#the set up is honestly the most annoying part of it all

[mystycalypso]

Hello there, hope your having a great day. Love your art. Soo, as you mentioned before about Lazer still having some of his OG rage, I came across a clip of the show from one episode. And I must say *takes in a deep breath*

This moment in particular is about the only time K.O. shows any sort of rage without being as T.K.O. Probably the only moment ever where you see that rage he must've inherited from his father.

And its when his fully planned out week gets interrupted, only a bit, by the Box-bots, scaring them pretty well too. If that's not some sort of Autism scheduling or inherited rage, then I don't know what is.

Any thoughts?

Alright, to start off, this clip is one of the last in my vocal stim comp from this show, ironically because it's the one I quote the most IN FULL, unprompted. I love it so much.

And yeah, it encapsulates why (at least from a personal standpoint) autistic anger issues bubble up. K.O. is tired, self overworked in preparation, and excited for this to happen, and having someone else come in and try to force their plans instead in cases like this, you kinda snap. "Like no. No. I prepared this and it's what we're doing. You didn't do the work to get this ready, I did." It's not the narcissistic fear driven anger we see bring out parts of TKO in "you're level 100", it's much closer to the annoyed helplessness that he gets from Laser.

Specifically, the boxbots have always seen K.O. as lesser, he's smaller, lower power level, and yknow, a kid. Similar to how I think a lot of enemies would look down on Laser for (in the au) being young and rather untrained in his fighting and (in both canon and au) being the pretty face on the team more than anything. They both look like cheerful giddy cheerleaders on their team, despite arguably both being the strongest. So when they're trying to be serious and do what they think is best, what they've been working hard on, and no one will take that seriously? They tend to blow up, and that's when it gets scary.

Because yeah, your friend is the goofy guy who shows off how he can put a whole sucker in his mouth and pull the stick out through his teeth, or the kid who's excitedly showing you all the research he did just to make health week fun for everyone, but that powerful self is still there even when you forget it.

Another good comparison would be, K.O. slapping his friends' hands away at the end of "You're in control" he laughs and jokes that he just got his hair done, but Enid and Rad are awkward about laughing with him, because this kid could still absolutely destroy them, and they know that all too well now. I think a similar thing happened after the sandwich incident. POINT trying to get more back to normal, to make jokes and whatnot again, but everything just dying whenever Laser enters the room, worried any comment might set off whatever came out that night.

Honestly, ironically, the biggest difference between them in this au especially, is what fuels TKO and Taser. But that's something for later haha

Uhhhhhhh, anyways, I don't wanna post these text answers without any images, so once again, I will be using memes

[call-me-pup2]

I've been working on content stuff since like 12am and I'm so done but I wanted to try and get more done 😔 its been eight hours which is definitely a crazy long time to be working on it though 😅 maybe I'll nap/take a couple hours to chill and see if I can do a few more things before totally calling it a day with it

[irisbaggins]

I had a whole rant ready, but I'm shelving that to instead say that my one fucking gripe so far about Pantheon, is the fact that they couldn't hire one single Norwegian voice actor for the role of a Norwegian character. Especially when said character speaks in Norwegian. If a person that knows the language - hi! - can't understand what a character is saying, maybe go back to the drawing board and rewrite that line. 'Cos, that line? So fucking bad. God. That's actually pissing me off. Y'all got a fucking Canadian to cosplay a Norwegian. That's fucking. That's awful. God. Y'all couldn't make a singular fucking attempt? Or even get one of the Skarsgårds to voice a role? Like. This is a joke. Nothing takes me out of a show more than that, especially when you can tell they made no fucking attempt to understand anything, they just wanted to use our country as a setting - no matter how little sense it makes.

[i-luvsang]

i hate being on the verge of tears in public !!! and it’s about fucking kpop i need to get a grip!!!!!!!$;73&38&2$.!’$/$3!/‘j$€{€!{£&jhhdjdhwijwgeieiehhejeiddggdneiwiwhuwjeieuebidnejskaowhhrbdieiruruidieieiehndozi&$:$£7:)3&k$$;$&jhdhiahJh

[coralaura]

Primadonna

"You say that I'm kinda difficult”

Your father was never a present figure; sometimes, he would see you, give you a pat on the head, and disappear into the darkness of the mansion.

In reality, he vanished for the entire day, especially when the sun set, and the moon greeted the sky. Like all the other inhabitants of the mansion, nighttime was when you were left alone and could wander without anyone noticing or caring.

Every now and then, you’d see Alfred, but he, too, would soon disappear. It didn’t bother you; in fact, it gave you free time, allowing you to take late modeling jobs without anyone asking the typical questions: “Why are you coming home so late?” or “What were you doing outside so late?”

Sometimes, you went out with friends (if you could call them that people you used and who defended you when someone doubted your innocence). Rarely, you stayed in the enormous mansion, but honestly, you didn’t care where you were.

And it wasn’t like they cared about what you did or where you were, so maybe that’s why you didn’t care when Dick left the mansion. When Jason arrived—his unwanted presence and lack of manners—it was annoying, especially when he dared to compare his mother to yours. How dare he compare the two?! Despite that insult, spoken right to your face, you simply smiled. But inside, you were about to beat him senseless, to put that fool in his place for comparing your beloved mother to his and when he died, you cried at the funeral, pretending to be in pain, mourning the loss of a life.

But deep down, you felt nothing for him. Sure, his death was gruesome and ruthless, but it wasn’t like you felt anything beyond antipathy for the poor devil in the coffin. When Tim arrived at the mansion, you couldn’t have cared less. After all, you would only see him for a few weeks before heading off to university, so your interactions were minimal, barely enough to count on one hand.

Alfred saw you off with a smile, though there was a hint of sadness in it. He didn’t try to stop you or convince you not to move out; in fact, he encouraged you to pursue your career, as long as you sent some sign of life a letter or a text message. But let’s be honest, student life was expensive, and as a model, you made little money for just a few hours of work. So, when you had to choose between your studies and a full-time modeling career, the choice was obvious you went with the long-term option and pursued your modeling career. No one was supposed to know. You’d write to Alfred, telling him you were still studying, just to keep him from worrying.

In reality, you could have been in Metropolis, about to step into a photoshoot. But of course, things couldn’t stay perfect forever. Some idiot spotted you and then compared you to Bruce Wayne. And for the first time in years, people seemed to have more than two brain cells because the question immediately popped up all over the internet:

"Is it just me, or do Bruce Wayne and Y/N look alike?"

And unfortunately, they attached your image right next to that billionaire’s. To say that the media explosion and the interview requests for both you and Bruce were the worst possible thing that could happen was an understatement. As headlines and news reports flooded in, you bit your nails in frustration, enraged by your inability to control the situation.

So, when they asked about your parents or if you were a poor orphan, you responded with a warm smile—though deep inside, you were disgusted that you couldn’t just avoid answering or shut those nosy reporters down.

"I have no parents."

Most people, moved by your kind smile and the false tears welling in your eyes, dropped the subject and moved on with their lives. But the press always loved fresh, juicy gossip, especially when it involved Bruce Wayne.

Since your father didn’t comment or give an interview, part of you assumed he either didn’t care or considered it a minor issue his PR team could handle. For a moment, you thought you had dodged this problem. Until you saw him in the middle of a photoshoot—waiting for you to finish so he could talk to you. And, of course, right behind him was his family… or rather, his walking orphanage.

Alfred believed in you. He loved you like a father loves his child. You were practically the normal kid he had always wished Bruce could be so sweet, so innocent. But when he saw your face in the morning paper, next to your father’s, with the full story laid out, for the first time… he felt disappointed in you.

Why would you hide something like this?

Did you not trust him?...

It hurt him, but deep down, he knew you must have had a reason for keeping your modeling career a secret. Maybe his thoughts consumed him for too long because Damian’s voice pulled him back to reality.

“What are you reading, Pennyworth?"

“It seems the press has discovered the connection between Master Bruce and Master Y/N.”

Damian frowned in confusion. He had never heard of you. Taking the newspaper from Alfred’s hands, he scanned the headline and the full story, noting your features and how similar you looked to his father. The picture they used of you was… bold, striking. He wondered if you were really family, but Alfred had called you "Master Y/N," so you must have been. Damian didn’t waste time.

He stormed to his father, slamming the newspaper onto his desk, demanding answers. Bruce raised an eyebrow at his behavior until he read the headline and saw your picture. The only thing Bruce thought in that moment was how much you had grown.

How tall were you now?

He picked up the paper, reading the article, noticing how you denied any connection to him or his family. He didn’t understand.

Had he done something to make you reject him?

Thinking about it left a bitter taste in his mouth. The more he read, the more that bitterness spread.

“Who are them, Father?”

Finally, Damian asked. The answer was simple yet so complicated. You were his child, his firstborn, and yet he had no idea how to be a proper father. He had never seen you in the mansion, maybe because he never had time, maybe because he felt guilty, knowing he could never raise a normal child. He could only raise someone to become a vigilante.

"They are your siblings."

And that was the beginning of the end of your modeling career. Because, in the end, it was only natural for your father to crave control, both as Bruce and as Batman. It was something you had inherited from him.

When you saw your father there, standing in the middle of your shoot, clearly annoyed that you had noticed him and yet continued with your session, you knew he would eventually step in. Still, you wanted to push his patience, to see how long he could endure before leaving. But you hadn’t counted on your manager asking you to stop the session to talk to him instead. You sighed. He was just doing his job, though a part of you couldn’t help but glare at him, hating that he was wasting your time.

"What is it, Ethan?"

You didn’t even acknowledge Bruce. Instead, you spoke to your manager, Ethan, who forced a tense smile, silently begging you to be respectful.

"Bruce Wayne is here to see you."

He emphasized the last name, almost as if reminding you of your place beneath the great Wayne name. Not that he knew the truth, that Bruce’s blood ran through your veins and that your striking resemblance was nothing but shared genetics.

"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Grayson, and company, what brings you here?"

You didn’t bother greeting them. You recognized a few faces, but most were either forgotten or simply unknown to you. And honestly, you didn’t care.

"Y/N, we need to talk."

Your father's deep voice and condescending gaze turned to you, hating that he spoke to you that way, as if you were a child, when in reality you were more than him, more than any of them, you were Y/N, the person that everyone would pay for because at some point you would look at them or simply greet them, there were people who would kill for a simple touch from you.You hid your displeasure in the mask that you always wore on your face that was difficult to remove, the one that had buried itself in your face and had taken root until you simply couldn't get it off, at least not until you were alone and no one could see your true and unpleasant personality that eclipsed your cute face and false golden boy personality.

You thought about the possibility of being rude to them, after all it's not like they could prove that you were something of theirs, you still had your mother's last name and they had never seen you with the Waynes until now, besides, who could blame you? Being rude was your privilege for being a model and also being attractive, it would be your first time being rude to someone, besides, everyone knew you, you were so kind that the ones who would end up being reproached for things would be the Waynes, so you decided.

“I don’t want to and if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do”

For the first time, your father stopped looking at you with that condescending look and in its place there was something you couldn’t identify. Anger? Indignation? Frustration? Surprise? You didn’t know and honestly you didn’t care, you were surely the first or at least one of the few people who says no to your father’s face and in front of so many people, that thought made you smile to yourself, it was the satisfaction and pride of making that cold expression of your father go away.

“But it's always someone else's fault”

[leriexoxo]

Look What You Made Me Do

Bestfriend! Seungmin x Reader

Tags: Explicit content, dom!Seungmin, choking, spanking, obsession, mutual manipulation, friends being absolute menaces to each other, emotional walls crumbling under horny pressure, language, soft regret, hard truths, unprotected sex (be smart irl), and delulu behavior all around

Word count: 6k

Summary: You and Seungmin have been best friends forever. Then he got hot—and you got reckless. A few teasing touches, too-short clothes, and one dangerous trip to Victoria’s Secret later… he’s snapping. Now he’s got you pinned, moaning his name, and saying this is your fault. And honestly? It is. You just didn’t expect him to fuck you like he meant it.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seungmin had no idea what he was doing to you.

That was the most maddening part.

He’d always been cute—adorably annoying, fast-talking, sharp-eyed—but it wasn’t until he started hitting the gym that things… shifted. He’d bulked up slowly. Nothing crazy. Just enough to stretch the sleeves of his old T-shirts, to make the lines of his back visible when he reached for something, to have veins pop along his forearms when he gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.

And it was ruining you.

You tried to keep it under control. He was your best friend. Your movie-night buddy. The guy who knew your favorite ice cream flavor and let you scream into his chest when your favorite character died in a drama. But now?

Now he walked into your apartment after a workout, sweat-slick and flushed, with his hoodie slung over one shoulder and his water bottle dangling from two fingers, and your brain just… emptied.

“Ugh,” he groaned, dropping onto your bed like he belonged there, limbs sprawled, shirt clinging to his chest. “Kill me. Everything hurts.”

You leaned against your desk, sipping your iced coffee and pretending to be unfazed. “Did you even stretch?”

He threw an arm over his face. “Forgot. Again.”

You raised a brow, setting your drink down. “That’s why you’re sore all the time.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “You should become my trainer.”

A wicked little idea bloomed in your head. You walked over and sat beside him, knees brushing. “Seriously. Let me help. Where’s the worst of it?”

He peeked out from under his arm, wary. “My shoulders. Arms, maybe. Back.”

You hummed thoughtfully, eyes skimming down his body like you were considering a patient and not undressing your best friend with your eyes. “Roll over.”

He blinked. “What?”

You patted the bed. “C’mon. I’m giving you a free massage.”

He hesitated for a second before groaning and rolling onto his stomach. His shirt rode up just a little, flashing a strip of skin at the small of his back. You bit the inside of your cheek and straddled his thighs, pretending your pulse hadn’t just spiked.

“Let me know if anything hurts,” you said sweetly, placing your palms on his shoulders.

You felt him tense.

Then, slowly, he relaxed.

You started soft, thumbs tracing slow circles into the muscle. He was warm under your touch, all taut skin and heat, and he smelled like sweat and fabric softener. You let your fingers trail lower, down his biceps, deliberately grazing a little closer to his ribs than necessary.

He shifted beneath you.

“You okay?” you asked, voice syrupy.

“Y-Yeah,” he muttered. “Just ticklish.”

Liar.

You leaned down a little, letting your chest brush his back. “You sure?”

His breath stuttered.

You smiled.

Ten minutes later, you rolled off him and collapsed beside him on the bed like nothing happened. He lay very still, face turned away, ears flushed pink.

You stretched with a content sigh. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

He muttered something you didn’t catch.

You turned your head toward him, smirking to yourself as he fumbled for his hoodie and refused to meet your eyes.

He didn’t say it, but you knew.

You’d started something.

⸻

It was freezing outside, but your apartment was always too warm.

Well—that’s what you told him.

The truth was simpler. You didn’t want to layer up when Seungmin was around. You didn’t need a bra under your soft, thin cotton shirts. And you definitely didn’t care that it was the middle of winter when your nipples pressed visibly against the fabric, catching the light like a fucking weapon.

Seungmin knocked on your door like he always did—three quick taps, followed by a dramatic sigh when you didn’t answer right away.

You opened the door in one of your old college shirts. It hung loose off your shoulder and just barely covered the top of your thighs.

“Dude,” he groaned, stepping inside with a gust of wind behind him. “Do you not believe in heat? It’s like Antarctica outside.”

You closed the door and shrugged. “I run warm.”

He turned around to respond—but paused.

Eyes. Chest. Eyes again.

You pretended not to notice.

He cleared his throat. “You’re not cold?”

You blinked. “Nope. Why?”

His jaw ticked. “No reason.”

He followed you into the living room like a man possessed, already taking off his jacket. You flopped onto the couch, legs tucked under you, phone in hand. He sat a little too far away for best friends, eyes fixed on the TV, posture painfully upright.

You stretched.

Not dramatically. Just enough to raise your arms, to arch your back, to make the fabric slide up your thighs and tighten across your chest.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught it—his sharp inhale. The way his hands curled into fists on his lap. How he shifted just slightly, like he couldn’t find a comfortable position.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

“You good?” you asked innocently.

“Me? Yeah. Fine.”

But his voice cracked a little.

You slid closer, under the guise of sharing a blanket. Your bare leg brushed his thigh. You saw the way he tensed. How he didn’t move away.

“I think you’re cold,” you murmured, pressing your body against his. “You’re shaking.”

He let out a soft, strangled laugh. “I’m not.”

“Then why are you so tense?”

“Because,” he said, finally turning to you, voice low and tight, “you keep forgetting to wear a damn bra, and I’m a guy, not a monk.”

You blinked up at him.

Silence.

Then you smiled. Sweet. Coy. Wicked.

“We’re best friends, Seungmin.”

He stared at you.

And you?

You curled up beside him again, laid your head on his shoulder, and let your nipple graze his arm like a silent fuck you.

He didn’t speak for the rest of the movie.

But you felt his pulse—racing under your palm when you took his hand later, like everything was still perfectly innocent.

⸻

You always tried it at movie night.

Popcorn. Blankets. A stupid horror movie that you’d pretend to be scared of just to curl up in Seungmin’s lap. He’d roll his eyes, toss a comment about how you were the worst, but he never pushed you off.

Not once.

That night, he arrived in his usual hoodie and sweats, hair still damp from a post-gym shower. You opened the door in the tiniest cotton sleep shorts known to mankind and a faded crop top with a neckline that dipped far too low to be innocent.

His eyes did a quick up-down scan before he looked away. “Are you even wearing pants?”

“Barely,” you said, walking away with a shrug.

He didn’t answer.

He never did. I

You waited until you were halfway through the movie before curling into his side. First your shoulder against his. Then your thigh draped over his lap. His muscles tensed like clockwork—every time, without fail—but he didn’t move.

Your head dropped to his shoulder. You exhaled softly, letting your hand slide up to rest on his chest.

He stayed perfectly still.

You closed your eyes, and smiled.

You “fell asleep” sometime after midnight.

In reality, you were very much awake—especially when you felt his hand hovering awkwardly near your hip, unsure of where to rest. You were practically on top of him, pressed flush against his side, one leg tangled between his, your chest smushed against his ribs.

You could feel everything.

The tight line of tension running through his body.

The way his breath stuttered when you shifted in your “sleep.”

And… yeah. You could feel that too.

You shifted again—just slightly. A slow grind of your hips as you turned in his arms. Your thigh brushed something dangerous, and you swore you heard him gasp.

You waited for him to pull away.

He didn’t.

You could feel his heart hammering in his chest, hard and fast. You exhaled against his neck, lips just grazing his skin.

He flinched.

Still, he said nothing.

In the morning, you “woke up” with a stretch and a yawn, like you hadn’t spent the night dry-humping your best friend’s thigh under the guise of innocent cuddling.

“Did you sleep okay?” you asked sweetly.

He got out of bed without looking at you, muttered something about needing a shower, and disappeared into the bathroom.

You could still see the outline of him in his sweats.

He was very awake.

⸻

Seungmin had this stupid habit of crashing at your place after a long day.

Sometimes with takeout. Sometimes with his laptop and a hoodie slung over one shoulder. Sometimes, like tonight, he brought nothing at all—just himself in gray sweatpants and a fitted black tee that should’ve been illegal.

“I’m using your shower,” he called over his shoulder as he kicked off his sneakers. “Your water pressure’s better.”

You leaned on the kitchen counter, eyes raking over his back. “Help yourself. You know where everything is.”

He didn’t hear the way your voice dropped when you said it.

He didn’t see the way you bit your lip when his shirt lifted as he stretched, exposing a sliver of toned stomach.

Ten minutes later, he walked out in nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, steam trailing behind him, hair dripping onto his shoulders.

“Forgot my bag in your room,” he mumbled, heading straight past you.

You didn’t stop him.

Didn’t offer a spare shirt.

Didn’t look away.

He returned in your favorite pair of his sweats and a hoodie that somehow did nothing to hide the curve of his chest or the flex of his forearms. He plopped onto the couch beside you, hair still damp, smelling like your body wash.

Your thighs touched. He didn’t move.

You flipped to the next episode of your show, pretending your skin wasn’t tingling everywhere he brushed against you.

Then your feet ended up in his lap.

Innocently, of course.

He stared at them for a second, frozen, then settled his hands on your calves. His thumbs traced idle circles—subconscious, mindless, dangerous.

You bit back a shiver. “That tickles.”

He stopped. “Sorry.”

“Didn’t say I wanted you to stop.”

He looked up.

Your gaze locked.

The air shifted.

You didn’t say anything else. Just laid your head back and let him keep touching you. Let him figure out whether he was comforting you or feeling you up. Let his hands drag a little too high, just under the hem of your shorts.

You could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. His leg bounced once. Then again. Then he let out a long, slow breath and moved your legs off him.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” he muttered.

You smiled lazily. “Mine or yours?”

He looked at you. Eyes dark. Jaw tight.

He said nothing.

Just left the room.

And you swore—just swore—you heard him muttering a prayer under his breath.

—-

Seungmin already looked uncomfortable when you dragged him into Victoria’s Secret. The store smelled like sugar and sin, and he stood out like a sore thumb—tall, stiff, silent, trying not to make eye contact with a single mannequin.

You were glowing.

“This is cute, right?” you asked, holding up a deep wine-red lace set—strappy, sheer, the kind of thing no one wore to sleep unless they wanted to be devoured.

He blinked. “It’s… sure. Yeah. Cute.”

“You didn’t even look,” you teased, pouting slightly as you headed toward the changing room. “Be honest with me, Minnie. That’s what best friends are for.”

He sat down on the little bench outside the fitting rooms like he was awaiting trial.

You emerged in the first set.

It was all lace—deep burgundy, semi-sheer, with triangle cups that left nothing to the imagination. The panties were minimal, strappy on the sides, clinging to the curves of your hips like they were sewn on. You’d left your hair messy, lips glossy, and your eyes locked on him when you stepped out barefoot onto the plush carpet.

His entire body went still.

“Thoughts?” you asked, turning slowly to show the back—where the straps dipped dangerously low across your spine.

He blinked once. Twice.

Then swallowed. “It’s, uh…”

You walked closer. “Too much?”

“No. Not— not too much.” He sounded strangled. “It’s just…”

You leaned in like you couldn’t quite hear. “It’s just what?”

He looked at you like he was fighting for his life. “We’re in public,” he hissed under his breath.

You smiled.

“I’ll try another.”

The second set was worse.

So much worse.

Black satin. High-cut thong. Delicate mesh cups that teased at opacity but left your nipples perfectly visible in the right light. The garter belt cinched your waist. The matching choker clasped at your throat.

