#mock dating app

[sojutrait]

omg you’re a lesbian and you don’t listen to phoebe bridgers? should we throw a party? should we invite alison bechdel?

[clownsnake]

People on dating apps will have a first pic like this and a bio that says "I can't see likes, message me first!"

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I���m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc- The petition

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Nightwing receives a very strange request from a child. Dead On Main (implied)

---

It happened on the rooftop of some building, when Nightwing was taken by surprise by the strange request from his brother's boyfriend's younger brother.

"Are you part of the Bats, huh?" the kid asked, crossing his arms and staring intently.

"Yeah," Nightwing replied, smiling with a slight nod. "How can I help you?"

"I need your help. Investigate my brother's boyfriend," he said, frowning.

"What?" Nightwing responded, raising an eyebrow, visibly surprised.

"I'm usually very good at stalking people," he continued, pacing back and forth, "but this guy, Jason, he's really suspicious. He's hiding something, I know it. I tried to follow him to find out what he's hiding, but he caught me!" He stopped and looked at the other with frustration. "He's done it ten times already. No one's caught me that many times! Well, except Danny the idiot, but he doesn't count," he added, waving a hand as if it were a trivial detail. "Danny's too stupid to suspect anything," he said, looking worriedly at the ground. "I can see it in his eyes, love has blinded him." He looked up, with a serious expression. "What if his boyfriend turns out to be a trafficker and wants to steal his organs? Or gets him into drugs? Or is some kind of criminal mastermind?" He sighed, crossing his arms again. "I've noticed his questionable behaviors. I don't trust that guy."

"I see. You're worried about your older brother, you're a sweet kid," Nightwing commented with a smile as he leaned against the edge of the building, looking out over the illuminated city.

"I'm not a kid and I'm not worried! I'm an adult, I'm older than you!" the boy retorted indignantly, crossing his arms.

Nightwing raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh, how old are you?"

"... 30," the young man murmured, avoiding eye contact.

Nightwing chuckled. "You look 12."

The boy frowned, clearly annoyed. "I'm not here to talk about my age. Are you going to do the job or not?" He took a step forward, his tone impatient.

Nightwing raised his hands in surrender. "Haha, okay, okay. What makes you think your brother, Danny, is in danger?" Straightening up, he looked at the young man more seriously, ready to listen.

"He met him on a dating app. That's not weird, but when he introduced me, the guy was huge. Big, and Danny's a twig," the young man started, looking at Nightwing seriously. "I know he's 19, but genetics decided to abandon him." He mocked the boy.

Nightwing raised an eyebrow, curious but still confused. "And that's suspicious because...?"

The boy raised a hand to stop him. "Wait, let me finish." He approached the rooftop's edge, looking out at the city. "The guy not only is huge but also knows how to fight. I threw eggs at him and he dodged every single one. And he beat me in a fight!"

"Pff, you threw eggs at him?" Nightwing asked with a raised eyebrow, trying not to laugh at the idea of seeing Jason covered in eggs. The young man gave him a annoyed look. "Okay, okay, don't get mad. What else do you have to tell me?"

The boy continued firmly: "He also knows how to use weapons. Danny and that guy went to a shooting range for one of their dates. I followed them, and that guy was as good as Danny! Not only that," the boy added, turning to look directly at Nightwing. "I saw him threaten someone once, and he seems to have contacts with Red Hood. No normal person has contacts with a crime lord." Warning, emphasizing the danger it implied.

"Yeah, that says a lot," Nightwing agreed, while in his mind he wondered why Jason had taken Danny to a shooting range. There were better places for a date. "I understand, I'll look into it. What's your name, kid?" He asked, more for appearances' sake.

"Dante Nightingale," he replied. "I'll wait for you here on Thursday at the same time for the report," he ordered. This attitude reminded him so much of Damian; maybe he should introduce them.

"Alright, boss," Nightwing joked, then jumped to another building. Tonight he'd have a lot of material to tease Jason with; his brother-in-law didn't trust him. Haha.

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

[chuluoyi]

found you

- gojo satoru x reader

in a world in which he isn't the strongest and you're the high school's sweetheart, fate brought you to him once again

genre/warnings: reincarnation au, fluff/comfort

notes: a sequel to everything, but not anything

general masterlist

Everyone knows you. You hold most of the popular guys' hearts in your hand and either break them unknowingly or innocently, and despite that, they still don't have it in them to hate you.

And of course, the school's clown, Gojo Satoru, knows you too. He knows you by name and face, but never had the chance to really talk to you directly.

Why? First, he just simply didn't bother, and second, because there was already another girl plaguing him—the girl of his dreams.

And he didn't mean it figuratively... there's indeed a girl haunting him every once in a while in his dreams. A girl whose face was always obscured from his mind, whom he couldn't picture outside the realm of his slumber. Most of the time it was a happy dream, enough to bring a smile to his face every time he woke up.

But sometimes, it was the most disturbing nightmare.

There would be blood, the girl's empty eyes and still body, and him screaming out at her to not die. But then he couldn't do anything—or even see her open her eyes—as he fell into an abyss and awakened in pure terror.

Satoru was convinced someone held this massive grudge on him for pranking them that they resorted to curse him with voodoo or something. Why else would he keep having these dreams about the very same girl? It was clearly a work of something greater.

You were just not interested in romance. At least not with the guys who were after you up until now.

Or perhaps, because there was this guy in your dreams that captivated you so much that you chose to ditch those real guys for him. This imaginary person.

You were going insane. You were sure of it.

When you explained your affliction to your best friend Riko, she shot you a very bombastic side eye but tried to get you to describe the boy in your dreams regardless.

"He..." you faltered. His face was always blurry in your mind's eye. There were little things that you were sure of. "He has a really cute grin? Crinkling eyes? Like he just likes to smile?"

"Y/N, did you hear yourself?" Riko asked you incredulously. "Are you sure it isn't one of the guys in your anime shows? I'm telling you, watching them too much makes you delusional."

And so your girl talk with her ended up with her pushing you to try this hit dating app that guarantees you to go on at least one date due to its many fascinating features. You tried it on sheer whim and didn't even use your real name. You had been swiping right and left, before suddenly stopped when you saw whose profile popped up in your screen.

Gojo Satoru.

He was in your grade, and he was hard to miss. The school's biggest troublemaker who held the highest record of being sent to the disciplinary room. You never got to talk to him, and before today you were sure you wouldn't even look at him twice. So he plays these things too?

Your type definitely wasn't delinquents or attention-seekers. But why is it that the more you gaze at his profile picture—of him with this widest grin and that funny round glasses—the more you are intrigued?

In the end, you swiped right.

Just because he didn't bother to be in a serious relationship or had a girl who held onto him in his dreams, it didn't mean that he was shying away from real life girls. Satoru, as much of a headbanger as he was, was popular. Some girls were into him and he didn't exactly let his chances to fool around pass.

Girls with questionable virtues though. Suguru, whose popularity was as much as him just in the right way, would always say that his tastes were bad. Shoko would straight up mock him as a wimp, for not having the courage to go after the right girl, such as you.

And so when on one of his boring days that he played with a dating app he found a profile who swiped him right with a picture that was you but a name that wasn't, he was taken by surprise and twice as curious.

For one, he knew it was you. And hey, you were interested in him?

Satoru took up on that offer. Taking advantage of it as now he had the chance.

The two of you exchanged messages in the dating app. He'd tell you his thoughts or crack funny jokes, and you'd reply with these many laughing emojis and stickers.

Until one day, when your conversation went like this...

you: really? but girls must be lining up for you and you could've had your pick from them gojo: nah most of ‘em all boring you: what a red flag. after a while surely you'll find me boring too gojo: you? haha no. boring people don't do things you do you: ...what do you mean?

You and him had this texting thing going on for more than a month already, but you still weren't aware that he knew that it was you.

gojo: you're y/n

And he figured that it was time to go face-to-face. Because he wanted to get to know you beyond this phone screen because who knows what more you faked other than your name?

After he busted you not so gently, he demanded that you'd go on a date with him. You could only lament—you couldn't say that you hadn't seen this coming, with how poor your disguise was. Then again, did you even intend on hiding from him in the first place? Now that you thought about it, no. You were quite alright even when he knew who you were.

On the said day, just right after school ended, he went to the agreed place to take out out to a famous cafe in Shibuya. Only to find a guy from basketball team bowing his head before you.

"I really like you!" the guy declared with sincerity and steadfastly. He was tall, quite famous too. By all means, the two of you would've made a fine pair.

Satoru just frowned. Suddenly he didn't like the sight before him. This wasn't the first time he saw someone confessing their feelings for you—you were famous for that. And anyway, the two of you were just friends even though you've been texting for a long time now. He shouldn’t be upset.

"Ah," you let out a small sigh, your face lit with realization. Your voice was soft to Satoru's ears. Too soft. It resembled something someone had told him a long, long time ago.

"Don't ever leave me, okay?" "Of course."

That voice held the same softness as you did just now.

"I'm sorry," you proceeded to say, giving a look of sympathy to your admirer. "I'm very flattered, and I thank you for that. But I have no room for—"

"Y/N-chan!" Satoru didn't know where this immense impulse came from, he just went with it and it terribly spooked you. You jumped and whipped your head at him, eyes widened in total surprise.

But he merely sauntered towards you, only with his winning grin and nothing else, until he was right next to you, staring down the basketball guy with so much mirth in his blue eyes.

"Hello to you." Satoru addressed him, then put his arms on your shoulder, ignoring how you immediately stiffened. "Too bad, today she is going with me."

You couldn't believe what he just said and before you could rectify anything, the guy who just confessed to you bolted away in humiliation. You immediately untangled yourself from his arms, ready to be cross.

Or at least until you stared straight to his cerulean blue eyes.

And he too, saw his reflections in your orbs.

Suddenly everything didn't matter. You were lost into his eyes as he did yours. As the lines of dream and reality twisted and turned.

Suddenly, Satoru could put a face to the girl he'd been seeing on his nightly wonders. Her smile. Your smile.

And you could see the boy who loved you to death in him. The one who took your heart with him, and agreed to go with you for the second time.

All it took was gazing into these eyes of yours to make the connection. Everything seems right. So right.

As if the two of you are destined for this very moment. As if you’re given everything to understand why you should meet him now.

I found you.

As sudden as it came flowing to your brain—all these images that overlapped with your dreams—it ended. You came back to reality.

“You’re insufferable,” you hissed at Satoru, pushing away the fog in your mind.

“Am I?” a shit-eating grin formed at his glossy lips. “But it’s true, you’re on a date with me today.”

And so you went to your very first date. Satoru was every bit the same as the guy who messaged you on that dating app. He was outspoken, effortlessly funny, but still, a bit annoying here and there.

It was strange how comfortable you got around him, even though it was practically your first interaction.

Soon the number of dates increased. Two, three, four—and so on. Soon, everyone knows. Riko questioned you if you were sure to pick him out of all fishes you could’ve picked. In a way, you weren’t sure. It depends on this question: what are you to him anyway?

Meanwhile, on Satoru’s side, everyone either cheered for or envied him. Suguru patted him on his back, thinking he finally got the right senses. And he found himself to like you very much. He couldn’t go a day without thinking what you were doing or messing with you. You were kind, cute and pretty, and as he said it himself, he likes pretty things.

So it came as a surprise when you blurted out that burning question, sounding so unsure and overall out of your character, whereas you should already know how he put his heart on his sleeves for you to grab.

“Are you messing with me?” he gawked. But when he saw hurt crossed on your face, he was thrown into panic. “No—I mean…”

He exhaled sharply. He wasn’t used to this confessing thing at all because usually he didn’t need it.

“I really like you, okay? You do know that I like you, at the very least?”

With that, your relief was visibly palpable, like a sun that went out of its hiding. The hopeful gleam in your eyes—Gods, Satoru wanted to protect that forever.

“With that being said…” he wanted to look cool, he didn’t want to mess this up. And so he extended his hand to you, opening his palm.

“Would you go out with me?”

It was probably the first time you saw him so sincere. He was playful, flippant and overall just a menace, but when he asked you this, he looked as if he brought out his heart for you to see.

When you breathed out a “Yes”, and intertwined your fingers in his, he was over the moon, smothering you with kisses.

From that point onwards, your romance book was brimming with moments that sparkled, ranging from the sweet to the passionate. Each experience with him felt like a first, yet there was an inexplicable sense of familiarity, as if you had known him somewhere from a long time ago.

