#boys define universe

[jaystation-63]

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

[blossominghunnie]

Alsooo, I’m officially writing for all B.D.U. 💕

So you can start requesting imagines. :)

[alsethwisson]

Unpopular opinion: I HATE Haleth/Caranthir discourse with a passion.

Not because it operates on the frankly crazy heterosexist assumption that if a man and a woman met once and didn't hate each other they are contractually obligated to fuck.

That's its own can of shipping worms, I won't go there.

But. (Warning: very long read.)

Tolkien - that crusty old white extremely catholic man - has written us a female character whose most defining trait was refusing to be seen as anything but her own independent person.

She was no vassal of elves, she was no wife of any man. She was Haleth.

It was a conscious choice on Tolkien's part, rewriting his early male "Haleth the Hunter" into Lady Haleth and giving her exactly this defining traits. She was a part of a wider revision of Arda's female characters and their roles he undertook as his understanding of real-life roles women could and would take widened.

(Which is a fascinating story in its own right, by the way, and people who indiscriminately cite some earlier letters as if they were end-all be-all of Tolkien's inner thought are extremely wrong. While conservative to a fault, Tolkien was not unable to correct his beliefs. Cf: Nerdanel and generally the explicit denial of earlier "elven women channel creativity into childbearing" idea in Shibboleth.)

It's very deliberate - and very important - that Caranthir is barely a footnote in Haleth's story. He was interchangeable. It could have been any elven lord. It could have been an Edain lord, as well.

Haleth was not going to let herself or her people be dependent, it's important.

And then fandom came and turned it upside down, and Haleth became a footnote in Caranthir's story. One of a few characters (of both genders to be fair) to have neither marriage nor romance subplot and to be solely defined by her political actions becomes defined by fandom-invented romance with a dashing man.

Yikes.

[dazcarr]

all these isekais are about waking up in MMORPGs, there should be more variety in the genre. why can't the protagonist be sent to a world where a young witch needs to find her neighbours lost cat in the alps

[omarwolaeth]

It's such a tiny innocuous thing that really doesn't matter, but I feel like calling duel monsters a children's card game (when it's fundamentally baked into everyday life, and your social existence is judged by what you play and how you play it so very intensely, for everyone in-universe) is an absolute injustice to what it is for that universe of people.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

as ever like: no two things Need to be juxtaposed, much less like material vs material deathmatch Only One Can Be Good, much less am i thinking i have thee objective word on fuckall b/c who does and it's like perfectly boring & unserious whenever someone just throws out Takes that are just "i think...[xyz] is [adjective]" like okay.

but anyways thinking of how, though differing in execution in a lot of ways ofc, deh & bmc start out in a v similar place & explore a journey to self-acceptance from a despairing starting point....it feels like a lot of the hindrance in deh's exploration of its own Theme there is in like, hey. :) hand on your shoulder. it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more normal. whereas w/bmc it's that it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more abnormal

[desos-records]

suddenly struck with thoughts about the devastating concept of Jason Todd

because he was good. because he had a bleeding heart despite every reason not to. he loved school and was good at it. he was the first to be adopted, with little pretense of guardianship. he did everything he could to be a perfect Robin and live up to an impossible ideal. he only ever wanted Bruce and Dick to like him.

because he met Bruce in the same place and on the same day that Bruce's parents died--the single defining moment of Batman's existence. and he made Batman laugh. he hit the Dark Knight, Terror of Gotham, with a tire iron. he wasn't afraid of the man who turned fear into a weapon.

because he couldn't save his mother from herself, but he tried. because he was too good not to try and save the woman who gave him up. too good to play the Joker's game. the crowbar didn't kill him, the bomb did. he died knowing he wouldn't make it and tried anyway. he died a hero.

because other Robins have died, but none of them put an irrevocable tear in the mythos of Batman. because Jason Todd always dies, in every universe. he dies for the sins of his father. he was put to death by popular vote, sacrificed by the crowd. doomed by the narrative and doomed by the audience. the boy who only ever tried to prove he was good enough--wasn't good enough.

because he has every reason to be angry. because he didn't ask to be murdered, didn't ask to be brought back, and when he did everyone acted like he was better off dead. Bruce tried to kill him and nearly succeeded. he's blamed for his own death and blamed for his resurrection. he can never come home because the house is haunted by his own ghost.

because he's been the hero, the victim, and the villain. because his family and his writers and his universe don't know what to make of him. they don't know how to look his tragedy in the eye. and how can you?

it hurts to look at the hero who cannot be good enough, the victim who will only ever be angry, the villain who can sometimes be right. the audience hates to feel complicit and, in this exceptional case, they are.

[100vern]

hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌

tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡

— we need to talk

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3

Seungcheol is incensed.

What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?

Who the fuck had invited you?

He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.

But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—

Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”

Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”

Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.

Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”

As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.

And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.

Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.

But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.

And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.

So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.

Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.

Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.

That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.

Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.

Right.

Of course.

That was to be expected.

So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.

But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.

He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.

And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”

Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.

“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”

The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.

Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.

And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.

You don’t want more.

You don’t want the label and the relationship.

You don’t want him.

He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.

Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.

“Give me whatever you’ve got.”

Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”

Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”

“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.

Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”

Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”

The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”

True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.

Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle

Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.

Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight

Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.

For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.

Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.

But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.

Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?

Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?

Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?

God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.

Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off

He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.

Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.

You (23:41) Something wrong?

Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.

Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?

But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.

Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.

And god does it kill him.

You (23:44) Don’t act stupid

A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.

You (23:44) Mingyu invited me

Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.

Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes

You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.

You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself

Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”

The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”

Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.

Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”

“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”

Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.

This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.

“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.

Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”

Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.

He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.

Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.

Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.

What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.

The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”

“Seungcheol—”

He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”

You gasp. “No.”

“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.

“I wasn’t—”

A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”

Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”

Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”

Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.

But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—

“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?

He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.

“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.

Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”

Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”

Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”

“What?”

You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”

Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”

“To—to to-touch me.”

You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”

“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”

You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”

“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”

“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”

All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—

Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.

You’ve ruined him.

Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?

He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—

Loves.

Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.

Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?

“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—

“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“What are you talking about?”

He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—

He can’t bring himself to say it.

But he can—“Can I show you instead?”

Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.

Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.

He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.

Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.

He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”

You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”

He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”

Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.

Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.

“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“No shit—”

He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.

He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—

“Do it right, Cheol, please—”

And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”

The rest is muscle memory.

The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.

Tastes a lot like I love you.

“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”

The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.

“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”

You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”

I love you.

You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.

He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.

You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.

“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.

Maybe it was never like this before.

Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.

So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.

This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”

This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.

This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.

“Say it again.”

Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.

The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.

He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay?”

You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.

Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.

“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”

A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.

“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”

He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”

He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”

No, it was never like this.