You looked like a fantasy someone wasn’t allowed to say out loud.

When you stepped out the second time, Seungmin actually stood up—too fast. Like something broke.

His eyes dragged over you once, from the tops of your thighs to your barely-covered chest to the glinting clip around your neck.

His throat bobbed.

You turned again, slow and smooth, letting him see everything.

“So?” you asked, lips pouted in faux innocence. “Would you be honest now?”

He didn’t say anything.

He just stared.

Unblinking.

Unmoving.

You stepped closer—soft, quiet steps until you were standing in front of him in nothing but satin and lust.

“I trust your taste,” you murmured, fingers brushing his forearm. “You always know what looks good on me.”

He exhaled like he’d been underwater too long.

“I think,” he said lowly, voice thick and dangerous, “you’re playing a very dangerous game right now.”

You tilted your head. “What game?”

“The one where you walk around like that, looking at me like that, saying shit like that—like you don’t know exactly what the fuck you’re doing to me.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Every night,” he muttered. “Every time you touch me. Crawl into my laps. Walk around in those tiny shorts, no bra, all soft and sleepy and warm. And now this?”

His eyes raked over you again. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe any of it was real.

“You’re gonna get yourself fucked,” he whispered. “And not gently.”

Silence.

Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back.

“I’m leaving.”

Your breath caught. “Seungmin—”

“Before I lose control. Before I stop caring that you’re pretending this is normal.”

He turned and walked out of the store without another word.

You stood there trembling, skin hot, still in the black lingerie that had pushed your best friend to the brink of feral rage and sexual implosion.

He was running.

And now? You were chasing.

—

You didn’t expect him to say it.

Not like that.

Not with heat in his voice and warning in his eyes and a low growl in his throat like he’d been holding it back for months.

You had been teasing.

Playing.

Flirting with the edge of something wicked because it was fun. Because he was your best friend and he never said anything, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right?

He was always so soft.

Puppy Seungmin. Chill Seungmin. Safe Seungmin.

Until he wasn’t.

Until Victoria’s Secret.

Until he looked at you in that black satin set and told you—told you—that he knew.

And worse:

That if you kept it up, he was going to fuck you.

Hard.

Like you weren’t his best friend at all.

And then he left.

He left you standing half-naked and breathless and undone.

And now?

He won’t even look at you.

He started avoiding you immediately.

Late replies. Closed doors. Canceled plans.

He wasn’t mean. Just distant.

You came over to watch your show? He “had homework.”

You texted something flirty? He liked it—but didn’t respond.

You asked if he wanted food? “Already ate.”

He stopped crashing at your place.

Stopped falling asleep beside you.

Stopped letting his thigh brush yours like it didn’t mean anything.

And every time you saw him, you could feel it in the air.

Something thick and charged and dangerous.

Like a storm crouched on the horizon.

⸻

You found him on campus.

Outside one of the side buildings, earbuds in, head down, walking like he had somewhere important to be even though he very much did not.

“Minnie?.”

He paused. Didn’t turn.

“Seungmin,” you said again, stepping in front of him this time. “Are you really ignoring me now?”

He tugged one earbud out, looked past you like you weren’t even standing there.

“You’ve been weird all week.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Cut the crap.”

He sighed—like you were exhausting him—and finally looked down at you.

You were wearing your little white tennis skirt. The one that barely hid anything when the wind hit just right. Your top was cropped and ribbed and soft, your nipples faintly visible beneath the fabric. Nothing intentional. Nothing illegal. Just… you being you.

And that’s what made it so much worse.

“You want me to pretend?”

Your heart skipped. “What?”

“You want me to pretend you didn’t walk out in that fucking lingerie looking like you wanted me to drop to my knees right there? You want me to pretend like I haven’t been losing my mind every goddamn time you touch me, every time you look at me, every time you sit in my lap like it’s nothing?”

You stared, breath caught in your throat.

“I’m not stupid,” he said, stepping closer. “You knew exactly what you were doing. And I let it happen. Because I kept telling myself it was innocent. That you were just being you.”

His eyes dropped to your chest—just for a second. Just enough.

“But then you walked out in that second set. The black one. And I realized it wasn’t innocent. You were daring me. And if I stayed one more second, I was gonna take you right there in that changing room.”

You should’ve said something.

You should’ve stopped looking at him like that.

But your mouth was dry and your thighs were clenched and your heart was in your throat.

So he shook his head and turned again.

“I’m not avoiding you,” he said quietly. “I’m protecting you. Because the next time you test me like that…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

He walked away, leaving you in the hallway shaking—hot and cold and soaked through with the memory of his voice, his stare, his confession.

—

You weren’t proud of it.

You hadn’t meant for it to go that far.

The lingerie, the teasing, the bedroom eyes—it was always a game.

Until he broke the rules.

Until he said it.

Until he told you how badly he wanted to ruin you.

And now?

Now you couldn’t stop hearing it. Couldn’t stop seeing the way his jaw clenched when he looked at you. Couldn’t stop feeling the tension that had been boiling beneath your friendship like a livewire all this time.

You didn’t plan to go to his place.

But your feet brought you there anyway.

He didn’t answer the door at first.

Probably debating whether he should see you at all.

But then it cracked open, and there he was—bare chest, low sweatpants, damp hair, glowing with the heat of a recent shower.

And there you were—nervous, unsure, but still dressed like a fucking menace in that oversized hoodie and the tiniest sleep shorts you owned.

“Can I come in?” you asked, voice soft.

He exhaled. Tired. Guarded. “Yeah.”

You stepped inside.

His room was quiet. Dark. Intimate.

And he sat back down on the edge of his bed like he didn’t want to look at you for too long.

You hovered awkwardly. “I… I wanted to say sorry.”

His brows lifted. “For what?”

You hesitated. “For pushing too far. The lingerie thing. The teasing. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He gave you a long, unreadable stare.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he said finally. “You made me hard.”

Your pulse skipped. He didn’t even blink as he said it.

“But,” he added lowly, “I meant what I said. I can’t keep being around you if you keep pretending this is normal. I’m trying not to fuck you. That’s not easy when you look at me like you want me to do it.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Because the second he lay back on the bed, one arm tucked behind his head, eyes closed and jaw clenched—like he was exhausted by the very thought of you—

You moved.

Climbed onto the mattress like it was yours. Crawled across it slow and quiet until you were behind him.

And then you slipped your arms around his torso.

Pressed your chest to his bare back.

Rested your cheek between his shoulder blades.

He went rigid. Tensed under you.

But you whispered against his skin, “I’m sorry…”

And kissed his back.

Soft.

Sweet.

Just below the base of his neck.

He didn’t breathe.

“I’ll be good,” you murmured, kissing the curve of his spine.

Still no reaction.

“Don’t stay mad,” you whispered, lips ghosting the edge of his shoulder.

Then—snap.

He grabbed your wrists.

And flipped.

In one motion, he turned and pinned you to the bed beneath him—arms over your head, his body caging yours, hair falling into his eyes and rage simmering low in his voice.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” he demanded, voice hoarse.

You blinked up at him, speechless, thighs clenched.

“I’m not gonna ask again,” he growled. “You get one chance to answer me right. What the fuck do you want?”

His voice was low. Frayed.

His grip was bruising your wrists, but you couldn’t move—not even a little.

He was on top of you, his thigh between yours, the hard line of his cock pressed tight to your core through layers of sinful nothing. Your tiny shorts. Your no-panties boldness. His loose grey sweats. His bare chest heaving with restraint.

You could feel every inch of him.

His hand was pinning both your wrists above your head, one handed, like you weighed nothing.

“Because I’m done pretending I don’t want to fuck you, and if you say the wrong thing right now…”

He lowered his head until his lips brushed your ear. “…I’ll stop trying.”

“So. What do you want from me?” he asked again.

And you— You whimpered.

Like a bad little slut.

Eyes wide. Lips parted. Back arching under him without even realizing it.

You didn’t answer with words.

You didn’t need to.

Your body said everything.

The way your thighs rubbed together.

The way you stared at his mouth like you wanted it on every inch of your skin.

The way you breathed like he already had you split open and moaning his name.

Seungmin’s jaw locked.

And that was it.

That was all it took.

Something in him snapped.

He let go of your wrists—and his hand dropped straight to your throat.

Not squeezing. Just resting. A threat. A warning.

“You like playing games?” he muttered, eyes dark and jaw clenched. “You like walking around teasing me like I don’t see it? Acting like this is normal?”

His palm dragged slowly down your chest—over the hoodie that still clung to you, over your aching nipples pressing hard against the fabric. Then he hooked his fingers in the hem, yanked it up, and groaned when he found you bare beneath it.

“Fucking course you’re not wearing a bra,” he growled, rubbing his thumb across your nipple, watching you squirm. “You never do. You wanted this. Didn’t you?”

You gasped. “Seungmin—”

“Say it.”

You whined under him.

“Say it, or I stop.”

“I wanted it,” you whispered, eyes pleading. “I wanted you.”

That’s all he needed.

He crashed down and kissed you—filthy, like he was trying to erase every second of self-control he’d ever shown you.

And when he pulled your shorts down and shoved his knee between your legs?

He didn’t pretend anymore.

He didn’t stop.

And he didn’t hold back.

The second he kissed you—really kissed you—there was no going back.

It wasn’t sweet.

It wasn’t soft.

It was filthy.

Seungmin kissed you like he was mad at you. Like you’d done something unspeakable.

Like you’d been a bad girl—his bad girl—and this was how he planned to punish you.

He shoved the hoodie off your shoulders and let his hands roam.

Everywhere.

Your chest, your waist, your thighs. His palms were hot, rough with calluses from the gym, fingers spreading your legs wide and slipping under your shorts like he already knew what he’d find.

“No panties too?” he muttered, dragging his fingers through your wetness with a broken groan. “Of course you didn’t wear fucking panties.”

You were soaked—slick and swollen and throbbing for him.

He didn’t tease.

Didn’t warm you up.

He plunged two fingers inside you and kissed you deeper when you cried out, one hand sliding back to pin your wrists again as he pumped you open.

“Look at you,” he whispered, dragging his mouth down your jaw. “So wet. So fucking needy.”

You whimpered, arching into him, thighs trembling.

“You like being under me?” he growled. “Like when I hold you down like this?”

You nodded frantically.

“Use your words.”

“Yes—yes, Seungmin, I love it—”

“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?” he snarled. “All those little games. You wanted me to fuck you.”

You moaned. “Please—please—”

And then he was gone.

You gasped at the loss, barely catching your breath as he shoved his sweats down and wrapped a fist around his cock—thick, flushed, angry red at the tip. Veins along the side. A bead of precum already sliding down.

He lined himself up with your entrance, gritting his teeth as he pushed just the tip in.

You shattered.

“Seungmin—!”

“Look at me.”

You did.

He stared down at you with his hand still around your wrists, his hips rolling slowly, inch by devastating inch—until he was buried so deep inside you, you couldn’t breathe.

“Feel that?” he whispered.

You nodded, tears prickling in your lashes.

“That’s not your best friend.”

And then he snapped his hips into yours—and all you saw was white.

The first thrust knocked the breath out of you.

Not just because of his size, but because of the way he looked at you—like every ounce of restraint he’d shown for the past year had finally snapped and now he was going to make you regret every single moment you played innocent while dripping in sin.

“Fuck,” he hissed, bottoming out again. “So fucking tight. You were made for this.”

Your back arched off the mattress, the stretch nearly too much. His cock dragged against every oversensitive spot inside you, nudging your cervix, owning you in ways no one ever had.

“You been thinking about this?” he gritted, voice dark as his hips slammed into yours. “Touching yourself in your little dorm bed, thinking about your best friend fucking you like a slut?”

You whimpered—nothing coherent—just a mess of yes and please and Seungmin.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t even slow down.

He was already sweat-slicked, breathing hard, pinning your wrists above your head like he’d die before letting you go.

And when he pulled out just enough to slap the tip against your clit, you squealed.

“Oh my god—!”

“You like that?” he sneered. “You want me to make you cum like this? Beg for it.”

“Please—please—”

“No.” He slapped your inner thigh. “Beg right.”

“Seungmin, please fuck me harder. I wanna cum on your cock—want you to ruin me—”

That was all it took.

He growled—a deep, feral sound—and pounded into you again, hard enough to shake the bed.

Your eyes rolled back.

His grip tightened around your throat, just enough to make your head spin as he leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“You asked for this,” he snarled. “Now take it.”

You came violently, thighs locking around him as your whole body spasmed beneath his. He fucked you through it—chasing his own high now, cock twitching, slamming into you over and over until—

“Shit—fuck—” he choked, and pulled out just in time to paint your stomach with thick, hot ropes of cum.

You laid there, dazed. Legs trembling. Mind shattered.

And Seungmin?

He looked at you like you’d flipped his world inside out.

“Fuck—fuck,” Seungmin growled, the words gritted through his teeth like they hurt to say. “Look what you fucking made me do.”

His voice was wrecked. Deep. Raw with emotion.

You were shaking beneath him, your legs still trembling from your last orgasm, your body completely limp, skin glistening with sweat and cum and tears. But he wasn’t done.

He couldn’t stop.

Not even if he wanted to.

He was already hard again.

Already sliding back between your legs, pushing your thighs wide as your fingers curled in the sheets. Your stomach and chest were a mess—covered in his first release, his fingerprints bruised into your hips and arms, and your wrists? Still red from his earlier grip.

“Shouldn’t be doing this,” he muttered under his breath. “Shouldn’t fucking want this.”

But he was already inside you.

No warning this time—just the stretch, the pain-pleasure burn of his cock shoving deep into your soaked cunt like he owned it now. Like he’d already decided this body, this pussy, this mess was his to destroy.

“Fucking made me this way,” he snarled, voice breaking. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Walking around in those little tops, rubbing up on me every fucking chance you got—no bra in winter? You think I didn’t notice?”

Your head was spinning.

He was already moving again—hard, fast, deep, his hips slamming into yours with punishing thrusts that had the whole bed creaking. And still—still—he held your throat in one hand and your thigh in the other, forcing you open.

“You played with me,” he groaned. “You pushed and pushed—made me lose my fucking mind—”

His hips snapped forward. You cried out, nails raking down his back. You couldn’t even answer. Couldn’t speak. Your eyes were rolling back, mouth open in a silent scream as he hit the spot perfectly with every brutal thrust.

“You like this?” he growled. “Being ruined by your best friend?”

You nodded through tears, a wreck under him.

“You like when I choke you?”

His hand tightened around your throat. You gasped, grinding up to meet his thrusts.

“You like being spanked, yeah?”

He flipped you over like you weighed nothing and smacked your ass—hard—his palm leaving a red sting that had you clenching around nothing. And then he slammed back in, making you sob into the sheets.

“Is this what you wanted?” he hissed into your ear. “You wanted me obsessed with you?”

He reached down, wrapped your hair around his fist, and yanked your head back to kiss you—sloppy, desperate, spit-slick and heated.

“I’m never fucking letting you go now.”

Your cheek was pressed into the sheets, ass arched high, legs shaking uncontrollably as Seungmin relentlessly fucked you from behind.

His hand was tangled in your hair. His other hand was at your throat again, pulling you back into him with every deep, punishing thrust.

“Mine,” he gritted out. “You’re fucking mine.”

You didn’t even know what you were moaning anymore—his name, maybe, or just some pathetic cry for more. But it didn’t matter. Your body knew. You were dripping down your thighs, already on the edge again, too full, too overstimulated, too wrecked to make sense of it.

And then—he stopped.

You gasped—outraged, ruined.

Seungmin grabbed you, flipped you onto your back again, and looked down at you like he wanted to crawl inside your skin.

His chest was heaving, his jaw clenched, his face twisted in some devastating combination of guilt and obsession.

“I can’t stop,” he whispered.

You blinked, lips parted.

“I should,” he said, leaning down, pressing his forehead to yours. “But I can’t. I’ve wanted you for too long. You made me crazy.”

You whimpered. “Then don’t stop.”

His eyes darkened.

You said it again—softer, filthier.

“Don’t stop, Seungmin… Please.”

And that broke him.

His mouth crashed into yours—finally—and it was not sweet. It was all teeth and tongue, all desperation and heat and frustration and want. He kissed you like he hated you. Like you ruined him. Like he was trying to breathe you in before you disappeared.

And when he slid back inside you?

It was slower. Deeper. More devastating.

His forehead pressed to yours. His mouth hovered above yours, catching every little moan. His hand slid under your thigh to pin it high on his waist, angling you perfectly so he could thrust in deep, again and again, until tears spilled from your eyes.

“You feel that?” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “Feel how good I fit inside you?”

You nodded, dazed.

“You’re gonna cum again, baby. Right on this cock. I wanna feel you lose it.”

You were already there.

You clenched around him—tight, desperate—and his groan was inhuman.

He didn’t even try to hold back this time.

His thrusts turned frantic, mindless, and when you came—screaming his name into his neck, body convulsing—he followed. Deep inside you this time, filling you with everything he had, his mouth open in a stunned groan as his body shuddered above yours.

He collapsed on top of you—still inside, still panting—and whispered the softest, most ruined confession against your throat.

“Fuck. I’m so in love with you.”

The room went quiet.

The only sound was your breathing—shaky, shallow—and Seungmin’s heart pounding hard against your chest as he laid there on top of you, his face buried in your neck, arms locked around you like he still couldn’t believe it happened.

Neither could you.

But you couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t even think.

Your body was too sore, too used, too full of everything he gave you.

Still, your mouth moved without permission.

“Seungmin…”

Soft. Croaky. Barely a whisper.

He didn’t lift his head. Just held you tighter.

You tried again—more broken this time.

“Seungmin—baby…”

That did it.

He lifted his head slowly, eyes bloodshot, lips kiss-swollen, hair a complete mess. He looked like he’d been through hell. Like he’d dragged himself through fire just to get to you.

And now he was scared to look at what he burned down.

“You didn’t mean to say that,” you whispered, touching his cheek with trembling fingers.

His jaw clenched.

But he didn’t deny it.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he rasped. “But yeah. I meant it.”

You just stared at him. For a long moment.

And then… a crooked, devastated smile tugged at your lips.

“You’re so dumb.”

He blinked.

“You didn’t even realize it, did you?” you murmured, brushing your nose against his. “I started all of this the moment you started hitting the gym. The moment you started looking like this. I’ve been losing my mind over you. Every day. Every fucking day.”

Seungmin’s breath caught.

You tilted your head. Bit your lip.

“I didn’t mean to fall for you, either.”

And then you kissed him.

Slow. Deep. A little messy.

Not because it was rushed. But because it meant something.

And he kissed you back like he was never going to stop.

When you finally broke apart, his thumb stroked your cheek.

“I should’ve said it sooner,” he whispered.

You laughed softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair.

“You say it every time you look at me, stupid. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

He dropped his head to your chest with a groan, and you giggled, wrapping your arms around him.

And that was it.

No drama.

No denial.

Just two best friends who finally got too close to the line—and realized they belonged way past it all along.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: ok so i might be obsessed with the bestfriends trope… sue me 🥹 but this seungmin is in my headddddddd!!!!!!

You know the drill babes, drop that like and comment and be sure to reblogggggg! I love you guys!

[flickering-chandelier]

Was Any Of It True?

Pairing: badboy!Azriel x goodgirl!Reader

Summary: Modern/College AU! Az’s on-again-off-again girlfriend gives Azriel a proposition: make the new bookworm fall in love with him, then break her heart, in exchange for anything he wants. He agrees, but things get complicated when he falls for Reader for real.

Based on this request! 🩷

✨ Part 2 ✨ Part 3 ✨

Warnings: angst, sexual language?, swearing, Azriel & friends being assholes

Word Count: 10.2k   oh lord sorry besties I couldn’t shut my little brain off

“I'm telling you, Az, she's pissing me off. The professor loves her, and I saw that she got a 100 on the exam,” Claire was seething while she and Azriel lounged in his apartment, eating the pizza he'd ordered.

“Mhmm,” he mumbled around his pizza, only half listening. Claire was always complaining about something. “And what did you get?”

“98! He took two points off because I didn't answer thoroughly enough,” she scoffed. “God, I hate her. She's going to push me right off the top of the Dean's list.”

Azriel blinked. “I mean, you'll still be very near the top of the list.”

Claire groaned, throwing her napkin onto her paper plate angrily, “That's not good enough!”

He rolled his eyes and she glared at him. “Don't be an ass! This is a big deal to me.”

“Oh, I know it is. This girl is all you talk about.”

“Because I hate her. Maybe if she got laid, she’d be distracted enough to slip up once in a while,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, maybe,” Azriel said, pulling his laptop out of his backpack and setting it on the table, a sufficient signal that he didn’t want to talk about his girlfriend’s arch nemesis anymore. 

No more than a week later, Azriel’s on-again-off-again girlfriend was off-again, and honestly, he was relieved. Claire’s obsession with being at the top of the academic food chain was bordering on insanity, and he was glad he didn’t have to hear about it anymore.

He was currently at a house party that Cassian had dragged him to, with a blonde girl that he couldn’t remember the name of sitting in his lap, one of her arms draped behind his neck, the other resting on his chest. She had been whispering in his ear all the things that she wanted to do to him, before Cassian interrupted, handing Azriel a shot with a grin. 

Blondie scowled at Cassian, who just smirked back as the girl that Cass had been talking to earlier sidled up next to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. 

Azriel knocked the shot back and handed the cup it had come in to the blonde girl. “Can you get me another one?”

She seemed annoyed, but took the cup from him anyway, striding into the kitchen. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” Cassian said, settling on the couch next to him, before pulling the girl onto his lap.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Like I give a shit.”

Cassian snickered as the blonde girl came back, draping herself in his lap again, handing him another shot. He drank it, just as Claire appeared before him, her arms crossed over her chest, and her brow furrowed.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice husky.

“I have a proposition for you.”

He smirked, making a show of tightening his grip on the blonde girl’s waist. “No, thanks. Been there, done that.”

“Not that kind of proposition, you idiot. Can we talk privately? I think it’ll be worth your while,” she said, her lips turning up into a sultry smile.

“I don’t know, Claire, I’m pretty busy right now,” he said, turning his gaze to the blonde girl, squeezing her thigh. She sighed dreamily, leaning further into him.

Claire groaned. “Look, Az, I really need your help. Please?” 

Azriel studied Claire, and he could see that it was true. She was wearing her most annoyed, don’t-fuck-with-me face, but her eyes were pleading. Sad.

He sighed, glancing apologetically at the girl in his lap before turning back to Claire. “Fine, we can talk.”