Those dreams of you and him from somewhere at another time brought the two of you together once again. With their purpose fulfilled, you no longer had to traverse the realm of dreams to be with the boy who had always provided you comfort with his presence. Likewise, he was no longer haunted by the recurring vision of you fading away before his eyes.

Because now, you and Gojo Satoru have a new life. A life where both of you can find happiness together.

[kirschteinoir]

twelve minutes.

zayne (love&deepspace) x reader.

❝ seeing both of your eyes at the same time shouldn't be this attractive... ❞

zayne is uncharacteristically late and you're not pleased, but the reason why definitely makes up for it.

wc; 1.8k

[zayne forehead zayne forehead zayne forehead...inspired by this gorgeous art by sesamefruit on twt / X!!! i haven't stopped thinking about it since i saw it like UGH HE LOOKS SO SCRUMPTIOUS!!! implied suggestive stuff towards the end bc i couldn't help myself so 17+ please! ]

he was late.

zayne was never late. in fact a small but prominent part of his personality was that he was always on time - something he was so fond of reminding you about every time you happened to arrive a minute or two after him to your scheduled date. you sort of understood him though; his job was a harsh reminder that time waits for no one, especially a cardiac surgeon hours into a surgery with a life on the line.

your eyes dart to the giant clock ticking warily above you in the ballroom, its ornate hands and roman numerals mocking you as you stood in the corner with half a glass of champagne in your hand.

it had occurred to you to perhaps text him, although you pulled a face at the thought of being too clingy or rushing him. you trusted zayne and you knew he wouldn't be late without a good reason - you just hoped that he knew what he was doing by showing up almost fifteen minutes after your agreed meet time.

tonight was a charity gala, or something like that, hosted by akso hospital to raise funds for various wards, ones you hadn't even heard of before. the bulk of the guestlist included important patrons of the hospital who most likely had relatives in akso’s care, all of the most significant hospital staff and whoever they brought as a plus one - which is the category you and zayne fall into, respectively.

despite being a guest on zayne’s behalf, the two of you had arrived in separate cars. this was not something you had initially agreed to as the image of showing up on zayne’s arm with both of you dressed to the nines had been all too alluring and a small, smug part of you had wanted to show him off to everyone in attendance. but as always, zayne's work had shattered your grandiose dream and thus he couldn't make it on time to pick you up; he'd paid for your taxi to the venue though, and tracked your location on an app to make sure you arrived safely.

apart from a sending you a happy snowman emote at your arrival to the gala's location, he hadn’t given you any indication of when he would show up. you think back to his text from earlier this afternoon, scrunching your nose slightly as you recall how he'd said that he would definitely be there in time for dessert - his attempt at humour, you supposed.

so here you are, waiting nervously amongst the growing crowd with a watchful eye on the entrance. many of zayne’s colleagues had already arrived and greeted you with a sympathetic look as they knew all too well how busy the schedule of the cardiac surgeon could be. you took their pitiful gazes in your stride, assuring them with an easy-going laugh that he would be here soon. you hoped you sounded more convinced than you felt as an ugly apprehension gnawed at your stomach at the thought of zayne standing you up tonight.

oh well, at least you looked good.

throwing caution to the wind you swallow the last of your champagne with a slight pained expression and discreetly whip out your phone. your fingers find his contact reflexively and are about to hit the 'call' button when suddenly a hushed whisper sweeps through the room like a blizzard and your curiosity is piqued for a moment. the only thing that stops you from going through with the call is the sound of zayne's name rippling through the crowd and then the placid lilt of his voice that you knew so well.

zayne was finally here!

_

an hour or so ago, zayne had been stood in front of his bathroom mirror, his usually composed visage marred by a troubled expression. remnants of his steamy shower clouds the glass and his deep sigh adds to the frostiness as he continues to stare at himself in discontent.

he was already dressed for the evening, his shirt sleeves cuffed and tie clipped, but had yet to style his hair. usually, it would be the easiest part of his routine as he doesn't stray much from his signature windswept fringe. something was different today though and maybe out of the sudden urge to surprise you, he itched for something new. he was nervous as he weighed out the potential cons - what if it didn't suit him? what if you didn’t like it? what if he stuck out too much? was a fancy gala really the best time and place to experiment with his appearance?

as much as he was nervous, he was also tired of looking the same every time you saw him. well, except for when he was fresh out the shower and his hair was damp, but it was still relatively similar to his daytime look...

zayne looks at the short video tutorial on his phone again, replaying it a second time for good measure. the tub of gel was as daunting as his surgical scalpels as he carefully unscrewed the lid. he pauses the video on a particular shot of the final styled product, tentative fingers dipping into the cool gel.

he ended up leaving the house twelve whole minutes later than he had expected and his slight rushing had caused a few strands to break free from their gelled confines already - he thought it would at least hold until the first course of the evening. he was late enough as it was and didn't want to push it by continuing to style it in his parked car, knowing that you were probably growing restless as you waited for him inside.

_

you peer through the crowd that seems to have coagulated at the entrance of the grand hall, wishing you were just that bit taller so you could catch zayne’s eye and let him know where you were.

“excuse me,” you mumble to no one in particular as you push through, side-stepping and shimmying your way to your date. a few of them grumble at your forcefulness and you mentally apologise, only thinking of zayne at the moment.

“has anyone seen- ah, never mind.”

you hear zayne approach before you see him, the timbre of his voice suddenly swirling in a comforting embrace around your ears.

the first thing you're met with is his expensive suit, the woven navy fibres filling your field of vision. you stumble back a little, afraid of bumping into him, and take in his appearance properly. he was wearing a classic three-piece, navy with a black waistcoat, and you remember that you picked it out for him on your last shopping date. at the time he had seemed indifferent to your choices, but your cheeks suddenly feel warm as you realise right there and then how much zayne really likes you.

“zayne, there you are! i-“ you begin, looking up at him with a smile.

expecting to see pear green eyes hidden by a gauze of black fringe, you're shocked when instead those same eyes are crystalline and unobstructed as they regard you with an amused expression, perfectly poised underneath an arched black eyebrow.

the soft skin of his forehead, which you had often traversed with your fingertips on countless sleepy nights, was now exposed to the warm glow of the ballroom. his fringe, which so often tickled your cheek as he burrowed into the crook of your neck, exhausted after an overnight surgery, was gelled neatly back. some rogue strands still burst forward, daring to defy zayne's signature put-togetherness, but even they looked purposefully rogue and elegantly styled to suit his new look.

you could do nothing more than gape at him dumbly as he became increasingly concerned at your lack of response. he'd been fraught with worry about your reaction to his tardiness, expecting to get chewed out for being so ungentlemanly as to leave you standing alone in a room full of his colleagues that you hardly knew. but he surmises quickly that it was all worth it as he takes in your dumbfounded expression; he has to hold back a chuckle at the way you not so subtly check him out. however you aren’t the only one who’s doing so in the room, and he softly clears his throat to bring you away from your thoughts for a moment.

“here i am,” he says smoothly, taking another step forward. he offers his arm to you, his ears tinting that pretty shade of crimson that you loved so much as he finally cracks under the scrutiny of everyone else in the room.

“let’s find some privacy, my dear.”

dazed, you just nod as zayne leads you away from the crowd. it disperses soon after anyway, although everyone is now whispering about that cardiac surgeon and zayne's popularity seems to grow just that little bit more.

he takes the two of you to a more secluded part of the room, exhaling softly when you're finally by yourselves. he's almost disappointed by your silence at his new look and he no longer has his fringe to hide behind as his eyebrows knit together slightly.

“you haven’t spoken a word since you saw me,” he comments, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your cheek. he almost gasps in shock as your hand stops his, gripping his wrist gently. “what’s wro-“

his voice trails off as he notices the change in your expression, one he recognises all too well from the privacy of your bedroom. his own ears colour more and he peers down at you in confusion.

“seeing both of your eyes at the same time shouldn’t be this attractive,” you finally murmur, unable to stop staring at zayne.

he clears his throat again at your words, looking around you briefly to make sure no one was listening in.

“i take it you’re fond of my new look?” he asks, hopeful undertones betraying his casual question.

he was so cute, you wanted to squeeze him.

you smile, a mischievous glint in your eye as you suddenly grab him by the tie with your other hand, tugging his face down to hover inches in front of yours. his eyes widen almost comically, his vulnerable expression fully exposed to your devilish eyes.

“i can show you exactly how fond, my love. it doesn't hurt to have dessert first tonight, right?”

as a bashful zayne crowds your giddy self into the empty bathroom stall and locks the door behind him with unusually shaky hands, he thanks astra for those extra twelve minutes he spent in front of the bathroom mirror today.

about me. 

[imrllytootiredforthis]

The ‘bad’ kind of desire

pairing: soobin x reader

synopsis: you can't touch him, because he's too innocent, too sweet. but god you wish you could.

warnings: implied fem reader (can't remember if it's outright said), dom reader, sub soobin, masturbation, fingering, lowkey corruption kink, mentioned mommy kink, think that's really it

a/n: the first portion of this fic has been in my drafts since roughly july last year and was in my notes app for a few months - at least - longer than that so don't even ask me how old this really is, but at least it's out!!😭

“Am I bad person?”

Beomgyu scoffs, looking at you with eyebrows raised. He nearly laughs at the ridiculous statement coming from your mouth.

"What?"

And that makes him lose it, unable to even hold it back as he barks out a laugh, looking at you as if you've grown a second head. 

It’s a hard thing to fathom coming from you given that you’ve definitely never had any qualms about your morality when it comes to this kind of stuff. “Really? You’re asking me that?”

His best friend sits across the room, oblivious to the conversation, his headphones pulled over his ears, the game he’s playing flashing on the computer screen in front of him.

Soobin.

Sweet sweet Soobin, messy blonde hair left unbrushed, pajamas still on, not bothering to change as this was all he was planning to do all day.

Sweet Soobin who you can’t help but want to play with. 

Who you can’t help but imagine how pretty he’d look with tears in his eyes.

"I'm not fucking around Gyu-am I a bad person?"

You groan and flop over on the couch, rolling over to rest your head in Beomgyu’s lap, looking up at him with a comically-in his opinion-concerned expression. 

He gives you nothing but an exaggerated eye-roll. "Don't even start."

“But aren’t I?” You look again at the boy across the room, wondering why, why he had to be so stupidly adorable. His lips were twisted into a small pout and why it was so fucking cute.

Why? You wondered, feeling like this was all you were doing nowadays.

Beomgyu resists the urge to roll his eyes at you for the second time in a row, now at the way that you look at his best friend like some kind of lovesick fool, especially considering that all you really wanted was get into his pants. It didn’t really make sense, but hey, who was he to judge? 

“Why? Just because you want to rock his shit? Step on him and make him cry? That makes you question your morality? Out of everything that you've done?”

You gasp, slapping his chest. “He’s right there.” You hiss, not exactly denying the words.

He ignores that, shoving you off of him. He knows as well as you do that those headphones are the expensive noise cancelling ones that he'd gotten from you last Christmas. He barely hear himself yelling at his online teammates much less your hushed conversation.

You look at him as if you want to take him out on a nice picnic date and let him lay his head in your lap while playing with his hair pointing at clouds. Which Beomgyu couldn’t really see in any world, you were never really the type. 

But who knows? Maybe you were really just that eager for his dick at this point-or the more probable scenario-have him on your dick, that it broke something inside you.

“Why’re you so concerned now? Not like you had any issues with Yeonjun or Taehyun. Hell, you kept up everyone else in the dorms,” His voice goes higher as he attempts to poorly mock his roommates. “‘Y/N, more~’ ‘please, I need it-need y-‘“

“Shut the hell up.” You spit, quickly covering his mouth with your hand while your eyes flicker once more to him, still staring intently at his game.

Really, why were you so concerned now? 

Beomgyu was right. You’d had no problem doing the same to them, to Tae and Yeonjun, but they were different-he was different. 

Soobin was different than any of them. They were the product of having fun with someone you knew like the back of your hand and vice versa. Simply satisfying-albeit unimportant-a matter of getting your rocks off with people you knew could find your clit and would let you hit it from the back.

Soobin was Soobin though. The sweet boy who looked at you with the most innocent smile. 

Who got all blushy and embarrassed when you so much as lightly and non-vulgarly flirted with him.

He’d squeak and duck his head away when you called him bunny - again, non-vulgarly, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing and it turned him on-just a little bit.