[cloudabserk]

the sexism in naruto is actually so crazy and all encompassing. every female character is defined by her relationship to men. the majority are boy-crazy. and it’s constantly remarked upon how weak they are when compared to their male teammates.

not only that but the main male characters actively dislike the women they’ve been paired off with. shikamaru is into temari but his infinite dream is not having to marry her. sai ends up with ino despite finding her ugly. naruto thinks hinata is weird and boring. sasuke’s dislike of sakura is infamous.

adult men’s interest in women is seen as comical and alien. (reactions to the sexy jutsu, jiraiya harassing women). almost all of the adult men are perpetual bachelors or sex perverts (and those who aren’t are stand ins for “mom and dad”).

when boys actually do like girls, it’s to show goofy immaturity and innocence (naruto’s crush on sakura that he grows out of as he reaches maturity, lee’s crush which is dropped entirely, obitos crush on rin which lasts into adulthood just to show he isn’t entirely separate from the boy he once was)

the whole ninja society likes to imagine it is a mostly gender blind world where women can thrive but this is SO obviously untrue. women are almost always healers and support. women make up less than 1/3 of the ninjas even at genin level. girls are almost all desperate to become wives and earn the attention of boys who don’t even like them!

mikoto uchiha was a jonin and presumably directly descended from the uchiha line (based on characters commenting that she/sasuke look just like izuna uchiha), but we only ever see her retired and raising her sons while her husband gets to be clan leader. (why?? if he married into the main family and she is an extremely capable ninja??)

similarly kushina uzumaki is borderline royalty and a jinchuriki, but her husband is hokage. once again the mother carries on the burden of power (for her sons to inherit) but the father has the title and status.

even the backstory of ninja enforces this. kaguya literally ate the forbidden fruit, giving the gift of chakra to all of humanity but also dooming them to fight for eternity. literally womens original sin …

anyway it’s not that all this sexist shit is in the story. it’s that kishimoto seemingly has no idea it’s there and believes the women he writes have epic girl power. how do you even do this by accident. why does every boy hate their wife. why did kaguya commit the original sin ! the girl characters want so badly to be with a boy but they don’t even care that the boy doesn’t like them back!! sakura and hinata are in loveless marriages of obligation and THEY DONT EVEN CARE??? they’re into it??? does kishimoto think men are universally forced to marry women they don’t like? does he blame women for this?WHY IS THE ORIGINAL SIN DRIVING THE BUS ALL THE SUDDEN?

[thefictionshelf]

can't believe the sun and the star is out. shaking etc etc

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | somewhere along the way, friendship fades

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : childhood best friends drift apart, their connection fading with time. and years later, meeting again.

୨ৎ : genre : angst, sad themes ୨ৎ : tws : arguing ୨ৎ : word count : 3499

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i was watching "our little secret" on netflix and i got inspired to do this :c def a 10/10 watch

ʚ・max verstappen

the smell of burnt rubber and stroopwafels defined your childhood. growing up as the daughter of one of the engineers, your playground was the karting track, and your partner in crime was max, who seemed to never catch a break. scraped knees, stolen frites, and endless races—it was always a competition. and even though he was faster, you never let him win easily.

“you’re getting slow,” you’d tease when he’d lap you, and he’d fire back, “or maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.”

but childhood doesn’t last forever. as max’s talent propelled him forward, your worlds began to split. he moved to monaco, chasing the formula 1 dream, while you stayed home, building a life far from the roar of engines.

the breaking point came during one of his rare calls. you told him about getting into university, excitement bubbling through the phone.

“that’s great,” he said, but his voice was distant. “i’ve got a strategy meeting. i’ll call you later, okay?”

“but max—”

the line went dead before you could finish.

you never called back. neither did he. the silence was deafening, only broken by headlines about his victories.

years passed. you built your career, surrounded yourself with people who cared about you. still, there was always that quiet ache, a max-shaped hole you couldn’t quite fill.

...

fate intervened in monaco, of all places. a work trip brought you to the grand prix weekend, and there he was—older, sharper, surrounded by reporters. the boy you knew had grown into a man, but the familiar intensity in his blue eyes was still there.

he spotted you, and for a moment, time rewound. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, smirking as he pulled you into a hug.

“you’re really here,” max said, his voice even but his eyes giving him away.

“don’t sound too surprised,” you replied, crossing your arms. “monaco isn’t exactly hard to find, and my dad forced me to accompany him.”

he huffed a laugh, scratching the back of his neck—a gesture you remembered all too well. “it’s just... been a while.”

“whose fault is that?” you shot back, eyebrow raised.

his grin faltered, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “mine,” he admitted, no hesitation. max had never been one to dance around the truth. “i messed up. i thought... if i focused on racing, everything else would just stay in place. but it didn’t. i didn’t.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. “and now?”

“now?” he shrugged, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “now i know better. or at least, i’m trying to.”

you rolled your eyes, but your chest felt lighter. “trying might actually suit you.”

“don’t push it,” he said, his grin returning. but his hand brushed yours, lingering just long enough to say what words couldn’t.

the two of you walked along the harbor, the chaos of the grand prix fading into the background. max talked about the weight of expectations, the need to prove himself, and you found yourself telling him things you hadn’t said aloud in years.

“you know,” he said eventually, glancing at you, “you were the first person to beat me. that’s why i kept coming back.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “don’t tell me i’m your origin story, verstappen.”

“i’m serious,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. “you pushed me. you still do.”

“and you still hate losing,” you replied, your smile widening.

“only to you,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his voice—just max, stripped of the bravado.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, you realized the years apart hadn’t erased what you meant to each other. instead, they’d made it clearer. and standing there with him, the boy who always chased the fastest lap and the man who’d finally stopped running, you felt like you’d found your way back home.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the skate park beneath the london flyover, painted with graffiti and echoing with the rattle of skateboards, was where it all began. you and lewis—two kids with scraped knees and bigger dreams than you dared to say aloud. he was magnetic even then, always the showman, flipping tricks with effortless swagger while you rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh when he wiped out.

“you see that?” he’d grin, brushing off the dust like he hadn’t just landed flat on his back. “one day, everyone will.”

you’d shake your head, hiding your smile. “maybe if you stop showing off and stick the landing.”

those nights under london’s orange-tinted sky were your sanctuary. but dreams have a way of pulling people in different directions. lewis chased his at 200 mph, trading the skate park for circuits around the world. and you? you stayed grounded, carving out a life with your own quiet determination.

the drift wasn’t dramatic, just... inevitable. the calls came less often, the texts faded, and soon the only glimpses you had of him were on tv, his victories splashed across headlines. you were proud, of course, but it didn’t make the distance hurt any less.

years later, the rhythm of a jazz club in soho pulled you in. the smoky air, the hum of conversation—it felt like stepping into another world. and there he was, sitting in the corner, surrounded by friends, his laugh carrying over the music. he looked... different. calmer, more self-assured, the bravado softened into something real.

his eyes met yours across the room, and the recognition was instant. that signature grin spread across his face, and before you could overthink it, he was already walking toward you.

“it’s been a minute,” he said, his voice warm, familiar.

“a few laps around the world, at least,” you replied, crossing your arms but unable to stop your smile.

he introduced you to his friends—musicians, artists, people with the same kind of restless ambition he always had. the conversation flowed easily, stories and laughter filling the gaps left by the years. lewis talked about the weight of being at the top, his growing love for music, fashion, and using his platform for something bigger than himself.

“you’ve always been good at making noise,” you teased, and he laughed, that bright, unrestrained laugh you hadn’t heard in so long.

the night stretched into dawn, the city quieting as he walked you home. the streetlights cast long shadows, and for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, sneaking through the city after curfew.

“you were always my reminder,” he said suddenly, his voice low. “of where i came from. of what mattered before all of... this.” he gestured vaguely, as if the world he now lived in was too vast to put into words.