She led him into someone’s empty bedroom and shut the door behind her. 

“If this is about that girl you’re obsessed with, so help me,” he said. She winced, and he threw his head back. “Unbelievable. Claire, I don’t want to hear about this anymore! I don’t care about your problems.”

“Just hear me out!”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and raised an eyebrow at her, waiting.

“She actually is threatening my spot on the Dean’s list now,” she said, looking close to tears.

He looked pointedly at her. “And?”

“And I was thinking about what I said earlier… about how if a really hot guy was interested in her, maybe she would stop caring about her grades so much,” she said, smiling at him now.

“And?” Azriel just wished she would get to the point.

Claire sighed, exasperated. “I need you to seduce her.”

Azriel barked out a laugh, leaning his shoulder against the nearest wall. “You’re kidding, right? Why would I do that?”

She stepped closer to him, trailing a finger along his chest, her touch feather-light through his black t-shirt. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, “Because I asked? Because I’ll give you anything you want,” she said, her voice dropping seductively.

He held her gaze, leaning down until their mouths were a breath away. Azriel heard her breath hitch.

Then he pulled away rapidly, and she blinked. “Sweetheart, you know I can fuck you anytime I want, right? That is not going to persuade me to help you.”

Her brow furrowed, her nose scrunching up. Oh, she was furious. Azriel's mouth turned up into his calculated half smile.

“What do you want, Az?” she huffed.

“Hmm,” he said, taking his time to think. Claire scowled. “I haven’t decided yet. But when I need to call in a favor of my own, you have to promise to do it. No matter what,” he drawled.

To her credit, she really looked like she was thinking it through, trying to think of another way to push this girl off the list. But finally, she sighed. “Deal.”

He pushed off the wall, walking towards the door. “Alright, so I just have to seduce the bookworm? Easy.”

Claire shook her head, her eyes still alight with her anger. “No, if I’m going to agree to any favor you could possibly want, you’re going to have to go further. You need to make her fall in love with you.”

Azriel bristled a bit, leaning against the door now. “I know I’m an asshole, but that seems too far, don’t you think?”

“No. If she’s going to be distracted enough that her grades will slip, you need to make it seem real,” she said, and then smiled as if she had a wicked thought.

“What?” Azriel asked.

“And then you break her heart, right before exams,” she said excitedly, her eyes burning with enthusiasm now. “You tell her, in front of everyone, that it was all fake.”

He rubbed at his bicep, a nervous tic that Claire picked up on immediately. “Jesus, Claire. I don’t want to ruin this girl’s life.”

She arched her brow. “Why not? She’s ruining mine.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and Claire pounced, “Any favor, Az. Any time, you can tell me to do whatever you want,” she smirked. 

He groaned, pinching his nose. “Fine,” he ground out. “Where do I find her?”

Claire beamed. “Where else would a nerd be? The library, of course.”

---

You shifted in your seat, starting to feel sore after poring over your notes for hours. Maybe you should go for a walk. Maybe. But, you still had so much to do…

Groaning, you crossed your arms on the table, laying your head down on top of them. Just a minute, you just needed a tiny break --

“Studying always makes me feel like that, too,” said a low, male voice. 

You lifted your head, bewildered, and nearly choked on your own spit. The guy who was for some reason deigning to talk to you was… well, what other way was there to say it? He was drop-dead gorgeous. 

His face was stoic as he sauntered up to your table, his jet black hair was just a tad unruly, his hazel eyes burning into yours. But it was his body that made the breath completely escape your lungs. He was dressed in all black, his t-shirt hugging his chest and his biceps, showing off his every muscle, and there were swirling black tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves. 

All you could do was stare as he took the seat across from you, leaning back with his arms crossed like the two of you did this every day.

“What class is that for?” he asked, nodding to the textbook open in front of you, the dozens of papers scattered around you.

“Organic Chemistry,” you said, trying to sound like you were normal and not completely surprised by this handsome stranger finding you in your favorite quiet corner of the library.

He let out a low whistle, “Damn, you are smart.”

“What, did someone tell you I was?” you asked. 

“No, I just figured when I saw all the --” he gestured to your cluttered workspace, “homework stuff.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Homework stuff?”

His mouth turned up the slightest bit, holding up his hands like he was surrendering. “You caught me. I’m not much of an academic.”

“Then what are you doing here?” you asked curiously.

“Now, that is an excellent question,” he said, and really did seem like he was questioning it. “Girls? Parties? Though I could get girls anywhere and I don't particularly enjoy parties.”

You nodded. “Ah,” you said. “Got it.”

He braced his arms on the table, leaning forward. “I take it you’re not into that kinda thing?”

A dry laugh escaped from your throat, “Definitely not. I’m really only here for the--” you mimicked his gesture from earlier, “homework stuff.”

He barked out a laugh, his stoic face completely transforming for the briefest of moments. You couldn’t help but stare. “You’re telling me all you do is study? A beautiful girl like you? Please tell me you’ve been to at least one party,” he said, looking at you incredulously. 

You blushed. “No, I haven’t been to any.”

You braced yourself for impact, for the teasing or insults to come, but he just smiled softly. “You wanna go to one with me tonight?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You don’t even know my name.”

The side of his mouth quirked up into a smile, his eyes dancing with amusement. “What's your name?”

Rolling your eyes, you told him.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Azriel.” He raised his eyebrows, “So? Party?”

“I thought you just said you don't like parties!”

“True, but I do love the thought of corrupting a sweet, innocent bookworm,” he smirked.

“No, thanks.” You couldn't imagine yourself going to a house party, especially not with a stranger.

Azriel's cool-guy demeanor seemed to drop the slightest bit. “Why not?”

You looked at him pointedly. “I don't know you. And I have no interest in being corrupted. Why do you want me to come to this party so badly anyway?”

He shrugged casually. “I like you.”

“You don't know me!”

“See, that, right there,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “You're funny. Smart, beautiful. What's not to like?”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, even as a blush rose to your cheeks. “I'm not going to a party with someone I don't know. They make true crime documentaries about that sort of thing.”

He seemed to contemplate that for a moment. “Okay, you make a fair point. What do you want to do then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can pick our first date, since you didn't like my idea.”

“What date?” You blanched.

He arched an eyebrow. “Our first date? Weren't you listening?”

You studied him for a moment. For the life of you, you could not figure out what this guy's angle was. 

As if reading your mind, he said softly, “Look, I just saw you and thought you were really pretty, and that it looked like you could use a break from studying. That's it,” he held his hands up again. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If you want me to go, I'll go.”

For a beat longer, you watched him, his body language, his ridiculously pretty face. What was the harm, really? You sighed, tore off a scrap of paper from your notebook, scribbled out your number, then handed it to him. “I need to study. If you text me later, I'll let you know where we're going on the first date.” 

His face broke out into what might have been the first genuine smile you'd seen from him. He took the paper from you, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Can't wait.”

You were half expecting to never hear from Azriel again. But just a few hours later, as you were eating dinner in your apartment, your phone chimed with a text. 

Az: Done studying yet?

It was an effort to bite down your smile. 

You: Taking a break for dinner. 

It was less than a minute before he responded. 

Az: Dinner? Is that what our first date is going to be?

You didn’t try to hide your smile this time.

You: A little cliche, don’t you think?

Az: Oh, absolutely. So… what are we doing?

You: Meet at the tennis courts at 7 tomorrow?

Az: We’re playing tennis?

You: No, but I’m not giving you my address. And I’m not giving away the surprise.

Az: So smart. So mysterious. I’m swooning.

You: Shut up.

Az: See you tomorrow ;)

You tossed your phone to the side, forcing yourself to focus back on your schoolwork.

The following day you parked your car by the empty tennis courts on campus just before 7. It was early spring; the weather finally started to warm up enough to not be too chilly in the evening. Still, you rubbed your arms nervously. You were starting to regret this. You didn’t know this guy at all. What if it went horribly wrong?

Before you could contemplate bailing, a familiar figure rode up on a jet black motorcycle. Of course this guy had a motorcycle. You couldn't see his face underneath the helmet, but you would already recognize those tattooed arms anywhere. 

He parked his bike, smoothly sliding off it and taking his helmet off before sauntering over to you. “Hey, beautiful.” 

You rolled your eyes, sure that he had said that to a million girls on a million dates before.

“What? Don’t do that,” he said softly, his smile softening and his gaze raking down your body. “You are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, giving in. 

“So,” he said, towering over you. “What’s the plan?”

You smiled. “How’s your mini golf game?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking a little skeptical. “Mini golf? That’s what you’re choosing?”

“Yes, it is. Do you have something to say about that?” you teased. 

His eyes sparked at the tone in your voice. “Nope. Nothing at all.” He nodded to his motorcycle. “You wanna hop on the bike?”

You looked pointedly at him and he laughed. “Didn’t think so,” he gestured to your car. “Lead the way.”

Your nerves started to dim as the two of you fell into a rhythm going through the course. The two of you were just talking and laughing like it was normal. It was… fun, actually.

“Shit,” Azriel muttered as he overshot the hole. Again.

You laughed and his eyes flicked over to you, lingering a bit. “You’re good at this, bookworm,” he said as he took another shot, sinking it into the hole this time. You watched, leaning against your putter, having finished that hole two shots ago. 

Shrugging, you said, “I used to go with my family a lot.”

He placed his hand on the small of your back as you walked to the next hole. You cleared your throat, focusing on your steps, on your breathing, on anything but how it felt to have him touch you so casually. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he asked as you dropped your ball onto the green. 

You took your shot before you answered. The ball landed just shy of the hole. “What’s your family like?”

“My family…” he trailed off, clearing his throat, setting up his shot. He paused to look at you for a moment before he swung. “It’s complicated.”

He hit the ball and it stopped right next to yours. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” you said, as the two of you walked further down the hole.

“No, you didn’t. It’s just… I don’t really talk about them with anybody.”

You nodded, not sure where to go from here.

Azriel smiled reassuringly, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worrying,” you claimed, your voice an octave too high. 

“You are. I can tell.”

You bit your lip to hide your smile as you sunk your ball into the hole.

“I think I’m going to need some pointers from you on the next hole,” he grumbled. 

“I guess I could help you out,” you laughed. 

So, when you got to the next hole, the last hole, he stepped so close that your bodies were nearly touching. You tried to control your breathing. 

“You’re gonna help me out?” he murmured, his eyes flashing down to your lips for a moment. 

“Okay,” you breathed. 

He stepped behind you, his body pressed against your back, wrapping his arms around you, his hands covering yours on the club. 

“How is this going to help you, exactly?” you asked, your voice slightly unsteady. 

His lips brushed your ear as he said, “Oh, trust me, it’s helping.”

You couldn’t say anything. Could hardly breathe.

“What do you think I’m doing wrong?” He murmured. 

You swallowed. “You’re hitting it too hard. Not exactly rocket science.”

“Mmm. That makes sense. I do tend to go… hard.”

That finally had you coming to your senses. You stepped out of his grasp, turning back to glare at him when you were a safe distance away. 

The side of his mouth turned up into a smile. “Sorry. I couldn't help myself.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him again. “Just take your shot.”

He smirked at you for a moment, before he swung, and the ball went right into the hole. 

He turned to you, his eyes wide. You laughed and he hugged you, picking you up and spinning you around. 

You let out an involuntary squeal of surprise, and he laughed, gazing into your eyes as he set you back on the ground. “Thanks for the help.”

“I think you’ve been playing me this whole time,” you joked. 

His smile fell a little, his eyes sobering. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. When he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, you added, “Azriel, I was joking.”

He blinked and then his natural, stoic expression was back as he took a step closer to you. “Right. I think you’re just a good teacher.”

You just looked at him, trying to decipher the changes in his mood, who he really was underneath the gruff exterior.

He smiled faintly, stepping even closer. “What are you thinking about?”

You had to crane your neck to look him in the eye now. “I'm trying to figure out what you're thinking about.”

Azriel's smile turned into a smirk. “I'm thinking… that I really want to kiss you. But I don't want to scare you away.”

Heat flooded your face and his smile turned softer as he cupped your cheek gently with a rough hand. “Would it scare you away?” He murmured.

“I -- don't know,” you said honestly.

His hazel eyes dipped to your lips and stayed there. “I think I'm gonna have to take the risk,” he said, his voice low, husky.

“I think so, too,” you breathed.

His free hand slinked around your waist, gently pulling your body into his. Your heart thundered in your chest as he leaned down, slowly bringing his lips to yours. He seemed to give you a moment to process, and you felt him smile against your mouth when you started to kiss him back, your fingers curling around his bicep, his shoulder.

You were breathless by the time he pulled away, and as the two of you drove back to the tennis courts, you couldn't help but hope that it would happen again by the end of the night.

When you parked your car near his motorcycle in the abandoned lot, he lingered, his gaze holding yours, dropping to your mouth again.

He shot you a crooked smile. “Aren't you gonna walk me to my bike?”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you got out of the car, walking over to the motorcycle and settling against the fence near it, crossing your arms over your chest. “Happy now?” You asked.

Slowly, he sauntered over to you, his eyes twinkling under the stars. He raised his arm, twining his fingers in the chain link fence above your head, leaning his body towards you, but not quite touching. He gazed down at you, still sporting that half smile. “Very happy,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched and when his smile widened, you knew he heard it. 

He held your gaze as he leaned down, bringing his mouth to yours again. You let yourself fall deeper into the kiss this time, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. 

When he finally pulled away, he was grinning. “Want to go for a ride before you head home?” He said, nodding to his motorcycle.

You had stepped far enough out of your comfort zone for today. “Maybe next time.”

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “So you're giving me a next time?”

Damn. You blushed. “I said maybe.”

“Uh huh, sure,” he said, leaning in again so his lips were barely an inch from yours. “You can't wait to see me again,” he whispered.

You shoved him away lightly and he chuckled, backing up towards his bike, but keeping his eyes on you. “Until next time, then. Have a good night, bookworm.” He winked before putting his helmet on and speeding away.

A few weeks, a few dates, and several kisses later, you couldn't deny that Azriel was on your mind quite a bit.

You had never thought that someone like him would be interested in someone like you, but he seemed to prove time and time again that he did indeed like you. He texted you flirty little things every day, making you blush in class. He asked about your day, and seemed to genuinely be listening, and he would do pretty much anything you wanted on your dates. Last week, the two of you had gone to a local bookstore and he had watched you browse, a small smile on his face. He ended up picking out a book he wanted you to read and you did the same for him. He had been sending you daily updates on his progress through the book. Slowly, you were starting to let your walls down, despite yourself.

So, when he asked you to finally go to a party with him, to meet his friends, you accepted. You still felt cautious: partying had never been something that you were remotely interested in, but you trusted him.

---

Azriel knew he had to tread this next part carefully. Things had been going well with you. He let you take control of your time together so you would be comfortable, and honestly, he was actually having a really good time getting to know you and seeing where you would take him next.

And when you kissed him… God. It was always a struggle to keep his hands on your waist, to stay PG. He wished he could explore things further with you in that regard, but he wouldn't let himself go there. Not when your broken heart was the finish line.

He rarely let himself think about it -- the deal that he had made with Claire. Being with you felt so natural that he usually forgot he was supposed to be acting. That he was supposed to be leading you to Claire’s revenge.

He had convinced you to come to a party, upon Claire's request so she could see the progress he had made with you. You had said yes, he assumed because you trusted him enough now. The thought made his stomach roll. He was really starting to hate himself for getting mixed up in this.

Azriel acted differently around you than he did around the rest of the general population. At a young age he had learned to keep quiet, to not show a single emotion on his pretty face, to be tough, or be punished. 

With you… he couldn't help but smile. Couldn't stop the laughs that he usually stomped down for the rest of the world.

So, having his two worlds collide at this party…he didn't know exactly how to navigate it. Deep down, it made his heart swell that you trusted him enough to help you navigate something so far out of your comfort zone. But if his friends saw the way he acted around you, he would never hear the end of it.

This would be a mess.

If Azriel wasn't leaning against his motorcycle when you exited your apartment building, he may have fallen over. You were wearing skintight jeans and a black tank top that showed more cleavage than he ever imagined he'd see from you. His fingers flexed on his biceps. He wanted to pull you back into your apartment and spend an hour peeling those clothes away inch by inch.

He blinked the lust away, trying to maintain his stoic expression, but failed, as he always did with you. He smiled at you and you smiled back. 

He could tell by the way you carried yourself as you neared him that you were nervous. “Hey, beautiful,” he drawled his usual greeting as you wrapped your arms around his waist in your usual greeting.

“Hi,” you said, a little sheepishly. His eyes must have lingered on your curves a little too long because your eyes widened a bit, and you bit your lip nervously as you pulled away from him. He nearly groaned. “Is it too much? Do I look stupid?”

Azriel placed his hands on your shoulders gently, dipping his head to look you in the eyes. “You look amazing. Seriously.”

You blushed and murmured, “Thank you.”

He had to turn away, to grab your helmet, so you wouldn't see how much you affected him. He fucking loved it when he made you blush like that. 

Azriel turned back to you, holding up the helmet, his eyebrows raising with amusement. “You ready to join the dark side, bookworm?”

You sighed, shifting on your feet. 

“It'll be okay,” he said softly. “I got you.”

You nodded, seeming to resolve yourself, and reached for the helmet with slightly shaking hands.

He helped you make sure it was on correctly, his fingers brushing your chin, your neck. He bit back a smile as you shivered.

Azriel held your hand as you got settled on the back of the bike, showing you where to put your feet, and how to shift your weight with him.

When you seemed at least somewhat comfortable, he slid his helmet on, smoothly setting onto the motorcycle. You wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your chest into his back. You were already holding him like your life depended on it, and he beamed freely underneath the helmet.

“Hold on tight,” he shot back at you, before he revved the engine, taking off much more gently than he normally would.

He tried not to think about the feel of you pressed into him, how tightly you were holding on. It didn't work. He wanted to drive you everywhere.

He couldn't resist reaching back to briefly squeeze your thigh at a red light. “How are you doing?”

“Good,” you said. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard a smile in your voice.

Too soon in Azriel's opinion, they had made it to the party. He parked, offering you his hand to help you get down.

When he pulled the helmet off your head, he was pleased to see that you were indeed smiling.

“Have fun?” He smirked.

“I did, actually,” you said, sounding a little breathless. 

“Whenever you need a ride, you just let me know,” he winked.

You laughed, glancing behind him at the house. 

He took your hand in his, squeezing reassuringly. You seemed to relax a bit. “We can leave whenever you want, okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded and smiled nervously up at him.

You were doing this for him, he realized. Because he had asked you to. His heart constricted, guilt churning in his gut again as he led you inside, your hand squeezing his tightly. 

His shoulders tightened as he led you through the crowd, making sure you were tucked in close to him. 

“You want a drink?” he asked, as you made your way to the kitchen.

“Sure,” you said.

He rifled through what was on the sticky counter, trying to find something not disgusting for you to drink, making sure you stayed close to him. 

Finally handing you a cup, he put your hand on the small of your back, guiding you to a corner of the living room that wasn’t yet very crowded. He took a seat on the couch and you settled in next to him, tucked closely into his side. 

You smiled, leaning your shoulder into his. “Is this really it?” You asked skeptically. “You just sit here and drink around a bunch of drunk idiots?”

He laughed before he could stop himself. “I mean, yeah, that’s pretty much it,” he said, dipping his head to say in your ear. “Or we could dance. Or make out,” he smiled against your ear. 

You blushed and he laughed again, kissing your temple. 

Azriel wrapped an arm around your shoulders as Cassian and Rhys showed up, grinning at you, their eyebrows raised. Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes. They had seen him laughing with you, kissing you, he knew. He had nearly forgotten where he was, why he was here with you. He loved them, but he wasn’t sure what they would say to you about him. They didn’t know about his arrangement with Claire, and he had been keeping details about his relationship with you as vague as possible.

“So you’re the one Az has been spending all his time with,” Cassian grinned. 

You smiled sheepishly, leaning further into Azriel. “I guess.”

Azriel nodded to his friends. “This is Cassian and Rhysand. They’ve been my best friends since we were kids.”

He could tell you were intrigued by that. He still hadn’t told you anything about his childhood. 

Before you could ask any questions, Claire showed up next to Azriel’s friends, her expression the very picture of friendship. It unsettled him so much that he held you closer to him, so you were practically on his lap. 

“Hi Claire,” you smiled, and his heart sank. You really had no idea how Claire felt about you. 

Claire smiled back. “Hey. I never expected to see you here.”

“I’m trying new things,” you said, smiling lightly at Azriel.

He couldn’t take it, having you so close to Claire, seeing that trust you had in him when you looked at him. He cleared his throat, standing up and offering you his hand. You took it, smiling politely at Claire and his friends as he led you through the house, out to the backyard. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked, looking up at him curiously as he leaned his back against the side of the house.

“Yeah,” he said, unable to stop the smile that rose to his face as you gazed at him with your big doe eyes. He tugged you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I just wanted you to myself for a minute.”

“Oh yeah?” you flushed, and before he could stop himself, he kissed your cheeks, feeling the heat against his lips before his lips met yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

He was still kissing you when he heard Cassian snickering close by. “Oh shit, he’s whipped.”

Azriel rolled his eyes as he pulled away from you, but kept his hold on your waist. “How am I whipped?”

Cassian’s eyes gleamed with mischief and Azriel’s heart started to pound. “Sneaking out here on your own. You’re usually content to stay on the couch to make out with your girl of the week.”

Your body tensed in his arms and Azriel groaned internally, glaring at Cassian, who smirked. “Oh, she didn’t know? My bad, Az.”

Azriel’s expression was enough to send Cassian back inside. 

Your brow furrowed as you stepped back, out of his reach. “Girl of the week?”

He winced. “He’s being dramatic.”

You raised your eyebrows, glaring at him, crossing your arms over your chest. 

It was kind of adorable, but Azriel reigned in that comment. He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, look. I told you when we met that I go to parties and meet girls there. But things are different now,” he said, taking a step closer to you. And it was true. Things were different. You had been the one haunting his thoughts since that first date. He had barely looked at anyone else since.

After a moment, you sighed, and he knew you wouldn’t resist when he wrapped his arms back around you. 

“Cassian’s an idiot,” he murmured, his focus back on your lips that he was dying to kiss again.

“So I’m not the girl of the week?” you said quietly, your eyes on his lips now. 

He smiled. “We’ve been seeing each other for several weeks, haven’t we?”

You nodded, biting your lip, before you stood up on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. Azriel was surprised by his own relief. “Are we going back inside?” you asked. 

“Not if you don’t want to,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist again. 

