose thread on your pants. “plus, seeing the way you made fun of the others when you first got here for their names—i’d never even try to think of one now,” you tell him, making him chuckle. you smile proudly at making him laugh. “you looked so cute when you first got here.”

“are you saying i’m not cute anymore?” he asks in mock offense, looking at you sideways.

“i mean, when i first saw you, you had that big jacket on and you were so clueless. a little less muscle too,” you recount, poking his toned stomach to which he curls to the side. your jaw drops. “are you ticklish?” you ask him, a smile growing on your face.

“no,” he replies sharply and gruffly, straightening his posture.

“oh, my fuck. you so are ticklish,” you accuse and dig your fingers into his ribs, attempting to tickle him.

a deep laugh leaves him, and he grabs your hand in his, his facial expression dropping quickly. “stop,” he tells you in warning. you just laugh in his face, reaching toward him with your other hand, cigarette still between your fingers. he grabs your other hand before you touch him, cigar between his fingers. “no,” he denies you.

you look toward the mansion and see the sun reflecting off a window. you bend the light so it’s shining directly in his eyes, almost burning them. he shuts his eyes tightly and brings one of his hands up to his face. as quickly as you can, you reach back into his side.

he quickly stands up and looks down at you. “enough,” he says and points a finger in your face.

you stand up also, but you’re shorter than him so he’s still looking down at you. you decide to stand on the bench, now a little taller than he is. you don’t say anything, just look down on him with a straight face.

logan can’t help the smile that breaks his scowl. “you’re an idiot,” he tells you, raising his eyebrows at you.

you mimic his gesture then flick the cigarette butt onto the ground. “you are cute, wolvie,” you say and ruffle his hair. “i get the whole towering over people know. this is a power trip for sure,” you comment.

“oh, really?” he questions and puts the cigar between his lips. he grabs you around your waist and throws you over his shoulder like you’re as light as a feather.

you let out a surprised squeal as he walks away from your bench with you in his hold. “put me down. bad boy, bad dog,” you chastise him hitting his lower back. he doesn’t listen so you just hang over his shoulder as he drags you into the mansion.

you grab his ass abruptly and he stops in his tracks. he places you on the floor and tilts his head as he looks into your eyes, taking the cigar from his mouth. “‘bad dog’?”

“yeah, wolverine,” you say, gesturing to him.

“a wolverine’s not a dog,” he tells you, smiling down at you.

your brow furrows. “yeah, it’s like a small wolf, right?” you wonder and feel like an idiot when he laughs at you.

“no,” he answers, shaking his head.

“liar,” you accuse.

he tells you, “go to the zoo. there’s some there.”

you look up at him in disbelief. “you’re fucking with me,” she states and he shakes his head in complete amusement. “if you’re lying to me, i’ll—.”

“what? try to blind me again?” he asks, cutting you off.

“maybe i will,” you challenge, crossing your arms.

he pauses for a moment, considering. “maybe i want you to,” he says and his tone drops, like, two octaves when he says it.

you’re suddenly aware of how close the two of you are, how his hands gripped your waist just a moment before, how effortlessly he carried you. the playful atmosphere shifts and you feel heat creep up your neck and across your cheeks. you don’t blush, especially not around him.

“logan,” is all you say softly. he notices the change in tone. he notices everything about you, every detail, every flaw, every perfection.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the air between you is charged. your eyes travel all over his face. he really is such an attractive guy. and when you peel back the tough guy layer, he’s a sweetheart.

“thanks for the ride,” you say lightly, trying to break the tension.

he nods, gaze still locked on you. “anytime,” he remarks, his voice rougher than it was a moment before.

you both stand there for a few more seconds, not really sure where to go from here. his eyes shift from yours to your lip as you chew on it. his jaw tightens and he looks away from you, taking a step back to give you some space.

your heart pounds against your chest unfamiliarly. everything about this feels so new to you.

“see you around, pup,” you say, your voice back to its teasing tone.

“yeah,” he adds, watching as you turn away and walk back toward the mansion.

more days pass and you spend more time with logan. he notices that you make fun of him more, teasing him for small stuff.

it’s only when he’s in the laundry room that ororo catches him alone. “hey, logan,” she greets. he mumbles something of the same. “so…you look pretty cozy with a certain mutant.”

“huh?”

“you know what i’m talking about,” she says, leaning against a washing machine.

“it’s nothing,” he tells her, starting the machine he threw his clothes into haphazardly.

“‘doesn’t look like nothing,” she returns.

“leave it alone,” he grumbles, turning to leave the room.

ororo steps in front of him, placing a hand on his chest. “please, don’t hurt her, logan,” she requests.

“she doesn’t want me the way you think,” he tells her.

“you can’t seriously believe that,” she says, looking back and forth between his eyes.

at that very moment, you turn the corner and your eyes widen. you ignore the sting in your chest as you let out a loud “woah.” ororo quickly turns around and takes a step away from logan. “i didn’t mean to interrupt,” you tell them with your hands up in surrender, but that was exactly your intention when you spoke up.

“you weren’t interrupting anything,” logan tells you, watching you move past him to grab a laundry basket.

“i’m not judging,” you reply, walking back to the door. you turn back last second and look at ororo. “hey, if he asks you to wear a red wig, say no,” you tell her with a wink before leaving.

“i never—,” logan cuts himself off, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. “i never did that,” he says to her.

“God, i hope not. what the hell,” she remarks, shoving his arm. “she was jealous. you need to go tell her nothing happened.” he sighs deeply and takes a step forward. “‘you really still think she doesn’t want you?”

he doesn’t reply and follows after you. you’re walking as quickly as you can up the stairs when he catches up to you. “hey,” he calls after you.

“don’t worry, buddy. secret’s safe with me,” you tell him, picking up your pace as you reach the top of the stairs but he keeps in step with you.

“there’s not a secret. we were just talking,” he says.

you place a hand on your bedroom doorknob. “really, you don’t have to defend yourself to me,” you say and open your door, slipping inside. before you can shut it, logan stops the door with his hand. you look at him through the crack in the door, pushing your lips into a thin line. “uhm…”

“there’s nothing going on between me and storm,” he tells you.

“i’m not gonna tell anybody,” you return, frustration rising in your tone. you push against the door but your strength is in no way comparable to his.

“i’m serious,” he tries again, almost pleading. “i don’t want her, i want—.”

“jean? look at that, finishing each other’s sentences again,” you cut him off with a false laugh.

“come on, darlin‘,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

you groan. “i just thought—,” you stop yourself, sighing. “it doesn’t matter what i thought.”

“it does matter,” he tells you, pushing the door a little wider. you move into the space between the doorway and the door, trying to block his view into the room. “tell me,” he encourages, getting closer to you.

“i thought you weren’t a whore,” you retort, giving him a hardened look.

“that’s not what you were gonna say,” he states lowly, looking deeply into your eyes. “what was it?” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting into the skin. he reaches his hand to your jaw, his thumb pulling the lip from between your teeth. “don’t do that. you know it drives me crazy.”

“i thought maybe you wanted me for more than sex,” you admit, feeling embarrassed as the words slip out. you clench your jaw, preparing for the rejection. a smirk slide onto his face and you drop your head. “okay, bye.”

you move back and push against the door again, but this time he pushes the door all the way open. your eyes widen as he takes a long stride toward you and pulls you back to him by the back of your neck. he presses his lips against yours feverishly to which you obviously reciprocate.

he pulls away and rests his forehead against yourself, breathing heavily. “i want you in every way possible, sweetheart,” he says.

you swallow thickly, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him away. “you don’t want me,” you tell him. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back into him, your chest pushing against his.

“i do,” he counters.

“you don’t,” you respond.

there’s a beat of silence. “i do,” he says again. you just look up into his eyes. “i want you. i’m not the best person for you, i know that. i’m older and unhappy and i probably can’t be there for you emotionally,” he lists then shakes his head at you, looking at you like you make the world go round. “but i want you, i want every part of you—the good, the bad, the hot and sexy, and the rude and snappy. everything.”

you’re quiet. you don’t know what to say, what is there to even say? in your head, he’s always wanted jean and you were just a place filler. you’ve been under the impression that you caught feelings and he didn’t reciprocate them at all. maybe you’re wrong just this once.

“i want you too,” you tell him in a whisper. he watches your brow furrow as you look away from his eyes. his face falls. “but—.”