“and you were always proof,” you replied softly, “that even the wildest dreams aren’t out of reach.”

standing on your doorstep, the first light of morning brushing the horizon, it hit you—this wasn’t just a chance meeting. this was a reconnection, built on the foundation of a shared past and the people you’d become in the years since.

“don’t disappear again,” you said, half a command, half a plea.

“not a chance,” he replied, that grin softening into something more serious. “i’ve got too much catching up to do.”

as he walked away, the city waking around you, you felt it: the bond you’d thought you’d lost was still there, stronger for the time apart. and maybe, just maybe, this was the start of a new chapter you hadn’t seen coming.

ʚ・george russell

the beach at brancaster felt like a time capsule—same crashing waves, same salty breeze, but now heavy with memories you couldn’t quite shake. summers here used to be everything. you and george, running barefoot through the sand, laughing until your sides ached, dreaming of futures too big for this sleepy little town. he was the dreamer, always looking ahead, while you stayed grounded, the one to remind him where he came from.

but dreams pulled him away. karting turned into formula 1, and suddenly, the boy you shared chips and inside jokes with was a name on TV, surrounded by lights and cameras. the texts slowed, then stopped. he didn’t say goodbye—you weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

years later, you came back. the town had changed, but the beach hadn’t, and neither had the ache you felt when you saw him standing there, surfboard in hand, staring at the water like it might hold answers.

“you’re here,” he said, voice softer than you remembered.

“so are you,” you replied, trying to sound casual when your heart was doing backflips.

the conversation was awkward at first, years of silence sitting heavy between you. but as the sun dipped low, you found yourself talking like you used to—about life, dreams, and all the things you didn’t say before.

“i messed up,” george admitted finally, staring at the horizon. “i thought chasing my dream meant letting go of everything else. but i never stopped missing you.”

you wanted to be angry, to tell him how much it hurt, but instead, you just sighed. “you’re here now. that’s what matters.”

and maybe it was. because as the tide rolled in, washing away the old scars, it felt like a new beginning—not perfect, but something worth holding onto.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the spanish sun blazed down on the dusty karting track, heat shimmering off the asphalt. carlos was already revving his engine, leaning out of his kart with that trademark grin—the kind that got him out of trouble more times than you could count. "you ready, or are you still fussing over those tires?" he teased, voice playful but competitive.

"some of us like to win without excuses," you shot back, trying to mask your smile.

that was always the dynamic: his fiery, carefree confidence against your calculated focus. you made each other better, but more than that, you were each other's constant—until you weren't.

his talent took him places you couldn't follow. as carlos climbed higher, from karting circuits to formula 1, the calls came less, the visits stopped. he’d always promised, "don’t worry, we’ll figure it out," but the silence between you became louder than any excuse he could give. you told yourself it was fine, that this was just what growing up looked like. but it still hurt—a kind of quiet ache that settled in your chest every time his name flashed on a headline instead of your phone.

years later, you found yourself at a grand prix—not for him, not really, but you couldn’t stay away. the roar of engines, the smell of burning rubber—it all brought you back to those summers when life was simpler, when the world was just the two of you and a dusty track.

after the race, you wandered near the paddock, unsure if you wanted to see him. but before you could decide, you heard his voice: "¡tú! no puede ser…" (you! no way…)

you froze as carlos jogged toward you, his face lighting up in a way that made your chest tighten. "what are you doing here?" he asked, pulling you into a hug before you could respond.

"just watching the race," you said, trying to sound casual. "looks like you’ve gotten a bit better since karting."

he laughed, running a hand through his hair. "and you’re still a pain in my ass, huh?"

you fell into step beside him, talking as if the years hadn’t stretched so far between you. he opened up in a way you didn’t expect—about the pressure, the loneliness, the weight of expectations he never asked for. "sometimes, i miss the old days," he admitted quietly. "it wasn’t perfect, but… it felt real."

"it was real," you said softly, meeting his gaze.

the night slipped by as you talked about everything and nothing, the gap between who you were and who you’d become slowly closing. as the paddock emptied out, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

"i let you down," he said, voice low. "i got so caught up in everything… i didn’t mean to lose you."

you sighed, the bitterness you’d held onto finally starting to loosen. "i let you go, too," you admitted. "but maybe we’re both here for a reason."

a smile broke through his guilt. "then let’s not waste it," he said, his hand brushing yours as if testing the waters.

and just like that, it felt like the beginning of something new—different, but maybe even better. under the dim glow of the paddock lights, with the distant hum of the city, you let yourself believe in second chances.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the monaco grand prix had always been your thing. after every race, you and charles would sneak onto the track, the echo of engines still ringing in your ears. he’d climb the barriers, striking a dramatic pose like he’d just won. “take a picture! i need proof for when it’s real,” he’d say, grinning as you rolled your eyes but clicked the photo anyway.

back then, it was simple—just the two of you, two dreamers chasing something bigger. he was the wild one, always pushing limits, and you? the voice of reason, his constant tether. but as the karting trophies turned into f3 contracts, things shifted. the calls became shorter, the silences longer.

“you don’t understand!” he snapped one night, frustration simmering in his voice. “this is my life now. my future.”

“and we’re not part of that?” you shot back, fighting to keep your tone steady.

his face faltered, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. but then came the stubbornness, the pride. “this is bigger than us,” he said quietly.

those words broke something between you. and the silence that followed stretched for years.

...

monaco hadn’t been in your plans this year, but your friends dragged you to the paddock. the glitz, the champagne—it all felt so distant from the memories you held of sneaking around with charles, pretending to be part of the action. and then, there he was. sharper, leaner, every inch the f1 star. but when his eyes locked on yours, the familiar spark was unmistakable.

“still sneaking into races?” his grin was crooked, teasing.

“you’re one to talk,” you quipped, unable to suppress a smile.

he muttered a quick excuse to his entourage, then turned back to you. “come on. let’s see if the harbor’s still our spot.”

as you walked, the years apart melted away. the easy rhythm returned—teasing, laughing, sharing the unspoken weight of the years. he opened up about the pressures, the loneliness. you admitted the regret, the what-ifs.

“i never stopped missing this,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “missing you.”

“same,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “you were always...charles.”

“what does that mean?” he asked, a laugh escaping, but there was an edge of nervousness to it.

“it means you’re impossible. but you’re also...you.”

under the stars, by the water’s edge, the pieces fell back into place. his hand brushed against yours, tentative, before settling there. “so, is this where you tell me to stop being impossible?”

“never,” you said, smiling. “you wouldn’t be charles if you did.”

and for the first time in years, it felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

ʚ・lando norris

the fields of somerset were your world once, filled with the roar of go-kart engines and lando’s endless laughter. you two were inseparable—best friends with big dreams, racing not just for fun but for a future you both believed in.

“one day,” lando had said, his grin so wide it was almost ridiculous, “we’ll both be there, except i'll be on the track, and you'll be cheering me on."

“in your dreams, lando,” you shot back, playfully shoving him.

but then the dream started to come true, lando got faster, better, and soon, he was gone, swept up by the racing world. at first, he called after every race, sending photos and jokes to bridge the distance. but the calls became fewer, the texts shorter, until one day they stopped altogether.