Pursing your lips in thought, you said, “Mmm. Let’s go back in.”

“Yeah?” he said, surprised.

You smiled up at him, resting your chin on his chest. His heart melted. “I’m trying to be brave.”

He kissed your forehead, smiling faintly. “I’m proud of you, bookworm.”

You beamed, your whole face lighting up. 

Azriel led you inside, his hand on the small of your back, trying to manage the swell of emotions in his chest. He didn’t have the time to process them right now. 

The two of you mingled throughout the party for a few hours, and you even went so far as to dance with him for a bit, your body pressed against his, your hips swaying to the beat of the pounding music. He could hardly believe it, the way you let loose with him.

He stopped in the bathroom before the two of you left. He wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes, but when he returned, he spotted you near the kitchen, backing away from a guy who was clearly very drunk and very horny. Azriel saw red. 

Before he could take a second to think, Azriel was upon the bastard, punching him in the jaw. 

He heard you yelp. The asshole staggered back, swearing, his hand cradling his jaw. Azriel barely spared him a glance, his hands gently holding either side of your face, his gaze raking your body, searching for any sign that he had touched you. 

Your eyes were wide, your breathing labored, but you seemed physically fine. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

You nodded, your eyes still frantic. 

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as he led you outside. Claire caught his eye on the way out, hers shining with delight. He scowled at her. 

When you made it outside, he hugged you to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You snorted. “You were gone for a few minutes. It’s not your fault that men are gross.”

“Are you okay, really?” He asked, pulling back to look you in the eye.

“I’m okay,” you said quietly. 

He held you close to him, gazing at you for another moment before you smiled faintly. “You really didn’t need to punch him, you know.”

He winced slightly, remembering the yelp you let out when he threw that punch. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you said, rising on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

Azriel held you until his heart rate slowed down, until his body was convinced that you were okay.

Later, after he had dropped you off at your apartment, Azriel stayed awake, tossing and turning, so many images from that night racing through his mind.

The way his heart constricted every time you smiled at him, the horror he felt at seeing Claire play nice, the terror and rage that flowed through his entire body when he saw that creep bothering you…

Azriel knew then, that he had real feelings for you. Shit.

---

“C’mon, baby, you’ve been studying for ages already,” Azriel murmured, standing behind you as you sat at your desk in your apartment, his arms draped around your chest, his lips trailing down your neck.

Your toes curled, heat running right through you. You wanted to give in. You really did. But…

You sighed. “I’m sorry, Az. I have this big exam on Tuesday. And finals are only a few weeks away.”

For some reason, that comment made his entire body stiffen. “Oh, yeah. Finals.”

You snorted. “Don’t tell me you forgot about finals.”

“No, I just… they’re soon.” His voice wavered a bit as he stood up fully. You twisted in your seat to look up at him. His brow was furrowed, his eyes swimming with anxiety. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, reaching up and cupping his cheek with your hand. “Do you need me to help you study?” He had never seemed to care about his grades before.

He leaned into your touch for a moment, shooting you a forced smile. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. I should go, and let you study.” He stooped down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I won’t distract you anymore today.” 

Before you could even respond, he was out the door. 

You turned back to your notes, but couldn’t digest any of the information. That was… weird.

Azriel and you had been dating for months now. Though neither of you had ever put a label on it, you both knew you were exclusive. 

In the privacy of your own mind, you secretly loved that he acted so differently around you than he did out and about on campus. You felt like you got a different version of him that was saved especially for you. It made your heart swell, all the little things he did for you each day. 

You were also willing to admit, to yourself only, that you were absolutely in love with him. You had known for weeks now, and had been debating whether or not you should tell him. 

He had been the one that made you step out of your comfort zone, to try new things, to be brave. 

So, soon. You would tell him soon.

--- 

Azriel had to get out of the deal. Now.

He remembered the exact moment that he realized he was in love with you. It was a random afternoon, the two of you were watching TV at his apartment. He was laying on the couch, you were laying on top of him, your legs intertwined with his, your head on his chest. He was absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair while you giggled about something that happened on the show. 

And he had the thought. I want my whole life to look like this. 

And he knew. He loved you.

This had scared him, obviously, on multiple levels. He had never loved anyone before, never knew what that looked like. Yet somehow, he knew without a doubt that it was true. 

And then, of course, there was the deal he had made with the devil. 

He had known early on that he would have to get out of the deal. He had just been putting it off, hoping that Claire’s insanity would die down throughout the semester. 

But now his time was up. 

He prayed to whoever might be listening that Claire would listen to reason. That she would call it off. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you. He wouldn’t do it. 

Claire smirked as she opened the door. “I’ve been wondering when you would show up. It’s been a long time, Az,” she purred. 

Azriel stalked into her apartment, barely sparing her a glance. “The deal’s off, Claire.”

She cocked her head to the side, amused. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Because it’s insane,” he growled. “You were insane for coming up with it, and I was insane for agreeing to it. I’m done.”

Slowly, her lips curled up into a lethal smile. “You fell for her.”

Azriel blinked. 

Claire cackled. “Oh, this is rich. You actually fell for the bookworm? I never thought I’d see the day. No wonder you haven’t been crawling into my bed.”

He scowled. “The deal’s off,” he repeated in the tone he used to scare people away.

She really looked at him then, her eyes bearing into his. After a moment, she finally said, “Okay.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay? Just like that?”

Claire shrugged. “You were right. It was an insane plan. And it didn’t even work,” she said bitterly. “You suck at your job. She’ll still be on the top of the Dean’s list, even after all your lovey-dovey shit.”

A swell of pride ran through him at the thought of your name at the top of that list.

“Alright,” he said, his brow furrowed, trying to figure out if there was some kind of angle here. But, there didn’t seem to be one. 

He left quickly, his heart and mind feeling lighter. The guilt of how the two of you started would always be there, he knew. But now when he looked into the future, it wasn’t a hazy blur of nothingness that he saw. It was you.

---

The week before finals, there were parties everywhere. So you heard. 

You had gone to a few more with Az over the past few months. It still wasn’t exactly your thing, but you didn’t mind going, especially with Azriel being so attentive to you every time you did. 

Azriel didn’t seem particularly interested in going to this one, but his friends had been complaining that they never saw him anymore, so he agreed to go. And you had agreed to go with him, if only to take a break from your near constant studying these days.

You followed him through the crowd, his hand clasping yours, as always. Drinks in hand, you made your way to the outskirts of a group of people who were dancing and you joined them, Azriel pulling you in close to him, moving against you.

A laugh burst from you, and Azriel grinned, leaning down to kiss you. 

You were so happy, you thought. So happy in that moment with him. You knew people watched you, as they usually did when Azriel was like this with you. You didn’t care.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he gazed down at you, his eyes swimming with affection. 

“I love you,” you said before you could stop it.

His eyes sobered, and he pulled you in even closer, so your bodies were flush together. He leaned his forehead against yours, and in a crowd of people, Azriel said, a soft smile on his face, “I love you, too.”

Your heart leaped and you grinned, threading your fingers in his hair and bringing his lips to yours. 

Suddenly, the music stopped, and from the TV came a voice. Azriel’s voice. 

Everyone turned to the sound, curiously, watching. The video was jumpy, filming the floor, like it was filmed from someone’s pocket. 

Azriel tensed, his arms still around you. “Fuck,” he said. “We need to go.”

Utterly confused, you didn’t argue as he pulled you through the crowd. But you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard video Azriel say, “Sweetheart, you know I can fuck you anytime I want, right? That is not going to persuade me to help you.”

Your blood ran cold, shock jolting from your heart down to your toes. Azriel was tugging on your arm, but you didn’t budge as you heard Claire’s voice next. 

Claire. He had been talking to Claire. What did he mean, that he could fuck her whenever he wanted? You hadn’t even known that they knew each other. When was this filmed?

“Baby, please, I’ll explain everything, but we need to go,” Azriel was saying, sounding frantic. 

You wrenched your arm from his grasp, weaving through the still crowd, moving toward the TV. You heard him swear, calling your name behind you, but you kept moving.

They were saying something about a deal, about him owing her a favor. You couldn’t make sense of it, not until you heard video Azriel say, “Alright, so I just have to seduce the bookworm? Easy.”

Video Claire responded, “No, if I’m going to agree to any favor you could possibly want, you’re going to have to go further. You need to make her fall in love with you.”

It was then that you noticed Claire, next to the TV, her eyes locked on you, smirking. 

You couldn’t breathe, your legs were going to give out -- 

It was all fake. All of it. 

Azriel caught up to you then, picking you up, slinging you over his shoulder. You didn’t protest, the shock setting in. You had to get out of there, even if it was him that carried you out. 

When he made it outside, you pounded on his back with your fists. “Put me down, you asshole!”

“Sorry,��� Azriel said, wincing as he gently set you on your feet. “You looked like you were going to pass out.”

“Like you even care,” you spat, storming away from him. 

“Of course I care. Please, just give me a minute to explain,” he pleaded, following you. 

“Explain what?” You stopped abruptly, spinning around to face him. “That you played me for a fool? Made me fall in love with you as a sick joke? Well, congratulations, it worked,” you said, pouring every ounce of venom that you could muster into your voice. You turned back around and continued walking as tears started pricking your eyes. You refused to let him see you cry.

“It may have started out that way, but it’s not like that anymore. From the first date, I had feelings for you. I love you. You have to believe that,” he said, right on your heels. 

You knew he could catch up with you easily if he wanted to. He was hanging back, trying to give you your space. That pissed you off even more. “How could I possibly believe that?” 

“Because you feel it, I know you do,” he said, finally wrapping his fingers around your wrist.

You tugged your hand free, but stopped walking, needing to catch your breath. You faced him. “What was the point?” You asked quietly. “Why make the deal?”

It didn’t matter. But you had to know.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Claire and I used to date. When you transferred, you pushed her off the top spot of the Dean’s list. She hated you for it. She said she would give me any favor I wanted if I made you fall for me… to distract you from school.”

You were so surprised that the tears you had been holding in started to fall. You angrily swatted them away. 

Azriel continued, “I said no at first, but she was persistent, and…” he took a deep breath, darting his eyes away from you for a moment. They were shining with unshed tears. “I have no excuse. I agreed to it. I’m an asshole. But you made me want to be different.”

“Was any of it true?” You heard yourself saying, your voice breaking. 

He lifted his hand, like he was about to reach for yours, then let it drop, thinking better of it. “It was all true. From our first date, you were breaking down my walls, making me smile, making me laugh.” He smiled sadly. “I fell for you. I love you,” he said, and now a lone tear did slide down his cheek. “I called it off with Claire ages ago. I told her I was out, and she agreed. I… I didn’t know she filmed it.”

You wanted to believe him, that he really did love you. But… “Even if you do love me, that doesn’t change what you did,” you said in a small voice. 

Azriel sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. “I know. I am so, so sorry.”

Shaking your head, backing away from him, you choked out, “I don’t -- I can’t. I can’t do this right now.”

He took a step toward you, his eyes pleading. “Please. Please don’t go.”

Turning your back to him, you walked away, barely registering the pavement beneath your feet, the direction you were going. 

Azriel called your name, but you kept walking.

You knew he had followed you home, not letting you walk alone at night. You watched his form retreat after you locked yourself inside your apartment with trembling hands. 

You went to bed, not even bothering to change. Laying on your back, watching your ceiling fan spin around and around, you tried to identify all that you were feeling: shame, humiliation, sorrow. Fury. 

Replaying all that had happened between you, all the times he was probably laughing at you with his friends behind your back. You felt nauseous. 

How could he do this? How could he have played you for so long?

What the hell were you supposed to do now?

You woke up to several missed calls and texts from Azriel, all sent hours apart. It seemed that he didn’t get any sleep at all.

I am so sorry. I’m the worst person in the world. I know that. 

I know what you’re thinking right now. I know that you’re going over it all in your head. But, it was real, baby. It was all real. I swear it was. I love you so much.

I’m hoping you’re getting some sleep. Can I see you today?

Groaning, you tossed your phone to the side, and took a long shower. By the time you got out, someone was knocking on your door. 

You quickly dressed in some old pajamas and called through the door, “Go away, Az.”

“Well, at least you’re alive,” you heard him say. “Can I please come in? Two minutes?”

You threw the door open, furious. “No, you cannot come in. You humiliated me. You used me. You had your fun. What else could you possibly want?”

Azriel was standing on the threshold, his hands in his pockets nervously, his facial expression looked like you had just slapped him. “I want to apologize! I want to make things better, that’s what I want.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you said quietly, “Go away.” 

His face fell. “I love you.”

Shaking your head, you said, “You don’t.”

He took a step forward, wedging his foot on the door jam so you couldn’t close it on him. “I do,” he said, his eyes pleading, baring into yours. “You know that I do. You know I’ve never let anybody else see the real me. Nobody but you.”

Tears spilled onto your cheeks then, and he wiped them away gently. Despite everything, you couldn’t back away. “It doesn’t matter,” you croaked. “You only went out with me so you could help her ruin my life.”

Azriel opened his mouth, as if to reply, but then shut it. 

You laughed humorlessly. “See? Even you don’t have a comeback.”

His eyes softened, his rough fingers still absentmindedly stroking your cheeks. “Please,” he said again. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not enough,” you whispered, your heart breaking all over again as you looked up at him, at the pain in his eyes.

“How do I fix it?” He whispered back, tears sliding freely down his cheeks now.

“I don’t know,” you said, stepping back out of his grasp. “Please, Az. I just -- I need to be alone right now.”

He nodded, drawing his arm across his face to wipe the tears away. “Okay. Okay, I’ll umm -- I’ll see you later?”

You didn’t know how to answer that, didn’t know if you would see him again at all. He took a step back, into the hallway. 

Without another word, you shut the door.

Especially knowing where that awful bet had originated, you refused to let Azriel and Claire get in your head for finals. You buckled down, spending entire days at the library studying, writing papers, finishing projects. 

It was helpful, actually. You didn’t allow yourself to think about him, about all the memories you had that had become so tainted and confusing. 

By the end of the semester, you had maintained all your A’s, passing every final with flying colors. And thus, secured the very top spot of the Dean’s list.

Azriel had been texting and calling every day. You left them all unanswered. 

You hadn’t yet had time to think, to process through the hurt. 

A new text chimed as you were packing up your car to head home for the summer. 

Saw the list. Nicely done, bookworm. I know it doesn’t matter, but I really am proud of you. Looks like all that hard work paid off ❤️

Despite everything, there was a swell of emotion in your chest at his words. God, why did everything have to be so awful?

Later, you were hefting your last box into your trunk when you heard the distinct sound of a motorcycle slowing down behind you. Your heart raced. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to see him again or not.

Slowly, you turned around to see Azriel sliding off the bike, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, somewhat tentatively.

“Hi,” you said softly. 

He nodded to your car, his expression grave. “You’re leaving?”

“Back home for the summer,” you said, unable to take your eyes off him. He looked tired. And sad. 

A moment passed silently, the two of you just looking at each other, pain hanging in the air between you.

“I miss you,” he said quietly. 

You sighed. Willed yourself to be brave. “I miss you, too,” you admitted. 

Something like hope gleamed in his eyes. “I love you,” he murmured. 

“I --” you started, and couldn’t bear it. “I need time.”

He looked crestfallen, like you had just punched him in the gut, but he nodded. “The summer?”

You swallowed. “Okay,” you said. “Okay. I get the summer, and I’ll find you in the fall. We’ll talk then.”

“Thank you,” he said, quietly. “Thank you for… for that. For talking to me now,” he winced. “I know I don’t deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” you said, but there was no malice in it. You were too tired. “I get the summer, Az. Don’t contact me until school starts.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but agreed. “Okay. I’ll see you in September,” he said, backing up towards his bike. “Have a good summer, bookworm,” he added with the slightest of smiles, before he slid on his helmet and drove away.

---

You spent most of the summer moping around, reading books, and trying to sort through everything that happened, all the feelings you had. 

For three months, you sifted through every moment that Azriel and you had shared together, picking them apart, deciphering every movement. 

It may have been slightly unhealthy.

You believed that what you and Azriel had was real. You believed that he did love you. And you couldn’t deny that you loved him. That maybe you always would. 

Was it worth it to deny yourself the person who had made you so happy? Who had taught you new things, who had helped you out of your comfort zone?

As September grew closer, you still weren’t sure. 

 ---

Azriel got more and more anxious as the summer came to a close. It had been torture to not contact you at all, but he knew he was in no position to be asking you for anything, so he did as you asked. 

The hurt on your face those months ago was still a clear image in his mind that haunted his nightmares. He would never forgive himself for hurting you. 

Yet, he couldn’t stop imagining what would happen when he saw you again. Would you give him another chance? You would have to be a saint to even contemplate that. But then again, you were the best person he had ever known. If anyone would be able to forgive, it would be you.

Scowling, he stomped that shred of hope down. He couldn’t go into this having any expectations. 

Soon, he would know.

---

It was bittersweet coming back to school. Academia was where you thrived. You felt right at home in the library, stacks of papers all around you. 

And you used to feel at home with Azriel. 

You sighed at the thought. The first day of classes was tomorrow. You had told Azriel not to contact you until school started back up again, and knowing him, he would take that seriously. 

Deep down, you knew what you wanted to do. It terrified you, though. 

Sure enough, the next morning, you had a text from him:

Hey, bookworm. Hope your first day of classes goes well. 

The slightest smile spread across your lips. You knew he was probably dying to ask when he could see you, but was trying to keep it light. Leave the ball in your court.

For the first time since everything, you texted him back.

Thanks, Az. Yours, too. 

He opened it immediately. After a moment, you willed yourself to send another:

Wanna meet up at the tennis courts tonight? 

His reply came at lightning speed:

7?

Reigning in your smile, you replied:

7.

You couldn’t remember ever being this nervous as you walked to the tennis courts. There were a few people playing, so you sat underneath a tree nearby, willing your legs to stop shaking. 

Right on time, a familiar motorcycle turned into the parking lot. He spotted you immediately, striding over to you with unsure steps. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said quietly. 

You looked up at him, your heart racing at the familiarity you felt. “Hi,” you said, and after the briefest hesitation, you patted the grass next to you. You weren’t sure you would be able to stand. 

Immediately, he plopped down across from you, his knees only inches from yours as he faced you. 

His eyes were locked on yours. “How was your summer?” he said, his voice cracking slightly. 

“Okay,” you said. “How was yours?”

“Okay,” he said quietly. 

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Okay, here’s the thing. I did a lot of thinking. A lot of thinking. And I do love you, Az.”

You paused, not sure how to word what you were feeling. 

“But?” Azriel said, his voice dripping with trepidation, his eyes guarded.

“But it’s going to take some time before I can trust you again.”

Azriel swallowed, his eyes never wavering from yours. 

He seemed like he was waiting for you to continue before he said anything, so you added, quietly, “I am willing to try, though. To give us another chance.”

The tautness in his body released, relief flooding his features. “Really?” he croaked, tears swimming in his eyes. 

You could only nod before he launched towards you, knocking you on your back, before he threaded his fingers through your hair, kissing you deeply. 

You laughed, as his other hand came up to cup your face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I swear I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” he said against your lips.

Wrapping your arms around him, you sighed into his kiss. “I know, Az. I know.”

“I love you,” he murmured, moving to kiss down your neck.

“I love you, too.”

“I missed you so much,” he groaned before kissing your lips again.

You giggled. “I missed you, too.”

He finally stopped kissing you, settling his elbows on either side of your head, leaning his forehead against yours. “Thank you. For giving me another chance.”

Smiling, you kissed him swiftly on the lips. “Don’t mess it up.”

“I won’t. I swear I won’t.”

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon in each other’s arms, going over your respective summers. 

Eventually, Azriel propped himself on an elbow, gazing at you with all the love in the world.

“What?” you asked. 

He grinned. “You wanna go mini golfing, bookworm?”

You couldn’t help but return his smile. “Only if I can help you again.”

Azriel leaned down to gently kiss your forehead. “It’s a deal.”

A/N: wanna see more of these two?? Check out part 2!

@thalia-as-blog @saltedcoffeescotch

[lazysoulwriter]

sweetest man alive - pedro pascal.

requested! hope u enjoyy.

---

Pedro’s curls are extra fluffy tonight, the result of too much nervous hand-combing in the dressing room. He’s sitting on the iconic couch of The Graham Norton Show, sipping on water even though there’s a fancy cocktail in front of him. There’s a buzz in the studio—part excitement, part anticipation—because everyone knows the topic’s about to shift to her.

They've just wrapped up a chaotic segment with a comedian and a pop star, and Graham leans toward him with a knowing smirk. Pedro already senses it coming.

“So Pedro,” Graham begins, drawing out the syllables, “the internet’s in shambles over you two going official. How’s life treating you now that you’re a proper, public couple?”

The audience oooohs, claps, and Pedro—sweet, soft Pedro—blushes immediately. He tries to hide it behind his glass but he’s grinning like an idiot.

“Oh God,” he says, voice already a few decibels higher, “are we really doing this?”

“Yes, we are,” Graham says smugly. “You posted the photo. There’s no going back.”

Pedro shakes his head, laughing. “I didn’t post it, she did! And I asked for it. I begged for it, actually.” He leans back into the couch, one hand pressed over his chest dramatically. “I saw the picture and said, ‘Please, you have to post this. The world deserves to see how hot we look together.’”

The audience laughs, and Graham raises his brows. “So you’re fully leaning in, huh?”

Pedro nods, then softens instantly. His shoulders relax, the smirk fades into a fond, half-smitten smile.

“Yeah,” he says, quietly now. “I mean, I’ve never felt like this before. It’s just… easy. Like, we’re laughing all the time, she annoys me in the best way, I wake up and she’s there and I’m like, ‘Oh, cool, I get to do life with you.’”

The audience lets out a collective aww, and Pedro looks mildly flustered again, running a hand through his hair.

Graham chuckles. “You’re glowing, man. You’re like—radiating love.”

“I am in love,” Pedro says without hesitation, completely unbothered by the way the crowd reacts. “Like, I’m an actual mess. I hear her voice and I start smiling like a fool. I wait by the door when she’s coming over, like a golden retriever. It’s embarrassing. I’m disgusting.”

More laughter. He leans forward, as if to confide in the whole audience.

“She sent me a video of her dancing in my kitchen the other day,” he says, beaming. “Wearing my hoodie. Just dancing like a weirdo with the cat in her arms. I’ve watched it at least fifty times. I show it to everyone. Even people on set who didn’t ask.”

Graham’s laughing so hard he has to wipe his eyes. “Pedro, this is honestly the sappiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“Yeah,” Pedro shrugs. “She ruined me. I was a cool, mysterious man before this.”