“no ‘but.’ don’t say ‘but’,” he begs, loosening his grip on your waist.

“logan, i can live with you not being there for me emotionally, but i don’t know if you can live with me not being for you sexually,” you tell him. dread takes over your body. this beautiful, morally grey, perfect-for-you man is in the palm of your hand and you’re letting him slip through your fingers.

her visible confusion deepens. “you’ve been perfect for the past few months,” he tells you, misinterpreting your words as insecurity.

you shake your head. “i meant it when i said i can’t fuck you sober,” you tell him slowly, avoiding his gaze completely. you feel his hands move from his loosened grip to a hover over your hips. you can’t read his mind like you usually can. logan wears his thoughts on his face, perfectly readable when he’s mad or happy or just his normal grumpy. but now, it’s like trying to read a book in a language you didn’t know existed. “i’m sorry,” you add when his silence becomes too much.

“i don’t care,” he tells you as soon as you finish the last syllable.

“you know i don’t apologize for shit and you don’t care that i’m sorry?” you ask him. you go to push him off again but he pulls you back in, this time wrapping his around your neck, smothering your face in his burly chest.

“i don’t care about sex,” he tells you as he rests his head atop yours. you return the embrace and hold him around his ribs. “i don’t care if you never touch me again. i love you.” your eyes widen and he feels your body tense up. he chuckles, pulling away and smiling at you. “too soon?”

“a little,” you tell him, nodding. you then smile back at him.

———

a/n: i haven’t written in a long time . pls don’t rip me up if u hate this🙏

[dolibeauti]

bruh fuck school let’s go on a roadtrip with the LOV!!! really suggestive mdni NOT PROOFREAD DONT COME FOR ME

shigaraki x reader

the van you guys are riding in is way too small to fit everyone . . . unless someone sits on another’s lap. obviously, people like their personal space so it looked like one person had drop out of the trip or else the trip would be canceled. sadly, no one sacrificed themselves.

“ugh… c’mon guyss! i really want to go on this trip” toga whined next to double, squirming around like a child having a tantrum. you rolled your eyes in annoyance. she’s been complaining like this since yesterday. “i am NOT letting my dignity wash away by sitting on anyone else’s lap but their car seats.” you protested, making it clear that you wouldn’t give less than a shit if the trip was canceled.

dabi batted an eye at you with devious intentions (🤨) “are you implying that you’d rather have someone in your lap?” he rebuked your statement with a grin of victory, causing your face to contort in disgust. “no, i’m saying i’d rather not go, dipshit.” you shook your head before getting up to go to the other room. but not before overhearing him say that he guesses the trip will continue.

whatever.

ding

dabi :

js go man

toga wants you to

what if i told you you can sit alone

would you go

you :

ok

that’s not reassuring

but ok

where are you guys?

dabi :

we’re in the van bruh hurry up

you :

shut up

you assumed they already threw your stuff in the van because your luggage was nowhere to be seen. you walked up to the car and knocked on the heavily tinted windows before you heard the loud sliding of the door. greeted by dabi’s shit eating grin with his thumb pointing towards the back.

fuck - they tricked you.

you weren’t gonna sit alone, you were gonna sit on a lap. tomura shigaraki’s lap. out of everyone they chose AFO’s successor and the guy you had the hots for. “are you actually joking with me?” anger ran through your veins when you realized the situation but all your stuff was in that very luggage (that was in the van already) and no way in hell were they letting you get it back now.

“what? it’s just shiggy.”

that’s what happens when you trust a villain.

now you were sitting uncomfortably on tomura’s lap. it was miserable and you could tell he was too. the van had only one seat in the back with the rest of the space for luggage so you offered for yourself to sit on the floor surrounded by all the luggage in which he declined.

not that he was forbidding you to move but that it was okay for you to sit on him. he’d wrap his arms around you when you guys were on a bumpy trail, as if he was your very own seatbelt. you had to stop yourself from letting yourself indulge in your sinful thoughts when this happened so you distracted yourself by having conversation with everyone in the front where tomura occasionally joined in on.

so that’s why it was actually hell when everyone fell asleep (except kurogiri cuz he’s driving IDK KEAVE ME AKONE joke). the only people awake other than kurogiri were you and tomura because 1. you couldn’t sleep on his lap 2. he couldn’t sleep with someone on his lap.

“shigaraki… do you want me to move to the floor?” your turned your head to ask him in a quick whisper. he met your gaze with a shake of his head before hugging you from behind and resting his head on your back.

your eyes widened at the realization of what was happening right now. you were never that close to him before, only interacting through messages or meetings.

oh and you knew you were in for a ride (pun intended) when you felt something poke against your ass. he stayed silent, still in the same position as before, albeit with a tighter grip.

“shig.”

“sorry.”

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: perv!wonwoo (not super pervy but i tried my best 🫡), smut, f reader, penetrative sex, established relationship (situatuonship is mentioned but idk lets assume they're exclusive just bc i can), he's kinda a dick, etc.

wc: 905

masterlist

streamer!wonwoo perv!wonwoo whose audience believes him to be a golden boy. simply a polite yet charming guy whos into video games, who just so happens to be insanely handsome. his thick rimmed glasses and wavy hair almost covering his eyes, accompanied by those wide shoulders, was able to catch the attention of all of those looking for a pretty face to look at while consuming content from their favorite video games (although many keep their eyes glued to the tiny view of wonwoo on the corner of the screen rather than the game itself).

the people watching him through the screen dont even see the half of it, though, not knowing how much of a perv he is when in real life. not so much a respectful and charming guy, but a degenerate who keeps up the act for appearances. after all, that is how he first got to you a few years back, when you, one of the few who had been a loyal viewer since before his channel blew up, decided that you just HAD to have the pretty nerd rambling about league of legends on stream.

after a few (okay, maybe more than a few) attempts at catching his attention through leaving various suggestive comments, wonwoo finally decided to take a look at your account, noting an instagram linked on your bio. after seeing that the desperate commentator he had taken a liking to seeing always punctual in his streams was a pretty girl in his area, his mind went straight to the gutter, finding his hands moving on their own to send you a message detailing his interest.

a few months later and you found yourself in a months-long situationship with the streamer, having him hit you up almost every other day when he needed 'something warm warm to stick his dick in', as he so nicely put it as he had you sitting on top of him, cockwarming him while he gamed (off-stream, of course).

having a such a well paying stay at home job had many perks, including the ability to take any day off he wanted to fuck you into his bed, somehow managing to never scare you away with his very obvious obsession with your body, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you with little to no regard for the exhaustion you'd feel after a few hours with him. somehow the roles had reversed, with him now being the one to continuously pursue you under the vice of getting under your pants every second he could.

"n-nonu fuck. slow down, i-" you whined as he senselessly bounced you up and down on his dick, rhythm completely lost a few rounds ago.

he practically growled at your complaint, "you asked for this when you showed up wearing that tiny excuse for a skirt while i was on stream."

"you asked me over-"

"for moral support, baby. not for you to parade yourself around me knowing i wouldnt be able to hold back from taking this pussy," he breathed out, angling you slightly differently, now causing you to whine even louder at your clit being stimulated by the friction.

"does your audience know how m- agh fuck. how much of a perv you are? leaving mid stream to get your dick wet?"

your brattiness causes him to disconnect your bodies, flipping yours over to put you on your hands and elbows and ramming himself into you with no warning.

"be thankful i'm fucking you of all people baby. be thankful this pussy has such a grip on me to get you on my bed every night," he sped up as he spoke filth into your ears.

wonwoo had a special way of making you feel like an object, something which you only enjoyed when it came to him. despite being such a fucking perv, you enjoyed the dynamic you had built, allowing him to play with your body however he saw fit as long as he made you cum. and jesus christ, did he.

"fuck," you felt the end coming near and began to push yourself back against him, grinding into him as much as you could despite his clammy hands having such a tight hold on your hips.

"im gonna make you cream all around me and then im gonna fill you up. okay, baby? then im gonna go back on stream while you keep my bed w- ah fuck. warm for me. if you're a good girl for me, i'll fuck you to sleep afterwards," he rasped out, losing his rhythm even further as he neared his own high.

a few more harsh thrusts later and you were creaming around him, tightening up so much that he, too, reached his peak, filling you up and letting go of your hips, causing you to fall flat against the mattress.