“you’ll always be my mate,” he’d promised before he left. but you weren’t so sure anymore.

years passed. you moved on—or tried to. then, one day, you found yourself at silverstone, sitting in the grandstands as the engines roared to life. lando was on the grid, his helmet unmistakable. it felt strange, watching him from so far away, like a stranger instead of the boy you once knew.

after the race, you lingered near the paddock, unsure why you stayed. you didn’t even realize he was there until his voice cut through the noise.

“wait—wait! is that…?” lando stopped mid-step, his wide eyes locking on you. “no way!”

you tried to play it cool, shrugging. “just thought i’d check if you’re still slow.”

his laugh was instant, that same contagious laugh you hadn’t heard in years. “still cheeky, i see. c’mon, don’t just stand there.”

before you could protest, he dragged you into the paddock, his energy as chaotic as ever. it felt awkward at first—forced small talk, apologies buried under nervous jokes.

“i messed up, didn’t i?” he blurted suddenly, his grin fading. “i got caught up in… all of this. forgot what mattered.”

you looked at him, surprised. “yeah, you did. but… i guess i get it. it’s a lot to carry.”

“still,” he said softly, meeting your eyes. “i should’ve tried harder. you didn’t deserve that.”

you sighed, the tension in your chest easing slightly. “well, i’m here now, aren’t i? so stop being sappy and tell me how you survived that awful start.”

he laughed, a mix of relief and gratitude in his expression. “god, you're still an ass. don’t go disappearing again, yeah?”

“only if you don’t.” you snap back, with a cheeky smile.

as the night went on, the awkwardness gave way to something familiar—something that felt like home. and as you left the paddock, lando jogging beside you, stealing chips from your hand like nothing had changed, you realized it wasn’t too late to start over. the bond you thought was lost was still there, waiting for you both to remember how to hold on.

ʚ・oscar piastri

the family barbecue was meant to be casual—just a gathering of old friends and neighbors at the piastris’ home during the off-season. you hadn’t planned to go, but your parents insisted. “it’ll be nice,” they said, not knowing how wrong they were.

you spotted oscar almost immediately, standing by the grill with his dad. his posture was the same, hands stuffed in his pockets, but everything else felt different. gone was the boy you knew, replaced by someone who looked sharper, more distant—someone who belonged to a world you’d never been part of.

the last time you’d spoken was years ago, before his meteoric rise through motorsport. back then, you were the ones sharing data sheets, racing each other at karting events, and joking about who’d make it to formula 1 first. “we’ll always stick together,” he’d said, almost solemnly. but as the sponsorship deals rolled in and the calls stopped, you realized how naïve that promise had been.

you didn’t approach him right away. instead, you lingered by the drink table, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. but oscar was nothing if not observant.

“hey,” he said suddenly, appearing at your side. his voice was quieter than you remembered, less certain.

“hi.” you didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes fixed on your cup.

“i didn’t know you’d be here.” he sounded awkward, almost nervous, which was strange for someone who now handled press conferences with ease.

you shrugged. “didn’t really plan on it.”

a beat of silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. he shifted his weight, running a hand through his hair. “look, i—i’m sorry. for everything.”

you finally turned to him, eyebrows raised. “for what? forgetting i existed?”

his face fell, and for a moment, he looked just like the boy you used to know—unsure, searching for the right words. “i didn’t mean to. things just… happened so fast. and i didn’t know how to balance it all.”

“you could’ve tried.” the words came out harsher than you intended, but you didn’t regret them.

he nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground. “you’re right. i should have.”

another silence fell, this one softer, less suffocating.

“so,” you said eventually, crossing your arms. “what now? we pretend like nothing happened?”

he looked up, meeting your eyes for the first time. “no. i don’t want that. i just… i’d like to fix this. if you’ll let me.”

you didn’t answer right away, letting the words hang in the air. but then you sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “you’ve got a lot to make up for, oscar.”

his own smile broke through, hesitant but genuine. “i’ll start now then.”

and for the first time in years, you felt like maybe—just maybe—there was still a place for you in his world.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

[cutehoons02]

Would you like to recreate with me these spicy scenes?

University series: Heeseung Jungwon Jay

*pairing: pervy roomate Jake x vlogger/youtuber Girl

*trope: roomates to lovers

*synopsis: What if your nosy roommate named Jake Sim found a pack of Amazon and inside were "spicy" books you need to read and review on various social platforms? A disaster. Jake is the perfect roommate but underneath he’s a pervert and thanks to these books he has the chance to tease you, to poke you with his double-sided jokes and maybe give in to his advances.

*tags: A lot of tension, pervy Jack, a lot of humor, teasing, fluffy, kissing, sucking, mirror sex, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) minor don't interect +18, fingering, masturbation, cunt slapping,cowgirl, reproduction of sex scenes from a book invented by me, pet names (spicygirl, goodgirl) (golden retriever boy,pervy) jealousy, possession

(English is not my native language)

11k (🤍)

Having Jake as a roommate is not bad for you, he cooks when he has time for delicious dishes, respects the rules of washing dishes and cleaning the house, and always leaves his unmistakable scent of spicy but sweet tenor throughout the home. The only thing you can’t stand about him is how nosy he is in things that should not interest them, as it happened at this exact moment but let’s understand Jake is called by his friends "Golden retriever boy" and it’s in his nature to be curious...

Jake had just returned from the gym, still slightly sweaty, with his hair all messed up and a shirt he’d left on the couch as soon as he walked through the door. He was wandering around the living room with his protein smoothie in hand when he noticed an Amazon package on the coffee table, it was written that it was for Y/n but he was now used to discarding the gifts that made you the brands you worked with and each time he found: makeup, skincare, accessories and scented candles. He knew that it bothered you slightly when opening your things before you but by now you had made a habit of it, it was almost a year that you shared the apartment with that guy with the nerd and studious appearance but who also loved to have fun; He was very curious to see what was in that package and when he opened it he found 3 books, men perfect with bare chest but with masks on their face, women posing as languid and titles that seemed like they had come out of a fanfiction contest.

«The masked devil? Wait, what is this?» Jake raised an eyebrow, flipping through the pages. But it did not stop there now on Tik Tok you could find everything and you were a vlogger but you also talked about books in the #Booktok, he searched for the title of this to find out more and found himself catapulted into a universe of videos with animated reviews and quotes... spicy. This book was meant for an almost adult audience and when he saw the aesthetics he realized that it was about 4 guys who were called the "dark devils" and they all had 4 books with their respective "love stories" if you could call them so, But his curiosity hit him even more when he saw that only in a book there were a huge amount of spicy scenes and dirty settings where the protagonists did their thing.

«Wow, who would have thought that the literature student and vlogger with more than 500 thousand followers read this kind of stuff.» He said with a mischievous grin, starting to read one of the boldest scenes aloud for pure fun and to understand why TikTok videos had more than half a million likes.

Just then, you were coming back from your creative writing course at the university. You were wearing a light leather jacket over a plain top and faded jeans, but you stopped suddenly when you saw Jake on the couch. He was without his shirt where you could see all the well-defined muscles of the several hours he spent training and your eyes went down where you saw the V line where there were his Calvin Klein boxer shorts, wearing just a pair of sports pants and...nerd glasses? That made him even sexier and more innocent than the little innocent Jake could have; with a book in his hands, He was reading with an almost academic concentration the book that had sent you the publishing house to read and then to review in your various social platforms.