“No, you weren’t,” the pop star interrupts playfully from the other couch.

Pedro points at them. “Exactly. I wasn’t. And now I’m not even pretending. I just want to brag about my girlfriend and how good she smells and how nice she is to everyone, and how sometimes I catch her making playlists for me and pretending like it’s not the most romantic thing in the world.”

Graham grins. “You’re officially the softest man alive.”

“I’ll take that title proudly,” Pedro says, placing a hand over his heart. “Long live the soft kings.”

The segment ends with the audience clapping, Pedro still smiling like he’s holding onto a secret, one that smells like his hoodie and dances in his kitchen with a cat in her arms.

---

[ora-draws]

A little analysis on how Hans & Henry were handled post-ending (heavy KCD2 spoiler alert)

Ok, so I've seen a lot of people talk about how they feel like the ending-part after the siege falls short when it comes to Hansry and leaves out a lot of possible interactions that could have been included.

And I feel you there, although I'm also a big fan of show-don't-tell and leaving things to imagination and interpretation.

However saying we got like a 4 minute romance scene after only being fed crumbs for hundreds of hours does not only fail to acknowledge the crafty subtlety with which their relationship and development has been told over the whole course – it also disregards how impactful the ending actually is.

More under the cut.

In order to put this into perspective, we need to consider not only Hans and Henry, but also the other main romance options: Rosa and Katherine. Rosa happens rather mid-game and while she isn't as mutually exclusive as Kat/Hans, she can be Henry's desired sweetheart by the end if you so choose. Yet whether you do or not, Rosa tells Henry that she considers this a one-time thing, even comes across rather pragmatic about it and tells him off by reminding you that any future is impossible anyway, since he is bastard and she's a nobleman's daughter.

As for Katherine, this is a bit more complicated; she opens up to Henry a bit in the very last moment, they spend an intimate and vulnerable moment together, finding comfort in each other's arms. Yet although she is clearly relieved about Henry's survival and brightens up after the siege, she's more open than set on staying with him, yet implies she'll give it a try. And that's understandable, given her past and circumstances. She even mentions how she doesn't believe she can truly ever be happy again, even if you suggest looking forward. There's a lot of shared trauma here which gives common ground, but is the biggest obstacle at the same time. Apart from that, Kat doesn't bring a lot of baggage, she's a commoner like you, and is just as unbound.

And then we have Hans. Who is not only literally the 'worst' choice Henry could have made in any possible regard considering time period and society, but also a 'lost cause'. We spend half of the ending dialogue with him and Hanush talking about how Henry needs to force him to attend his wedding if the need shall arise. And yet, despite all things given, the moment you can talk privately, Hans doesn't give a second thought to all this. Not only is he genuinely happy and relieved about Henry's well-being: He has no regrets, utters no doubts about what has happend, and the first thing he talks about is how to postpone the wedding as long as possible, even if he cannot avoid it in the end.

He is annoyed, yes, but he doesn't despair about it – and remarks quite clearly that he and Henry will just need to see how things will work out for them. Which is sensible, even if it is also naive. They could never be together openly anyway. But again, it's worth mentioning how even with all that uncercainty, he treats it with a genuine & positive outlook. And – of course – let's not forget that he right away (and happily) jumps onto your offer to take a look at his arrow wound and very bluntly makes the suggestion to find a place which is more private again, showing he wants to be close with you again and stay this way. And Hans – ironically – is the only love interest who does it this way. Which is absolutely heartwrenching and sweet and says a lot, even if we don't get 'much'.

And it is also very very Hans lmao. The second you are alone he's like: Yeah, that's my man, fuck everything, let's go. One has to keep in mind that his heartbreaking Galehaut/Lancelot talk was possibly one of his most vulnerable moments and a rather stark contrast to his usual behavior, because there was just so much at stake. If at all, it shows how much it meant to him.

I see a lot of people depict him as very sensitive, passive or whiny, but honestly, while he can be a spoiled brat and a nuisance, Hans is everything BUT subtle most of the time: he's impulsive, needy, jealous and a short-tempered hothead and it's a very lovely detail this shines through as soon as you are together again. Why? Because it shows how he feels comfortable in his skin and with his choice – and with Henry. Despite everything. This sets him quite apart from the other LIs imo & and all these little details are what make their story and relationship so appealing.

If you've read all of this: Thank you.💚 This is a first for me, I never engaged this much with people online before. I was somehow sucked into this fandom and I genuinely love it, it's an absolutely lovely and welcoming community.

Thanks also to @dill-weeds for chatting about this beforehand, it made me write this down ha.

[woewriting]

turning point (g!p)

pairing: tara carpenter | reader summary: tara calls you to rescue her from a bad date and things take a surprising turn. word count: 3726 warnings: mdni, +18 only! no ghostface au, reader has a dick, friends with benefits (?), clothed sex, language, smut in general. a/n: will you guys believe if i say the date part was inspired by a terrible date my coworker had? because it was and @wesstars is the proof of it!

masterlist

When the 7th episode of season 4 of Stranger Things started you felt your phone vibrating somewhere in between the cozy blankets. As you blindly looked for it, eyes focused on the TV in front of your bed, you felt it vibrating once again, but this time more than once. 

Holding the phone in your hands, the name “tara” followed by a small heart emoji showed on the screen with 4 messages attached to it. Pausing the episode, you unlocked the device. 

tara ♥︎ can you come pick me up? please this is the worst date ever 😭

Sewing your eyebrows together, you were quick to reply, asking for her location. 

tara ♥︎ im at the motel near the campus, green valley or something chad is showering and i told him i’d take an uber home because i wasn't feeling well and didn’t want to stay anymore please come fast

Typing a simple “omw”, you grabbed your hoodie, throwing it over the white tank top you usually wore to sleep along with sweat shorts that easily became a second skin.

It was easy to spot the building as a gigantic green neon sign took over most of the illumination of the empty street. You parked in front of it, patiently waiting for your best-friend as you sent a message letting her know you arrived. The place seemed expensive and well cleaned, unlike most cheap motels that took over the right side of the street near the campus of your college, still, it didn't appetize you to walk in.

Soon, the younger Carpenter ran towards you, sighing in relief when she jumped into the car. 

“That bad, huh?” You asked with a laugh, setting the first gear ready to go back home. 

“You have no idea.” Tara whined, turning on the heat, complaining about how cold it was outside in a whisper. “I'll tell you everything when we get home.”

“I'm watching Stranger Things.” The focus on the road in front of you as you took a right turn didn't allow you to see the indignation expression on her face, more dramatic than it was necessary.

“Is Stranger Things more important than me?”

“I’m about to find out what happened at the Hawkins Lab…” You continued, trying to convince her of your cause, but her next words made you look at her with raised eyebrows, a convinced smile of someone who won drawing her lips.

“He has a small dick.”

“I'm all ears, princess.” 

The return home didn’t take more than 10 minutes, especially with empty roads and yellow sign lights. Tara started telling about her date from the second it started, which was 5PM, the exact time she started to get ready. Honestly, none of that was necessary to reach the part that it all went downhill, but you didn’t dare to interrupt, you paid attention to every word Tara was saying as you carefully parked your car in your designated spot.

The second the elevator stopped on your floor, Tara had finished telling you about the dinner part of her date. 

According to her, the food wasn't bad, but the place was crowded and the music playing was so annoying that it became a bit too much for her. It was already hard to pay attention to anything Chad was saying as the others' conversation was caught in the middle, stealing her attention, all she could was nod and smile, like one of the Penguins from Madagascar. 

You laughed at her indignation and the small wrinkle in between her eyebrows, opening the door and giving her space to walk in. Kicking your shoes away, the both of you automatically walked to the door at the end of the small hallway of your apartment, the episode 7 of Stranger Things’ last season still on pause when you sat on the bed being followed by Tara; Jamie Campbell’s beautiful blue eyes on the screen.

“... and after we got to the motel, things were heating up and his hands were on my ass and he kept pushing me against him and…” Tara stopped talking after noticing the disgusted expression on your face as you made yourself comfortable on the bed. The girl sat right by your side. “I will not spare any details.”

“I’m seriously considering automatically deleting every explicit part of it.” You retorted, shifting uncomfortably against the headboard.

Despite the years of friendship you and Tara had, from Junior High all the way to college — where you both were right now, nothing touchy ever happened between the two of you, not even a single, drunk kiss at parties. You two were close, of course, but not this close, and hearing the vulgar words easily slipping out of her mouth was creating a weird feeling inside your chest.

“I don’t care.” The girl rolled her eyes, moving closer to you. “Continuing, Chad is gentle, nice, and it feels good to be with him, but ugh… I couldn’t even feel anything when I was sitting on his lap.” You let out a small laugh, scratching your eyebrow. That wasn’t the first time Tara rambled about a bad date, but this was Chad, a common friend, and someone that the young Carpenter had a genuine interest in. At this point, that interest had disappeared into thin air. “And when he removed his pants, he had this military patch underwear and black socks on and it was a huge turn off.”

“Black socks really do sucks…”

“I know!” The exasperated way she agreed with you made you laugh, her hand resting near your knee. “Can you believe he didn’t want to take them off? He said he has cold feet.” Her face fell against your thigh, a tired sighing leaving her mouth, hot breath hitting your bate skin. “I should’ve ran when he said that.” Tara mumbled.

Your hand naturally rested on her head in a soft petting, “You really should have.”

The brunette moved a little, laying on her side with her cheek still resting on your leg to feel the soothing moves of your fingers on her hair. The new position gave her a small vision of what's beneath the thick fabric of your shorts, the hem of black boxers peeking through. She looked away, crimson color on her cheeks as she continued the events of the night.

“But, it’s Chad, so I decided to ignore that ridiculous sock and continue.” You nodded your head. “He removed that equally annoying underwear and I swear to God! It was smaller than my hand, and my hands aren’t that big! Look.” To prove her point, she held your other hand, measuring it with her own. She intertwined your fingers together after you agreed with her, resting them both on her chest. “But I was like… okay, it’s not big but maybe he can be good with his tongue.”

“Oh, God.” You choke, closing your eyes. “I will never be able to look at him again.”

“Imagine how I feel!” Tara whined. “But then I thought to myself, he’s a terrible kisser; if he doesn’t know how to use his tongue on my mouth, imagine how bad it’ll be when he use it on my pu—”

“Okay! Let’s not use those explicit words, please.” You interrupted her, shifting again. “But damn, is that guy good at anything?”

“He has a nice body… from the waist up.” This time neither of you could hold back the laugh, the delightful sound of her laughing mixed with yours filled the room for a couple minutes, your hand still playing with the soft strands that spread across your leg. “Chad is a nice guy, but… that’s not enough for me, you know? I crave touching, feeling something. And he was so small I would barely feel anything.” Tara cried out, covering her face with her free hand as the other still held yours against her chest.

“I’m not a sexual freak or anything but I agree, at least the kiss has to be good. So that’s when you messaged me?”

“I wish.” It was your turn to sigh loudly. “We kept going and when I asked him to wear protection, you won’t believe it…”

“He didn’t have any?”

“Oh, he did.” She bit her lower lip, hand still covering her eyes as the images played like a broken record behind her closed lids. “After that awkward moment where he put it on, he got soft.”

“Maybe it was too tight or something, that can be an annoying bother.” You tried defending your friend, but the girl denied with her head, pursing her lips together, deciding if she should say it or not, but after all the details she already had shared, this one wouldn’t matter either.

“It was loose. It was the smallest size and it still was big for him.”

“Jesus Christ. I am deleting every photo I have with him. I can’t bear looking him in the eyes after knowing all of that.” Once again, your laugh filled the bedroom, making Tara look at you with narrowed eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is it me?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Am I the problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m a terrible kisser and that’s why it didn’t fit.” She explained, looking at you.”Do you think I’m hot?”

“Where did that come from?” 

“The deepest part of my curious brain.” Tara sat back up, resting her hand and yours on her thigh. “Now answer me, am I hot?”

“You are hot, Tara.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the problem wasn’t you. Maybe he was just nervous to be with you, I don’t know.”

“That does make me the problem.” Her eyes never left yours, looking for a small sign of a lie that was never found; after all, you did find Tara hot. “Why did you never kiss me?” 

You let out a deep sigh. “Because we’re friends.”

“You kiss your friends. Amber, Mindy, and I’m sure you tried to kiss my sister once too.”

“Please, don’t bring that to the table.” The pinkish tone that colored your cheeks made the other smile. “And it’s different, they’re just friends, and you’re my best friend.”

Tara moved on the bed, sitting on her calves, still looking at you, and still holding your hand. 

“Kiss me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kiss me.”

You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, trying to pull your hand from hers and moving away just a bit, but the brunette was determined, you could see it in the dark brown eyes.

“Stop joking around, Carpenter.” You said one more time, her slender fingers tracing random patterns on your thigh with her free hand, feeling the goosebumps all over your skin, big bambi eyes staring at you. “Tara…”

“Please…” She cried out, the tip of her fingers trespassing the hem of your shorts, only a few centimeters away from your clothed cock. You could already feel it twitching inside your boxers just from those small touches. “I just wanna prove to myself that I can do it and that there’s nothing wrong with me. You, as my best friends, should help me with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, I truthfully believe you can get someone hard.”

“Then why wasn’t he hard?”

“Maybe it was just a bad day or he was nervous, I don’t know.” You repeat what you said earlier, hoping that it was enough for the small girl. It clearly wasn't though.

“But we were having fun! He was sweet, polite, respectful, and paid for dinner and the motel, which was not cheap. It makes no sense!” She whined like a spoiled kid. Tara sat on your thighs, holding your face in her hands. “Lemme touch you. Please.”

“Can’t we just watch Stranger Things and forget about this terrible date?” You asked in hopes she would let that stupid idea go; she obviously didn’t. 

“We can, after we kiss.” Tara fixed herself on top of you, moving up. Your hands instantly grabbed her waist, before she could sit on your hips. “You know I won’t stop.”

“You’re like the donkey from Shrek.” You writhe under her.

“Please…”

“Dear Lord.” Your head fell back, hitting the soft headboard. “Why does it have to be me? And now?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” The girl shrugged. “Plus, you never let me see it.”

“I swear you have the strangest obsession with my dick.”

“I’m just curious about it.” Feeling the loosen on your grip, Tara moved slightly up, sitting right on top of it. “And I can definitely feel it.” The brunette pushed herself down, biting her lower lip. 

“Please, stop moving.” You whined, trying to hold her still, but she was determined, you could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t going to take long before your underwear became a bother. “Tara, I’m warning you.” 

“You sound so hot, you should use that tone with me more often.” Her hands grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, pulling you closer until her mouth was yours. You didn’t stop her or kissed her back, but your grip on her waist grew stronger. She smiled against your lips, one of her hands sliding down your body, nails scratching your belly under your hoodie, threatening to trespass the waist of your shorts. “Can I touch you?” 

You gulped hard, staring at the brown eyes that looked soft, unlike her hands. “Are you sure you want to do this? There's no point of return.” Tara nodded fast, not giving a second thought to it, playing with the waist of your shorts. “You can touch me.”

When you gave Tara permission to touch you, you thought the girl was going to wrap her hands around your soft shaft, but all she did was kiss you, slowly and enticing, and this time you kissed her back. Your hands on her waist helped her move against your lap, grinding on you at a torturous pace. 

You wanted to turn around, change your positions so you could control whatever it was about to happen, but you allowed her to be in charge; this was all about Tara proving to herself she’s not the problem, right? So you held back the urge.

Tara’s hands moved up again, wrapping around your neck as she got closer, pushing herself down on you, moaning against your parted lips when she felt your dick pressing on her even though you weren’t hard. 

Her kiss trailed down your neck, gently nibbling on the skin there. You threw your head back, moving your hands down her ass, under the skirt of her dress to push her harder against you, increasing her hips’ speed.

“Fuck…” You let out a sharp breath, completely affected by the delicate touches coming from your best-friend, and that only made her more eager to pleasure you. 

“Do you like this?” Tara whispered in your ear, softly biting on your lobule, tracing the cartilage with her teeth. All you could do was nod. She could feel you slowly getting hard against her ass.

Licking your lips, you thrust your hip up in a strong move, making the both of you moan lowly. You could come just with that friction if she continued moaning with her mouth so close to your ear, only for you to hear it.

Tara’s hands trailed down your body once again, but this time she pushed down the elastic of the waistband of your gray shorts, in a silent request for you to remove it. She lifted herself just enough for it to slide down your legs, pooling just before your knees, the black boxer still hugging your thighs tightly. 

She didn’t want to look down, too shy to do so, but when she sat back against your bulge, it was impossible to not look at it. She pursed her lips together, the moan choked in the back of her throat as she felt you pressing hard against her. A wet spot taking form on the dark, thin cloth the more she rolled her hips on you.

It was an agonizing pain to let Tara in control of the situation. You could feel the warmth and wetness dripping for her cunt, you would easily slide in her, if she allowed you to. But you didn’t know how far she wanted to go with you, after all, this was just a test to see if she could get you hard, and she definitely could as she felt you twitching against her in desperate need to release. 

This could've stopped here and now, you were hard after all, but in a bold move, her hand slipped into your underwear, her hand holding your dick in a hard squeeze that almost made you scream against her mouth. Pulling your length out, Tara wrapped her hand around your shaft, moving it up and down in a provocative way, smiling against your parted lips. Her eyes were dark, staring at you with luxury dripping from the brownish just like she was dripping on your thighs. You could feel the hot, thick liquid oozing on your skin as she rubbed herself on you.

“Fuck, Tara.” You breathed out again, broken, lewdly. 

The brunette dipped her hand in her own underwear, eyes threatening to close as she rounded her swollen clit with two fingers, but she kept them open with a wicked expression on her face. Tara pulled her dress up, giving you the privileged view of her ruined underwear, the white fabric completely transparent. You couldn’t help yourself as your finger traced the wet stain, Tara’s mouth hanging open at the agonizing slow touch.

“Stop.” She asked in a trembled voice, shakingly holding your hand with flushed cheeks. “I don’t wanna cum like this.”

“And how do you wanna cum?” 

Letting go of your hand, she watched with focused eyes as you took two of your fingers in your mouth, sucking at the slick that coated them with a satisfied hum. Tara seriously considered saying she wanted to ride your face and fall apart on your lips, but she just, messily, removed her underwear. A thin line of arousal followed the cloth as she tossed it somewhere in your bedroom, your mouth watering at that.

Tara pulled your boxer slightly down just enough for your member to be released, proudly hitting your lower belly, before placing herself on top of your cock, the blood flowing in your veins reverberating against her clit, making both of you choke on your breath. She fitted your length in between her slick folds, almost crying at the warm feeling. 

She started grinding on you, shaking at every small move. 

“This feels so fucking good.” 

Throwing her head back, Tara supported her weight on her arms, gaining a fast pace. Your hands held the skirt of her dress up, giving you the perfect view of her shining cunt, smearing herself all over your cock. You could feel that tight knot on your stomach at that.

Moving one of your hands up and taking the dress with it, you crossed a barrier when you exposed her perfect tits, holding the stiff nipple with your thumb and index finger in a hurtful squeeze, earning yourself a crying moan that only made you throb against her center, while the other hand bruised the skin of her ass. You could see the red marks of your fingers all over her waist. 

Pulling her torso towards you, your lips wrapped around her other nipple, trembling your tongue on the hardened nub, making Tara’s hands pull on your hair, keeping you close to her chest. Her hips started to lose speed, squirming in your arms as she neared her release; you weren’t going to last much, not when she started whispering your name over and over, shakingly violently in your arms. You came right after her, shooting thick ropes of cum directly into your hoodie. 

Your arms were fast to hold her against you, keeping her body close as you came down from your high together. Tara's head fell on your shoulder, her hot breath tickling the skin of your neck, you could feel her smile. 

“You okay?” Being the first one to break the silence, you asked in a soft voice, running your hands up and down her back, feeling her heart beating like crazy; yours weren't different, smashing itself against your ribcage.

“I'm great.” She mumbled out, weak and out of breath. “Are you okay?” 

Feeling the nod of your head, she pulled away from her hiding spot. When you met her eyes, a pinkish color was filling the skin around her cheekbones, coloring the freckles that spread across her face, and unlike you were wondering inside your head, things didn't look awkward after that; Tara still had that familiar, warm look in her eyes when she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” 

“For making you cum without barely touching you?” Tara laughed in a proud voice, avoiding looking down as she felt your length still comfortably placed in between her slick folds.

Your hands were firm on her waist when you lifted her hips, guiding the tip of your cock against her sensitive bundle of nerves before slowly sliding in her cunt at the same time she fell back on your thighs, trying to catch her breath at the sudden invasion. A small smile on her face at the feeling of being full, her velvety walls clenching hard around your shaft, still recovering from her orgasm. 

“For the fact that I'm still pretty hard.” Pressing kisses over her jawline, you thrusted up, a surprised moan escaping her throat. “Can you feel it? How hard I am? How good I'm filling you?” 