"fuck. baby, never show up like that here again. i almost died," he breathed out as he tried to do a decent job at cleaning you up a bit and tucking you under the covers.

despite his perverted treatment of your body, wonwoo was always sweet to you when his mind wasnt filled with sex (which admittedly wasnt often).

"you act as if i forced you to fuck me," you retaliate despite knowing you did wear that skirt with a specific purpose in mind.

"just shut up and go to sleep, baby. you'll need your energy back soon."

n/a: this is ass im rlly bad at writing men who r not obsessed with their s/o im sorry </33

[dollfaceksj]

still don’t know my name | jjk (m) pt. 3

➥ banner by: @/archivedkookie.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ cybersex ⋆ enemies

➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.

➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, spanking, spitting, facefucking, brat taming, face slapping, overstimulation, unprotected sex (THIS IS REALLY DUMB DONT DO IT), creampie, degradation, praise, name calling (slut/bitch 😵‍💫 first time a man calls a woman a bitch in my fics but i felt like it fit in this IDK?) choking, kissing (kind of … pining???!!??) oral sex (m & f rec.), minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 8.6k

a/n: the finale is here😘😘 sorry it took so long! i hope u enjoy nonetheless 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

make sure to check out eli’s version too!

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

#3 — “game on” [finale]

There he is, obstructing your view completely.

Considering his raw beauty, one might argue that he is the view.

Arms outstretched above his head, hands resting against the doorframe as he looks down at you. With his arms raised like this, you can smell his deodorant. He smells quite nice.

Looks like he’s caging you. Keeping you trapped. Like the villain in a video game with outstanding graphics. You understand people who have a crush on animated characters because he looks ethereal.

The teasing glint in his eyes matches the mischievous one in yours. Like a dance battle that’s been going on for ages and you’re getting closer and closer to the finale. You can basically taste it.

It’s quiet for a few moments aside from your synced breathing. Neither of you seem to be willing to speak.

That is, until you realize that it’s ass o’clock and time isn’t exactly on your side. The decision to break the ice follows you swiftly. “Do you really have no respect for your fellow tenants?”

Acting like you don’t know why he’s here is the only way you can deal with the pounding muscular organ in your chest. It’s pumping blood to the rest of your body at immense speed, heating up your entire body in the process.

But you asked for this. You asked what the hell he was waiting for.

And it’s clear he was waiting on you.

He tilts his head to the side. Stifles a smirk. Raises an eyebrow. Shrugs his shoulders. He looks so smug. You want to punch him.

He clears his throat and looks around the corridor nonchalantly before he decides to give you an answer. “I have a lot of respect for my fellow tenants, actually. I just don’t see you as one.”

Your eyes pingpong between his from left to right, mesmerized by the big black tapioca pearls above his flushed cheeks that are intently staring you down.

“What do you see me as, then?” you ask, quietly yet as bitchy as you can. Arms crossed over your chest. Impatiently tapping your foot against the floor which creates a ticking sound, much like a clock.

Like he’s losing time and once the clock goes off, it’s game over. So much for a Gameboy.

His tongue peeks out from the corner of his mouth and swipes along his bottom lip, toying with his glistening lip rings for a moment.

If that was an attempt to get you to stare at his lips, he succeeded. Weak!

Staring at his lips throws you into a trance and you really wonder what it would be like to have those pressing down on yours. Shut you up. Make you melt into him.

“Granny. Annoying. Loud-mouth. Obnoxious. Rude,” he lists. Your eyes squint at him but before you can even respond, he cuts you off. “Spoiled brat that needs to be put in her place.”

Never mind.

You want to kill him.

You bring your shoulders up in an unbothered shrug. “Bet you won’t.”

Your witty words make him stare at you for a moment longer before he drops his head and humorlessly chuckles, shaking it in disbelief and bouncing his shoulders at that which he finds humorous.

You know he likes it, though.

He raises his head again. Stares at you. Drops his eyes to your pretty lips. Trails your lipline. Lets his gaze linger on your cupid’s bow. Shifts his eyes back to your feigned innocent eyes.

The simple act of his eyes never leaving you has your body heating up. As if lava is pumping through your veins. As if his body is pressed up right against yours. As if every small move you make is equal to putting a handful of sand in your mouth whilst you’re standing underneath the scorching hot sahara desert sun.

“Are you challenging me?” he asks, voice low as if he’s worried other people will hear him.

Ah.

There it is.

The first between you two to acknowledge what’s really going on.

You figured it’d be him anyway.

Now it’s your turn to acknowledge it.

“Not a challenge,” you answer with a slight shake to your head. “An invitation,” you clarify, mischievous eyes still glued to his figure. Consent comes first, after all.

The staring competition lasts just a little while longer. He then straightens his back and drops his hands from the frame of your door. Wastes no time stepping into your apartment. Shuts the door behind him with his foot.

Or at least that’s what you think because the speed in which he lunges at you makes you unsure of anything happening right now.

The momentum of his lunge at you knocks you back but he’s not letting you get away that easily.

One of his hands rests on the back of your head as his lips press down on yours like two magnets finding solace with each other. Your own hand slithers up his chest, nails digging into his shoulder. Some in the fabric of his shirt, some in his burning skin.

No matter how cool he plays it, he’s burning up much like you are.

He keeps walking, backing you further into your apartment until you’re pressed up against a wall. Trapped. Caged.

His tattooed fingers drape around your neck, pulling you closer to his body, closing the gap. Squeezes your throat like he’s afraid you’re going to somehow vanish into thin air.

He presses his lips down on yours even harder. Rougher. Uses his other hand to squeeze your hip. Grunts against your mouth.

Your other hand travels up his body to his bicep. Rests there. Squeezes. His arm is rock hard.

His lips parting makes you copy him, welcoming his tongue into your mouth. His wet muscle massages against yours, rough and needy. He tastes like mint. Must be his toothpaste.

He slowly starts pushing you towards your room and you assume he knows where it is because it’s the same layout as his apartment.

He pushes you until your calves hit the side of your bed. Makes you fall down. You grip his shirt to pull him down with you. He’s on top of you in no time.

He kisses you like he’s got somewhere to be. Pulls his tongue back just to mumble something. You don’t quite understand.

“Hm?” you hum, encouraging him to repeat himself.

He pulls back. “Safeword,” he mumbles again before pecking your lips once more, eyes glued to your mouth.

You stare at him as he pecks your lips continuously, your eyes so big and doe-like. “Uh…” You’re not sure what kind of a safeword would work. Your mind is blank.

He whispers, “Just say something. Anything.”

Anything?

“Butterfly.”

Butterfly? Really? Couldn’t come up with anything else?

“Butterfly?” he echoes.

“Butterfly,” you repeat.

He nods in confirmation and travels his hand down to your hip, dangerously close to the curve of your ass as he presses his lips against yours again in a hungry kiss.

All he needs is a little push.

You give him the little push.

Your hand reaches for your hip, shoving his palm further down your back until it’s resting on your ass.

You pull back from the kiss this time. “You wanna know my safeword but you still don’t know my name.”

He pinches his brows together. Stares at your lips. Looks like he wants to do nothing more than kiss you for years on end.

He brings his shoulders up in a nonchalant shrug. “I like calling you Angel.”

Ah.

Your own eyes drop down to his lips, black pupils trailing his wide cupid’s bow that’s begging to be kissed. “Thought it didn’t make any sense to you.” Your eyes shoot back up to look him dead in the eye. “You know, because I’m far from being angelic?”

He stares at you for a few seconds. Maybe half a minute. Intense eyes pingpong-ing back and forth between your own as if the answers to what goes on in your brain is written in them.

He slowly starts to nod his head. Scrunches up his nose for a split second before he tears his eyes away from you to stare at the wall in your room, at nothing in particular. It’s only then that you notice that he’s been closing the gap between your bodies and you’re only noticing due to the body heat radiating off of him.

He turns his head back to face you but avoids your eyes. Instead he tilts his head down, presses his lips against your neck in a soft kiss. He licks. Nips. Sucks. “Hm. I quite like contradictions, though,” whispers Gameboy.

You’re not sure what he means by it.

“Contradictions?” you echo as you tilt your head to the side, granting him more access to any skin he desires. You try to keep yourself from moaning but to no avail, so your new goal is to not be embarrassed by your heavy breathing and quiet moaning.