In other words, painfully obviously, it was clear.

“He’s a virgin!” You hiss, hand still clamped over his mouth despite his garbled reply. You know just as well as Beomgyu knows how bitchless his friend is. Despite the fact that offers for him were nearly endless he was too shy, too awkward to accept said advances. “-I can’t take that away from him, it needs to be special, it needs-“

Your hand, still over his mouth is touched by something warm and wet and you shriek, pulling away quickly with a look of disgusted horror. “Are you serious right now?”

“Fight me bitch, I will not hesitate.” He growls, looking triumphant with the fact that you’ve now backed up to the edge of the couch.

You roll your eyes at him, looking once again at Soobin.

Fuck, why does he have to be so adorably innocent?

Beomgyu rolls his eyes, wiping at his mouth. "Just trust me, he'd be happy to be used by you. He might be a virgin, but he's nowhere near innocent."

"And what do you mean by that?" You sit against the arm of the couch, wiping Beomgyu's saliva onto the cushions.

He lets out a dry laugh, glancing back at Soobin before reaching for the previously forgotten remote control. "It means he wouldn't be as freaked as you think he would be if he found your sex toy collection."

—-

You suppose Soobin had always been special in some sort of way.

Always there over the span of time that you'd known all of them. Sitting off to the side while you hung out with the others. In his own room while you were fucking around with his other roommates. Playing his game while you were hanging out with Gyu.

He'd caught your eye more than once or twice, or three times over the years.

He was hot. You'd never discount that. Hot in the loser-y, adorable, cute, corruptible kind of way.

But then again, that kind of was your type if you thought about it.

You'd never been particularly close with him like you'd been with the others. He'd never made much effort to hang out with you but he was there when all the others were, if not one-on-one.

And he got really, really embarrassed when you tried to flirt with him like you did the others.

You didn't mind much, you'd just come under the impression that he was kind of scared of women. Which was also kind of cute.

But Beomgyu was right when he'd said that you'd never cared much about morals in the first place.

It didn't matter how close of friends or if they were a virgin or whatever other silly things that made things like that 'trivial'.

Life was too short to pretend you didn't feel things and besides. Sometimes, you really, just...didn't care.

And it wasn't personal, when you wanted someone, you would pursue it and if there was now friend groups you'd single handedly broken up, well they'd clearly made it personal themselves because you always made it very clear that there was no feelings involved.

Besides the raw, hot tension that made your skin tingle like your nerves were livewire.

Soobin was different though, special.

You felt bad for wanting him. For wanting to dirty him up.

He was something pure, something beyond and above you, perhaps and that was something you weren't willing to ruin, no matter what Beomgyu told you.

—-

"Fuck," he panted, "please,"

The room was dark, the light of his laptop being the only thing illuminating his face.

"Please,"

Sounds filled his ears through the crappy pair he'd owned for years, refusing to get wireless ones.

"Please."

"Bet you fucking like that, don't you?" The voice, only a few octaves higher than your own, still sent shivers down his spine.

Close enough.

"You're a such a dirty slut, you know?"

He whined into his sleeve, a sweater paw pressed over his mouth to keep the moans at bay. "I'm sorry, no, no please I'm sorry~" It wasn't doing a very good job muffling his voice though.

"I need it~"

The video seemed to respond to his desperate pleas. "If you need it so fucking bad then you'll be a good boy and wait for mommy's permission. You hear me?"

Or maybe he'd just watched this video so many times he'd memorized all of the male counterpart's lines. "Yes mommy," he panted, "I'll be good, I-I'll wait for your permission!"

He wouldn't. He knew he wouldn't.

He couldn't, as much as he prided himself on being a good boy. This time he knew he wouldn't even make it through the seven minute and thirty-two second video.

Not with you in the next room.

He couldn't tell if you were with Yeonjun or Taehyun. It didn't really matter either way.

Because he would only focus on you.

You weren't loud, having endured enough of Beomgyu's teasing and gripes about your sexual habits. He decided he hated Beomgyu for that.

But he could hear your pants through the paper-thin walls, heavy and followed by your quiet praises. "Sweet boy," you cooed, just as the porn on his laptop continued, "Naughty boy, such a messy little-" He ripped the earbuds out mid-sentence.

He wanted to hear you.

Not some substitute for the real thing.

He could imagine if you walked it on him right now.

Laying spread out on his bed, pants not even all the way off-just messily pulled below his hips, just enough for his dick to breathe properly and for his hand to easily slide up and down with the amount of pre-cum leaking from the tip.

"Fucking please." He moaned, quiet and needy.

You'd see him a mess, his soaked through sleeves catching the drool from his lips, teeth biting into the soft fabric to keep from crying out too loud.

You'd see him shamelessly fucking up into his fist, calling out pleas with no one there to hear him.

"C'mon baby, you can take it, take it all for me." Your voice was accompanied by the wet sounds of what, Soobin wasn't completely sure but his mind quickly conjured a few different theories. "That's it, a little more~"

Fuck him, he wished you were speaking to him.

Cockwarming him, your pussy wrapped around his dick, warm and wet and squeezing around him so good. Fluttering kisses over his face and throat as you teased along the length of him, slowly lifting up just to agonizingly sink back down onto him, clenching tight while he moaned into a kiss.

Or stroking him to another orgasm, making him cum again and again until his body was shaking and tears streaming down his cheeks. Telling him he could take more, do it one more time, for you. Because whatever pain you'd inflict would be worth it, after all it was your hands doing the damage.

"Fuck you look so pretty like this, just makes me wanna fucking wreck you. Turn you into a mindless whore on my dick."

Fuck, so that was what it was.

His mind managed to come up with one more picture through the haze.

You'd have his wrists pinned over his head with one hand, over him, keeping him down with a surprising amount of strength.

God, he could imagine the way you'd look at him. Maybe you'd be kind and gentle, sweet words and a sweet hand, fulfilling every one of his fantasies while calling him your sweet little bunny.

Like you were with whoever you were with on the other side of that wall.

But he doubted it. Or, he hoped not at least.

In his head you'd be meaner, crueler. Look at him with dark, hungry eyes and watch in a sadistic sort of glee when he cried, when he whined, when he begged and pleaded for more.

You'd thrust into him, hard and punishing, slowing down just to make sure that he wasn't crying from serious pain before you'd slam your hips against his, driving the tip of the toy dead into his prostate.

He'd beg you, plead you to slow down, to be nicer to him.

You'd tell him no. Tell him to be a good boy, voice patronizing and low, tell him only good boys get rewards.

God, that’s what he needed right now.

Needed you.

Your words, your touch, your scent, your presence even. You eyes on him, watching as he fell apart.

Not you fucking someone else in a different room.

Liquid heat flowed through his body, scorching and consuming every coherent thought.

"More."

He imagined it was you. Your hands all over him, pressing up against his throat, fondling his balls, purposely, maliciously ignoring where he needed to be touched most while you drove into him over and over and over until he was screaming in ecstasy.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly 

"You just love my cock, don't you angel? Love being fucked by me into a mindless whore?"

He silently cracked the lube open, lathering his fingers in it before letting them drift lower.

He'd done this before, but it had been awhile and the stretch was beyond overwhelming with your words ringing through the wall.

“You’re just a little angel, aren’t you, bunny?” And he pressed a finger inside, thrusting shallowly, breath picking up as you got louder.

"No, you're not an angel. You're a fucking whore, taking it like you were made for it, huh?" A second finger, following the first, scissoring himself open with a quiet gasp.

"Yeah? Fuck, is that it?" You laugh and he swears it's right in his ear, ringing through his head. "'m gonna make you scream for me baby,"

He whines in frustration, his fingers not deep enough - you not deep enough inside of him. No, he needs it deeper, harder.

More.

"Get on top of me baby, ride me," you mutter, so far but so close.

He can imagine, as he settles on his knees, that the pillow he straddles is you. That his legs are around your hips. That his fingers, positioning on the bed under him is your dick and your hands are pressing against his hips, holding him in place.

"You're mine, you hear that? Mine. My perfect little slut, taking my cock like a pretty little slut." His body trembles, eyes rolling back as he slowly sinks down onto three fingers.

"Your's." He moans in reply.

And finally, finally, he reaches his prostate, hitting it head on with his fingers.

Stars burst behind his eyelids as they slip shut, back arching into the intrusion. He could cry, he thinks distantly that he maybe is.

But it doesn't matter.

Because your hands are on his hips, controlling his movements, leading him the way you want him to ride your cock.

Up,

"Slut." You whisper.

and down,

"Whore." You lean up, teeth nipping at his neck but not hard enough to leave marks.

over,

"Baby," Breathing over the shell of his ear.

and over,

"Good boy~" Teasingly biting at his earlobe.

harder,

"Bunny," Kissing along his jaw.

faster,

"Mine." Across his cheek.

deeper.

Just barely there, ghosting across his lips-

"-Cum for me baby,"

And he does. With his mouth hung open, drool covered sleeve long forgotten over. With his eyebrows furrowed and body curled into itself, fingers pressed against his prostate.

Ropes of cum covering his chest, and his face. Some reaching his lips and his chin, staining his skin and landing in his open mouth.

"Fuck,"

And on the other side of the wall, "Good boy,"

a/n: i was thinking about making a part two but honestly if it took me a year to find the inspiration to finish this one, i'm not sure a second one will ever come out😭

[1d1195]

Lapse

~2.5 words

From me: Just a silly little thing I was thinking about. Not a lot of background. Probably has some plot holes. Currently thinking it will not continue.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers (you came, you called)

Summary: She doesn't like Harry. Which is fine because Harry doesn't like her either. Except both of them are lying.

Harry didn’t like her. But to be fair, she didn’t like him either. For albeit stupid reasons on both their parts that had prolonged throughout their lives. She was best friends with Eleanor. By proxy Eleanor’s boyfriend Louis and his circle of friends were therefore inextricably linked to her. Which meant she and Harry were around each other.

A lot.

To everyone’s dismay.

It was an offhanded comment, one that Harry never should have made but it soured her to pieces. “Only an idiot would do something like that,” he said, quietly. Only Louis overheard.

And her.

That was Harry’s mistake.

But she wouldn’t take it lying down. Harry could call her stupid all he wanted; she wouldn’t let anyone get away with saying it to her. So she told him off.

It was probably the first time in his life anyone had ever stood up to him. She found that when people were attractive, they were more likely to get away with bullshit that others would put up with even though they didn’t need to. Someone like Harry was more likely to say whatever he wanted and just assumed no one would tell him off because he was pretty.

Harry shouldn’t have called her an idiot. It wasn’t kind. Maybe he was jealous because honestly, watching her follow her passion was admirable and if the light hit her just right maybe he would have agreed that she was cool for doing what she wanted despite all the naysayers like him.

Even if it was embarrassing to be told off in front of their friends.

“Damn,” Louis whispered making everyone snicker. Harry was fuming. His eyes practically turned red with anger while he glared at her.

So, they weren’t friendly.

But given they were stuck in one another’s lives they learned to be... cordial. As cordial as two people could be when she absolutely wanted to claw his eyes out.

*

An hour.

That was how long she waited inside before she realized it was no use. No new messages, no phone calls. Nothing.

For whatever reason, she imagined Harry’s smug smile saying something to the effect of “I told y’were an idiot.”

It fueled her anger, and she silently blamed him for her date’s inability to appear. Which made no sense at all. Harry had no idea she was even on a date. But she had waited too long and honestly couldn’t disagree with the British voice mocking her inside her head. She was an idiot for waiting so long.

Her phone gave her more disappointing news but she was grateful she had service.

“Hey, uh... Uber is going to be... a wait,” she mumbled quietly standing just inside the entryway of the restaurant she had stayed at far longer than any sane person would have. “I know you’re on a date, I’m so sorry. I just... any chance you’re around to come get me?” She asked through her phone. The anxiety filled her lungs and a single tear rolled down her cheek. It was so typical that she didn’t have anyone to come get her.

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. Louis and I have been drinking and—”

She nodded, closing her eyes. She knew it was a long shot. If it were any other time, she had no doubt Eleanor and Louis would be there for her. “Oh, you know what,” she laughed quietly. “The app just updated their time. They’ll only be five minutes,” she assured her. “Sorry to bother you,” she sighed looking at the time on the app that increased by another half hour.

“Not at all, you know I’d be there as soon as I could,” Eleanor assured her.