“Yes…” She choked out, wrinkling your hoodie in her fingers, trying to find support on your shoulders when your hands forced her up, your member coated in a thin layer of her arousal before sliding her back down. “I'm very proud of myself.” The breathy confession made you smile against her neck, softly biting on her jugular before your movements gained a steady rhythm, mixing with the wet sounds and the melody tone of her voice calling out your name for every neighbor to hear.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ newfangled technology ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ logan finds your vibrator and discovers a wonder of modern technology┊1k words

contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊implied age gap, established relationship, vibrators, overstimulation & mentioned multiple orgasms, receiving oral

➤ author's note: first logan smut!! i’m a bit burnt out of writing it actually so idk if there will be more, but i couldn’t let this idea go <3

logan likes to believe that he understands modern technology for the most part even though you can often hear him muttering curses under his breath at the stupid machine that isn’t working. if most parents and grandparents are struggling to figure it all out, you can bet that this two-hundred-year-old mutant does. it feels like yesterday when people were using rotary phones in their homes, then hand-held flip-phones, and now smartphones that could show you anything you could dream of at the tap of a button— he feels as though the world is growing much faster than an old man like him can keep up with too many gadgets for too many different purposes getting too many upgrades.

any attempts to get him to understand the internet fail for the most part, so he uses his own phone for nothing other than calling, texting, photography, and occasionally googling some sort of questions. he finds advertisements about the latest devices annoying, but he’s very appreciative of motorcycles, kitchen appliances, and other simple machines that make life so much easier compared to his time.

he’s learning about new tech every week, new and pre-existing, both ones which make him wonder if he should get it for himself or ones which make him furrow his brow at the fact that such a thing actually exists. tonight is one of the times when he has both reactions, but more than anything, an intense curiosity had been ignited in his soul.

you asked him to look for something in your bedroom drawers, something that he can’t recall at the moment after he found something that piqued his attention: an egg-shaped item coated in pink medical-grade silicone neatly hidden under layers of clothing and tightly wrapped in a bag. it was tiny in his massive hand and he didn’t have the foggiest idea what it was or what it was made for until you walked in to see what was taking so long, hearing you gasp and turning his head to find you covering your face with your hands looking absolutely mortified. you struggled to stop yourself from stuttering when you had to explain to him what it was, a sex toy that you bought sometime in the first year of college and buried once you got together since it was no longer needed. it was the only one you’ve ever bought and you’ve honestly forgotten about it until now without any idea of how he would react.

while you were humiliated about it, you could see a sparkle of intrigue in his eyes which quickly led to finding yourself in bed with your clothing removed and his new discovery against your aching cunt. it wasn’t difficult to figure out how to change the intensity of the vibrations with a press of a button, but did he need to put it at the highest setting when you’ve practically lost feeling in your legs at this point? it felt so strange at first now that you’re so accustomed to him pleasuring you personally, yet that foreign sense melted away with the familiar memory of taking care of your needs when lonely— except now you had your handsome lover holding it for you with your hands gripping the sheets instead. 

he’s amused at how such a small little thing was so powerful in reducing you to a moaning mess as it pulls another orgasm from your spent body, feeling his neglected cock twitch with every blissful moan past your lips louder than the humming of the toy. you mutter something along the lines of asking him not to stare out of embarrassment, but it all falls on deaf ears since the view that he has is downright mesmerizing, watching intently as he presses it into your puffy folds with a focus on your sensitive clit. all the while, he’s holding your legs open to stop you from closing them instinctively when it felt like too much, his large hand being a comforting weight on your thigh as you squirm in place.

your body trembled in sync with the pulsating toy, walls barely able to clench around the head of the vibrator while leaking like a faucet and dripping all over logan’s fingers. “it’s too much-!!” you whined, throwing your head back into the pillows with glossy eyes and drool starting to seep out the corner of your mouth from the electricity coursing through your veins. it’s surprising that you were even able to utter a coherent phrase when your brain had essentially been turned to mush.

“you can give me one more, can’t you doll?” there’s a hint of sadism in his voice detectable to even your ecstasy-fogged mind where you knew that he was getting off on your reactions alone, an arrogant smirk plastered across his handsome face that was so slappable and sexy. he can almost feel himself drooling too, craving a taste of the sweet nectar making a mess everywhere. “such a desperate and needy little thing,” he tutted, observing your greedy pussy trying to pull the vibrator deeper within you. “go on, cum for me.”

as if his words commanded your body, the tight coil twisting in your abdomen finally snapped, making you writhe and cry out in relief. your heart was pounding in your chest and you gasped for air, feeling sweaty and exhausted as that must have been your third or fourth climax. you stared at him through half-lidded eyes trying to determine if he had had enough of using the vibrator for torturous pleasure until he suddenly pulled you closer to him to bury his face into your soaked heat. he just needed a taste of you, to lick you clean and make you tug on his hair.

watching you become undone when he doesn’t even need to lift a finger seemed to awaken something in him… it’s definitely a piece of modern technology that he would like to invest in, he plans to buy more of different types, shapes, and sizes to try out on you (the definition of “spectacular, give me fourteen of them right now”).

[meowgumi10]

Husband!Sukuna NSFW alphabet (request!)

Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

-he’s kind, cleans you up and maybe asks Uraume to run you both a nice bath

-he likes to keep a hand on your lower stomach, he loves the idea of getting you pregnant

-he just admires you if you sleep straight after, the woman he loves and adores

Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-on you it would be your eyes, he can see every emotion and most importantly they’re beautiful

-he loves eye contact durning sex, or even when you two are just talking

-on himself it’s probably his arms, he’s able to cuddle you perfectly (especially if this is true form sukuna)

-his hands are large and his biceps even bigger so he can carry you around, hold you, protect you

Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-he cums way to much, like it gets to a point

-it’s thick and creamy, like double cream (the closet thing i could think of )

-he LOVES filling you up, and will every single time

-with you he loves the taste of you, will slurp it all up after devouring you

Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-he’s into bondage but is always afraid of scaring you, the last thing he wants is to scare the love of his life

-he loves shibari, definitely has some books on it

-would love to see the bright red rope wrapping around you in intimate ways, allowing him to open you up in anyway he likes

-he has the red rope but is always reluctant to bring it up

Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

-knows what’s he doing honestly

-he’s very familiar with the human body, especially a woman’s and not just in a sexual sense (bros a cannibal)

-he’s not all that experienced in ‘making love’ but he definitely figures it out for you

Favorite position (this goes without saying)

-missionary, mating press, spoon fucking (cuddling and fucking at the same time)

-anything that keeps you two close and makes it intimate

-he likes cowgirl but only if your really pressed up against him, his arms around you as he kisses you softly

-he doesn’t mind letting you set your own pace

Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

-I think he’s more serious, for him sex with you is him showing his love and his love is definitely serious for you

- he does like teasing, he might occasionally make fun of you if you whine too much

-though if you weren’t as serious he’d definitely play along

Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

-he doesn’t give a single fuck

-he never touches it, lets it grow and do whatever it likes

-but if you do get annoyed he’d trim it

-of course his pubes are pink like his head hair

Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

-so romantic you might actually cry sometimes

-on a regular basis he’s sweet and intimate, but if it’s your birthday or an anniversary he goes all out

-candles, roses, new sheets, he might even take you to a big fancy hotel so he doesn’t have to worry about cleaning up after

-he loves you and communicates that’s clearly

Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

-before you he had at least 5 girls that were always on stand by and of course after you two got together there was only you

-he probably hasn’t jacked off since he started getting girls, he doesn’t like how his own hand feels anyway

Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-breeding kink 10000%

-he doesn’t care about gender actually he’ll still try and get you pregnant (or at least fuck you like he is)

-hot take but I think he’d like to be dominated sometimes, not as in get peggged (well maybe) but he’d let you take charge and do whatever you like with him

-maybe even dacraphilia, if he saw you crying from pure pleasure he might cum in the spot.

-the fact that he’s making you feel so good you just start to cry would definitely be a thing he loves

Location (favorite places to do the do)

-anywhere in the house honestly, he prefers the bed but you two have definitely fucked in every room

-I’m not sure about public places, I think he’s too possessive over that,plus he wants you to always be comfortable

-if you’re into it he might do it but typically he wouldn’t

-he might love a jacuzzi or the ocean/sea (imaging the twilight scene rn), it just feels very romantic

-but no matter what he’d never let anyone see your body

Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

-seeing you be confident would definitely get to him

-if you do something for him, like bake him a cake or pack him a nice lunch, then you’ll definitely be getting it

-of course seeing you in something sexy gets him, but if you two have kids and he sees you just in a t shirt and some shorts as you cook breakfast for him and the kids he’d go crazy

-he loves that domestic image of you

No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-like I said before he won’t let anyone see you let alone touch you so threesomes are a big no

-he wouldn’t like hurting you, like really hurting you, he wouldn’t mind some spanking and light choking but anything past that wouldn’t be appealing to him

Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

-he of course loves to receive, if you decide to go down on him with your perfect mouth then he’s over the moon

-but he gives head like a dog, he loves eating you out and would make you cum at least 3 times before letting you go

-he loves your pussy and it’s heavenly taste

Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

-he’s a slow and sensual type, he’d do fast and rough on rare occasions where he needs to really let some stress out

-he’s a romantic when it comes to you so he’d be slow with his thrusts and talk you through it nicely

Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

-they’re not his favourite, he’d do it if you want one but it wouldn’t be his suggestion

-he likes to take his time with you

Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

-he’d try most kinks, but he of course has limits

-if your super kinky he’s into it, he’d love a nympho wife, but if you’re more vanilla he also likes that.

-No matter what he always makes sure you’re into it

Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-this guy doesn’t stop, he could honestly go all night

-he has a high stamina, like really high (all that gym paying off)

-there’s been times where you’ve almost passed out but he was still going like it was only the second round

Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

-like I mentioned before he has rope, he might use a remote control vibrator on you sometimes for fun but only around the house

-he’d have sexy outfits for both you and him, stuff for role play and such

-I don’t think he’s big on toys but he doesn’t mind them

Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-he’s playful and likes to tease, especially durning foreplay or just when flirting with you

-he might like to hear you tell him you belong to him so he makes you say it so you can cum

-he can be teasing but he’s not horrible about it

Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

-he’s a big talker of course, sometimes he just won’t stop talking

-now he’s not ashamed to moan but he’s more of a growler/groaner

-his voice is so sexy so any noise he makes is perfect

Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

-he has a thing for chubby girls so if your plus sized hes the man for you

-it’s honestly my favourite trope, massive gym guy with a chubby girl (we need more representation fr)

-and durning sex he likes to watch things…bounce

X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-he’s big, like a person of course he’s massive but damn

-as a human let’s say he’s about 6’4, he’s very buff I mean he attends the gym religiously, so his cock… it’s a monster

-you were kinda very scared your first time together but he was patient with you

-of course deep in your relationship you can take it like a boss

Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

-he needs you 24/7, he is able to control himself but most of the time he doesn’t want you

-he’s down bad, I mean he married you and sukuna isn’t an easy guy to tie down like that

[no-144444]

꩜ summary: your past relationship ends and you may or may not get with his rival...

꩜ pairing: ollie bearman x fem! reader

꩜a/n: cheating!

“What the fuck is this?!” you demanded shoving the phone in his face. He couldn’t have- no he wouldn’t have, right? “What the fuck did you do?” 

Pictures. Him. Another girl. Fuck. 

You were in love with him. That was the worst part. You were ready to do everything with him. Ready to give him your all, marriage, kids, growing old together, etc. All that was fucked, thanks to him and his inability to keep it in his pants. 

“Baby, come on, she’s just a friend,” he sleezed, thinking some sweet-talking and a smirk would smooth it all over. Absolutely not. You weren’t letting this go. “Don’t tell me you actually believe all those rumours?”

You did, because you knew they weren’t rumours. “They aren’t rumours, Gabriel, go fuck yourself. Don’t call me again,” you scoffed before walking out of there, for good. 

A few months later, and you were feeling good, better even. Healed, was probably a better word for it, but you didn’t want to label yourself with that just yet, it gave you less of an out when all of the dates you’d been going on have ended terribly. It made it more your fault. You had imposed rules though, 1) no more racing drivers, 2) no more racing drivers. Pretty simple, right? 

“Meet Ollie, please,” Paul begged. Paul Aron was one of the only people in motorsport that you’d kept in contact with. He was sweet, funny, and apparently attempting to set you up with Oliver Bearman. “I don’t date racing drivers,” you shook your head before taking another sip of your drink. The bar he’d dragged you to was some up-market (he was paying), hipster-chic spot that he’d dug out of some instagram travelers ‘best-loved spots’. It was nice. The alcohol wasn’t watery, but the drinks were expensive, and the group of dickhead businessmen that had been gawking at you for the past hour were annoying, but it would do for the night that was in it. You enjoyed the slow jazz playing lowly over the speaker, and the very obvious couple fighting at the table next to yours. 

Paul deflated in front of you, groaning. “Y/n,” he whined. “Come on, he’s super nice!”

“He’s a racing driver, and not only that, he’s in F1. I’d honestly rather get shot repeatedly in my hand with a nail gun,” you scoffed. 

“That’s graphic,” a voice from behind you smirked. You whipped your head around to see him standing right there, Oliver Bearman. The man, the myth, the legend. You face-palmed. 

“Fuck off Paul,” you groaned and a satisfied smile made its way onto his face. 

“I’ll leave you two to chat,” he smirked before getting up, and leaving you beached on a date you didn’t even want to go on. “My card is behind the bar!” he called after himself.

“Hi,” he smiled, sitting across from you. “I’m Ollie.”

“I’m Y/n,” you smiled awkwardly. 

As much as you wouldn't admit it to Paul, you liked Ollie. You liked his floppy hair and soft smile, you liked the way he gave you his full attention and didn’t dare talk over you, you liked how he made you laugh. Shit. You were falling for another racing driver. You groaned as you sat on your bed, Paul beside you. The night was meant to be wine and chatting, but it turned into a bitch session about Gabriel trying to contact you again, and then you ended up talking about Ollie… 

It was difficult not to when the last few months had been filled with going on small date nights, facetime for hours, and generally just being with him. 

“You like him!” he cheered, ecstatic. “I’m Cupid!” 

You slapped a hand over his mouth. “I do not like him, and you are most certainly not cupid.” 

“I so am,” he chuckled, pushing your hand away. “Come on, you like him, go for it! What the fuck is stopping you?” 

“I don’t know!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms. “It’s… weird. He’s really nice and really sweet, but it’s like… a lot right now, alright? I’ve just gotten over Gabi, and now he’s texting me about getting back together again, and Ollie is there too, and I think he really likes me-” “He does,” “And that’s super nice and all, it’s just- yeah. It’s a lot.”

“Maybe you should just give him a chance,” Paul suggested. “Ollie’s going to be nice about it anyway, once you make it clear that you want to move slowly.” 

You huffed. “Why is romance so complicated?”

“Why ask me? I’ve literally never been in a relationship,” he laughed. You laughed. The weight on your shoulders lifted, it always did when you were around Paul. You thought about it for a moment and internally sighed, waving your white flag. 

“Hm,” you hummed after you both calmed down. “Maybe you are Cupid.”

The scream he let out probably could’ve been heard from space. It didn’t bother you much.

Ollie pressed his whole body against yours the second you opened the door to your hotel room. Australia hadn’t been the greatest, China had been good, and Japan had been too, but still, he had begged you to come to Bahrain, citing ‘performance issues’. He wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tight. Not really knowing what else to do, you hugged him back. He smelt like burnt rubber and his cologne, a pretty regular combo for him. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, pulling away from his chest and looking up at him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He sighed and shook his head, directing your head back to his chest. “Not really,” he answered, though his voice was muffled through your hair. “It was just shit. Fucking P20,” he shook his head, then pulled back, cradling your head in his hands. “You look beautiful though,” he offered a soft smile, and something about it made you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You look beautiful too,” you smiled. He softened slightly, and finally let you go as you led him into your hotel room. “Y’know, you didn’t have to get me another room,” you teased. “I could’ve just roomed with you.” 

He felt his cheeks heat up despite the nights you’d spent in each other's beds, but he chuckled all the same. “Didn’t want to assume.” 

“You’re very good,” you smiled, turning to him. 

“You’re very worth it,” he smiled back, wrapping his arms around your waist once again and pulling you in for another kiss. “Missed you,” he admitted, pulling back. The soft glow of your bedside lamps made his brown eyes look even bigger than they usually were, and you smiled. 

“Missed you too, I guess,” you taunted. He didn’t complain. He just kept looking at you with that same love-sick look. “Sorry I was bad luck.” 

He shook his head. “You’re good luck,” he demanded. “I’m going to get in the points tomorrow just to prove it.”

“You don’t have to make me-”

“I’m not ‘having’ to do anything,” he said, his voice stern but sweet. “I can’t have you believing something untrue, right?” 

“Alright loverboy,” you laughed. “Let's get some rest, yeah? You’re probably exhausted.” 

“Always sleep better next to you,” he admitted and both of you stilled again. You didn’t notice the cars driving past outside, the noises coming from the open balcony door, etc. You just saw Ollie. He just saw you. He was nervous, for some reason. You always made him nervous. There was something about you that he just couldn’t not want to impress. 

You smiled gently. “Well, I’m right here all night.”

He couldn’t argue with that. 

Building up the courage to walk into the paddock again was difficult. Gabi had basically disgraced you, and while that wasn’t your fault at all, it was weird to have the cameras and media label you as ‘Gabi’s ex girlfriend’. You felt the looks of sympathy as you walked in, everyone assumed you’d taken him back despite his scandals, but they were all stunned into silence when you walked into the Haas hospitality, finding a seat beside Thomas, Ollie’s brother. You’d met him once or twice, but Ollie didn’t even know you’d come in. You weren’t totally comfortable doing it yet, but Ollie needed support, and you had no other choice but to be there and show up for him. 

The race was tense, but staying true to his word, Ollie dragged that tractor up into 10th, and scored some more points for Haas. His dad got handed the radio, then Thomas, then you. You didn’t really know what to say, but you did know it would be broadcast to millions of people worldwide. 

“Hey Ollie, well done out there today, love you.”

It slipped out before you knew what you were saying, and you made a terrible realisation that you’d said that live on air. A few eyes turned to you and you genuinely wanted the earth to swallow you up. 

“Oh my god! Y/n! What did you just say?!” he laughed over the radio and you hid your face in your hands, Thomas patting you on the shoulder for moral support. It actually helped a little bit. “I love you too,” he chuckled. “This might be the best race ever!” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and smiled. His dad smiled at you too, pulling you in for a side hug as you both watched the screen turn to Ollie in the car. You chuckled. 

“Is this some kind of joke?” Gabi demanded, his voice thick with emotion. “You break up with me, then you move onto my rival?” 

“A) you cheated, B) Ollie is so far above being your rival, you drive a fucking Sauber,” you shot back, hanging up the phone. 

Ollie watched all of this unfold from the comfort of your bed. He laid a hand on your lower back and sighed. “Alright?” 

“I need to kill him,” you sighed, cuddling into his side. “I cannot fucking stand his whole ‘woe is me’ shtick,” you scoffed. “I mean, how many people have the balls to cheat on someone, and then blame them for breaking up with them! It’s fucking insane.” 

“I agree,” he shrugged, wrapping his arms around you. “Not with the murder part though,” he added. 

You chuckled against his neck. “I don’t know, maybe he has a point. Maybe it was kind of shitty to get with his rival-”

“You said it yourself, he’s not my rival,” he shrugged. “He’s driving a Sauber, his biggest rival is his own career choices,” you both laughed out loud at that. “There’s no blood on your hands.” 

Well, maybe there was a little blood on your hands, considering you may or may not have posted some photos with Ollie, with the caption ‘Bounced back and found another, and he hates you’. 

You didn’t really mind.

so close to what masterlist

pop queens mixtape

navigation for my blog :)

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐬𝐟𝐰 + 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰❞

: ̗̀➛ overview: various heacanons for toji, nsfw below the cut

: ̗̀➛ tw; afab body w/no gendered language. nsfw cut includes teasing, mentions of semi-public, shower sex, face fucking, etc.

: ̗̀➛ a/n: these headcanons were a request. i hope you enjoy them and thank you so much for requesting!

── დ ──

sfw;

▸ toji's favorite petnames for you include sweetheart, doll, and princess (regardless of your gender). he purrs them, usually when he wants something, or is trying to rile you up. just something about seeing how flushed your cheeks get really spurs him on.

▸ loves annoying you. i'm sorry but he is so the type to tighten jars and lids just a bit too tight on purpose, because then he gets to tease you about it when you come around asking for help. puts things on the highest shelf he can because this man towers over everything, and it never fails to make him laugh seeing you on the tips of your toes.

▸ favorite place to kiss you is for sure your shoulders. just imagine him standing behind you as you cook dinner, arms lazily draped around your waist. and him, humming about how good it smells as he peppers kisses around your shoulders and neck.

▸ for sure very protective. i mean, he's an assassin. he's made a lot of enemies. he's in a dangerous line of work. and he knows that you're sharing that spotlight with him as well, as soon as it becomes known he associates with you. because of that, he makes sure you know how to defend yourself. teaching you how to handle a weapon, how to throw punches, how to handle punches. the idea of losing you because he wasn't there to protect you honestly destroys him, no matter how much he pretends it doesn't. plus, he loves a partner that can beat his ass and keep up with him in a fight <33

▸ always puts his hands on your thigh whenever he's driving. squeezing and massaging at the flesh, tapping his fingers to the beat of whatever song is playing. letting you play with his fingers and trace the lines on his palm as the scenery outside passes by swiftly.

▸ complains and complains and complains anytime you're wearing his clothes but it's all just a facade. he doesn't actually care you're raiding his dresser because god, you look so damn good in his shirts and he'll never get tired of it.

▸ will never admit it but he always makes sure you fall asleep before he does. he doesn't know exactly why. maybe it's just to make sure that you'll stay, that you're not going to slip away in the middle of the night. maybe it's because it's the only time he'll really allow him to look at you. to let his eyes trail your face, memorizing the curves of your cheeks and counting your eyelashes.

▸toji is also a big bastard. teasing is for sure his love language in every sense of the word. poking at your sides where he knows your ticklish. tugging at a strand at your hair when you're both laying on the couch. humming just a bit too loud in the shower when he knows you're waiting for him to get out of the bathroom already. he loves you, really he does, and with that comes his smug little smiles and mocking little laughs.

▸ speaking of. you're for sure the first to love the big 'i love you'. he's not the most emotionally available and you know that. so, when you believed you were both ready, you said it. and he didn't really know how to react at first, honestly. one part of him was screaming to run, to get out, to get away from this feeling tugging at his chest. but another part, the bigger part, was being set aflame with adoration and was begging him to chase the warmth that was you.

▸ after that, saying he loves you is easy. he says it often, especially during goodbyes of any kind.

── დ ──

nsfw;

▸ shower with him oh my god please. seriously he's practically dragging you into the shower with him anytime either of you mention needing to bathe. he loves pressing you against the tiled wall and getting you all dirty and sweaty before washing you off with his soap.

▸ remember above where i said he likes seeing you in his clothes? yeah. some days he'll wake up and see you at the doorway, wearing only his shirt. it engulfs you, draping down to your thigh and slipping off your shoulder. and he can see the remnants of last night left on you- the hickeys peppering your neck, the hand print carving itself into your thigh. it drives him absolutely crazy and you can bet he's pulling you back into bed for another round seconds later tee hee

▸ he's very vocal in bed, i think. lots of groaning, and even more dirty talk. he gets so pussy drunk off of you that he just starts babbling all the nasty thoughts that pop into his mind, going on and on about how good you feel and how much he loves fucking you.

▸ adding on to this, he wants you to be vocal in bed, too. he wants to hear all of your whines and whimpers and moans. he wants to hear how good he's making you feel. and if he thinks that you're purposefully muffling yourself, he'll go to no ends to force those pretty little noises from your lips.

▸ lordd please let this man face fuck you. he's so down bad for it, like it drives him actually crazy. feeling you gag around his cock as he bullies it down the back of your throat, watching the spit dripple past your lips when he finally pulls away...!!!!