“Hm,” he hums in confirmation. All it does is send a shiver down your spine and makes your thighs clench. “You’re my favorite contradiction. Wanna give you nothing yet everything at the same time.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes dramatically, in hopes that he won’t be able to tell how that confession made your heart drum out of control in your chest. You can’t stand how he always knows what to say to get a reaction out of you.

You inquire, “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he abruptly pauses as he pushes himself off you, resting his ass on his heels. His hands wrap around the back of your knees, adding strength to push them all the way to your chest. Has you almost folded up into a human pretzel.

“Hey, I have joints!” You try to sound angry but you’re barely fighting back. Way to stand your ground.

“It means that I want to fuck the shit out of you but I also don’t want to give you the satisfaction.” He angles his hips in a way that makes his pelvis grind right into yours. It’s hard to ignore the rock hard boner rubbing against your sex and you’ve never hated wearing clothes more than you do at this moment.

“Like so.” He begins to thrust his hips into yours, eyes glued to the way the bulge in his sweatpants rocks against the seam of your leggings that’s located right on top of your pussy.

He starts dry humping you, brows furrowed in concentration. Sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. Finally looks into your eyes. “The only thing a slut like you deserves.”

Oh.

“Don’t you agree?” he whispers, eyes shifting up to yours—finally. Bottom lip still trapped between his teeth and cheeks tinted crimson.

He looks unreal. Ethereal.

A soft moan bubbles up the back of your throat at the sensation and it escapes your mouth before you can catch it.

But his words don’t slip your mind.

You squint your eyes at him. “Fuck you.”

Yeah, sure… that’ll show him.

It happens so fast. You don’t even realize it happened until after your lips have started stinging and a gasp has unintentionally ripped through your throat.

Did he just… slap your mouth?

He did.

Your hooded eyes shoot open and your brows pinch together, unable to ignore the tingle on your lips from the smack he’s left behind on them.

“You think you’re in any position to run your mouth, you stupid brat?” He doesn’t wait for a response from you and simply shoves his thumb past your lips, confident that you’ll happily welcome it.

Unfortunately, you do.

You welcome the tip of his thumb into your mouth, eyes still piercing into his. His eyebrow twitches when you swirl your tongue around it. Gently suck on it. Quietly moan at it.

His eyes stay glued to your face and he can’t seem to decide what he wants to focus on. Your pretty eyes that are lost in his as if you’re the most innocent creature on Earth or your pouty lips that are beautifully wrapped around the tip of his thumb like you’re the sluttiest whore with his dick in your mouth.

Either way, you’re a complete contradiction. How you manage to look so innocent yet so seductive seems like a mystery to him.

One he intends to solve.

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a loud pop and places his hands next to each side of your head.

He continues to dry hump you at the same pace but the strength behind his thrusts has changed. He’s snapping his hips so hard into yours that it makes your entire frame jerk from the momentum every time your bodies collide.

He grunts quietly. Shakes his head. “Shit, shit.” His eyes drop down to your lips for a few seconds before back into your eyes. “I need to fuck you.”

Dry humping you for barely 2 minutes and he’s already going back on his word?

You can’t help but provoke him. “I thought you said a slut like me didn’t deserve that? I could be wrong.”

He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, deeply contemplating something as his teeth pick at the loose flesh on his lips. After a few more seconds of mindlessly staring at you, he pushes himself off you. He gets up before he straightens his back and hoists you up, pulling you off the bed and onto your feet in one swift move.

He doesn’t even need to ask.

You instantly drop to your knees, eyes staring up at him.

He taps your chin with his finger. “Always running your dumb mouth. You know what happens to stupid girls that don’t know when to shut the hell up?”

Before you can give one of your smartass answers, his hand wraps around your jaw and grips it tightly to make you look up at him. You simply blink at him, as innocently as you can.

“They get their face fucked.”

Oh.

The only way to describe what you’re feeling is what you imagine a hot spear shooting down your core would feel like. Leaves behind a warm tingle pooling in your lower belly.

Your hands don’t waste any time as they travel up his thighs and your thumbs tuck under the waistband of his sweats. You flutter your lashes at him in hopes of getting permission to undress him.

He licks his lips and nods his head, watching you intently as you start tugging his sweats down.

You were right, you know. He really wasn’t wearing any underwear.

As you pull the hem down, the black markings come into view.

Your username.

Fuck.

He really is him.

Your eyes glance up at him and he’s already staring at you.

You tug his sweats further down, only to be almost slapped in the face with his dick. A quiet gasp of surprise escapes your mouth as you eye the view in front of you.

It’s exactly as it is in the videos and pictures he sends you.

You stare at it in awe, mouth already salivating.

He wraps his hand around the shaft and taps the tip of his dick against your lips. “Open.”

In the instance that you part your lips, he shoves his shaft right into your mouth without a single warning whilst cradling the back of your head to keep you still.

He doesn’t seem to care about your poor throat as he starts thrusting into it as if he’s got something to prove to the universe.

Saliva drips down your chin and onto your chest, staining your Power Puff girl shirt with dots of spit. Quiet gags resound in the back of your throat as Gameboy continues to push your head further down his shaft.

“Only fucking way to shut you up, isn’t it?” he grunts, the tip of his dick repeatedly slamming against the back of your throat and soft palette.

After a few more rough thrusts, he pulls out of your mouth and tugs your head back by the roots on your cranium to make you look up at him. You gasp for air, not paying any mind to how messy you must look right now.

He simply leans forwards, eyebrows pinched together as his tapioca pearls scan your face in a matter of milliseconds. “You okay?” he whispers, loosening his grip on your cranium and instead softly stroking it.

You blink in confusion at him. You’ve definitely never heard him sound that gentle when addressing you. Maybe only when addressing Bam.

But you quickly realize he’s genuinely just making sure you’re okay so far and whether you have any trouble with how rough he’s being.

With an eager nod of your assurance, he cockily chuckles. “That’s a good girl, isn’t it?” he slyly says before gathering saliva onto his tongue and spitting it out right on top of yours.

He straightens his back again before shoving his dick right back into your wet mouth. Makes him groan. Curse. Twitch on your tongue.

You happily keep your mouth wide open for him and his pleasure, fluttering your pretty lashes up at him. Your eyes blink back the tears repeatedly, almost like they’re trying to snap a photograph of this moment right now. Wanting to commit it all to memory. Wanting to commit him to memory.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “mouth so fucking good. ‘S why I prefer a brat that doesn’t know when to shut up.” His eyes are instantaneously on yours, black and hungry.

You can imagine, to be honest. All that shit-talking you were doing has brought you here. On your knees. Choking on a wet dick that you’ve been dreaming about.

You don’t think you could be any happier than you are at this moment.

“Gonna spill in your mouth,” he moans, hips never faltering in speed and precision.

Every time you open your eyes, you see your own username in faded black marker, right in front of your nose. Like you’ve been branded on him. Like he’s yours and yours only.

With your chest tightening at the pleasure you’re experiencing by giving him pleasure, the way he slips out of your mouth almost goes unnoticed by you.

He taps his dick against your tongue before reaching for your hand and leading it to his shaft. It takes you a few seconds to realize what he wants. He wants you to jack him off until he cums.

You wrap your hand around his shaft and aim the tip of his angry dick at your open mouth, eager to catch his cum on your tastebuds.

His eyes are staring you down so intently that it almost makes you choke on air. Luckily, you’re not a little bitch. You keep holding onto the eye contact like the little brat you are, though, defiant and stubborn.

He scrunches his nose up. Twitches his lips. Stifles a smirk. “Just like that, Angel.”

You keep your mouth open, tongue poking out past your lips. A slight shift on your knees makes you hyper aware of the wetness pooling in your panties.

Shit, you’re really turned on.

“Fuck,” he whispers, “gonna cum.” It doesn’t take long after for his dick to start twitching in your hand. Even less when ropes of his cum start shooting out of his dick, loud groans accompanying the wet sounds your hand makes whilst sliding up and down his soaking shaft.

More curses spill from his lips, eyes trying so hard to stay open and watch himself cum all over your tongue and chin.

With your head tilted and a shit-eating grin on your lips, you continue to milk him of every single drop until he squirms from the overstimulation.

You drop your hand from his shaft and bring your other hand to wipe your chin free of the saliva mixed with cum. His semen glides down your esophagus with a big gulp.