She texted her mom, her sister, even her sister’s boyfriend and was met with no response from any party. Her toes were numb from the chill in the air and uncomfortable shoes. It was unfair. No one was there for her when she needed them. Ever. It sounded so dramatic but it was true. She wanted one nice thing. She wanted a nice date. A night out. It wasn't supposed to be hard.

Anxiety rolled through her with each passing second on the cold street. Her throat felt tight as she scrolled through her contacts one last time and realized there was one and only option left. But she sure as hell wasn't going to call him.

Are you busy?

Is this a joke?

Well, that was a short-lived idea. God, he was the worst.

Forget it.

What? Your date stood you up?

I said FORGET IT.

Why did you text me, then?

Lapse in judgment. Won’t happen again.

Her phone illuminated with Harry’s contact, no picture. Just his name. Not even an emoji to recognize she had known him for ten years. She may as well have had his number for no longer than a week. “What?” She snapped.

He snorted. “Let’s get it straight, love. You contacted me.”

“And I told you to, ‘forget it.’”

“Are y’seriously that stubborn y’won’t tell me?”

“No, I’m not stubborn,” she was very much so stubborn. “I will not let you berate me and call me stupid or make fun of me for going on a fucking date. I needed help and I will admit. I was stupid to call you thinking you would do anything but sit on your throne of self-adoration and help someone else. As I said, it was a lapse in judgment. Good. Bye.”

*

With an invigorated sense of frustration and anger, she had determined walking was her best bet. It had only been five minutes since she spoke to him. Her feet were aching, the chill gripping every inch of her body, when a car slowed beside her. It parked and she heard the door open. She didn’t turn around. Anxiety crept through her veins. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, and she tried to remember the self-defense moves she had learned in a seminar put on by her dorm her freshman year of college.

“How much for an hour?” Harry’s voice cut through the cold air. She wanted to be mad. Wanted to snap something at him. But the relief crushed her; she couldn’t help but feel grateful for his familiar voice.

“You couldn’t afford me,” she grumbled turning back toward him. He was leaning against the side of his car—just by the front wheel. Ankles crossed; hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. He looked like a model for either the car or his coat. Hell, he could have been a model for the laces of his shoes. He was utterly beautiful.

He scanned her up and down. “S’that how you dress for all your first dates?”

“Shut the fuck up, Harry,” she muttered. A blush painted her cheeks as he scanned her. It felt so judgmental she wanted to punch him. She stood in front of him several feet away, eyeing him suspiciously. She didn’t know how he knew where she was. Didn’t know why he even decided to show up. Honestly, she thought maybe he was just driving around and was going to just get back in his car and leave her.

He snorted, scuffed the bottom of his shoe on the sidewalk. “You look nice.”

“Nice?” She repeated. “Is this a joke?”

“A lapse in judgment,” he rolled his eyes. “Are you getting in or what?” He asked pushing himself off his car and opening the passenger door.

“Why did you even come here?” She asked. The warmth from his car hit her like a blanket and she wanted nothing more than to dive in and snuggle into the front seat, blast the hot air at her toes, and fall asleep against the heated seat he knew she had from all the times Eleanor talked about it.

But she was stubborn.

“Obviously it was a mistake,” he closed the door again and made his way toward the driver’s side. “Could leave you here instead,” he shrugged eyeing her over the top of his car. Like a game of chess. It was her move. She glared at him and put her hand on the car handle. He locked the door as she pulled and smirked at her. “So easy,” he mumbled.

She thought taking her chances walking would be better—her toes were going to fall off and the numbness was creeping up her ankles and making way for her legs. “Oh, forget it,” she grumbled and stalked back down the sidewalk.

Harry groaned as if truly pained by her existence. “Oh, for God’s sake, love! It was a joke,” he was by her side before she had taken ten full steps.

“What are you doing here, Harry? Huh? Just here to rub salt in the wound? I got stood up, okay? You were right. Happy? I just wanted to—”

“Idiot.”

Fury pulsed through her at his interruption. At the insult. She slapped his cheek before she could say anything else. Before she could think of anything else. His head was still turned to the side when she marched further down the street without waiting to see his reaction. The numbness of her legs didn’t deter her. The heat of her embarrassment flooded her and warmed her plenty to make it somewhere nearby that would have more accessible Ubers.

“What the fuck was that?” He snarled, grabbing her wrist and spinning her around. It shouldn't have been a surprise he caught up to her so rapidly.

“You called me an idiot,” she snapped back.

He chuckled darkly. His grip tightened on her wrist, and he shook his head. The laugh hadn’t a trace of humor in it. “He. Your date. He’s an idiot.” She glared at him waiting for him to make another joke at her expense, but it never came. They stood still on the sidewalk. Harry’s hand holding her wrist like she might bolt at any second. Lord knew she was thinking about it. His gaze didn’t stray from hers. Intense.

And really fucking beautiful.

“Get in the car,” he ordered.

Which she didn’t take kindly to. “I’ll take my chances,” she sniffed and tugged, trying to release his grip. He didn’t budge, not even a millimeter.

“M’not asking,” his voice was low. “Get in the car, or I’ll drag y’in,” he promised.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, love.”

The thought of Harry dragging her in the car didn’t seem like a good idea. It would only embarrass her further. “Why did you even come here? I told you to forget it,” she muttered.

He opened the passenger door and the warmth once more enveloped her like a hug. He gently touched her shoulder. She turned in the space between the opening of his car and Harry. He stared at her again. “You called me,” his voice was gentle. Unlike anything he had ever heard from him—especially directed toward her. There was no shrug, no indifference, no irritation. He was breathing evenly. As if they had done this a thousand times. As if he looked at her like she was... precious all the time.

There was a thud in her chest, her heart stuttered unevenly against her ribs. Her lips parted and she didn’t know what to say or do. Her toes weren’t numb anymore. She wasn’t cold. There was a silence that filled the space between them as he stared at her and part of her believed if they just never spoke again maybe they could be friends.

“If some idiot guy can’t see how special you are then s’his loss. Only his loss. Standing up anyone is horrible. Standing you up...someone so pretty, so intelligent, so kind, should be a crime.” The words escaped her. The air in her lungs was gone. “M’always gonna be there for you,” it felt like a trap to let him say something like that to her. His hand reached up from his side, he brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek. “I don’t know what happened, love,” he murmured. “I... I was so worried. And I truly would pity the person that tries t’take you on,” a smile danced at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t smug. It was beautiful and melted her further and it wasn’t even a full smile. “And I was still so worried... I jus’,” he shook his head. “I think I ran two stoplights,” he admitted. “S’like a switch flipped, love. Never been so worried ‘bout anyone like that,” he continued holding her gaze.

She bit her lip and looked at his chest. “Are you fucking with me?” She asked quietly. Her voice defensive but low. Afraid to believe him.

But more afraid to not believe him.

“No, love. Not even a little... well, jus’ the part ‘bout taking you on. S’quite the slap y’gave me,” his smile grew, and he rubbed his cheek as if it really hurt him. Maybe it stung, but she didn’t think it really was all that hard.

“Been like ten years of build up to that.”

He chuckled quietly. “S’all you could muster?” He challenged.

She rolled her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. Genuinely. It felt weird to say it to Harry. Felt weird to be in such a position. But she couldn't help but feel that she liked it.

“Always, love. And I meant it. Y’look beautiful.”

Her heart was doing things that she didn't know Harry could do to her. She blushed, looked at her shoes; her toes numbing in the chilly air. “Well, his loss right?”

“My gain,” he winked at her and gave her arm a gentle squeeze as he left her side of his car for the driver’s side.

“Have you just been jealous all this time?” She asked as he settled behind the wheel.

“No,” he rolled his eyes. The silence was companionable. The first time in knowing Harry that it felt anything other than hostile. “Maybe,” he mumbled.

“Maybe?” Her eyes were delighted, and she smiled at him. “You like me.”

“Oh, bite me,” he grumbled. “I do not.”

“You so like me,” she teased. Her cheeks were warm making her forget about the cold. He didn’t say anything. Just the gentle hum of the road filled the car. “For what it’s worth, I like you too,” she murmured tucking herself to turn sideways in the seat. Her face squished against the back of the warm seat. “Probably more than a lot,” she admitted. “I guess," she took a deep breath, scared to say it, but Harry had called her pretty, intelligent, and kind. She couldn't let that go unnoticed. Her declaration wasn't as pretty as his but she needed to say something. "I think my brain mixed up my emotions. I was... very unhappy that you didn’t like me all these years.”

“God, love, you're ridiculous,” he grabbed her hand without moving his eyes from the road. He squeezed her fingers but it felt tied directly to her heart. “How could I not like you?"

--

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[bluejutdae]

• friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Jeongin x Noona!reader

Chan , Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung , Felix, Seungmin

genre: friends to lovers

Warnings: none

The restaurant is nice, the food is delicious. Your date is horrible.

That’s what you get for trusting dating apps and giving in the peer pressure of your colleagues and downloading the aforementioned app. On paper, this guy is perfect: tall, pretty, loves animals and has an interesting job. In reality he’s an incel and, despite your protests, decided to sit on your side of the table so he can try and cop a feel every now and then.

You even tried texting Changbin for an easy way out of this date but your friend isn’t answering. It would have been useful having him here, since he’s good at looking like a bad guy… and his arms and shoulders help a lot. You have half a mind to text Chan, or Minho, since they’re also good at scaring people off, but you’re not sure you want to bother them.

The one person you’re absolutely not going to text (and not going to tell about this date to) is Jeongin. It’s already awkward enough that you have a massive crush on him, you’re not going to ask him to rescue you.

Your crush will go away eventually. Doesn’t matter that you could celebrate its first birthday in just a few weeks, it’s just a silly little crush. This is what you tell yourself, at least.

Your feeling started growing little by little but, the moment you realized, you also realized you were fucked. And not in a fun way. Why did you have to fall for the pretty, younger, talented guy who is guarded by 7 hyungs like they’re bodyguards? On top of this, you’re pretty sure Minho’s onto you. You can see it in his eyes anytime you laugh a little too loud at Jeongin’s jokes and you look at him a little too long.

Unbeknown to you, Jeongin is looking at you right now. And he’s boiling. He’s so ready to jump the guy that keeps scooting closer to you, uncaring of the fact that you keep scooting away from him. The same guy keeps touching your arm and your hair despite you asking him not to do it.

Jeongin is a time bomb. And he’d have intervened sooner, but how is he going to explain the fact that he’s here because he followed you after he heard you talking about going on a date? One thing is having a crush on his noona, another thing is following her to make sure she’s not going home with her date safe.

To Jeongin, his noona is so pretty, so kind, so perfect, no one deserves her.

Sadly, not even him.

Not that he has a chance.

He can’t forbid you to go on dates, but he can make sure you’re okay and that you’re gonna think of him while you’re with other guys. So he takes out his phone and quickly types a text.

You spot Jeongin in the restaurant and a thousand questions start wandering in your mind. Why is he here? And why did he text you knowing you were there? What was that about the guy being a loser? In your peripheral vision you see him pay for his dinner and come closer to your table, so you prepare yourself to pretend he’s your cousin or friend whom you haven’t seen in a while and you want to catch up with. What you don’t expect is for him to sit so close to you he’s almost in your lap, with an arm around your shoulders and a sexy smirk on his face.

“Noona, you’re too pretty to be wasting time with this guy.” he says, and his voice is loud, too loud. Your date starts to protest his words and ask questions, but you’re too taken aback by Jeongin’s behavior to answer. The younger guy is cocky, his usually cute smile is now a cruel smirk when directed to your date and when directed to you is… flirtatious?

“Innie” your tone is almost admonishing, but you don’t really have it in you to reprimand him.

“And who is this kid?” asks your date, after having tossed his napkin on the table. His stand is one of dare towards Jeongin and his tone is provocative.

“This kid is the one who’s taking her home.” Jeongin replies, a mocking smile on his lips. It’s time you step in, or this can get ugly way too fast. With a hand on Jeongin’s shoulder you try to tell him to tone it down a little and with a polite and contrite expression you turn to your date. “I think our night should end here. I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time, but we’re not really a good fit.”

“And you’re really gonna go home with this kid?” You take a deep breath. You might put up with someone insulting you, but you don’t like the tone he’s using to talk about Jeongin. You roll your eyes and signal Jeongin to get up so you can leave. Reaching into your purse you grab your wallet to pay for dinner. “Yes, I'm gonna go home with him. Try to be less of a creepy pushy asshole and maybe one day some girl might consider going home with you. In the meantime, I hope women will recognize quickly what type of men you are.”