▸ his love language being teasing does notttt stop in the bedroom. he's so mean about it, really. watching how you squirm at his light touches and how you slowly break down with every denial of him fucking you, until you're practically begging you. it gives him such a rush seeing you so desperate, all because of him.

▸ will fuck you literally anywhere. anytime. he doesn't care. you've been pressed against more surfaces than you can admit to, and not many of them even being in your own home.

[personasintro]

Romance Is Not Dead | jjk

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; it’s valentine's day and you're single

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: brother's best friend!jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst (?)

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mentions of sex (it's mentioned quite a lot), reader's brother is kinda dick, alcohol usage, men (that deserves a warning alright), drunk people (it's a party), angst (?) honestly I'm not sure if there's any angst but it's a story with a few realistic topics that are kinda sad if you think about it, it's not your average fluff story lol

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.7k+

a/n: happy valentine's day! mind you this was supposed to be a short drabble like around 2k lol, I had no proper idea of where this will go and somehow I ended up with quite a long story haha. but I'm happy I got more into writing, I wasn't expecting writing this much. if there are any mistakes, please ignore them hehe. I rushed to post it so I could make it on february 14th. I don't know what even is this story but i hope you enjoy it hahah don't forget to like and reblog ♡

“Argh! Who even invented Valentine's Day?”

The groan that leaves your mouth – or more like a loud complaint – rolls around the room, not stopping you from tossing your bag on the kitchen's table to show your annoyance more than actual anger.

“Hello to you too, sis.” Your brother throws a peace sign your way, not particularly fazed by the lack of greeting on your side.

From your peripheral vision you could easily tell they're right there. Your brother and his best friend have been best friends since high school, they go way back and somehow, they've managed to stay super close till now. It's quite admirable, you have to admit. You don't think you've ever seen or heard them fight. Overall, their friendship seems to be more relaxed in this sense than most girls' friendships.

Yes, that mostly happens between guys. They're not as dramatic or bitchy as some girls can be. God. None of your current friends are your friends from high school. You've parted ways eventually.

However, the amount of drama free that's clearly not present in their precious brotherhood is equalized with loud burps, unfiltered talks about girls and sex through male eyes. You would've mentioned farting but luckily, you haven't heard your brother's best friend to be that nasty in front of you. Which can't be said about your brother but well, that's a part of having a sibling – regardless of their gender.

It's quite cliché.

Your brother's older, therefore he's protective yet loves to embarrass you at any chance. He thinks he's all that and sometimes, it feels like he thinks he's your third parent. That's what's more annoying – perhaps even more than overrated Valentine's Day. 

“Did someone decline you on Valentine's Day?”

There he goes again.

Teasing you. It's a never-ending circle. Luckily, you've grown resistant to his pathetic attempts to embarrass you – especially when his friends are present. Yeah, your brother can be a dick and you're not afraid to tell him.

Though, you don't stick to the names and curses and instead turn it into something more powerful. 

Scoffing, you swipe your hair back and give him a look. “Please, look at me.”

“I am, that's why I asked.” 

You waste no time in grabbing one of the stupid empty cans he always has laying around and throw it at him. Did you mention he can be a pig sometimes?

Your aim has gotten way better throughout the years and when he curses at you once it hits the side of his head, you smile happily. His friend chuckles at the two of you, lifting the can that has fallen onto the floor and sets it on the table.

“Yeah, and that's why you chase every man that comes my way.” you comment, knowing well damn you're right. 

He frowns, “Those men can hardly be called men, sis.”

“Well, bro, I wouldn't know since you like to be the pain in my ass.” you smile at him tightly, seeing him looking before he goes back to playing one of his stupid video games. “Not that I have a man to look up to in the first place.”

They've been doing that a lot. Lame. 

His best friend's snort turns into a laughter that he barely gets to hold in. That makes you smile because you see it as a success in getting back at your brother. And perhaps your little crush you've had on him has something to do with it. But we don't talk about it.

Your brother glares at him but he's not affected, not even a bit. It's hard to put it into words or make any definition, but he's always been slightly more… intimidating? He has an aura around him that makes you appreciate even a little reaction from him. 

It's humorous. You've known him for years, merrily just from always seeing him next to your brother (because there were never other opportunities), yet it feels like you barely know anything about him. Even though he used to occupy your living room almost every day. And today doesn't feel much different. The only difference is that none of you live at your parents' house. 

“Who hurt you today?”

“Don't be a dick. I can be a bitch too.” you remind him sweetly, leaning forward against the kitchen counter and grab a grape that lays in a single bowl. Probably the only healthy thing he has in this kitchen. 

He flips you off and frowns once he doesn't win the game. Karma. “Anyway, are you gonna tell us why you came here so annoyed or you're gonna eat?”

“I can do both,” you shrug. “I just don't get the hype about Valentine's Day.”

“Oh, you asked who invented it? Probably a pair of groupies in love.”

You roll your eyes, “I don't think that's it.”

“It's about romance. It's romantic, sis.”

You snort, “And how would you know anything about romance?”

He chuckles cockily as if the next words he says is something to be proud about; “I don't. But the girl I fucked said something about it.”

“Ew!” you gag, stopping yourself from reaching for another grape. “You're gross sometimes.”

“You don't talk about sex with your friends? C'mon, it's normal.”

“Yeah, with my friends. Not in front of you.” you justify. 

“Jesus, we didn't have to hear that.” Your brother scolds you, clearly uncomfortable at the thought of you talking about sex. 

You sometimes make sex jokes in front of him just to mess with him. It's pretty funny and it never gets old. You don't do it often though, but perhaps you should. 

“I hear only you complaining.” you sign out, pointing out the obvious and for the first time since you've arrived, you give proper attention to his best friend. 

He's been awfully quiet. What's there for him to say anyway? You and your brother bicker most of the time, no matter how old you are. He's pretty much used to it by now. He just stuck to playing the game and other than cackling at your previous comment, he's been quiet. You hate that you're slightly annoyed by the lack of attention he gives you. Not that you're an attention seeker or desperate for his attention.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out he sees you as his best friend's little sister. Even though you're not as little as when he first met you. 

“JK is the last person who wants to hear your complaints.”

“Why don't you let JK speak for himself?” you question, a little edge to your tone as your brother huffs out, muttering something under his breath – obviously aimed at you.

“Chill out, you two.” he mutters, voice slightly deeper than you remember it even though the last time you've seen him was last month. It has a little rasp to it and you wish your eyes wouldn't glue to him automatically. 

He lays comfortably on the couch, man spreading with a game controller sitting in his lap while his big thumbs rest comfortably against the buttons. You might've mentioned you are not friends with people from a high school anymore, but you have friends. One who would kill for a moment to spend with your brother's best friend. Just to be in his close proximity.

Though, it's no secret he's not any better than most guys his age – including your own brother. In a weird way, you love your brother (even though you wouldn't probably ever say it out loud because he's a weirdo and he would just make fun of you), but you can easily tell he's not someone you would ever want to end up with. Personality and morally wise, of course. 

He surrounds himself with people with the same values, or the lack of. 

And perhaps, it's one of the reasons why you suddenly got annoyed because of today's day. February 14th. You're the type that simply brushes off any guy who comes your way that you don't have any interest in. There's no need for your brother. He's a dick and he chases the ones that might not be husband material, but they're hot and charming. You're not necessarily looking for a marriage. God. You're too young. You don't want to be the one that gets locked in a marriage with someone they just met. 

Definitely you don't want to get knocked up either. Fuck, they're so many scenarios that run inside your head. Ones you don't want to live in. 

Regardless of your current stance when it comes to your life and relationships, you're still romantic. All of your friends have dates today. Any other day or year, you wouldn't even think of it – but you've seen everything in the shape of a heart today. Not mentioning there's everyone kissing and hugging at every corner of the street. 

And you didn't get a discount on your cake because you were alone with no partner around. Who does that? That's discrimination!

Valentine's Day is overrated. Maybe you think that way because you're single. Have been for too long. And while you don't necessarily miss it, you kind of crave for someone's affection and touch. It's not even about sex. 

“Listen, we're having a party tonight. I wouldn't normally invite you–”

“Wow, thanks.”

He shoots you a glare again before he continues, “But seeing you so miserable, maybe you could come too.”

“Party? Is this another one of your gangbang parties?”

“I have never been a part of that, stop calling my parties that.”

“There are literally hundreds of people who are there to hook up.” you inform him.

He snickers, “That's like every party.”

You lift up your eyebrows, not quite believing him. It's like every party he hosts or is invited to. People his age make parties slightly less wild. Not that he's too old but still. He's acting and living too wild for his age. 

“I'm not hosting it.”

“Who is?”

“JK here.” His brother says, head motioning toward the man next to him. “I'm sure you don't mind that I'm inviting her.”

The said man looks at his brother, shrugging. “I don't.”

“Well?” Your brother looks back at you. “Are you coming?”

“Are you gonna chase everyone that comes my way? Y'know, my friends are all having dates and if I don't wanna spend tonight alone, I would rather have fun.”

“You're allowed to come. And yeah, probably I will.”

“You're a douche. I'm an adult, stop treating me like a child.”

Your brother sighs, already knowing what argument is about to come. It's about the same stuff every time. 

“I'm doing it for your own good. The people that are gonna be there, guys that are gonna be there are like us, sis.”

There's a certain softness behind his voice, though it still stays vigorous as if he's trying to get something through your thick head. You know all of that, though. You know he doesn't hang out with the best people. But they're just dicks. And they're thinking with dicks. But you can take care of yourself. Besides, he's going to be there as well. 

JK, or Jungkook like you refer to him in your head, briefly looks at you. But you spot it and stare at him as his eyes drift to your brother. “You can't protect her forever.”

“That's something an asshole would say.”

“I never said I'm not one. But let her have her fun.”

“You know what? Don't come. I don't want you there.” Your brother stands up and shoots you a glare before he walks away. 

God! He's such a dick!

JK chuckles and you realize you've been frowning this whole time. You hear the door slam close and you scoff. “He's such a child.”

You eye him with no embarrassment whatsoever, tracing all the tattoos he has gotten throughout the years. The white shirt fits his torso perfectly, even though it's oversized his muscles peak through. 

Your friend told you he's at the gym almost every day. It sure looks like that. 

He suddenly stands up and you straighten automatically, watching him make his way toward you but not before tossing the game controller on the couch. He stays on the other side of the table, reaching for one of the grapes while still staring at you. 

God. He's doing something purposely.

For the first time today, your confidence slightly falters but you do your best not to show it. You stare as he pops one of the grapes into his mouth and chews on it. 

“You're still invited. That's if you still wanna come.”

You blink, “But my brother–”

“Is like a child sometimes. You're gonna be fine there.”

Gulping, you mutter; “How are you so sure?”

He doesn't answer but there's a small smirk playing on his lips. “You would still come, wouldn't you? Just to piss him off.”

That causes you to let out a soft chuckle because yes, he's right about that. Your brother needs to understand you're not a child. “I would.”

“Alright, then come.”

You poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue and lift your brow, “I will.”

You will go to the party. Even if your brother would burn down the city.

One of the few things you've learned about your brother's best friend – Jungkook – is that he comes from a wealthy family. You know he got his own place in the city center, that alone tells you he's got money. Whether they come from his parents or by his own hard work is unknown to you. Either way, it's quite clear he's always been slightly privileged than most kids your age.

You've never been to his parents' house. There was never a reason for you to go there, plus, you're not your brother and he didn't exactly bring his little sister with him whenever he went somewhere. The only time he would have to spend time with you alone was when he had to babysit you. But you would always stay home and he would let you know how annoyed he is because of that.

A typical teenager who wanted to chase girls and experience his first hook-ups rather than having to babysit his little sister who was born with sharp tongue and big mouth. You're probably his karma for all the hearts he already managed to break. 

Anyway – you know JK's parents' house is settled up the hill, away from the city and in a rich area where all the big houses were built. You've never seen it, hence your first reaction when you spotted a huge gate and a house that looks more like a mixture between mansion rather than a small family house.

Before he parted ways a few hours ago when you last saw him, he gave you the address. Seems like you've arrived just in time. There are many people, outside and inside – everywhere. It looks like the college parties you get to see in movies but more upgraded.

The thing about you is that you would never go to a party alone. Even if two people you know are here. Well, your brother still doesn't know you're here and he's about to get pissed once he sees you. Suddenly, the idea to piss him off doesn't seem so alluring.

But this house – or mansion or whatever this building is called – is the only place that is not filled with heart balloons. They might be couples and strangers that are glued to each other, the romance is simply not present. It's nasty and explicit to a certain extent. 

A part of you is disgusted at how easy some people seem to be, letting themselves to be groped by strangers, but there's something alluring. Perhaps even more than doing this just to prove a point to your brother. 

You don't get a chance to look around the place, since it's crowded and you're trying not to get shoved into, you're looking for a bigger space and maybe something to drink. You make it into the main room it seems. A huge couch in the shape of U looks massive but it fits into the big room perfectly. There are people everywhere and there's not a single space on the couch. However, once you make it closer and spot a tiny space, it's all forgotten and your vision naturally travels to the couple sitting there. 

You would spot those tattoos everywhere.

Jungkook's there. And a woman sitting on his lap as you see them making out explicitly, tongues brushing against each other. Alright, a part of you envies the woman but looking around and seeing more of them staring in slight irritation and jealousy, you're not alone. You scrunch your nose at them not caring and just making out with each other in front of everyone. There's no way they don't know everyone's eyes are on them. The guys ignore them though. It's mostly women.

The one that sits on his lap and seems to be ready to jump his bones, is wearing a tiny top and mini skirt. You can see her panties and you feel embarrassed to witness the tiny piece of underwear. Well, she doesn't seem to care.

His hand is on her waist, gripping it tightly as he pulls away and mutters something into her lips. She giggles, all her attention focused on him. 

Despite knowing him for years, you've never seen him in this element. And maybe that's what your brother didn't want you to see. Not even Jungkook but everyone here. You've witnessed a few parties, but this one is completely on another level. It looks straight out of a movie and perhaps completely out of your comfort zone. 

But you don't leave. You stick in your spot and just stare at your brother's best friend flaunting his charm all around him, but mostly aimed at the woman on his lap. 

Since your brother that eventually came out of the bathroom told you to get out, you've decided to come after all and give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe not exactly the same but that's why you chose one of your tight dresses. They're not special. Just a dress that almost every woman owns. But this one has thin straps and you don't get to wear a bra in it, that's how tight it is. It's the only clothing you're wearing, minus the panties of course. 

You look good. You know you do and that's why you chose this outfit particularly. You thought the heels are perhaps too much, but luckily you opted for them instead of your sneakers. Everyone seems to be dressed like they're in a club. Not even one outfit on a woman here looks completely comfortable. And they show more skin when they wear clothing. Not that you're judging. You're not the one to talk.

And you know this choice of clothing is not only a magnet for eyes, but for unwanted touches you were counting on eventually. It's sad but it's the truth. That's why you never come alone to these things. You always have your friends with you. You would kick asses for each other and overall, you feel more protected and safe. 

The hand that slaps your ass – that definitely looks good in this dress – causes you to turn and twist your face in anger. You spot a wasted man that smiles stupidly as if he did something cute. You shove him in the chest causing him to stumble into a few people who start to curse at him and complain.

“Touch me one more time and I will fucking kick your ass.” you spit at him. 

Your ass might look good but that's not an open invitation for strangers or anyone to touch you unwillingly. 

He gains his balance and his drunk features twist into anger. You see it. He's angry because you're not all over his dick because he touched you. First of all, he's not even hot. And he's wasted out of his mind. There's nothing hot about it. 

He doesn't make it too close because you push him again, causing him to fall this time.

“You bitch!” he yells, having a trouble to stand up and you cover your mouth to shield the giggle that makes it out. 

One of the guys that he stumbled into turns around, ready to curse. But as your eyes lock, all the amusement fades away and your eyes widen in a sudden fear. Shit.

It takes a moment for your brother to register that it's you – perhaps the exposed skin causes him to widen his eyes too before they twist into anger.

“What the fuck.”

“I was invited.” you automatically argue, yelping once he makes his way toward you and grabs you by your forearm. He kicks the bastard that still tries to stand up and starts leading you elsewhere. No, he's not leading you but dragging you with him.

It's not the initial reaction you had in mind. You wanted to smirk, to show him that you're here and there's nothing you can do about it. But that's out of the picture because in the end, you're just a little girl that maybe loves to piss off her brother, but once you truly piss him off you back away.

That realization causes your anger to come back and you dig your heels into the wooden floor, trying to get out of his hold. “Stop squeezing me like that!”

“Would you like to be squeezed by strangers?!” He yells over the music, both of you stopping next to a staircase.

It already happened, you wanted to say but decide to stay quiet.

He couldn't see what the stranger did to you. He only saw the man falling and stumbling into him. So the fact that he's this pissed off to see you here without even seeing what happened just minutes ago, makes you think he needs a psychiatrist. What would he do if he saw what happened?

“Maybe I want that!” you yell at him. “And there's nothing you can do about it!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to calm down. “What are you doing here.”

“I told you. I was invited.”

“I uninvited you.”

You scoff, “It's not your party, you moron.”

“JK invited you?”

“Yeah.” you shrug just to piss him off some more.

He stares at you for a moment, glaring but you glare back before he shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “Fine. But you're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he grabs your shoulders tightly. 

“I mean it.”

“Stop touching me.” You slap his hands away, his touch fading away as you're about to open your mouth to curse at him some more.

Before you can do it, someone nudges him from the left side. Your brother is about to pounce but once he sees his best friend in the flesh, he stays down but not before he's reminded of what you told him. 

“What are you doing.” He questions your brother but he just scoffs in return.

“You invited her?”

Jungkook rolls his lip piercing as he shrugs, “I did.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Me? You invited her first if I recall.” 

Your brother stares at his friend in disbelief before he glances at you. You shrug, lifting your brown. 

“You two are fucking unbelievable.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, probably thinking your brother is just dramatic. Which he is. While they're too busy arguing, you don't pay attention to anything that's being said. You shamelessly eye Jungkook, spotting how blurry his lips are from the make out session you witnessed a while ago. He's got a similar outfit like you've seen him during the day. The only difference is that he's wearing all black. 

“Listen you two, I will stay out of your sight, okay?”

“No fucking way!” Your brother argues while Jungkook sighs in exhaustion. 

“I'm just gonna have a few drinks and meet new people.”

“These people are not for you to meet or be friends with.”

“Who said anything about being friends?” you mutter, causing your brother to curse at you once more.

“No–” He stops you before you can interrupt him, “You invited her, so you will look after her.”

“Me?” JK frowns, disliking the idea. While you would be slightly offended by the lack of interest when it comes to you, you're also irritated that your brother here is acting the same. Only this time he's giving the responsibility to Jungkook. 

“Yes, you! You invited her, so you'll watch over her tonight. If anything happens to her, I will personally kill you,” 

God. He's so full of himself. If Jungkook wanted, he could knock him out with one punch. But you don't say it to hurt his male ego and boost Jungkook's one. It seems they're full of ego. 

“And I'm not joking.”

He brushes past you two and leaves angrily. To probably shove his tongue down to any first girl he sees. 

And from the looks of it Jungkook looks like he would rather much do the same. But then he looks at you, reminded of his current responsibility. You. 

“Listen–you don't have to look after me–I can handle my–”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

He stares you down, not in the creepy way to stare at your body but almost looking for anything that could give him answers to his question.

“I've seen what happened.”

“You've seen it?” you breathe out, “I'm fine.”

“You sure?”

“I handled it.” you grit through your teeth.

“You did,” he agrees much to your surprise. “Or maybe you were just lucky.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” You trash with your hands, but he catches your wrist. Gently. But he has his hold on you and your breath catches in your throat. He pulls you closer.

“What if it was someone who wouldn't be so wasted? Hm?”

You gulp, glancing at his lips for a split second before you find his dark eyes on yours. “It happened with people around us. Someone would step in.”

He scoffs, “Don't count on it too much.”

“They would–”

“Some of them. Not all of them,” he informs you. 

You're reminded that he knows these parties. He knows how it's going. And while no one would mess with him personally, it doesn't mean everyone is as safe as him. Let alone any women. That much you've realized and you haven't even been here for a half an hour. 

“What if he waited until you're drunk to take you somewhere else?”

You breathe out shakily, “Stop.”

“What if he dragged you upstairs? And that's just the start of what he might've done.”

“Fucking stop.” you warn him with your eyes but he doesn't budge. 

He tames you like you're a fucking dog.

“Your brother's right. You're staying with me.”

“And staring at you making out all night?”

You shut your mouth as soon as your response gets out. Jungkook tilts his head tiniest bit to the side and the corner of his mouth lifts up. “You were watching.”

“It was hard not to. Everyone was watching.”

“That's not an excuse.”

You inch closer, licking your lips. “It wasn't supposed to be.”

He stares at your lips before his touch disappears and so its warmth does. “You're not leaving my side.”

You scoff but he glares at you which surprisingly shuts you up. 

“I can give you alcohol, you can have fun. But you're not leaving my side.”

“You're worse than my brother.” That's a stretch and you both know it, but you've never seen Jungkook acting like this. He never really cared. He never had to in the first place. That's what your brother was for. 

He inches closer, hovering over you like only his presence can. “I can be worse.”

And somehow, that sounds like a promise. Once he motions for you to follow him, you do like a lost poppy with gritted teeth and anger bubbling inside you. But you don't disobey. Perhaps it's the shock or the weird feeling in the pit of your stomach that makes you buzz with excitement. 

Fuck. 

It's not hard not to have a crush on someone like Jungkook. He's hot, he's confident but not in the way where he's full of himself. He has every reason to be confident.

And just like he promised, he has managed to give you drinks that surprisingly taste good. They're not too strong and something tells you he purposely picked those out for you. You don't complain. They don't cause you to make grimaces at every gulp and you can feel yourself relax. In the corner your brother watches you with glare, reminding you of something that should feel like punishment. 

Perhaps it does.

Jungkook has you seated next to him, back on the couch. The woman he made out with sits on the opposite side, sending daggers next to you. You roll your eyes very publicly, scoffing and making sure she sees you. 

“JK, can we go somewhere else?” You hear her annoying sweet voice, while Jungkook himself looks slightly irritated that he has you on his watch. “Upstairs?” she suggests.

“Sorry, love, can't.”

She huffs out, “Why? Because you're babysitting?”

You move sideways to face her, leaning through Jungkook as you glare at her. “Maybe he just doesn't want your tongue shoved in his mouth.”