“Shit.” He throws his head back and runs his hands through his black locks. “Didn’t think I’d cum that fast.”

His eyes trail back to you, taking in the way you’re elegantly sitting on your knees, ass perked up on the back of your feet.

“I suppose you really are just all talk,” you quip, a smug grin tugging on the corner of your lips.

The goosebumps on the upper layer of your skin make an appearance when his hand wraps around your throat and squeezes it once. Twice. He bends over. Presses his lips to yours in a quick kiss. Messy. Hungry.

His tattooed hand abandons your throat to hoist you up by your biceps. He starts pushing you towards your bed until you fall back, cranium sinking into your soft pillows.

He rids himself of his tank top and yanks it across your room, not caring where it ends up before diving into your bed with you. Your thighs spread on their own accord, ready to let Gameboy do whatever he wishes.

His tongue makes an appearance as he swipes it along his bottom lip, eyeing the seam in your leggings. It makes his lip rings flick up. Makes your leggings more damp than they already are.

The slightest bit of pressure against your clothed pussy makes you jerk your hips up into his knuckles, the ones he was using to rub up and down your sex.

“You’ve soaked through your leggings,” he comments. “Got that wet from letting me use your dumb mouth, did you?”

His eyes flicker up to yours, the pad of his thumb still rubbing up and down your sex. You suppose he’s checking to see if you’re going to be a smartass about it or not.

You are.

“I got that wet from the thought of you ruining me and fucking me until I’m stupid like you said you would, but in all honesty, I think I might be falling asleep.”

Well.

The simple exhale that leaves his nostrils can only be described as a quick snort as his hand abandons your pussy in its time of need. You’re a second away from whining about it but Gameboy is quicker than you.

Tucks his fingers under the hem of your leggings. Yanks them down your legs. Doesn’t care that he tore the inseam of your leggings.

“Hey! You’re buying me a new pair!” You don’t really care that he tore them, you have a stockpile of these leggings that you could clothe a whole village with. You just want to be annoying.

He simply raises his finger to his lips, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

“Wha–”

“Shh.” Shushes you. Eyes closed. Lips pursed. Brows pinched.

You lie there, confused. Legs spread. The only thing covering your attention-seeking pussy is the pathetic cotton panties that, by now, have completely been soaked by your arousal.

When you take another breath to speak up, he brings his palm down.

Smack!

“Ow!” Your hips jerk up off the bed once his palm comes in contact with your poor pussy.

Either you’re trippin’ off the hardest acid right now or he actually just spanked your vagina.

“I told you to be quiet.”

It simply earns him a glare but that doesn’t matter to him. The corners of his lips curl up and before you know it, his head dives down your body.

But what you don’t expect is his hands wrapping around the back of your knees and pulling you downwards so your back lies flat on the mattress as he settles in between your thighs, mouth pressed against the sticky fabric of your panties.

You’re barely able to get out a moan before he starts sucking on your sex through your panties, his eyes closed in concentration. He nudges your clit with his round nose. Does it again when you let out a moan that’s sweeter than the bottom of a bag of candy.

He pulls away which almost makes you whine but you clamp your mouth shut when he tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties. Glances at you through his brows.

You keep your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as he slowly starts sliding your panties down your legs, his eyes instantly glued to the faded black markings on your pelvis which spells out his username.

He tosses your panties aside and spreads your thighs by your knees again. His black irises stay glued to your soaking wet pussy, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Even prettier than I remember.” He lowers himself again. Wastes no time attacking your swollen clit with his angry tongue.

You reach for his hair, gently tugging on it with your fingers to pull him closer to where you want him. He obeys, burying himself in your sex with his entire face. Shakes his head to give you extra friction. Nudges your clit with his nose.

Your hips involuntarily jerk upwards but it doesn’t phase him in the slightest. He just continues to suck and lick at your pussy like a man starved.

Lying under him now is surreal. After all those months of talking to him, it’s hard to believe you’re in this position right now.

What’s even harder to believe is that he’s here.

That it’s him.

Him, of all people.

Your rude neighbor with a lack of manners and decency.

But for some reason, this makes it even more… satisfying?

He drags you out of your thoughts when he wraps his lips around your clit and pushes two of his fingers into you, creating gushing sounds that only further embarrass you.

He slurps, sucks, nips, licks. Looks up at you. Winks. Smirks.

The cold metal of his lip rings against your hot skin makes a shiver travel up your spine. Summons goosebumps on the upper layer of your skin. He notices. It makes him chuckle. The air from his exhale fans over your pussy. Gets you excited and whiny all over again.

“Shit, you taste way too good for a brat.” He uses both his thumbs to gently spread your folds apart to take in the beauty that is your soaking sex before pressing a soft kiss to your hole and shoving his tongue inside.

“F–fuck!” you cry out as he starts fucking his tongue in and out of you, nose nudging your clit and one thumb circling the rim of your asshole. It makes the all too familiar knot in your stomach slowly form.

“I’m gonna,” you pause, “cum.”

He doesn’t seem to care, though.

Because right as the knot threatens to snap, Gameboy pulls away. Stares you down as your arousal drips off his chin. He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. The nonchalance he exudes while he does so makes you glare at him.

At least, to the best of your abilities, that is.

You’re a bit fucked out. Can’t feel your toes and your ears are ringing.

“Sluts like you don’t deserve to cum so quick,” murmurs Gameboy as he starts tugging at the hem of your shirt, the only fabric that still covers your body.

“But Jay!” you whine but he simply cuts you off by spanking your poor pussy again. You cry out. Your body jerks. It makes him huff in arrogance.

He adds, “Shut up and do as I say for once.”

You angrily huff as you yank the shirt off and toss it aside, somewhere on the floor near the pile of clothes. This allows your breasts to bounce free and his eyes are almost bursting out of their sockets as he takes the sight in.

His hands reach over your chest before his eyes peek up at yours, waiting for any sign of approval or permission. You reach out to his hands and bring them down to your breasts, wordlessly telling him there’s nothing more you’d want than this.

Even though he just came, he’s already sporting a semi hard-on from eating you out. The moment his hands grope your breasts, a soft groan leaves his throat. He can’t seem to stop staring at them. “Holy shit,” he mumbles, continuing to grope and massage them.

He gently pinches your nipples. Leans down and takes one into his mouth. Sucks with as much fervor as he can muster.

Several moans spill from your lips as he continues and the inflating dick against your thigh doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You hate to admit it but it boosts your ego to the max.

You hate it because men will fuck a hole in a tree. They get turned on by anything. But in this moment, you know that Gameboy wants you as bad as you want him and you can’t wait until he finally does what he came here to do.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, “fuck me, please.”

He raises his head, letting go of your breast with a loud pop as he stares you down. “Oh, wow. Where’s all that attitude? You finally starting to fall off your high horse?” He sounds so full of mockery when he says these things but you don’t care anymore.

If he doesn’t fuck you this instance you might die.

“No, bozo. I’m waiting to see what you’ve got in store. It seems like you keep delaying it because you can’t back your talk,” you reply almost right away.

Almost as soon as the words leave your lips, he slaps you on the mouth again. This time with a little more force that makes your lips tingle with a stinging sensation.

It makes you gasp. Not in surprise but in bliss. You only run your mouth to have him put you in your place. It’s too good of a feeling to know that you can get under his skin like this.

He stares at you with a look in his eyes that you can only describe as a combination of disbelief and amusement. “You’ve always got something to say, don’t you?” he mumbles as he reaches for his pants and rummages through its pockets before returning his attention to you.

You stare at the golden item in his hands. A condom.

Ain’t nobody got time for that.

You don’t even hesitate when you reach out, snatch it out of his hands and toss it to the floor.

It’s almost like he expected you to do that when his chest rumbles as he chuckles. You glance at him with such a desperate look in your eye and you think this time it might’ve worked.

Because he slowly pushes your thighs back and uses one hand to position his already hard dick by your pussy, rubbing it up and down your disgustingly soaked slit.

“You’ve got me dripping with precum, I hope you know that,” he quietly says. Slaps his dick onto your slit a few times. Moves it to the side as he purses his lips to let a drop of his saliva drop down onto your pussy, watching it dribble down your folds. “Fuck.”

Your teeth sink down into your bottom lip as you watch him go to work, the perfect view in front of you. You can see his concentrated face, his glorious body and your own pussy seconds away from a good pounding.