You grab Innie’s hand, who in the meantime is giving the guy a gloating smile, and make him follow you outside or the restaurant. You try to let his hand go but he holds your with determination and leads you to a close playground. You sit on the swings and for a minute you’re silent, swinging in the night, enjoying the fresh air.

“I need you to explain, Innie.”

“Do I have to, Noona?” What is he going to tell you? The truth or a lie? You nod in his direction and then occupy yourself with trying to spot a few stars in the night sky, waiting for him to explain. He seems to think about what to say, hands fidgeting in his lap and his teeth worrying his lip.

“I followed you.” Your head turns towards him so fast you give yourself whiplash. “You what?”

“I was worried! You decided to go on a date with a guy you met on a dating app!” His tone sounds accusing, but you know him enough to know there’s something more. “And I was right. The guy was an asshole. I wanted to punch him when he kept touching you even though you tried to get at a safe distance.”

“Innie… I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry about me. You don’t have to… to protect me.” He makes a face like he just ate something he hates. “How did you even find out about the date?”

“I heard you talking on the phone. Sorry I followed you.”“It’s okay, just don’t do it anymore, uh? Let Noona worry for you, not the opposite. I’m the older one.”

You thought it was the right thing to say, but apparently it was not, because Jeongin stopped swinging on his swing and he’s making an expression you don’t want to see in his face. He looks sad and almost in pain.“Jeonginnie?” You ask in a tiny voice, trying to understand what was that you said that can justify his reaction.

“Is this all I’ll ever be? Just a dongsaeng?” He kicks softly at the sand at your feet, head bowed down and words hushed.

“What do you mean? You’re my dongsaeng. Why is that bad?” He shakes his head and doesn’t answer but you can hear him sigh.

“It’s not bad, just…” he shakes his head again and gets up. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

“Wait, Jeongin…” despite your words, he keeps slowly walking away from you, so you follow him quickly until you reach him. Walking side by side you try to think back to yours and his words, but you can’t seem to grasp the problem.

“Jeongin, what’s wrong?” He keeps walking and when you try to hold his hand to slow him down and face him, he takes it away. Uh, this hurts.

“Innie, c’mon, talk to me. Noona’s sorry, okay? Tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it.” Maybe he’s angry he feels like he has to watch your back? “I won’t make you worry anymore, that’s my job since I’m older.” The moment your last word is out of your mouth, he stops on his track.

“Stop saying that, you’re making it worse!” He's loud now. Which isn’t uncommon, but not in this kind of circumstances.

“I don’t understand.”

A gust of wind makes you shiver and, to fight the sudden cold, you hug yourself. You hate fighting with Jeongin, and luckily it doesn’t happen often, but now you’re having an hard time understanding what even the fight is about.

Seeing you shiver, Jeongin takes off his jacket and puts it on your shoulders. “No, Innie. You’ll be cold like that, you need it more than I do!” He holds it around your shoulder with more force.

“Stop, stop, stop it! Stop treating me like a kid. I know I’m younger and I’m just a kid but stop always making it so painfully obvious. I know I’ll never be more than your dongsaeng, I know you’ll never look at me and see a man, but fuck, stop doing this all the time. Once, just once, let me take care of you. Let me be something more than just a kid in your eyes.”

“But-“

“No, I get it, okay? It’s embarrassing knowing a younger guy has a crush on you, you probably laugh about it with your other friends because it’s pathetic, I’m pathetic, but Noona… today I got to help you and I was so proud of myself but then that asshole called me a kid and you didn’t correct him. And I realized that, no matter how hard I try, I’ll always be just a kid to you.”

Being young, being considered the youngest and therefore the one who needs coddling and help is one of the things he hates the most. And you knew, you talked about how he hates being babied by his hyungs. You prided yourself for being someone who wouldn’t treat him like that. Yes, you let him get away with things cause he’s endearing and your dongsaeng, but you didn’t realize you’re part of the problem.

On one thing he’s wrong, tho. You don’t see him as a kid, you do consider him a man, but telling him wouldn’t be effective. So you do the next best thing you think will send the right message. You kiss him.

His lips are warm against yours and, after the initial shock, he’s kissing you back. Your hands raise to reach around his neck and rest there, holding him close to you

Soon, too soon, he’s moving away a little to look at you.

“What’s this?”

“You’re wrong about something, Jeonginnie. I’ve always looked at you and seen a man. I didn’t know you have a crush on me, or I would have done this sooner. Because I have a crush on you. And I felt like I had no right to want you.”

His smile is blinding, and you love to see him like this.

“You have a crush on me, Noona?”

“I do. Is that okay?” Instead of answering you with words, he kisses you again and his smile can be felt in the kiss.

“Innie, I know you’re not a kid. But can I still call you my baby?” The wind carries his laugh and you feel so happy you want to dance.

“As long as I’m yours, you can call me whatever you want.”

Hand in hand, his jacket still on your shoulders, you walk home and you’re the happiest you’ve been in a while.

(The day after, he wakes up with a sore throat and a mild fever. You don’t have it in you to scold him, and you promised yourself not to baby him, so you let his hyungs do that and you play the role of a good girlfriend and you cuddle him in his bed.

When Minho enters the room and sees you this close, you swear he’s threatening you in Morse code or telepathically: if you hurt him, you’ll have to answer to us all. But you’ll do the same, so you nod and give him a little smile. Deal.)

[kqiscr]

KINKT☆BER WEEK ONE! ー MICHAEL KAISER

MY EYES ARE UP HERE

a pretty angel like you would look better on his thigh

warnings: corruption, thigh riding, hints of degradation + praise, kaiser is a warning by himself, use of fem pet names/afab anatomy, i know zero german, i haven't wrote smut in a hot minute so give me a chance

w/c: 2.7k

i am not responsible for any minors who interact | not proofread. ktober mtl

"is there something wrong, mein liebling?" kaiser snapped his fingers in front of your face, his lips upturned in amusement as you jumped in surprise.

"huh? nothing's wrong," you quickly shook your head, embarrassed to have been caught red-handed.

not like it was your fault— he has to know about how distracting his gray sweatpants were. no matter where you tried to force your gaze, it always led back to the noticeable bulge in his pants.

although you've been dating kaiser for a few months now, things have never escalated past a few feathery touches as his fingers skimmed under your shirt while making out— or maybe a little grind from you here and there.

you wanted to see what he was hiding under that fabric, but you were too shy to. every time you would even remotely try to ask, it always led to your face heating up and you scurrying away, or you would drop the question last minute. he always teased you for being so "innocent".

he gave you a knowing look, obviously not believing your terribly said lie, but still reverted his attention back to the book he was reading.

knowing that he had the faintest idea of why you kept glancing his way, you decided to busy yourself on your phone— which also wasn't much help to distract you from how kaiser kept shuffling around, every movement making his dick print more prominent.

he had to be doing it on purpose at this point. every so often he would spread his legs a bit wider, place a hand on his thigh, and adjust his sweats. every single movement and rustle would cause you to peer at him through the corner of your eyes— not only in curiosity of what he was doing, but to see how the new angle would make the bulge look.

the more you thought about what was in his pants, the more you pressed your thighs together. your thoughts trailed off, the desperation of months of wanting him to bend you over something—anything— finally getting to you.

would he be mean and cocky, degrading you and mocking you at every chance he gets?

or would he be slow and caring, given the fact it would be your first time with him? would he praise you and give you what you would plead and beg for?

knowing him, you went with the former. not like you were complaining— you wanted him so bad you'd let him fuck you on the kitchen counter at this point. maybe even the floor.

"i'm starting to think you're a bit distracted," kaiser rasped. you were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't notice how he inched closer to you, his breath against your ear causing you to have goosebumps.

"am not!" you attempted to save yourself, hiding your face behind your phone and opening and closing random apps. maybe having the weather app open looking at the weather of a different country across the world didn't help your case.

"look at me, schatz." he placed his fingers under your jaw and angled your head to meet his piercing eyes.

you fidgeted with your hands, anticipating what he was going to say. but he didn't say anything, simply wrapped his hands around your waist and effortlessly placing you on his lap. you subconsciously throw your arms around his neck as you waited for him to say something.

"is there something you want from me?" he questioned, tilting his head to the side. you were still too awkward to answer his question, so you simply focused on the tattoo that was peeking out of his shirt's neckline, shaking your head slightly.

"are you going to answer me with words? or will i just have to force it out of you?" your eyes widened at the implications of his statement.

"what do you mean by that?" you soon found out, because he lifted you up slightly and placed you back down on one of his thighs, making sure that your legs were on either side of it,

"do you think i'm stupid, liebling? you think i wouldn't notice you staring like you wanted my pants off?" he could feel the way your thighs clenched around him at his statement as he smirked.

"i wasn't!" you were adamant on beating these allegations, although it would be nearly impossible. you were not only a terrible liar, but you were trying so hard not to move an inch. the pressure of his thigh on your cunt was getting unbearable, and you wanted him to do anything to relieve the heat that was building up.

he shuffled a little bit, bouncing his thigh in the process, leading a whine to escape your mouth. he froze for a moment before chuckling.

"pretty girl wants to get off my thigh, hm?" he raised an eyebrow as his voice lowered an octave. the sudden pitch change in his voice made your pussy throb.

hesitantly, you nodded. "please— want it so bad."

"that wasn't so hard to do, was it?" he slipped his hands under the waistband of your shorts. "now take these off."

you hurriedly took the pair of shorts off, and kaiser's eyes widened as he saw the lingerie you were wearing.

"and you weren't going to show me this, schatz?" he admired the way the shade of blue— the same color as the tips of his hair and tattoo— looked on your skin. "how mean."

before you could open your mouth to respond, he had already put you back on his muscular thigh, which was still covered by the gray fabric of his sweatpants.

his grip on your waist was sure to have you bruising as he slowly began to guide you to rock back and forth on his thigh. the friction wasn't much, but you don't remember the last time you had even bothered to touch yourself— paired with the fact that you were currently on top your insanely attractive boyfriend— his thigh felt like heaven.

you let out little whimpers and short moans that kaiser found cute. "feels good, yeah?" he asked as you began to put your hands on his shoulders and pick up the pace, trying to chase your high.

"so gooood," you moaned out, the way your cunt rubbed against the lingerie and the rough surface of his leg along with the occasional bounce of his thigh and encouragement he'd whisper into your ear.

"you look so good like this, i don't know why i didn't do this earlier," he frowned, watching the way you arched your back and leaned your head forward to meet the crook of his neck to muffle your sounds.

kaiser had always thought you were a relatively pure girl, not once hearing you say anything remotely dirty or insinuate having sex with him. for fucks sake, even the makeouts were tame enough. but having you on his thigh, not a thought behind those eyes except of how good it feels— he wanted to absolutely ruin you.

"never thought a pretty angel like you would want to drool all over my thigh." if you were in the right state of mind, you would've been mortified over the patch of wetness that was growing on his sweatpants, but right now it was the least of your worries.

he focused his attention on your neck, nibbling and biting until little blossoms of purple appeared all over, trailing down to your collarbone. his hands snuck under your shirt, unclasping your bra, earning a gasp from you. the cold from his hands made shivers run down your spine even as he toyed with your hardened nipples.

"wanna cum," you moaned out, feeling yourself get tired from doing all the work yourself. "help meee."

he felt his dick twitch in his pants as soon as you looked up at him with glossy, half-lidded eyes. he's dreamed of seeing you like this, and now that he had you like this right in front of him, he wasn't going to miss this opportunity.

"help with what? you can use your words." you only responded with a whine, mind still not foggy enough for you to shamelessly beg for him.

"p-please," you stammered, hoping that would be enough to satisfy him.

"please what? i still don't know what you need help with." you nearly scowled, trembling as he pressed his thigh harder against your covered cunt.

"i wanna cum so bad, kaiser pleaseee— wan' your help."

"now that wasn't so hard, was it schatz? of course i'll let a dirty girl like you get off on me." him putting it that way had you whining, but soon he had you moaning out his name, clawing at his clothed back.

"oh f-fuckfuckfuck, m' close!" you cried out.

"gonna make a mess for me angel? go ahead."

he watched as your hips spasmed and a drawn-out moan left your lips, helping you ride your climax out as eventually you slowed to a stop.

you look down, peering at how uncomfortable his pants seemed to be on him.