"What are you doing?!" you yelled in panic with your cheeks slightly red for the situation, while your eyes passed from the book to your roommate half-god and half-nerd.

Jake looked up slowly as if he had been caught in the act but with a smile so disarming that he seemed innocent.

«Oh, welcome back, Y/n, or maybe I should call you SpicyGirl from today. Is this your book?» asked, lifting the book to show you the cover with an inquiring air. «Interesting choice of readings, who would have ever thought that a literature student was encouraged to read these dirts, I thought you only read authors like Dante or Shakespeare that is a little more modern!»

You brought your hands to your face, blushing visibly.

You brought your hands to your face, blushing visibly. "But how dare you open my packages?! Give me back that book now! It’s the thousandth time I tell you that I don’t want you to open my packages and every time I come home like a puppy looking for something to snoop on you make other things"

Jake stood up, still holding the book. Wait, wait, you can’t leave me in the middle. The protagonist was going to do something with one of those riders in a pool and had just come to the description... ehm, graphic. You know, this stuff is instructive. Really.»

"Instructive?!" You went to him, trying to grab the book, but Jake raised his arm above his head, keeping it out of his reach. He was taller than you and with that cheeky little smile, he looked at your head to head and saw how red you were both because of the situation in the book but also because you were way too close and he: He wore only a pair of sweatpants and had his toned and sculpted physique.

«Well, yes» he continued with a sneaky smile. «I didn’t expect that Miss Vlogger, where you put all the colorful, cute videos of your trips with your friends had such a dark side... Dark romance, huh? I bet the next package when they see you have reviewed these things will be full of sex toys...?»

You hit him lightly on the chest. " If you don’t give me back the book right away, I swear that I’ll make you appear in one of my vlogs dressed as a character from Bridgerton and you know that I’m not kidding Jake"

Jake laughed, finally lowering the book to hand it. «Okay, okay, here it is, SpicyGirl. But I must say that now i'm curious. Why is a girl all cardigan, always nice, composed, and vlog read stuff so...spicy?»

Took the book with a quick gesture from Jake’s hand trying to regain composure.

"For your information, i'm an eclectic reader, this saga is the saga of the moment on Booktok and they sent me the first 3 books to read, sponsored them, and gave us a detailed review. And you’re a pervert! Next time, leave my packages alone."

Jake falls back on the couch and stretches a little with his hair slightly fluffy and that perverted smile, leaning on the armrest «Sure, sure. But you know,» he said with his head down, «if you need someone to discuss your... readings with, I’m here. That’s why we’re roommates, right? Helping each other, sharing moments of no and fun together!»

You were about to go to your room with the book in your chest. " Not even for an idea, i will share with you what i think of these books, if you are curious you will look at the review that i will publish in a couple of days. And put on a shirt, every time i see you you’re always half naked!"

«You say it, SpicyGirl, and stop being a saint in your books there are more scenes where the protagonists are naked than anything else, and don’t tell me that you don’t like what you see» Screamed Jake as you slammed the door of your room with all red cheeks but with a funny smile.

You were lying on the bed with the book in your hands. You agreed to review the novel at the request of your followers for weeks now, your fyp was flooded with videos on this book but you could not concentrate: each chapter was more intense than the previous one, and the idea of having to tell everything in front of a camera made you uncomfortable. You had already reviewed the romance with spicy scenes and you had no problems but it was the first time you were inspired by dark romance. Meanwhile, Jake was in his room playing online video games with Heeseung.

Jake was chuckling as he pressed the buttons on his controller "Dude, you’re dead for the fifth time. Your team will hate you."

Heeseung puffed in the voice chat << Ah, forget it. My head is elsewhere. My girlfriend is on the sofa reading a book... way too exciting and spicy. Yesterday while we were dining he made me see and read some scenes that there are in this saga of "devils" or "demons" with masks >>

Jake pauses, interested in the words of Heeseung. "Book? Wait... what kind of book?"

Heeseung laughed << You know, one of those super-popular dark romances on TikTok. With sensual covers, devils or demons, forbidden passion, blah blah. She’s obsessed with these things lately, when Cheerleader finishes training she eats and then she gets next to me while I play video games and she reads those books >>

Jake looked at Hee with a surprised expression "Wait a second. It’s called "The Masked Devil"?

Heeseung looked at Jake surprised << Yes, that’s it! How do you know?

Jake chuckled between himself and "Let’s say fate has made me read it. Y/n has to review it and by chance, the other day happened in my hand and I read some scenes. But... doesn’t it bother you that your girlfriend reads these things? I mean, don’t you feel... boh, competitive?"

Heeseung laughed openly << Competition? No, on the contrary! Sometimes we take inspiration from those scenes. You are pleased, and to me... well, it does not matter at all, do not take me for crazy but those scenes are described in detail that it is not difficult to be wrong and it is exciting >>

Jake looked at the gamer with surprise "Get a lead, huh? Like... replicates between you two?"

Heeseung laughed at Jake’s interest. << Exactly. Trust me, it works. >>

Jake leaned against the back of his chair, and some naughty thoughts began to spin in his head. The idea of you reading the same book strikes him differently now. He can’t help but imagine you in one of those scenes: vulnerable, passionate, completely lost in a moment of desire, and a mischievous spark illuminates his gaze.

"Interesting. Very interesting, Heeseung"

<< Why do you have that voice? What are you thinking? >>

Jake with an innocent smile took off his headphones "Nothing, nothing. Just... taking mental notes, you know how it is."

"Jake, whatever you’re thinking, i don’t want to know."

Jake closes the chat and leans to his desk. He looks at the wall that divides his room from yours. He can’t get the idea of recreating one of the scenes in that book out of his head. Not for someone else, but with you. A possessive desire creeps into him, making it difficult to ignore that thought.

You, unaware of Jake’s thoughts, continue reading. You were completely immersed in a particularly intense scene with your face flushed. Your door was ajar. Jake, coming out of his room on the pretext of going to the kitchen, noticed the light on and felt the silence coming from your room. Curiosity devours him. He approached slowly, peeking through the crack.

You were reading quietly and underlining the book a scene "Her hands wrapped around her life, pressing it against the wall with an intensity that made her tremble, N/t was now lost to S/b and S/b began to torture his neck and after a while kissed her with a dominant intensity..."

Jake opens his eyes wide, trying to hold back a laugh. He steps back and hands his hair. The sight of you so immersed affects him more than he wants to admit. Here comes an unhealthy idea: to provoke you and push the game a little further.

You went down in a cuina ready to make yourself a tea. Jake is in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a casual look, but his eyes betray a mischievous spark.

Jake looked at you with a clever smile «Oh, but look who is the queen of reading. You like that boy disguised as a devil, eh»

You looked up and looked bad Jake "I’m working. It’s for the vlog and the book review of the month"

«Sure, sure. I work hard, I guess. That "pressing her against the wall with intensity" is pure literary analysis, isn’t it?»

"Did you spy again?" You felt your cheeks warm up and your hands on the cup became stronger and stronger because you were slightly angry with Jake, he raised his hands in surrender, but without losing his smile «No, no! You read aloud. And anyway, you should be careful with scenes that are so... engaging. You might inspire someone to emulate them.»