“Ready?” he whispers, eyes shooting up to yours and they’ve got the same twinkle as when he asked whether you were okay during the throatfucking.

You quickly nod and look back down at your sexes, eagerly waiting for him to finally push into you.

And he does.

He slowly starts to enter you, hips moving at a pace that makes you want to scream your head off.

You’re impatient but you know it’s best for your own good.

“Fuck. So fuckin’ tight,” he whispers as he pushes even more until he’s filled you up completely. Your walls uncomfortably stretch around him but you simply welcome the burn as you reach out to his shoulders and pull him closer to you.

He closes the gap between you two and instantly connects his lips to yours, kissing you so roughly that it takes you by surprise considering how gentle his lower body is treating yours.

After a few more seconds of making out, which ultimately helped you relax, you tap his shoulder and mumble the word “move” against his lips.

He hears you loud and clear.

Slowly starts rocking his hips into yours and it makes you moan into his mouth. He simply swallows your moans, licking into your mouth to steal every single sound you make.

You wrap your legs around his waist in hopes of pulling him even closer to you. Your hands cup his face as you slowly pull away from the kiss to look into his eyes.

He returns the eye contact whilst his hips increase in speed and power.

“Do you have other girls?” you manage to ask in between thrusts, eyes still boring into his. You’re not sure why you’re asking him this but you also can’t help but ask.

He stares you down in silence for a few moments before pulling away and straightening his back. He pulls out of you and pushes all the way back in as he holds your thighs apart.

“I have a bunch.” He starts thrusting into you with such speed that it makes your entire body jerk from the momentum, giving him a perfect view of your bouncing breasts. “How about you focus on being my favorite?”

Oh.

That’s all it takes to shut you up as he starts rubbing your clit with one thumb, trying to get you to the edge before he robs you of your orgasm again.

Not to mention the speed at which he fucks you in is borderline animalistic.

Damn. You must’ve really pissed him off.

He drills so deep into you that the sensation in your lower gut is indescribable. You subconsciously stretch out your arm, pressing your hand flat into his lower abdomen in hopes of getting him to slow down.

It means nothing to him, though.

He continues to pound into you, ignoring your hand begging for mercy as he grunts quietly. “Fuckin’ hate how beautiful you are, Angel.”

Clench.

“You like that, huh?” he huffs, one hand wrapping around the back of your thigh and the other slapping your hand away from his stomach. Gives you no choice but to take the pounding like a good girl. “Tightening around me like you’re trying to squeeze my fuckin’ dick off.”

All you can do is fight the moan that’s sliding up your esophagus as you bite into the back of your hand in hopes of swallowing your moans, eyes tightly shut to concentrate.

But he doesn’t like that.

His hand comes down on your jaw in a firm tap. “Look at me.”

You crack your eyelids open just to be blessed with the view of him and his hair sticking to his forehead from the thin layer of sweat it has produced.

“That all you got?” you taunt, referring to the soft slap he delivered to your face just now, if it even can be called that.

He stares at you with a slight squint in his eyes before he chuckles and this time, puts more force behind his slap.

Your face jerks to the side and your cheek tingles from the faint pain. It makes you clench around his shaft in pure ecstasy.

But then it all happens really fast.

He pulls out of you and in one motion, you’re on your stomach. By the time you look over your shoulder, Gameboy has positioned himself onto your ass before pushing into your gushing pussy from behind.

Lying flat on your stomach with your legs pressed together only makes him rub up against your walls even more, allowing you to feel and be able to map out all the veins and ridges on his dick.

The warmth that fans over your ear only suggests that he’s right next to your face, breathing heavily down your neck and collarbones.

“Where’d all that shit talking go?” he whispers quietly, lips pressed against the shell of your ear as his inked hand wraps around your throat from behind.

You try to answer but to no avail, the speed and power he uses to fuck you with has you sounding incoherent and absolutely stupid.

“Look at you now, all fucked out,” he adds, the shit-eating smirk present in his tone.

You slightly turn your head to be able to look at him, brows furrowed together and your mouth dropped open.

His eyes shift to your face and wander all over your desperate features before settling on your eyes again. “God,” whispers Gameboy quietly. “Gonna be the death of me, you are.”

He always knows what to say.

Every.

Single.

Time.

“Kiss me,” you manage to let out without sounding choked.

His eyes slowly drop to your round, pouty lips that shape into an ‘o’. “What’s the magic word, Angel?”

He’s so damn annoying.

“Please,” you say, without hesitation. “Please, kiss me.”

It takes no more than a second before your request has been fulfilled. His pretty lips press onto yours and he wastes no time sneaking his tongue into your mouth.

You continue to moan in desperation and pleasure, allowing him to swallow every last sound that escapes your mouth.

After several moments of kissing, it’s only then that you realize he’s no longer thrusting but instead he’s simply nestled deep inside of you and all his focus is on kissing you.

When you pull away from the kiss, it seems like he, too, realizes this. Clears his throat. Hoists himself up.

To your surprise, he yanks your ass up into the air by your hips and presses his hand flat down on your upper back to keep your face down and ass up.

With your burning face buried in the sheets, all you can focus on is your sense of touch and hearing.

A glob of saliva drops onto your pussy. He rubs it in with his dick before slapping it a few times and easing himself in again.

Your back arches from the sensation as you listen to the beautiful, quiet moans spilling from his lips. Makes you realize that his voice box deserves an award. Or a national holiday. You bet he could be famous if he intended to do anything with his voice.

But the moment is flipped onto its head when Gameboy starts thrusting into you like there’s no tomorrow. Like he’s got something to prove to the universe. Like he’s finally getting his long awaited revenge.

Which he is.

And this is precisely what you wanted when you provoked him all those times.

A loud smack rings in your ears and a sharp sting spreading through your asscheek follows right away, earning a cry from you. He spanks you again. And again. And again.

His other hand sneaks around your hip and furiously starts rubbing at your clit, involuntarily making you clench around his shaft that is forcing it’s way into you repeatedly.

“Fuck’s sake,” he grunts as he rocks his hips into yours and watches your bum recoil against him with each thrust.

The stimulation is starting to wear you out. Droplets of sweat roll down your back like shining pearls and your heart pounds in your chest like a drum at a parade.

You reach behind you to press your hand into his lower abdomen again in hopes of being granted his mercy but this time he doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his hand around your wrist and pins it against your lower back.

“Running your fucking mouth and now you think I’ll take it easy on you? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he scoffs as he uses his other hand to grip your hip to smoothly pound into you. “Shut the fuck up and take this pounding like you’re my bitch.”

Oh.

You wish you could rebuttal, you wish you could insult him, say something, anything.

But all that’s leaving your mouth are pathetic moans and cries as your stomach starts tightening and your walls start clenching around him.

“Ah, you liked that, didn’t you? So filthy.” He lets go of your hip and reaches around to start rubbing circles onto your clit again as you shiver and squirm under him. “Just how I like it.”

You can’t even for the words to tell him that you’re seconds away from cumming but it seems like he understands nonetheless because he’s simply shushing you and adding quick “I know, baby”s in a low voice.

Just when you think he’s granting you your much needed orgasm, he abruptly turns you over on your back. Before you have any idea on what’s going on, he has wiggled himself in between your thighs and entered you once again, leaving you no space to even catch your breath.

“Jay–”

“I wanna see your face when you cum,” he tells you as he reaches for your clit to help you reach your orgasm. “You’re so fucking lucky it’s like 3AM. I would’ve fucking edged you for hours on end.”

Ah. Damn it.

You quickly nod your head with your eyes focused on your sex being pummeled. “Fuck, fuck. Please,” you whimper, squirming under his frame which only makes him chuckle.

“Beg, baby,” is all he says.

Fuck.

“Please,” you say, “please, please, please.”

You don’t even know what exactly it is you’re begging for but he knows. He knows because he keeps nodding, has one hand groping your bouncing breast while the other stimulates your clit just the way you like it.

Your stomach soon tightens and it makes the words stutter in your throat. You can’t even make a coherent sentence but all he does is nod his head in understanding.

“You’re creaming all over my shit, you know that?” he groans as he stares at his own dick sliding in and out of your pussy, focusing on all the arousal you’re leaving behind on his shaft like a trail.

“Shit,” you cry as your thighs start to clench and your core starts to burst into flames. Your frame completely shudders under him. The moans and whimpers spilling from your lips are loud yet soft and the feeling is indescribable.