Jungkook sighs, lifting his hand to your collarbones to move you back but you don't budge. 

“Oh yeah? He wants more than that.” she informs you. 

“God, you're so desperate.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Behave.” Jungkook warns you, pushing slightly harder and finally, you plop back onto your spot and fume with arms crossed. 

“Tell your bitch to behave.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook warns through his teeth. You stop, realizing that this is the first time he said your name. Still fuming, you give him a glare before standing up.

“What did you just call me?”

“Come on.” Jungkook stands up too before you can make things worse and he's going to be caught up in a girls fight. This is not the night he planned.

He doesn't drag you like your brother did. He still rests his hand against your back and leads you in a direction. You don't protest. You want to but anything's better than being in the blonde's presence one more second. 

When you realize you're standing next to your brother who's leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a knowing and quite pleased smirk. 

“Dude. That's enough.”

“Are you having any issue with my sis, JK?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “You made your point.”

“No, I don't think I have.”

“You two are annoying.” he sighs, closing his eyes.

“Excuse me? What have I done?” you exclaim, hand on your chest as he gives you a knowing look that shuts you up.

It's more than clear. Jungkook has brought you to your brother, so he could deal with you rather than he has to. It bruises your ego, but only slightly because you don't let any guy do any permanent damage. But you have to be honest. It's slightly embarrassing how he wants to shake you off. Clearly his plans for tonight have been different and watching the blondie still waiting for him patiently makes your night even worse, knowing what exactly he had planned. 

“You made me a huge cockblocker, bro.” you interrupt their bickering. It feels refreshing not to be the one bickering with your brother. 

Which reminds you that for the first time, you actually see them in some sort of argument even though it's not exactly a fight. Your brother as always is a pain in the ass and Jungkook's now experiencing it. You don't understand why Jungkook just doesn't let you go? Why did he insist on having you by his side at all times? 

Most likely, he doesn't want to piss off your brother.

Jungkook throws you yet another glare, but you brush him off pretty easily. “It's not about that.”

You give him a look which makes him groan.

“It's not just about that.”

And then they continue again. Your brother complains about your presence here, blames Jungkook rather than your own decision to come. He knows you. He knows you've done it to mess with him and it worked. But he expected better from Jungkook. 

You don't want to hear any second of it any longer. You don't wait for Jungkook's response, not even when you see his frown deepen and you know he's getting angrier by every word your brother spits in his face.

Using the tiny chance where they don't pay you any attention, you distance yourself from them. When you're in a safe distance and are not stopped by one of them, you make a run for it. Grabbing a wine bottle from someone's hold, ignoring them complaining, you make it upstairs and try to find a place where you can be alone. Before they find you.

You know once they notice you're not there, they'll be looking for you. Well, your brother will for sure. Even though he can be a dick, he's worried. But let him. That's what he gets for not letting you enjoy tonight. 

Passing by people who either mingle or make out, you try a few doors that are locked. Wise decision. Another reason why Jungkook seems to know how these parties go. It seems almost impossible to find a place where no one is. 

Just when you become tired and desperate, you make it to the quieter part of the house. It's weird because there are people everywhere. It's impossible to find somewhere quiet and empty. 

Luckily for you, you end up in a room that seems to be some sort of office. It's medium sized, definitely not one of the biggest rooms in this massive house, but still bigger than your kitchen and room together. 

It seems Jungkook has forgotten to lock this room. There's nothing special about it though. But he definitely doesn't want anyone to have sex on the wooden desk you pass by. There are a few shelves with books and a lamp, but other than that it's pretty empty. Oh, and there's a small couch. It looks expensive but it seems like they've brought it here just to put it somewhere. Not that it doesn't fit in here.

But it definitely doesn't look as expensive as the furniture you've managed to see in your short stay here. What has it been? Two hours? Two awful hours and no fun. 

Making it onto a small balcony, you sigh in relief when you find it open. It's facing the back of the house and your mouth drops when you see a fountain, pool and a garden in the distance. He's filthy rich. His parents are.

Sitting on the cold ground, you take a sip of the wine. Your features scrunch in disgust but you force yourself to drink. It's more from the whole annoyance and anger you've been feeling ever since you came here.

Maybe they were right.

This place is not for you.

You have no idea how long you end up sitting there. 

You just stare, hearing the blasting music in the distance and the chatter of people. You wonder if any neighbor called the police on him. But they're in the distance, probably they don't hear it as much.

There's a forest around you. There are no cars, no barking and no city noise. You wonder how this place feels like when there's no party. It must be calm and relaxing.

“Here you are.”

You hear it as soon as the balcony door slides open, ignoring the hint of annoyance in his voice as you take another gulp.

“You can't disappear like that!”

You chuckle, “Really? Watch me.”

“Your brother went crazy when you disappeared.”

“Sounds like a him problem.” you shrug.

“Are you drunk?”

You give him a look, a lazy smile making it onto your face.

“Where did you get that?”

“You know this is the most you've spoken to me since I've known you.” you take a note out loud.

He ignores you though. “You're gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a me problem, no?”

“God, you're such a brat,” he groans, “And get off the ground, you're gonna get sick.”

Snorting, you shake your head. “You're acting just like my brother.”

“You're irresponsible.”

That causes you to get a whiplash from how fast you glare at him. “I am not. Y'all act as if I can't do things on my own. Not only does my brother try to control me and watch over my shoulder every goddamn minute, you started doing it too!”

“He's worried about you.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, “Go back to blondie and leave me alone. Or snitch to my brother about my whereabouts, I'm sure he will get me out of here.”

He stays though. He doesn't move and doesn't speak for a moment. Instead, he sighs and sits next to you. 

“I wanted you to have fun.”

“Well, that didn't work, did it?”

“Look at you,” he chuckles, nudging lightly on your shoulder. “You seem to have fun on your own.”

“Yeah, spending Valentine's Day alone on the balcony of my brother's best friend is just so much fun.”

He laughs. He actually laughs and gives you an approving nod once he realizes you're right. “You're not alone anymore.”

You give him a look but before he can elaborate, he motions toward the bottle in your hand with his head. 

“Give me that.”

“No, this is the only fun I have.”

“C'mon, I will drink with you.”

Your surprise comes out before you give him a suspicious look. “You will?”

“Yeah.” he agrees and takes the bottle you hesitantly give him.

He takes a small sip, not a few gulps as you expect him to. “Is that all you got?”

“For tonight, yeah.”

“Why?” you question.

“I will take you home.”

You scoff, but then he continues. 

“After you decide you wanna go home.”

“Really?” Your surprise makes it out again. “You're not gonna kick me out?”

“I would never kick you out.” 

You make a face, “But my brother–”

“Your brother can be a dick sometimes.”

“Woah.”

“Don't act like you don't know it.”

“I do, but I'm just surprised you're the one saying it.”

He sets the bottle on the other side of him. It doesn't go unnoticed by you but you decide not to fight with him, especially once you feel the alcohol doing its job. 

“Well, I've seen it from his side and I gotta be honest, he's protective. Sometimes overly but he's not doing it because he hates you, y'know?”

“I know he doesn't hate me,” you inform him. “It's just annoying sometimes.”

“But now I've seen more of your side and he should just let you live.”

You nod in appreciation with lips pursed, “Wow, thank you.”

He smiles, “You still do a lot of stuff just to get back at him. You're not making it any easier, huh?”

You laugh, “It's my rebellion.” 

You sit there for a moment in complete silence. Jungkook stands up and leaves. You act as if you're not disappointed but before you can reach for the bottle that Jungkook has left here, the door slides open again and Jungkook wraps a blanket around you. 

“Don't look so surprised.”

“Wow, JK does something nice for a girl?”

“I can do a lot of nice things.”

“Is there a double-meaning or?” you trail off, causing him to laugh as he shakes his head.

“Not like that.”

Yeah, because you're his brother's best friend.

Not that you would ever want something with him. Only in your most secretive dreams but that's beside the point. Jungkook is not boyfriend material. You've seen it today more than ever. But you can't deny that he attracts you in the weirdest way possible. You have never experienced that with anyone. 

He's your type. When it comes to looks. And you're slightly ashamed to admit that some of his behavior attracts you. Basically, it's a red flag but what do they say? I'm color blind?

“How are you not freezing?”

It's February and you're sitting on a balcony. 

“I'm drunk.”

God, you're going to end up sick. Even your drunk self scolds you. 

“You wanna go home?”

“Not yet.”

He nods, not protesting as you both stare ahead. Your thoughts run wild, even in their slow pace because of alcohol flowing in your system.

“I was so annoyed because today's Valentine's Day,” you start, chuckling at yourself. “At first I thought I was just annoyed because everyone's in love and everything about today is about love. I do think it's overrated though.”

“I don't know, I never cared about it to be honest.”

You laugh, “Did you make today's party for all anti-romanticists?”

“No, I would've done it either way.” he chuckles. 

“Did you ever make something romantic for Valentine's Day?”

He makes a face, frowning but silently laughing amusingly at the thought of it. “No.”

“You know what? I think I was more annoyed that secretly maybe I crave for something romantic. Not necessarily a relationship.”

“Or maybe you just feel the pressure of today's ridiculous holiday and people around you.”

You snort, “You're just saying that because you're not in love.”

“Love's not for me. Not that kind at least.”

“And what kind?”

“I loved our family dog.”

You laugh, “That's different. I'm not talking about that.”

“I know you don't. Just sayin', love has all forms.” 

You hum, sighing before you start shivering. 

“Come on, let's go inside. You're freezing.”

“But–”

“We don't have to go home.”

“Or maybe I should. I'm getting tired. And I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You were mixing hard liquor with wine. You will.” he agrees and once you nudge him, he laughs at you. “C'mon, you little brat. It's time to go home.”

As he makes sure you don't fall on the stairs, giving you the support you almost stumble when your brother makes his way toward you, breathless and relieved once he sees you.

“Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere. We've been looking for you! Why do you have the blanket?”

“Found her on the balcony.”

“What were you doing there?!” He screeches.

“Don't worry, I wasn't going to jump. But if I'm gonna have to keep up with your annoying ass for one more second, maybe I will.”

“You're drunk.” He scoffs.

“And honest.” you add.

“And where are you going?”

“I'm gonna take her home.” Jungkook answers, helping you with the last step as your brother stares with mouth wide open. 

“Like the hell you will! You were drinking.”

“I wasn't,” he responds. “Not since I was with her anyway.”

“Doesn't mean you don't have alcohol in you.”

“I don't. I'm fine.”

You didn't even realize he wasn't drinking anymore. God. You really can be a pain in the ass too. But that's your brother's doing though. He should've never ordered Jungkook to look after you. 

“You're the one who reeks of alcohol,” Jungkook informs him calmly, “Or you want someone else to take her?”

He shakes his head, still hesitant. He walks closer to you and wraps the blanket tighter around your form. “Are you gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, I trust Jungkook. Don't you?”

“I do.” He doesn't hesitate. 

He gives one final nod to Jungkook as he leads you out of the house. As you're walking out of it, you spot blondie with a group of what seems like her friends, glaring the shit out of you. You stick out your tongue when Jungkook's busy opening the door for you. The look on your face causes you to smirk.

Jungkook gets you inside his flashy car and you're kinda doomed that you're too drunk to look around and appreciate the expensive type of vehicle. You're drifting in and out of your consciousness. But you notice Jungkook stopping in front of a convenience store, informing you he'll be right back. And he is. It seems like he's been gone for a minute because you close your eyes, open them and he's already there.

The drive and walk to your home is quick. You get to walk on your own, much to your embarrassment there are no accidents of stumbling or falling. As soon as you make it past your doormat, you make it inside your bathroom and throw up in the sink. It's embarrassing once you hear Jungkook behind you, helping you with your hair. He doesn't say anything, just letting you throw up everything that's currently in your stomach. 

“I should take a shower.”

“Fuck that. Go lay down. I will lock the door.”

“Lock?”

“Your brother gave me his spare keys.”

“Oh.”

After a few minutes of bickering, you still insist on taking a shower. Jungkook sighs and lets you do your own thing, patiently waiting in the living room. Once you make it out in your pajamas that consist of your brother's huge t-shirt, you find him scrolling through his phone. 

“You gonna be fine?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You're seconds from passing out. You might've stumbled in the bath a few times but you hope he didn't hear that. 

You drag your feet to your bedroom and fall onto bed. You'll cover yourself later. As soon as you lay down, you ignore your spinning head and the disgusting taste of vomit that is still present, even though you've brushed and rinsed your teeth even in your drunken state.

The night is wild.

You throw up a few times, finding a prepared bucket beside your bed but unfortunately, you don't make it into it the first time. Once you wake up with a messy and aching head, you notice vomits on your floor and you cringe at yourself. Disgusting. 

You wake up around twelve, finally in a better state to leave your eyes open without having to vomit everywhere. You're about to reach for your phone, knowing you're going to have at least a dozen messages from your brother. But you stop yourself as you stare at things that weren't on your nightstand before.

There's a glass of water. A box of painkillers and a chocolate bar wrapped in a package filled with pink and red hearts. 

There's a note stuck to it. 

'Happy Valentine's Day, JK'

You stare, reading the note over and over again. 

And they say romance is dead.

[tothegirlwiththemousyhair]

Kiss me!

<3

Logan Howlett x Reader

2 times Reader and Logan almost kiss, and the first time you actually do!

Themes: Fluff so sweet you'll need to check your blood sugar levels after this, kisses, cursing, pining, Wade meddling (love this annoying dude)

Word count: 2133

Notes: Title is from 'Kiss me' by sixpence none the richer, and this is written as Logan right after Deadpool and Wolverine. Enjoy <33

-------------------------------------------------------

You’d met Logan around a week after he moved in with Wade. You’d already met Wade a short while after you first moved into the same floor as him, he accidentally stabbed a hole into your door, and made up for it by getting you bunny slippers. After Logan moved in, you ran into Wade in the hallway and started going on and on about how you absolutely have to meet his grumpy roommate. After about ten minutes of his begging, you finally agreed. So he planned a gathering with all the people he knew, including you.

First interacting with Logan at the ‘gathering’ was definitely more intimidating than Wade had described it. The two of you were sitting on either end of Al’s couch in absolute silence for about 5 minutes until you finally gathered the guts to introduce yourself. To which he replied, “Logan.” You spent the next half an hour trying to pry a conversation out of him when he finally started actually talking to you. Or Logan’s idea of talking. Towards the end of the interaction all you could conclude was ‘He may or may not hate me!’, completely unaware that he actually wanted to meet you too, also as a result of Wade’s incessant whining.

For the next couple of weeks, all your time spent with Wade or visits to his apartment, slowly also became time spent with Logan. You started visiting the two of them more frequently, having lunch with them. Before, you usually didn’t spend this much time with Wade but your hours spent around him multiplied when Logan was in the mix. It was no secret you were attracted to him, and honestly who wouldn’t be? The lowkey flirting between the two of you, the small interactions, fleeting touches, it all made the chemistry between you extremely obvious to everyone except you two. Even blind Al could see it.

About a month into the obvious crush you had on eachother, Wade started to get bored by both of your pining states. It was extremely obvious to everyone around you that the attraction was most definitely mutual, but you were both hesitant to take any action no matter how much you craved it. So Wade meddled. 

He decided to set up lunch at a pizza place two streets away with the two of you then proceed not to show up himself. Pretty basic idea but he thought it’d work. And to be fair, it almost did. The two of you arrived, tried to text Wade who was ‘occupied’, decided to order your lunch, and flirted the entire time. After having paid, the two of you walked to your building when Logan walked you back into your apartment and you invited him in. It was his first time in your apartment and Logan tried not to be too obvious that he was taking in every detail he could. You made coffee while you and Logan spoke. For some reason, the conversation never moved out of the kitchen. You spent about thirty minutes talking in the kitchen, leaning backwards on the counter while Logan stood in front of you, until he suggested the two of you move to the couch. You agreed of course, and while speaking, the space between the two of you began to close, and Logan began to open up about the X-men. How guilty he felt, the part he considered to have played in their deaths, carrying the weight of his own actions with him everyday. “Lo, that wasn’t your fault. Your only crime is accidentally not being home at the wrong time, at least I think so. I don’t think you’re the ‘worst’ wolverine.” The reply came out of you quietly, praying you wouldn’t offend him and make him close back in on himself. 

Instead, he leaned in closer, “I’m glad you don’t think I’m the worst, bub” his thanks wouldn’t have been heard if you weren’t this close together. “How could I ever?” you whispered out, the gap between you being so small that he could feel the breath from your whisper on his lips.

And then your phone rang. Ofcourse, it was none other than Wade.

The moment was violently torn apart, obviously, especially with the ringtone Wade had set for himself being the ‘bake a cake x break it down’ remix. You scrambled to pick up your phone, only for Wade to ask you if he could borrow slippers from you in a week. After you hung up, the conversation between you and Logan had obviously fizzled out, and you said your goodnights before Logan left.

It was obvious from Logan’s pent up tension when he got home that Wade’s little plan hadn’t worked. So instead of being a normal human being and letting the two of you figure it out, he decided to try something a bit more direct. And a bit more straight out of a creepy rom-com.

You and Wade’s apartments shared a wall, so he could hear into your house at times. He also had a spare key. So, he waited until he could hear you getting into the shower and asked Logan to get him a pair of socks he apparently ‘forgot’ at yours a couple days earlier. Logan was hesitant, but any excuse to see you was great enough for him. He knocked on your door at least three times (even though Wade told him you ‘might not be home’ and to go ahead anyway.) After the fourth knock he could’ve sworn he heard you singing past the door, so he just headed on in. About thirty minutes were spent searching for the nonexistent socks that Wade told him were in your living room. Honestly if it wasn’t for him being near you, he would’ve just given up on the socks but he went on and on until you came out of the shower. In just a towel, you slipped out of the bathroom and your soul almost left your body when you saw a huge man hunched over, checking underneath your couch for something.

“Lo, what the fuck are you doing??” Was all you could think to say to the sight in front of you, and hoped that if he noticed the obvious blush on your cheeks, he’d just amount it to the hot shower you’d just finished. “Y’know what, don’t answer, I’ll get dressed and be back out in a sec.” Logan remained frozen in place while you disappeared into your bedroom and put on a tank top and shorts in record time. You backed out and Logan was standing in the middle of your living room, still in a state of pure embarrassment. “Right- Wade sent me here to get a pair of socks of his, do you know where they are?” You tell him you haven’t seen any socks laying around, but you help him look around either way. About ten minutes into searching, the two of you sit down on the floor of your living room in defeat. You laid down on your backs, the conversation between the two of you being worth the growing back pain. You told Logan how you had met Wade, the bunny slipper apology, everything. Again, the two of you ended up so close to each other, he could fully appreciate the cinnamon-honey scent of your shower products. Then of course, as luck would have it, your table broke.

The faulty leg you had propped up with an old book you never liked finally fell apart, landing the table’s top part onto your foot. You had barely registered where both the pain and the sudden noise came from, jumping from your position on the floor in pain. The moment was yet again vaporised, especially because Logan panicked hearing you hurt and had reacted before you could even properly get up. He insisted you lay on the couch while he got you frozen peas from your freezer. Logan placed the pack on your ankle where the tabletop had landed and sat next to you, checking with you and making sure that nothing hurt more than a bruise should. After about an hour he was content knowing you weren’t seriously injured, and excused himself from your apartment. 

Again, the visible tension when he returned was evidence enough for Wade that something foiled his plan.

After that, Wade finally gave up.

A week after the failed sock attempt, Logan couldn’t sleep. It was 3 in the morning, the weather was nice, there was absolutely no noise around him apart from the occasional street noise. He was in perfect sleeping conditions, but for no clear reason he couldn’t get himself to sleep whatsoever. He had also tried every single possible remedy for insomnia. He drank warm milk, he ate a sandwich, he tried listening to very calm music, etc. While sitting in the dark, considering going for a walk to waste some energy, he heard a couple of small noises from your apartment. He did of course consider seeing if you were awake earlier but out of concern that he might wake you he decided against it, but now that he could hear your light footsteps walking around there was no harm in going to you. He put his slippers and a jacket on, he already had a white tank top on underneath and his pyjama sweats. 

Logan knocked ever so gently on your front door, a part of him genuinely nervous. Nervous over what it is that he’s going to say when you open the door. Does he make up some bullshit excuse, lie, tell you he just couldn’t sleep? Before Logan could decide what to say you opened the door, wearing a concerned look on your face. “Hey, Lo, you ok?” Both the sight of you in your pyjamas and your voice tear him out of his thoughts. “Just wanted to see you.” The sudden bout of honesty surprises you a bit, and you move aside to let him in.

You sit down on your couch, crossing your legs and patting the spot next to you. He hesitates for a moment before taking his place next to you. “Why are you still up, bub?” If it weren’t for the close proximity between you two right now, you wouldn’t have even considered telling him. “Couldn’t sleep, just stayed up thinking.” ‘about you’ are the unspoken words that haunt the air around the two of you, not needing to be brought to life to be known. You and Logan quickly go from topic to topic, the dim warm lighting helping. Eventually you land on the topic of music. “Haven’t listened to much recently.” Was all it took to get you to get up, pull him up too, and put on one of your favourite songs. “C’mon Lo, dance with me a bit.” 

He went along and danced with you to the song you picked, one hand in yours and the other on your waist the entire time. He was watching you in awe, seeing you like this felt like a privilege only the luckiest could be granted. Relaxed, humming and giggling to one of your favourite songs. When the song ended, you and Logan stayed intertwined for a couple moments before sitting down on the couch again, this time far closer to each other. You were still giggling a bit, so close together that Logan could see the glint in your eyes and to him it looked like the warmest light ever. As your giggling came to a stop you realised he was staring at you, the eye contact in that moment being more intimate than anything you’d ever experienced. Logan gently closes the space between the two of you, both your lips immediately finding relief in each other. Your hands cupped his face gently, while his wandered on your waist and the small of your back. You stayed in that state for a while before splitting to breathe. “Do you want to stay here tonight? Not to do anything- I mean just sleeping in my bed, only if you’d like of course-” Logan interrupted you before you could spiral any further, “I’d love to.”

Both of you got up, quietly walking to your room. Logan removed his jacket, placing it on your chair before crawling into bed with you, and pulling the blanket over the two of you. Quickly, you burrowed into his chest, his arms wrapping around you in turn and his head resting atop yours. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before gently whispering, “Good night, bub.” You press a peck to the crook of his neck, “Good night, Lo.”

It goes without saying that the morning after has more than enough kisses to make up for all those missed chances. 

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thanks for reading!! <3