"mmm, jus' want you inside." you pleaded, a hand reaching over to palm him. he let out a hiss and looked conflicted— he was deciding if he should just fuck you right here on the couch or if he should take a moment to bring you to the bed.

deciding on the latter, he carried you bridal style to your bedroom. he let you lie on the bed as he took off his sweatpants, his boxers quickly following. you gaped at his sheer size.

"it won't fit," you complained. you, weren't exactly complaining, but you had no idea how he was even going to get past the tip.

"i just need to get you ready for me. it'll fit." he wasn't gonna lie, you whining about his size out of all things made his ego get even bigger than it already was. you nodded, trusting him.

"sloppy fucking cunt is so wet for me," he cooed as he pulled your panties to the side and slid a slender finger in. you squirmed as he began to curl his finger, adding another finger and picking up the pace. the lewd squelches echoed throughout the room.

he was prodding everywhere but your g-spot— it was on purpose, his enjoyment of not giving you what you wanted clearly written all over his face. maybe he'd make you beg for it again.

"nghh... gonna cum again," you mewled.

"you're not gonna fucking cum until i say so," he narrowed his eyes, blond and blue hair framing his face.

"wh-what?" you wailed as he pulled his fingers out, hands shooting out to stop him. "why'd you stoppp."

your slick covered his fingers, which he quickly lapped up in front of you. your face felt hot, the scene in front of you as obscene as he could make it. without a care in the world, he let out slurping sounds and snickered when he saw your flustered face.

"be patient," he glowered as he slapped his tip against your clit, teasing you as you whined. you furrowed your eyebrows, done with all his teasing.

your mouth shaped into an o-shape as you felt him slide himself in.

"shit... this pussy was made for me."

"wait-ah...you're too biggg..." you felt yourself getting dizzy over the feeling of him stretching you out, biting your bottom lip to prevent yourself from drooling all over the pillow.

"doing s'good for me." he bottomed out, and he had to physically stop himself from immediately pounding into you with the way you literally sucked him in and enveloped him. slowly he began to thrust into you, you gripping the sheets. the sheer length and girth of him was nothing like you've ever experienced before.

"ha-harder— faster...please," you trailed off as he sped up upon your request, not able to hold himself back from messing up your insides.

although it was your first time having sex with him, it was like he could just tell what made you feel good, what spots made you see stars upon stars, and what made you mind simply go blank.

kaiser was probably saying something to you, but you weren't able to understand anything, your brain dumb and unable to do anything but feel the dick that was burying into you.

"k-kaiserrr, feels too good," you felt tears pool at the corner of your eyes. "no more, no mo'"

"'no more, no more"' he mocked your moans. "you say that, but you're the one who keeps grinding back on my cock like the whore you are. didn't you just tell me to go faster?"

you didn't even notice how you were trying to move your hips back onto him— not like it would've changed anything. you would've lost it if he had actually heeded your pleas and stopped moving.

he suddenly flipped you over, making you face him as he threw your legs over his shoulders, nearly bending you in half. you looked up at him questioningly, meeting his darkened and dilated eyes.

without warning, he went back to his usual brutal pace, every thrust ending with a whine from you or a soft grunt from him. then he hit that spongey spot in you that had your vision go white. you let out an unusually loud moan that bordered a scream, and thats when kaiser knew he found what he was looking for.

"right here," he whispered under his breath as he began to bully his cock right into your g-spot, leaving you breathless and burying your head into your hands to muffle your moans. he used one of his hands to grab your wrists and pin them above your head.

"i want to hear those pretty moans of yours, liebling." you didn't even have the mind to be self-conscious anymore, you just wanted him to finally cum inside you.

oh, he loved the way that he made you dumber and dumber by the minute. he loved the way your gummy walls clenched around him. he loved the way his sweet little girl was crying and bumbling right under him. he loved everything about you.

he brought his head down to give you a quick kiss, feeling you try to get your hands out of his grasp.

"wanna feel you so bad," you pleaded, and he decided to let go, your glistening doe eyes convincing him. you immediately began to tug on his hair and then forced him down into another kiss— this time much more deeper and longer. he felt you bite on his lips, tongue brushing everywhere as the kiss was reduced to you just wanting to get as close as you can to kaiser, wanting to feel and taste as much as him as you could.

he pulled away to give you some air, a string of saliva connecting the two of you as you cried out.

"i t-think im gonna—"

"cum for me princess." his coaxing voice paired with the way he played with your clit finally brought you over the edge.

the way you almost sang his name when you came almost had him following right after you, but he wanted this to last as long as possible, even with the thick white ring that was making its way to the base of his cock.

the overstimulation was too much for you to handle, to the point where it was like you were silently screaming. it hurt, but it was too good.

"where should i cum, liebling?" his thrusts were becoming frantic and the pace was uneven, as if he was going feral. you could even swear you heard a whimper or two the closer he got to his climax.

"inside! insideinsideinside—" you babbled, wanting to finally feel him fill you up.

"f-fuck," his voice cracked as he rammed his hips into yours one last time, bringing you close as he hid his head into your chest to suppress any other sounds. you could swear that he skimmed your cervix.

after your cunt had finished milking him dry, both of you were breathing heavily, not saying a word. you assumed that kaiser was simply calming down before pulling out, but a nearly a minute passed and he never did.

"k-kaiser?" you quipped. your thighs were still trembling, and you could feel the mix of your fluids trailing out of your pussy. "are you gonna pull out?"

"did i ever say i was done?"

sorry lol i actually hate this one

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING GREEN !!! CHARLES L. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: it was his turn to play once, and now he has to beg too.

content warning: use of explicit language, smut under the cut (minors dni!), sub!charles, themes of jealousy and friends with benefits, brief descriptions of oral sex (m receiving), possessive!reader, not filthy enough… i think, pwp

note: i really should be writing my papers rn. enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

his eyes weren’t the only greens that made their presence known in the party tonight. no, it was also not just the dress that she had slipped on in hopes of catching his attention and taking him back to her place. 

her emotions were, in fact, turning into a form of jealousy as she watched him dancing with some other girl on the dance floor. her eyes forming into a heavy scowl as she sipped on her daiquiri, watching as charles smirked at her and attached himself to a stranger while they dirty danced.

he was having too much fun with someone else as if he hadn’t done called her to his room the other day only to dominate her.

he was acting like this and she had no control over that; he wasn’t hers after all. they were nothing but “friends” who casually fucked each other’s brains out as a pastime.

but then again… if they were friends, then he wouldn’t have marked her neck until she couldn’t go on a date with some stranger from an app, right? he wouldn’t have done that knowing that she had a date a day or two after— that those marks would last longer than intended. friends don’t do shit like that. 

if they were friends, then maybe… maybe she’d make him realize that she, too, could mark him to the next week— so he wouldn’t go to that date that their stupid friends set him up to because “he needs to get laid.” 

it was his time to play once, but they were taking turns— and it was now hers. 

“ngh~ amour,” his voice croaked as his mouth gaped open, feeling her mouth wrapped around his cock as she hummed. the bassy vibration around his cock made him whimper in desperation. the urge to cum was just there and she was torturing him. “‘m gonna—“

he whined quietly when her mouth pulled away with a ‘pop’, her hand replacing her mouth as she wrapped it around the base of his cock. she firmly said, “keep your eyes on me, charles.” 

“i ca- c—“

“sure you can,” she laughed. if he could even think right now, he would’ve said that she wasn’t like this days ago. she was an angel begging for him to let her cum days ago— and now she was a vixen who wanted him to die a slow death. 

she continued to give his tip kitten licks as he whined. “i want you to look at me so you know who’s the only person that can make you feel like this.” 

“i- amour,” he whimpered, urging himself to open his eyes as he peered down at her. his adam’s apple bobbing when he caught sight of the lust and possessiveness that washed through her features. 

her tongue traced over the saliva that dripped down his cock, eyes still trained on his hazy green ones before her gaze trailed down his purple-marked chest and abdomen. she had too much fun nipping at his body that she hadn’t realized the difference between marking him and seeing the aftermath of it. 

“so beautiful,” she murmured quietly, stroking him continuously as she gave him a mocking pitiful look. “quite a shame that others would see you like this.”

“n- no,” he shook his head frantically, his brain short circuiting and heart desperately wanting her as he babbled, “no- no one’s seen m- me. no o- one will. i promise, m- mon amour-“ 

“that right?” she teased, her hand moving up for her thumb to rub on his tip as she continued, “what about the lady earlier? you were so ready to give it to her, charles— as if you’d already forgotten about me.”

“no! she- i- wan’ to make you jealous,” he whimpered, his eyes shutting closed again as his head dropped back at the pleasure. “ple- please, amour~ i want to be inside you.” 

“oh? you wanted to make me jealous?” her eyes darkened a little before leaning up to him and giving him a sweet kiss on the lips. “you sure did. you sure made me jealous...” 

she sunk back to her knees and said, “and i’m going to make sure you wouldn’t have to do it again. after all, nobody would be able to see you in this state if it isn’t me, hm?” 

she let her mouth devour his cock once more, bobbing up and down as charles moaned aloud, begging for her to let him cum inside her as sounds of squelching escaped her mouth and dribbles of saliva fell down her chin. he was writhing under her, and he was too fucked out to even say anything— he loved it. 

he loved her.

if she was going to be this controlling in bed, then he might as well continue to make her jealous. at least now he knew that she wanted him to want her and her alone.

[pinkcarnatixns]

leah williamson | training wheels

synopsis your plan for a romantic date goes downhill when your girlfriend admits she doesn't know how to ride a bike [2.1K] contents pouty! leah, slight injury, slightly suggestive

You really thought that your girlfriend would be blown away by your plans for a romantic date, but you apparently had made a quite significant miscalculation. 

Leah, constantly one to sweep you off your feet, had organized a sweet weekend getaway to Amsterdam for your six month anniversary. Since joining the club and hitting it off with the blonde, you hadn’t had much time to explore around Europe like you’d hoped when you first decided to make the move. With the way she hung onto your every word, Leah had clearly remembered this small detail and planned an extremely thoughtful getaway around it, surprising you with the plane tickets after training one day. 

You were nearly drunk on the amount of affection you felt for the girl, having been sufficiently pampered with the amount of plans she had made for the two of you. The day before, Leah had arranged a walking tour of the city which, wanting to stay in her own little bubble with you- was guided by the overexcited girl herself. Judging by the exasperated texts you received from a certain Dutch striker afterwards, it seemed that she had really gone all out to impress you, even if it meant she was never allowed to ask Viv a question again. If you hadn’t been completely gone for her by that point, you had arrived back to your beautiful hotel room just to see a new dress and heels laid out on your bed, before you were promptly shooed off to get ready. 

When you stepped out of the bathroom that had turned into your holding cell at her insistence, you were pleasantly surprised by the sight of your girlfriend in a suit you had picked out for her during one of your first ‘dates.’ She had been so nervous then, and desperate for an excuse to see you away from your teammates’ teasing remarks, using the excuse of an upcoming event to have you go shopping together. You never did get to see her in it, and when you had started dating, she claimed that it was too precious and had to be used for an incredibly important event. 

Apparently, she had deemed her surprise dinner date a special enough occasion, almost missing the reservation due to your appreciation of her attire. After hours of giggling over an expensive bottle of wine and being kindly told to wrap it up by staff, both your stomach and heart were completely full. Stumbling around in the streets hand-in-hand, entirely too dressed up while looking for ice cream with her jacket hugging your shoulders, you could have died happy.

So, after finally collapsing for the night and drifting on cloud nine, you decided you wanted to return the favor somewhat- to make her swoon for once. With a free day tomorrow, and her snoring softly in your ear with your head pillowed by her arm, you sneakily turned your phone brightness down and hatched your plan. 

In the morning, even though Leah took so much coaxing to get out of bed that your lips were sore, you had succeeded in getting her dressed and out the door. Not one to enjoy being out of the know, she had attempted many sneaky glances at your navigation app, receiving warning glances every time she tried to distract you from your mission. As you approached, you gave her a deceivingly sweet smile, immediately making her suspicious. “Love, you’re being quite cryptic and we’ve gotten pretty rural. Do I really treat you so badly you’ve taken me to the Dutch countryside to kill me?”

“Leah! Where’s your sense of adventure?” You pout at her with hands on your hips, determined to have your dream realized. “Now can you close your eyes please?”