You tightly squeeze your eyes shut as the orgasm washes over your tired body, making you see all the celestial bodies in the universe on the back of your eyelids.

All your nerve endings are set alight and every single hair on your body stands up straight, like a soldier at attention.

His thumb on your clit never falters in speed and precision and his hand has returned to your thigh, firmly holding it in place as he fucks you through your much needed orgasm.

Your chest inflates and deflates dramatically, trying to catch your breath which constantly seems just a millisecond away every time.

He keeps going though, his stamina proving to be S tier.

Clenching all around him and finally reaching your orgasm has his hips slightly stuttering in their rhythm, his dick twitching inside of you. “Fuck. Where do you want it?”

You blink back your tears as you gather your energy to prop yourself up on your elbows. You stare straight at him as he awaits a response.

“I want it all inside.”

That’s all he needs, really.

“I’m cumming soon,” he grunts, unable to steady his heavy breathing like he has up until this point. “Pussy so fuckin’ good, Angel.”

His thrusts are sloppy and imprecise but that just makes him that much hotter. You flick your tongue up on the pad of your thumb and bring it to his nipple as you slightly tease it, rolling the erect nub around under your finger.

His breathing only gets heavier and you’re not helping his case when you continue to clench around him like you’re trying to milk him of every last drop he has to offer.

You are.

“Fuck,” is all he says before dropping his head into the crook of your neck and giving a few powerful thrusts before ropes of his warm cum shoot into you and paint your walls. A loud groan leaving his mouth is cut short when he presses his lips against yours, giving you a heated kiss as he unloads inside of you.

There’s so much cum that a good amount of it spurts out of you with every single thrust he gives you. He quietly moans against your lips when the final drop shoots out of him and straight into you, which only makes you moan back.

Fuck. You really just got creampied by the man whose guts you hate and vice versa. Sexual tension is a bitch.

He continues to kiss you, though, gentle and exhausted like he’s got nowhere to be and only wants to kiss you for hours on end.

You don’t know why but you welcome it with open arms. Wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Tilt your head slightly to deepen the kiss.

The makeout session lasts longer than either of you expected.

Not that anyone is complaining.

Then, you two finally break apart and gasp for air.

He slowly, very slowly pulls out of you. He wraps his hand around your leg to lift it a bit higher up in the air and stares at your ruined sex with his teeth sunken into his bottom lip.

You lie there, staring at him with a quirk in your brow as he gently rubs your inner thighs with his thumb.

It’s quiet.

Really quiet.

Is the post-nut-clarity making him regret everything?

You don’t exactly know how to feel. You don’t regret it. It felt good. You haven’t felt that way in a long time.

Right when you begin to overthink, he asks, “Was I too rough on you?”

You blink at him a few times before shaking your head. “You were perfect.”

The compliment makes the corners of his lips curl up and finally makes his eyes shift to yours. You hadn’t noticed he was avoiding your gaze.

He glances at you for a few moments before springing up from the bed and sliding his sweats back onto his legs. You glare at him from across the room and watch as he exits your room.

You stare at the ceiling in silence. What just happened?

Was this a one time thing? Well, to be fair, you were planning on inviting him to stay an entire week but that was before you even knew who he was.

He’s back a few moments later with a damp towel and approaches you on your bed, gently wiping you clean of his cum. “You should go pee.”

You squint your eyes at him in suspicion but quickly let it go as he’s focused on cleaning you up. “Oh, so, you do have manners after all?”

His eyes immediately shoot up at yours and his hand comes to a halt. When he sees the bratty look on your face, he simply chuckles and shakes his head before returning his attention to your poor sex.

“Can’t fuckin’ stand you,” he mumbles but can’t seem to hide the smile threatening to creep on his lips.

It makes your own lips curl up into a soft smile. “As long as you continue to fuck me like you just did, you don’t have to be able to stand me.”

He uses a dry spot on the towel to dry your skin down a bit before glancing into your eyes. “You intend on doing this again?”

This makes you frown. Makes your heart sink into your stomach. Makes you slowly close your legs and cross your arms over your chest. You don’t know why. Is it shame? Regret? Humiliation? “You don’t?” you ask him, voice suddenly sounding small and uncertain. You hate it.

“100% but I wasn’t sure whether you’d be on board with that.” He gets up from your bed and hands you your underwear. “I thought you’d want to take out your frustrations once and then have it be done with.”

When he sees you not moving, he takes it upon himself to slide your panties onto your legs. Makes you hoist your hips off the bed. Slides them right into place.

There’s a slight pinch of relief in your chest and you deeply exhale. “No.”

He slowly nods his head and awkwardly scratches the back of his head.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this.

He’s pretty cute.

“Okay, well,” he mumbles as he looks around your room and picks his clothes up off the floor. “It’s really late. I’ll, uh,” he pauses, “see you tomorrow?”

You blink at him for a few moments and then quietly chuckle. “You can stay the night, you know.”

He raises his eyebrows and runs a hand through his damp hair. You hadn’t noticed how sweaty he’d gotten. “Getting a soft spot for me, are we?”

A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest when he sees the nasty glare you throw his way, along with the pillow next to your head, which he swiftly dodges. “I appreciate the sentiment but Bam’s alone and he has separation anxiety.”

Oh.

Scratch that. He’s really cute.

You can’t help but let a soft smile creep on your lips. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nods his head absentmindedly and slowly starts backing out of your room.

“Wait,” you call out as you sit up straight. You use your sheets to cover your chest in modesty as you watch him come to a halt.

He glances at you over his shoulder, eyebrow quirked.

“You,” you pause, “you still don’t know my name.”

Silence.

He stares at you for a few more moments before chuckling. “I know your name.”

Huh?

“Wh–”

He cuts you off.

With your name.

He just said your name.

You blink in confusion a few times. Swallow thickly as you try to think of a logical reason as to how he could possibly know your name.

Did you somehow tell him and forget? Did he hear Jimin call you by name? Did he ask your landlord?

“How do you know my name?” you quietly ask, gently sucking on your bottom lip in uncertainty. He’s making you doubt your own memory.

He brings his shoulders up in an infuriatingly arrogant shrug. “We live in the same building, babe. All I had to do was look at a letter addressed to your apartment number.”

There’s no way he did that.

Did he actually go out of his way to look up your name? Didn’t he ask you what your name was earlier? Was he testing to see if you were going to lie about it?

He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance before opening the door to your bedroom. “You can call me Jungkook. Or Jay, I’m not picky.” He steps out and turns to look at you one last time. “As long as it’s my name in your mouth when you spend nights like these.”

And with that, he disappears from your line of vision but reappears in your mind like a tick that has latched itself onto your brain and refuses to leave.

Huh.

Okay. You see how it is.

And now your thoughts are clouded with everything that just happened. His hands on your skin, his lips on yours, his rough pounding on your poor nether regions. You did ask for it after all.

Every time you think about it, you want to scream. You turn your head and whimper into your pillow but every time you do, you smell him. His scent is everywhere. And as much as you hate to admit it, he smells absolutely amazing. You could bury your face in his chest and inhale it for the rest of your eternity.

Your phone buzzing on your nightstand makes you flinch and it sucks you back into reality.

You quickly turn over and reach for your phone before unlocking it and opening up the text conversation with him.

@archurback4me | 4:05AM

Goodnight Angel

And just so you know

I won’t lose to you

You hate how cheesy the smile is that creeps on your lips, internally thanking the Lord that no one is witnessing you and your big goofy smile.