You looked at him exasperated but above all embarrassed " Stay away from my books. And my private life, Jake.

Jake came up with a playful look, lowering his voice and putting his head against your shoulder as you were turned around to not show how embarrassed I was but also to put sugar in your tea «I promise nothing, SpicyGirl. You know, you might be more interesting than I thought... especially if you keep giving me ideas like this...creative.»

The atmosphere in the Humanities department was lively as never before. In the corridors, students and teachers discussed the literary phenomenon of the moment: The masked devil. Some professors complained indignantly, calling the book an "insult to trees sacrificed in vain". Others, on the other hand, defended it enthusiastically, claiming that finally the general public could "explore the nuances of human desire".

You were in the middle of this chaos. You heard some of your friends talk about the book with excitement as Heeseung’s girlfriend, while others dismissed it as "pornography disguised for a sex-obsessed audience.

You didn’t want to look like a goody-two-shoes woman because you weren’t, you had also had half-adventures with some guys but you never tried certain things on the other hand, you didn’t want to rediscover as one who was excited only by reading a book and that you would want to redo all the scenes like a lot of girls but also boys wanted to do them with their partners

Lily: Y/n, when is your review coming out? I want to know what you think!

Sunaa: I read the book and I bet you’ll hate it. It’s too "spicy" for you.

Instagram follower (DM): "Y/n, please tell me you love the masked Devil! 😍 I want to know everything about that book and what you think, I bet you’ll like the second book too!"

The pressure was growing. Your agency had also sent several messages, pressing for a quick release of the video. You felt choked: if you said that you liked the book, some of your followers would judge you badly; if you criticized it, you would lose credibility with your audience. Why did you start reviewing books? you loved reading but this seemed so strained...

You were walking back and forth, biting your fingernail and clenching the book. Jake was in his room playing play. You heard the classic sounds of the joystick and the game in the background and some chuckle: he was probably talking to his friends Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon.

You take a deep breath and you know it was a bad idea, but you head to Jake’s room. Knocking quietly, almost hoping he can’t hear you but after a few seconds you hear Jake yelling «Come in».

You slowly opened the door and found him: lying in bed with a sweatshirt almost untied where you could see his toned body, pants of the suit, slightly wet hair because he had just taken a shower, with the nerd glasses intent on throwing some squints with a smile that lit up the whole room while maneuvering the joystick.

She leaned against the back of the bed «Y/n, my favorite roommate. What can I do for you?»

"I need... a favor," you said timidly

«I’m all ears, tell me what you need, Spicygirl.»

"The favor would be...this book." You showed him the book you had in your hand and Jake made a mischievous little sissy

«Oh, that book. Finally, you’re here to admit that you liked it?» You saw him pull himself up from the bed and sit down while he waved to you, sitting on the edge of the bed, and you went slightly embarrassed to sit down, always keeping a distance from him.

"That’s not the point. I need... help to figure something out."

Jake looked at you with a clever smile «I’m all ears.»

"The... you know, the... the "spicy ones." I wonder if... if they’re realistic or not."

God, you were so embarrassed to look at him that you looked at the floor

Jake almost choked on laughter as he heard what you just said «Wait, wait. Do you want me, your lovely roommate, to help you find out if the scenes in that book are replicable?»

"Yes. It’s business, Jake. My followers are expecting an authentic review and i would like to see if those attitudes or scenes can be recreated, some of my friends have recreated them with their boyfriends" you said whispering but Jake had heard you carefully

«So you want to do... field research with me? in plain words would you like to recreate it with me spicy scenes?»

"Don’t say that! You make me sound weird. I don’t have so many male friends, most of them are engaged or I know, I don’t have all this confidence instead you and I have lived together for almost a year and under I trust you, Jake"

Jake’s heart lost some beats when he felt that underneath you trusted him and with his usual golden retriever expression raised his hands in surrender and smiled at you «Ok, okay. Sorry. So, what are you thinking? A particular scene?»

"Maybe the one about kissing against the wall that you heard or stared at the other day" Jake laughed and got up from bed and you did the same thing. Jake approaches slowly, the smile becomes sweeter but with a spark of mischief in his eyes.

«Do you want to recreate the whole scene or what do I know only while I push you against the wall and then give you a little kiss?»

"I think... I think I want to recreate the whole scene"

«Perfect. For the sake of science, let’s see if we can replicate the magic.»

He comes even closer, putting a hand gently on your shoulder.

«Are you sure you can handle me, Y/n? You know maybe you could find out that I’m better than that guy with the devil mask»

"I want to find out," Jake, you said looking him in the eye

Jake laughs, surprised by your answer, and stops for a moment.

«Mmm Y/n, you are more brave than I thought.»

"Please Jake, don’t laugh ok, we have to be professional"

«Laughing? Y/n, this is the most exciting moment of like Weekend!.»

Jake slowly approaches, putting his hand on the wall next to your head, and slightly pushes you with his body against his wall studded with posters of videogames and artists he loved. His breath is mixed with yours, and for a moment no one speaks. Then, with a gentle but decisive movement, it leans slightly at the level of your neck and begins to leave you small skin-hugging kisses above the lobe of your ear, At the neck up to go near your slightly noticeable shoulder blades thanks to the top cardigan you wore. You felt one of his big hands slightly clench a side to get even closer to him and when he heard that you were relaxing he started to torture the part of your neck leaving some kisses but at the same time left some small bites and sucked slightly the part Exposed of your neck gently. It was not rushed or exaggerated, but there was a controlled passion, almost as if Jake himself trying to interpret the scene of the book perfectly.

Little moans leave your lips shaking as Jack kept leaving a trail of light-feathery kisses along your neck and at the same time sucking and biting you slightly «God you have a delicious scent,spicygirl»

You detached yourself slightly from him and had no problem getting close to him and catching your lips with his. You were curious to hear how it was to have his soft lips around you, you felt Jake smile in the kiss when you started to return. It makes you feel bad but at the same time, it makes you feel good. And all this was supposed to be for science only, right?

Jake sticks his tongue in your mouth, eager to explore every crack as he had wanted to do for a while, ever since he first saw you walk into the apartment where you were supposed to live together.

The kiss was absolutely perfect and after a while, you broke off and there before you was Jake smiling at you and bringing a small lock of hair around your ear, it was too nice to be true with his hair ruffled, Lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and cheeks flushed.

«Here. Some scenes can be replicated without effort,» he said with a swaggering smile and strayed slightly away from you

"Yes, you’re right," You said looking at him as he lay down in his bed again

«If you need extra help for the sequel or other chapters, you know where to find me, spicygirl!»

You were sitting in your video corner, with the book in your hands. The camera is on, and the smile you show is the professional one of always, but there’s a streetlight of uncertainty in your eyes. The soft lighting of the set makes the atmosphere cozy.

"Hi everyone, here i’m with the review of the "Masked Devil".

The chat is immediately filled with comments from waiting followers, some asking for the most spicy details others are curious if you liked it or not.

"It’s a book... intense, I would say. Very passionate, with scenes that will certainly not leave indifferent and with much tension between the two protagonists.

You avoid going into details and it’s strange because your reviews are always so exhaustive, just describing the plot and your appreciation for the characters. But you never say what struck you the most.