“Oh, this is really the end for me now. Tell my mum I love her.” She sasses back at you, but does as you say anyhow, putting her hands over her eyes for emphasis. You mock her accent and pouty tone under your breath, but delicately guide her by the crook of her elbow, taking care that she doesn’t trip over anything. 

She lets you lead her, careful to keep her eyes shut to avoid upsetting you and whatever has gotten you so excited. You firmly tell her to stay where she is and reinforce that she needs to keep her eyes shut before she hears your steps walk off. She worries you’ve gone and left her abandoned there before she makes out your voice talking to someone quietly, curious at the clanging that follows the conversation. Relieved at the warmth of your hands returning to her, you slowly take her hands away from her eyes. “I’m going to count down! Stay here- ” She hears you scurry off and at your prompt, opens her eyes, letting them adjust to the sunny day. 

“Ta-da!!” Her eyes focus on you, before dragging over to what you’re gesturing excitedly to. Hand gestures highlighting two bikes- fuck. Her face goes completely red as you prattle on, “We’ll be so cute! And this path up here goes just past some pretty tulip fields, we can stop and have a picnic!” 

Silently and not quite meeting your gaze, she grabs one of the bikes by the handlebars and starts walking it past the stand where you had rented them- nodding in thanks to the old man running it. This leaves you completely confused, and you jog your bike over to where she’s walked off, “Is it horribly cheesy? Do you hate it? I’m sorry I just wanted to do something for you because-” 

Once out of range of the little bike stand, she whips around to face you and mumbles something under her breath, only making eye contact with her feet. You tilt your head questioningly, prompting her to try again, and she rushes out “‘m not good at riding bikes.”

As you take a second to actually process her fast words, it’s your turn to be embarrassed, “Leah! You’ve never told me you don’t know how to ride a bike? I dragged you all the way out here trying to be romantic!” 

She kicks around the gravel under her Birkenstocks, like a scolded kid pouting, “It’s embarrassing…” You sigh hard and start to speak before being cut off, “-And I know how to ride one I’m just not good at it!” 

You raise an eyebrow, and she immediately loses the nerve she had built up, averting her eyes again. Having been too determined to give up something you had been so excited for, you knock your kickstand and trudge over to her. “Well get on! We’re going to get your confidence up!” 

She realizes that you’re not giving up anytime soon, losing the battle of puppy-dog eyes that she initiated. You expect her to climb right onto the bike, but instead she also kicks her stand and steps away. You’re ready to protest, expecting that she’s ready to call it a day, but are surprised when she falls into a crouch in front of you. She hastily starts tucking the bottoms of her baggy jeans into her socks and glares up at your shaking form, trying to contain your laugh. “What! You really do want me to die, don’t you? What happened to safety first?”

You shoot her an apologetic glance, still letting some giggles escape as you ruffle her hair. “I’m very flattered that you care so much for some cheap H&M jeans I bought you love, but I think you’re safe. Now stop stalling!”

She shoots you a wary glance, but regardless stands and kicks her leg back over the bike, getting into position. “Now! The hardest part is just getting started and righting your balance so I’ll give you a little push!” 

Leaving her side to stand over the back wheel, you grab her hips to steady her as she places her foot on one of the pedals. She stiffens slightly and shoots you a wink over her shoulder at the new position, “Well miss cheeky! I bet this was your plan all along wasn’t it?”

At her teasing, you slightly lean her over to the side she isn’t resting on, crumbling her confidence and setting off her balance- her face paling immediately. “Hey! This is no way to treat someone who is greatly humoring you right now! We could’ve been having a grand old time back in our hotel room at this time!” 

“Sorry sorry! Just focus!” You giggle and feel your face get a bit hot at the implications of her words before continuing. “Okay you’re gonna sit up, look up-” She follows your words, and with a hard push from you, “And pedal!” 

She wobbles a bit, clearly panicking and forgetting to actually pedal, having to put her feet back down to stop herself from completely toppling over. Catching her breath, she exasperates. “This is horrible! Who does this for fun? Psychopaths?” 

You try terribly hard not to laugh at her, but she’s just so cute and frustrated that you can't help yourself, shooting her a big smile at her withering glance. You really do appreciate that she’s trying for you, and lean up to give her a big, exaggerated kiss on the cheek with some words of encouragement. “You really almost had it baby! Just have to breathe and pedal, momentum helps a lot! Now come on, one more time, I’ve got you.”

She nearly hops off, and you rush to praise her so that she keeps at it, “You really are so brave lovie! I nearly had to be shipped off to the hospital when I was being taught!” She puffs up a little at the praise, and so you give her a proper kiss and continue, “My fearless, beautiful girlfriend!-”

“Alright alright, one more time but that is it! I don’t like making a fool of myself.” She backs up a little bit, ready to start again and clearly psyching herself up in her head. This time you’re stationed next to her, holding her handlebar with one hand and the seat cushion with the other. She glares down at the bike like it’s personally out to get her as you count her off, kissing her on the cheek and propelling her forward with all your strength on one. 

She gets some really good speed at your push, but once again forgets she needs to do the rest, righting her error as you yell desperately, “Pedal!” 

She starts really getting the hang of it with minimal swerving, and you whoop excitedly as she actually manages to turn the bike around and head back towards you, complete with a smug smirk on her face as she passes you. 

However, her pride doesn’t last for long enough as her eyes are still glued to you and not on the rock in her way. Before you can warn her, she’s crashing to the ground and you rush over to her deflated form. Luckily, her football instincts had clearly kicked in and she had landed with no injuries, bar some scrapes on her face and hand. You know you’re really in for it at the familiar frown you receive as you help her up. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The door chime indicating your exit from the small convenience store, you walk over to your poor girlfriend’s pathetic form, a cup of ice in one hand and box of plasters in the other. Sitting on the rough wood of the bench, she allows you to coo over her as you patch her up and hold ice over her thrumming wounds. 

You hold her hand in silence, laying your head on her shoulder as you sit side-by-side, watching the sun set over the beautiful tulip fields. You tear up a little bit, emotional at the view and that you were the cause of your girlfriend’s wounds, your plans slightly ruined. You nearly open your mouth to apologize again when she starts, “Thank you for today. I would’ve never thought to just sit outside and enjoy the view like this. And for believing in me, even if it was slightly misplaced.” She chuckles at the last part, placing her head on yours and nuzzling in slightly.  

You giggle at her sincere words, squeezing her hand in yours, reveling in the heat radiating off her accompanied by the comforting smell of her perfume. “All these flowers and you still have my favorite two lips in the world. Speaking of, I think I deserve a proper kiss after my act of courage today.”

You laugh at her horribly cheesy joke, but decide to indulge her anyway, pulling off her shoulder and cradling her poor wounded head in your hands as your lips meet.

a/n: thank u guys so much for the love on my last fic!! also terribly sorry if this doesn't make sense to my dutch friends </3 i am american

++ my reqs are open for more leah fics or for other woso girlies!

[lacroixqueen]

i'm so chill but you make me jealous jealous deadpool x fem!reader, 18+

Summary: deadpool sees you on a date with another guy and loses his shit lol

Pairing: jealous deadpool x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings/Tags: jealousy, possessive, angst, brat, noncon, dubcon

You were trying to figure out the fastest way to get out of this dumpster fire of a date. This is what you get for putting yourself out there, by the fervent advice of both your mother and entire social circle. So you went ahead and downloaded a dating app out of sheer boredom but also a tiny glimmer of hope. After quite a number of left swipes and a small handful of rights, you somehow wound up across the dinner table with… er, you forgot his name already. 

But you knew he worked in finance. Or was it accounting? Anyways, he was currently explaining the intricacies of the stock market to you, and the appetizer hasn’t even come out yet. And you realized that you couldn’t care any less. 

“I.. have to go to the bathroom,” you said, standing up quickly and pushing in your chair. Your date almost didn’t seem to notice, giving you a half-hearted acknowledgement and then continuing to drabble on to himself about cryptocurrency. 

Without another word, you darted to the nearest exit of the restaurant, finding yourself on the freshly rained-on sidewalk. You always loved the smell of the concrete after it had just rained. 

Your heels made a satisfying click-clack sound as you briskly maneuvered your way down the street. You opened up your texts to see if you missed anything during the god-awful date, and lo and behold, was a message from none other than Wade.

“Love the dress,” it read. 

You glanced behind you, then side to side, and once you turned back around, there he was, leaning against the side of the cornerstore. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, barely turning towards him before directing your attention back to your phone and continuing to walk past him. 

“Ohhhh, so it’s ice cold today,” he commented, following right behind you. “I love that flavor.”

“What do you want,” you said while texting a friend about how disastrously the date went. “I am just going home.”

“Well, I was just walking by when I caught a glimpse of you through the window of that Italian restaurant back there,” the assassin replied. “Speaking of which, what was on the menu? I mean that place looked upscale! Like they probably sprinkle gold dust on their pasta instead of parmesan.”

It was an Olive Garden.

“To be blunt, I honestly forgot,” you responded. “I didn’t even eat anything.”

“Well, why did you leave so early?” he pried, this obviously piquing his attention now.

“I-I felt sick,” you lied, your intonation increasing as quickly as your apprehension. “Can we just change the subject, please?”

“Oh ho ho,” Deadpool chuckled, as if he struck gold. “That bad? I mean, I didn’t get a great look at the guy, but from what I saw, he wasn’t terrible-looking. Also, he wore a fleece vest. I mean, that’s just the height of fashion, you really can’t get any better than that.”

“Are you having fun?” you said, rolling your eyes as he continued to mock your absolutely colossal defeat of an evening. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Deadpool laughed. “The other point of contention is why the hell you decided to pull out this absolute banger of a dress for your first date with Mr. Finance Bro there and not ours?”

“That was not a date,” you enunciated, pressing your finger into Wade’s chest. “That was a drunken one night stand that will never happen again and that you even promised to never bring up. It was stupid and nonsensical and I can’t believe it even happened in the first place.”

“Oh come on, Y/N, you’re going to break my heart,” he whined, clasping his hands together like a needy puppy. “I, for one, thought that night was very special. I mean, you even told me that you could see yourself fall-”

Before he could say another word, you grabbed him by the hand and led him into a dark alleyway so that innocent bystanders wouldn’t hear you scream.

“Stop! Bringing that up!” you exclaimed. 

Deadpool was shocked his casual mention of the event elicited such a strong emotion from you. “Okay, okay, jeez.. calm down.”

You sighed, letting him go and turning your back to him. 

But he didn’t let you. Not even for a second. Before you could even react, he grabbed you by the neck and slammed you into the wall. 

You gasped, your hands instinctively reaching up to clasp over his while his grip only tightened over your carotid. 

“Besides, you know that I only followed you here because I wanted to see more of you in this ridiculously skimpy dress..” his voice darkened as he continued to choke you like a helpless animal. “I mean, look at you. That thing practically clings onto you like skin! If you weren’t such a tightass I would have ripped it off of you by now..”

He unsheathed his pocket knife and ran it across your lacy scarlet choker, over the thin straps of your slip dress, and onto your chest. He traced the outline of your cleavage with the dull edge, and then slowly slid it down over your taut stomach. 

You were trying to gulp up air for just one breath, but his hold was unrelenting. 

“I mean a red mini dress, are you fucking kidding me?” he snarled, his blade gently brushing against the garter belt on your right thigh. “Wearing my favorite color? With some other guy? This has got to be orchestrated at this point, Y/N.”

“Wade.. please..” you begged, lips beginning to quiver. Regardless of how much he joked around with you, he scared you when he was angry. 

He finally released you, allowing you to cough and gasp for your first breath. 

“But you know of course I wouldn’t kill you, I mean who do you think I am, a psychopath?” his tone immediately brightened up the moment he saw how much you feared him. “I just like watching you not being able to breathe is all. It’s so cute.”

 After you finally caught your breath, you stared daggers down at the vigilante who stood before you. 

“Listen, Wade,” you said. “I understand you are not exactly pleased with the current state of affairs. But this isn’t entirely up to me. And I’ve told you this a million different times.’

The assassin let out a dramatic, almost cinematic sigh. “Yes, I know, Your mother wants you to date ‘someone sensible with a stable career and not a psycho killer’. Which is perfectly understandable! I get it. I mean, I would probably think the same thing if I lived in the suburbs and made tuna casserole in my spare time.”

“Wade..” you shook your head and rolled your eyes. “You know it’s not that simple.” You walked up to him and gently lifted up his mask to reveal only his lips. 