You | 4:07AM

game on, gameboy

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⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

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— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

@mygdday @coletaehyung @btspurplesky @kaitieskidmore97 @marvelbun @nini_07777 @8514238 @llallaaa @s3l3n0phil3 @agrika @ahgasegotarmy116 @canyon-lwt @boyfriendtaekook @s4yok0 @mochminnie @chimmisbae @muah-minhoe-8 @bloopkook @whoa-jo @dreami-yoonkookie @earth2fae @kissyfacekoo @keroppitae @junecat18 @hollowtree11 @jksusawife @synnfulqt @pamzn @jknoah @jjk-jeongirl @busanstarkoo @busanboykoo @codeinebelle @taegicity @bettybloop @kookssecret @MMFranklin @vickyyy97 @suciedad-divina @jkslipppiercing @heyyolly04 @partyparty-yah @kooact @osakis-gf @luna-astro-star @plushjeno @jjk1iscoming @Heyrobitches @sunnysorasworld @raineo @jjanjankook @etaerealboyv @somehowukook @larryrulesthisfuckingworld @rrrapmonste-rr @denisaandreea20 @httpjeonlicious @jjeonjennie @dellalyra @optimisticmoongalaxy @ishizhans

[mountainsandmayhem]

REQUEST Hi it’s me again…. Sorry i have new ideas like every second. I LOVE Joel’s thick jacket he wore when he was in snowy Jackson. I was thinking like Joel holding reader EXTREMELY tight like freaking grizzly bear type strength while they are wrapped into his jacket like a burrito. Maybe they’re sick or just really cold, idk i’m sick rn i’m just talking about myself with Joel at this point 😭. Again sorry I dont know how to shorten my words.

Never apologize!!! Pop in anytime, but only for a point form story or little blurb haha! I’m hoping you mean this jacket….

You felt it before you even open your eyes that morning. An annoying tickle, right at the back of your throat, yet also in your nose and somehow your ear.

Joel’s lips pressed softly to your forehead as you stir awake. “Bye, baby. I’ll see you when I get back from patrol. ” He hovers for a minute before the back of his hand meets your forehead. “You feel a bit warm, but you also have like seven blankets on. I love you.”

“Be safe, my love.” You mumble, keeping your eyes shut tightly as if that will rewind time and you can go back to what you and Joel were doing last night. His hands on your hips as you straddle him. His lips touching every spot they can reach.

As he pulled away you were left with the scent of leather and pine needles.

It must be cold out, you thought to yourself, if he’s wearing his thick coat.

As you peel yourself out of bed you noticed the achy joints that usually go along with the itchy throat. All signs of an oncoming cold, or allergies, but it’s the tail end of fall and your allergies are usually reserved for the spring.

A chill spreads through your sore body once out of bed. I don’t have time to get sick.

As the daylight ticks by, the aching intensifies and the itch becomes a sniffle. By the time you leave your job at the stables, you’re freezing cold and have an annoying little cough that will catch you in surprise fits.

When Joel walks in the door you’re in a pair of his wool socks, 2 pairs of sweat pants, a sweater, one of his button down flannels, a winter hat and have a blanket wrapped around you. Your teeth chatter as you stand by the stove, waiting for your water to boil so you can make some of Maria’s homemade loose leaf tea to help fight off whatever you’ve caught.

“Whoa, it’s hotter than the Texas sun in here,” he proclaims as he takes his boots off, as he unzips his jacket and steps into the kitchen he freezes in his tracks.

“Oh, baby girl,” he coos softly. “Are you ok?”

“No,” you say, your voice muffled from how stuffed up you are.

“Aww honey,” he says softly, pulling you into his arms. On instinct your hands come out of the blanket, reaching into his thick leather coat to wrap around his waist. He pulls you in tightly, and then grabs the lapels of his coat to practically plaster you to him.

“I’m so cold,” a sniffle finishing the statement for you as you try to take in the smell of leather you love so much.

Joel starts the walk the two of you towards the bedroom, every muscle in your body protesting as you go. “Let me get you all tucked in and then I’ll make your tea. You should have asked Maria to send someone for me. I would have came home, baby.”

“Everything hurts,” you pout into his chest.

He gets you in bed and then slips his jacket off, laying it on top of you like a blanket before putting the actual bedspread over you.

“I know, I’m here now. Just rest. I’ll be right back with your tea.”

That’s the last thing you remember until the next morning. When you wake up you’re still wrapped in Joel’s jacket, only you’re on your side, your back pressed tightly to his front. His arm is wrapped around you protectively and you sink back into his warmth. You breathe in through your nose, getting just a hint of that leather and pine, and drift off again.

[captianbrnes]

Pretty like the Sun

Summary: When you start to doubt yourself, Bucky is here to pick up the pieces you left behind.

Warnings: Insecure reader, that's all i think

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader, friends to lovers

Word count: 1k

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You don't even remember how it started. It just switched one day and now all you could focus on was ur ‘faults’.

Were you even fit to be an avenger? How did people like you? Did your friends even truly like you? Weeks went by and you could feel yourself slipping more and more, you tried to act normal to your super friends hoping no one would notice. Bucky did.

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 “Have you noticed anything wrong with Y/n? She just seems off, im worried” Bucky expressed to Sam and Natasha in the kitchen while making a cup of coffee.

“ Idk man she's your girl shouldn't you know?” “She's not my girl Sam.” He rolls his eyes knowing Sam knows about his crush on you.

“Maybe go up to her, just go check on her.” Nat says as she pats the super soldiers’ back, leaving the kitchen.

He decides then that the only way he'll know is to ask so Bucky gets up to head to your room. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ You're laying in bed staring up at the ceiling when you hear 3 knocks from the door. Not feeling up to talk to anyone, you don't say anything hoping whoever’s there will just leave. “ Doll it's me Bucky, I want to talk, can you open the door for me?”

Oh Bucky… Your crush for the longest time, also one of your closest friends. Ever since you first joined the avengers you knew you were done for. His immediate smile threw you off your feet and it was then you knew.

You and Bucky started to become closer to each other over the months, spending most of your time together either watching movies or walking around New York. Bucky was one of the people who you cared about the most and that's why you felt so insecure. You wanted to be your best for him all the time, be perfect in hope that he’ll maybe fall for you just like how hard you fell for him.

What you didn’t know was that he already fell just as hard.

The first time Bucky spotted you he couldn't believe his eyes. He didn't understand how someone could be that beautiful, your eyes shined and your smile glowed, you look like the Sun. He cared so much for you and hasn't felt this much love for anyone ever and just wanted to make sure you’re okay, that's why he's here.

You decide to get up and open the door for him, checking the mirror beforehand making sure you look okay. “ Hey Buck, everything okay?”

You choke out looking up at him while trying toseem happy. “ Yeah everythings fine, just wanted to check on you, haven't seen you in a while… Can I come in?” Bucky says rubbing his hand on the back of his neck hoping that you'll let him in and open up to him. “ Uh sure-” You both opt to sit on your bed and it's then that Bucky takes your hand and decides to speak up.

“I'm here because I'm worried about you doll.. What's going on? You know you can talk to me right.” He says looking down to you with genuine worry in his eyes. He could get so scared sometimes worrying if he upset you in some way. “ No, I'm fine-” “Dont.” Bucky interrupts. He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

“ Don't act like it's fine when it's not. Some Things upset you, I want to know what it is. Let me help you like you helped me” This was it. As he said that you felt yourself breaking and water managed to make it out of your eyes finally breaking down.

“Hey hey hey, i got you, you're okay breath baby, breath.” Bucky says holding you closer to him and accidentally letting a pet name slip out. After Bucky gets you to breathe and calm down he sits you on his lap and starts to speak.

“ You're okay Y/n, I'm here with you okay. Just talk to me whenever you're ready.”

It's then you finally speak up and voice all your insecurities about how you dislike how you look and feel as if youre useless and don't matter to the team. Bucky’s heart starts to break hearing these words come out of you feeling as if you're not good enough. He can't stand to see you like this anymore and put his forehead on yours making sure you're looking at him.

“ Look at me, doll, I have never thought about you in any of those ways. You are the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen and the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“I want you to know how incredible you are and that I understand how you're feeling but that none of it is true. I am so in love with you it's crazy.” Bucky spills out not caring about if you feel the same anymore, he just needs to get it out.

“ You light up a whole room with that smile of your doll. You're the funniest person I've met and bring me so much comfort… I've never cared about anyone like i've cared about you.``

“Bucky i-” Is this true? Does he really feel the same way? “ Bucky, are you serious?” you exclaim.

Realizing that you might not share the same feelings, buckys eyes go wide with worry looking like a kicked puppy, before saying “ I um- I know that you might not feel the same ways as me but i couldn't keep it in any longer. And I'm sorry if I ruined anything I didn't mean-”

You silenced him as you crashed your lips into his humming into the kiss. You guys finally pull away after a while and decide to cuddle up under the bed together, your eyes closing.

There's still much more you guys need to talk about in the morning but none of that comes to mind now that Bucky’s finally holding you in his arms.

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A/n : Hiii!!! Hope you liked the story. Im going to try to write more just and super busy.....