Follower 1: "Y/n tell us the truth, did you like the Devil with the red mask?!"

Follower 2: "Don’t be vague, we want to know the hot scenes, which ones you liked the most, and which ones you would like to replicate in the future with your partner!"

You laugh nervously when you read the hundreds of comments you were getting "Girls, let’s just say that the red-masked Devil knows how to get attention, okay? I can’t say more, but I recommend you to read it if you are curious and you can also tell me what you liked"

The video ends with you smiling, but you know that you have not fully met your audience’s expectations. However, the vlog makes a boom of views: comments are divided between those who adore you for your class also because not all your audience is over age and those who criticize you for being too vague.

You wake up the next morning with the continuous sound of notifications on your phone. Blinking, you reach out and grab your phone. The screen is full of comments on Instagram, TikTok and YouTube.

Follower 1: "Y/n, the review was nice, but we want to know about SECOND BOOK! 😍

You sighed, with a hand in your messy hair.

You would go through the DM until you find a voice message from T/n, Heeseung’s girlfriend.

T/N (voice message): "Y/n, I saw your vlog! You were too shy, girl. I already read the second book, and trust me, it’s EVEN better. Certain scenes... wow. I’m just telling you that i and Heeseung tried the one on the kitchen table was so exciting😏"

You dropped your phone on the bed and the cheeks immediately inflamed.

You laughed a moment when you read that T/n message "On the kitchen table?! But they’re crazy!"

You can’t stop thinking about the fact that you and Jake only had a duplicate kiss, yet the effect on you was... devastating. The situation was definitely getting out of hand.

Jake was sitting on the couch, fiddling with not much belief on the phone. He had spent the whole afternoon trying to ignore that review video you had made, which kept walking around campus. " Be more yourself", "Y/n you have to tell us which parts you would like to replicate with your partner", "Y/n, in the second book you have to be more exhaustive because it is even hotter and we want to know what scenes you liked and didn’t." The comments were all like that, and Jake was wondering what it meant. She was already perfect as she was, damn it.

He was about to put the phone away when he heard footsteps on the floor and when he looked up what he saw left him breathless.

«What the hell»

You were standing there, by the door of the apartment. You wore a dress that looked sewn on you, a gift from some brand that wanted to exploit your image as a micro-influencer. The soft fabric embraced every curve, with a hint of a neckline that suggested more than it showed, while the side slit revealed an unexpected boldness. The hair was arranged in light waves, the makeup just mentioned, but enough to make you look even more luminous.

Jake swallowed, feeling his heart fail. Damn... he’s trying to kill me.

You stopped surprised by his reaction. It wasn’t the first time he saw you in a dress and you sunk at him with an innocent smile, but also a little amused.

"What? Don’t you like the dress?"

Jake got up from the couch, his hand in his hair, visibly agitated. His gaze glided over you, scanning you from head to toe. You were gorgeous, perfect, and... too provocative to go out like that, at least according to him.

«Y/n, can’t... I mean, do you really think you’re going out like this? This little dress doesn’t even cover your thighs completely, not to mention your bare back» he said with tight teeth, trying to keep calm

"Why not? It’s a dress given by the brand that sponsors the event. Must wear it, Jake and then at these events are all dressed in dresses like this"

Jake approached you, with a look that oscillated between frustrated and possessive.

Jake said in a low, rock-like voice, I’m not saying you’re not beautiful, because you are. Too beautiful. That’s the problem. I don’t want others to look at you as I am looking at you now.» You looked at him, surprised by his words. You didn’t expect such a strong reaction from him and you felt his cheeks blush, but you tried to stay calm.

"Jake, you’re impossible. And anyway, it’s not like everyone is looking at me."

Jake stepped forward, narrowing the distance between them. His smile grew more cheeky.

Oh, baby, they will. Trust my words but remember one thing Y/n,... Whoever is watching you tonight, I’m the only one who knows what it’s like to kiss you, and who could be better than that masked devil.»

You stared at him, eyes wide open and the heart beating wildly. You did not answer but Jake noticed the slight flickering of your lips and with a grin he walked away from you or else he was convinced that he would take you and lock you in his room and leaned back to the sofa, taking a deep breath.

«Go, go. Have fun. But not too much, eh?»

You shook your head, trying to ignore the heat that had taken hold of you. I took my bag, taking a last look at Jake before leaving.

"Don’t worry, golden retriever. I’ll be back safe." You said slightly laughing

Jake watched you disappear through the door with your heart still beating wildly. Golden retriever? He thought to himself, if he would find out what his sick mint was thinking about you with that succinct little dress you wouldn’t call him much Golden Retriever but something darker than maybe only in the books was described. But within him, his darker and more possessive side whispered: Safe and sound, yes. But you’re still mine and sooner or later your body will be mine.

Jake lay on the couch, PlayStation controller in his hands. He had just finished a game session with the boys, but instead of feeling tired, he was more agitated than ever. Every time he looked down at his phone, he hoped to see a notification: a message, a photo, something but nothing. He saw that you had posted stories while dancing with other girls while drinking a drink, and the photo of the place where you could see all Seoul.

His brain was a mixture of images: You in that breathtaking dress, your soft hair moving when you laughed, and that cheeky confidence he carried with him... mixed with his usual shyness. It was a dangerous cocktail that made him crazy.

To distract himself, Jake opened TikTok. He was streaming video to video, but his algorithm seemed to decide to torture him with clips of girls reviewing spicy books.

"If you loved the first book in this series, wait until you read the second. It’s even more spicy and intense."

Jake got stuck.

"Wait a minute..."

He rose from the couch, walking slowly towards the bookcase. There, tucked between a book and some university textbooks, was the second volume of that cursed saga. He took it in hand, studying the cover with a raised eyebrow.

"More intense than the first, huh? As if Y/n hadn’t already gone into tilt with that."

She couldn’t resist. She sat down at the kitchen table, opening the book in the chapter where the girl who had made the tik tok suggested a scene to how spicy. It was enough to read a few paragraphs to make him lift his eyes, almost incredulous.

"What the hell... this second masked devil doesn’t joke, he’s even more deranged and perverted than the first?"

Each page he browsed was more explicit than the previous one. Scenes of seduction, desire, and dialogue that seemed written to make anyone blush. Jake found himself biting the inside of his cheek, imagining Y/n reading these things.

He ran his hand through his hair, letting herself go against the back of the chair.

"And I thought the first one was too much for her. This will blow up."

But then, a new idea came into his head. Maybe... maybe Y/n would need help to deal with it. He had already had difficulties with the first one, even asking him to replicate some scenes to better understand. With the second book, the situation would be more intense.

A slow smile formed on his lips.

"I think your golden retriever is still available, Y/n."

He decided to close the book before letting go of too many dangerous thoughts. He put it back in its place, but could not shake the images that the words had evoked. God, there were scenes where he made his beloved feel good by fucking her with his fingers in a pool, against the wall of a theater that was not banned he was fucking or there was also a scene of two boys and a girl, who had definitely closed the book and started laughing.

When the clock was at one o'clock, Jake was still awake. He had read a couple of physics chapters to distract herself, then spent another ten minutes watching TikTok tutorials for a new skincare routine. But every now and then his thoughts would go back there, to Y/n, to the book, and to the night they shared that kiss.