He didn’t hesitate to grab you by the waist and pull you so close that your body was pressed up against his. 

You stood up on your tiptoes in your heels, stabilizing yourself by holding onto his broad shoulders. You weren’t exactly sure what you were doing, but you knew something within you just wanted to kiss him. But you also didn’t know if this was the right idea. 

The plump part of your lip gently brushed against his. The smell of your watermelon lip gloss was driving him crazy. He started to breathe heavily, and if another second passed where you weren’t kissing him he would say fuck it and just do it himself. 

You felt his hot breath in your mouth, and you felt your arms twist around him like they knew exactly where to rest themselves. Like they have done this before. 

“I’m so stupid for this,” you sighed, as you felt his lips beginning to close over yours. 

He smiled smugly into the kiss, quite pleased with himself over the hard fought victory. Without another moment of hesitation, he grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you up without much effort at all. He walked over to the wall, pressing your back softly against it. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist automatically, kissing him like you would die if you stopped. You felt his tongue wrap desperately around yours. He was aggressive, hungry even. He wanted you all to himself, not some fucker in a fleece vest or anyone else for that matter. 

You knew you would regret your decision in the morning. And that no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you would come running back to him. Every single time. 

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

modern Jace being a simp and so whipped for his gf <3 their friends are either jealous or disgusted by how cute they are all the time

Request: More soft and in love Jace. He’s the sweetest when he’s in looooove

This was part of a longer story, but I didn't like where it was going and I miss posting so I turned it into a blurb

Warnings: fluff, Jace being in love, green flag!Jace

—

You’ve had many silly crushes in your short life, ranging from fictional men to strangers you saw on the bus, and some older boys at school. You even got into a relationship or two. But you never fell in love. 

Not like this, at least. 

Since you met Jace, love took on a whole new meaning. Now, you understand what the female protagonists felt in your romance books. There’s holy ground beneath you and sparks flying when you kiss. It's hard to sleep when he's not with you. You hate it when he’s crying, and feel a need to pull him in your arms until his sadness goes away. 

Wherever you are, you always find a way to sneak him into the conversation. Sometimes, you worried your friend found you annoying, always talking about your man, but they were actually all jealous. A relationship like you and Jace's was rare these days. 

You were sitting at the campus café with Alysanne as she recounted her date with another rat from Tinder — another disaster. She had the worst luck. 

‘’He said he couldn’t date a girl who had ‘mosquito bites’ for tits. My jaw dropped at his audacity.’’ 

She was taking the remark with a grain of salt, used to men behaving like that, but you were truly shocked.

‘’He actually said that to your face?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and your voice rising in indignation.

The raven haired girl shrugged as she took a sip of her coffee, a weary smile tugging at her lips. ‘’Yeah, can you believe it? As if I asked for his opinion on my body." She rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated but not surprised. ‘’It’s unfortunate we can’t see their micro dick through their pants. A lot of them would think twice before criticizing our bodies.’’ 

You nodded in agreement, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Men would definitely be quieter about women’s bodies if their manly bits were on display.”

‘’Dating is discouraging these days,’’ Alysanne said with a tired sigh. ‘’I see you and Jace, and I want that too, you know?’’ 

‘’You’ll find the one, Aly,’’ you promised, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. ‘’But I doubt it’ll be on Tinder. This app a digital catalog of jerks.’’ 

It’s not that you didn’t believe in finding love on dating apps. Your parents met through a dating hotline. But Tinder finds matches around you, as in around campus. And most guys are not looking for serious relationships. They mostly just want to fuck. 

Your friend’s phone beeped with a new notification — another guy she was talking to, you assumed. 

Alysanne quickly read, then turned her screen off. ‘’You might have gotten lucky with your prince, but a lot of them are just plain toads. Even outside dating apps.’’

Speaking of your prince, Jace walked into the café with some friends from Political Science and spotted you with Alysanne. A smile curled on his face, quickly saying ‘see you later’s and parting from his friends. You mirrored his smile when you saw him approaching.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind and kissed your cheek repeatedly. ‘’How is the most beautiful girl on campus?’’ 

He could be the cheesiest person, but you secretly loved it. 

Before you could reply, Alysanne beat you to it. ‘’I’m doing terrific, thanks Jace for asking.’’ 

You laughed, then pulled him down to sit on your lap. A lot of guys would’ve been uncomfortable with the role reversal, but not Jace. He wasn’t one to care about silly stereotypes. Whether it was him sitting on your lap or you on his, he was just happy to be close to you.

You pressed a light kiss on his shoulder, and Alysanne groaned in mock disgust, rolling her eyes as she sipped her coffee. 

—

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[asbealthgn]

(i am not immune to peer pressure so here's a continuation. part one here)

It’s so rare that Steve meets anyone nice anymore.

It’s just hard to find people. Dating apps suck, and ever since Robin and Nancy got together, they hardly ever want to go to bars together. And what’s he supposed to do, just drink alone and hope he stumbles across someone? 

Well, that’s exactly what happened today, sans drinking. He was heading for the bus stop, a tiny bit lost but he had a map and was pretty sure he could figure it out. He realizes he’s a tiny bit directionally challenged, and he’s still relatively new in town, and Robin and Nancy just moved to a new place, so it all came together to mean that getting there would take some puzzling out. All the same, he was prepared to figure it out on his own right up until he saw the super hot guy sitting at the bus stop and figured a little help couldn’t hurt.

And that’s how Steve ended up with an unexpected date (sort of) to Robin and Nancy’s baby shower (not a real baby shower).

Robin answers the door and smiles, then does a double take when she sees Eddie. Whoops, Steve probably should have texted her that he was bringing someone. He’d gotten a little caught up in the moment.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind I brought a plus one,” Steve says, hugging her before walking inside. Eddie follows him.

“No, no, that’s fine,” Robin says, voice a little strange as they take their shoes off and she shuts the door. “We’re all in the living room.”

They follow her through the kitchen and into the living room where half a dozen calico kittens and several adults are on the floor.

“Oh my God, they’re adorable,” Eddie says, leaving Steve’s side to get down next to the kittens. Steve gets a huge smile watching him. Fuck, he’s super hot and he’s now holding a tiny kitten, cooing at it? Steve might just get on one knee right now. Or both knees. Honestly, either one works.

If he were paying more attention to literally anything other than Eddie, Steve would notice that nearly everyone else in the room is also staring at Eddie. The only exception to that is El, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with the mama cat in her lap, both watching the kittens with the same wide-eyed intensity.

There’s a tap on Steve’s shoulder, and he turns to look at Robin. “Can we talk for a sec?” she asks, voice still odd.

“Yeah,” he says and follows her back into the kitchen.

She crosses her arms and leans back against the counter. “So are you gonna tell me what Eddie Munson is doing in our living room?”

“Oh, have you already met him?” Steve asks.

Her eyes widen. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Uh. Yes?”

“Steve, that’s Eddie Munson,” she says, “From Corroded Coffin?”

“From what?” he asks, though as she says, it does sound a tiny bit familiar. 

“Corroded Coffin?” she says, “It’s that band the kids love. Along with like half of America if they’re not completely scandalized by them.”

“So what, you’re trying to tell me Eddie’s famous?” Steve asks. Robin nods. “Hold on, this isn’t like Paul all over again, is it?” Paul was a guy Steve briefly dated a few years ago, and Robin had somehow convinced Steve that he was an Olympic athlete. In his defense, she had mocked up some seriously convincing news articles.

But Robin is shaking her head. “No, I’m serious this time,” she says. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. After a second she turns it around to show him the Google results for Eddie Munson. There are a lot of red carpets and pictures of him onstage. And damn, Eddie seriously is so hot.

“Alright, well, you definitely didn’t have time to photoshop these,” Steve mutters. Robin nods, patting him on the shoulder. How did he accidentally bring a famous guy over?

Just then, Eddie comes into the kitchen, a kitten in his hands. 

“Stevie, look at her,” he says, holding the kitten up.

Stevie? Robin mouths. Steve kicks her as he reaches out to scratch under the kitten’s chin. It mews at him.

“I asked Nancy—she’s terrifying, by the way,” Eddie adds to Robin, “And she said I can keep her.” He lifts the kitten to his face and it purrs as it rubs its cheek against Eddie’s. Steve is actually going to combust.

“Alright, well, I’m heading back in,” Robin says, voice back to that strained quality as she escapes the kitchen. Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, too busy whispering praise to the kitten.

Steve scratches under its chin again and it purrs at him. “What’re you gonna name her?” he asks.

“Don’t know yet,” Eddie says, “Isn’t she per—oh, hold on.” His phone is ringing, so he moves the kitten to one hand as he reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. “Hey Gar….Yeah, ‘cause you abandoned me….No, I’m in Japantown getting a kitten….No, that’s not a euphemism….Listen, I’m kinda busy, I’ll call you later, alright?…Yeah, see you, man.”

While he was talking, the kitten clawed its way up Eddie’s shirt and into his hair. “What’re you doing in there, sweet girl?” he asks, tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching for the kitten. It’s gotten very tangled in his curls, though, and apparently really likes being there. 

“Lemme help you,” Steve says, stepping closer to Eddie and extricating the kitten. Eddie’s hair is very soft. Good to know. “Here you go,” he says, holding the kitten out for him.

“One sec,” Eddie says. He ties his hair up quickly (also hot, fuck) before taking the kitten back. He boops noses with it. “Such a mischievous little girl.” 

“Well, can you blame her?” Steve asks. He brushes a loose curl behind Eddie’s ear. “Your hair seems like a nice place to be.”

Eddie smiles at him, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “I’ll be honest, Stevie,” he says, voice getting a little lower as he moves closer, boxing Steve against the counter. “At first I just came along because you’re gorgeous, but I think I’ve fallen in love.” He holds up the kitten in one hand.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Steve asks, feeling his face heat. 

“‘Course I do, big boy,” Eddie says, leaning closer and putting his free hand on the counter by Steve’s hip.

Maybe this is stupid and way too forward, but Eddie is so dreamy with his eyes and his dimple and his hair and the kitten in his hand, so Steve leans in and kisses him. It’s a little relieving when Eddie kisses him back, free hand lifting to his hair while Steve wraps his arms around his waist.

Steve doesn’t notice the front door opening or a new group of people that includes Dustin Henderson coming inside. He doesn’t notice them entering the kitchen and freezing as they take in the scene.

That is, not until Dustin shouts, “Holy shit, is that Eddie Munson?”

tagging a few people who asked for a continuation/asked to be tagged (sorry if i missed anyone!): @nburkhardt @stargyles @csinnamon-fox @manda-panda-monium @silly-jellyghoty @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @starquirk

edit to add that this ficlet is complete and the last part is here

[hoe4hotchner]

could you imagine dating gen z reader who's playing around with tiktok filters and hotch is so confused

I can't quite describe how me-coded this turned out to be. I loved this idea so much!!!! | WC: 301

Aaron Hotchner was used to chaos. Every day, he lived and breathed chaos at work. He had led the team through life-or-death situations more times than he could count. But nothing quite prepared him for the moment he stepped into the living room and heard you practically screaming the musical scale at your phone.

“Do, re, mi, fa, SOOO,” your voice cracked, and you groaned dramatically, trying again. “SOOOOO! Bingo!”

“La, ti, DOOOO!”

Hotch blinked, frowning at the high-pitched, slightly painful sounds echoing through the room. You were sprawled under a thick blanket, blue light glasses perched on the bridge of your nose, your phone practically touching your face.

“Honey… what’s going on?” he asked, his tone bewildered yet calm as if he was trying to make sense of a particularly confusing case.

You lowered your phone just enough to glance at him with a grin. “I’m using this filter on TikTok. I’m trying to hit the notes, but it’s, like, impossible.” You turned your phone to let him see the screen, even though you knew he wouldn’t understand anything at all.

He raised a brow, approaching cautiously like he was stepping into unfamiliar territory. “And that’s why you’re… shouting?”

“It’s for science,” you said with mock seriousness, trying again, “DOOOOOO!”

Hotch winced slightly at the pitch. “Right… science.”

You laughed, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “Wanna try?”

He shook his head, amused but still utterly lost. “I think I’ll leave this one to you.” He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “But maybe lower the volume before the neighbors think something’s wrong.”

You giggled, pausing the app. “Fine, fine. But just wait — next time, I’ll get all the notes.”

He smiled, walking toward the kitchen with a shake of his head. “I’m sure you will.”