Heard the apartment door open. Jake stood up and dropped his physics book on the table. His heart was beating fast you had no idea how long he’d stayed awake just to make sure I’d come back safe.

And above all... to understand how the hell he would deal with that cursed book.

You looked at him surprised when you saw Jake in his pajamas and his nerd glasses and there was a book of physics on the couch. "Are you still awake?"

Jake didn’t answer immediately. He came up to you without even thinking about it and hugged you. His arms closed around you in an instinctive gesture as if he wanted to make sure that you were really there, safe and sound; and that no boy had touched you. You stiffened for a moment, surprised by that gesture but then you released against his comfortable chest and Jake inspired your delicious scent of cherry and vanilla that every time he felt it went crazy. But just when the hug could become sweet and reassuring, his most possessive and provocative part came out. He looked away slightly, looking down at you with his eyebrow raised and a small grin that had formed on his lips.

«So? How was the evening?»

"It was a fantastic evening" I replied by sitting next to him. Crossing their legs and setting the hem of the dress aware of Jake’s gaze. "There were so many people! And I met the writer of "The Masked Devil". He even told me that he saw some of my reviews and in particular the one I put on his book a few days ago."

Jake tilted his head and looked at you. «What do you think? Does she like them?»

"Yes, she liked it. But..." you nibbled on your lip. "She said I should be more specific. You know, especially in the scenes... those more... spicy scenes. Now even the little girls are curious to know what it’s like to have experiences like this with boys and some scenes can be recreated as we did with the kiss that we gave each other..."

Jake smiled when he heard you talking about the kiss as you had enjoyed it too and surely thought of it much more than you should think.

«Have you already started the second book of the saga?»

You’re just getting stiff. "Yes... but I’m only at the beginning," you said avoiding your gaze.

«Oh yes?» Jake raised an eyebrow. «And where did you stop? By chance...» He paused dramatically, giving a sneering smile. «Did you stop at the scene where the Masked Devil makes his beloved feel good with his fingers? His fingers moved slowly, precisely, touching every nerve as if he knew my body better than I did. But after a while, he put another finger inside me and started pumping and cumming them and at that moment I lost my head. I don’t remember the words very well but in practice was that the scene true, Y/n?»

You looked at him shocked and your cheeks became even redder. "Jake! You... did you read where I stopped?" Your voice was a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief. "I told you not to touch my things!"

«I couldn’t resist» he admitted, laughing. «And then, admit it is an interesting scene.» He approached your body, his smile became more mischievous. «Would you... replicate it with me?»

You hit him again on the arm, but this time with more force. " You’re so perverted Jake, it’s not because we kissed now you want to replicate all those scenes"

Jake laughed, the sound deep and sincere. «Come on, I was joking!» Then he bowed his head, staring at you with a look that had a shadow of seriousness. «But if I wanted...I would be there.»

Jake got up and went to his room to start getting ready for bed with a little grin. Your heart was beating fast, and the room suddenly seemed smaller and you finally went to your room as well as your refuge but the writer’s words kept echoing in your head. "A girl like you should be more thorough. Maybe... try things too, to really understand how to tell them."

It was a tip that made you blush to the ears. You, try those things? You weren’t that kind of girl. You were shy but at the same time extroverted with people you knew and preferred to explore the world through book pages, not replicate scenes. Yet... Jake had shown you that some things weren’t so impossible.

You sat on the bed, staring at the floor. "Is it feasible? Can I do that?" You asked biting your lower lip. In the end, you sighed If you had to choose someone to try with, Jake was the perfect person. He was spontaneous and playful, and his protective side the golden retriever always made you feel comfortable, even when he acted slightly perverted or when he replied with double-sided answers.

While you were thinking, you heard the sound of water flowing from the bathroom. You got up without even thinking about it, still in the short dress you had worn for the event, and opened the bathroom door.

Jake was there, as every night, brushing his teeth. Bare-chested, low-waisted pajamas, and that air of not knowing how attractive he was. When he saw you coming in, he raised an eyebrow, the toothpaste popping out of his mouth in a funny smile.

«Hey,» he muttered, his voice slightly kneaded as he spoke with the toothbrush in his mouth. «What are you doing here? Do you need a mirror?»

You crossed your arms trying to mask the nervousness. "No, I just... wanted to talk about something."

Jake flushed his mouth and wiped himself with a towel, then turned to you with a disarming smile. «Talk? To me? At this time? It must be important.»

You avoided his gaze, staring at the sink. "I was thinking... of the book. The second book of The Masked Devil. "

Jake leaned on the furniture, crossing his arms over his chest. «Ah yes? The scene of the fingers, right?» he asked, in a mischievous tone.

You looked up, blinking him with your eyes. "Jake, stop."

Jake stared at you, the smile slowly spreading as the meaning of his words became clear to him. «Oh, I understand.» He stepped towards you, his eyes twinkling with fun mixed with something deeper. «Would you... repeat that scene with me?»

"I just want to see if... it’s feasible. Like in the book."

Jake came closer again, his body so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his skin. «And what part of the book do you want to replicate exactly?»

He asked, his voice becoming lower, almost a whisper. «The one where he makes her crazy with his fingers?»

Swallow with your heart pounding in her chest. "I don’t know," you replied, trying to keep my voice still. " It depends... on you, would you be willing or not?."

Jake tilted his head, looking at you with an enigmatic smile. Then he raised a hand and gently placed it on your side, sliding his thumb along the edge of the dress. «I am always available for you,Y/n» he said, the tone was playful but with a shadow of seriousness. «You must tell me. I won’t do anything you don’t want and if you feel uncomfortable just tell me and I’ll stop.»

"Thank you, Jake. Can we read it together for a moment and then replicate it?" Jake nodded yes and you went to your room and sat down, you with the book in hand and Jake beside you reading things under his voice did the devil masked with his girlfriend.

«Lie down Y/n, legs slightly on the edge of the bed.» You sat down as Jake suggested and felt his big venous hands between your hips pulling you slightly between the edge of the bed and gently but also slightly with possession Jake pushed up your dress lightly around your hips until he saw Your black thong and innately thoughts invaded his head. «You know that this is not a real game for me, Y/n?» Said yes with my head knelt slightly looked at the thong and said something you would not have imagined that sweet Golden Retriever nerd version had told you.

«Who would have thought that the good girl who does vlogger wear a thong also to go to an event of only influencers? Don’t tell me you’re a good girl because to my mind you seem a little slut who absolutely wants my attention and who asks shyly to be able to recreate some dirty scenes that you read in those books but now you’ll get it»

You heard Jake give you little kisses where there was that little layer of cloth and for you, it was a real torture because his hands were around your knees and he didn’t move them at all to put them in your already slightly wet pussy.

"Jake, please" Jake laughed at your insolence, where was the shy girl who filmed funny vlogs or who got embarrassed while reading those spicy parts in the book?

A hand of his slowly began to rise up to your thigh and his mouth started giving you small kisses around your buttocks, he bit slightly on your thighs to feel your sighs become more and more needy.

«Use your mouth to tell me what to do, baby, if you don’t tell me what to do I’ll stand there all night driving you crazy. You read what the masked devil was doing to his girlfriend a few minutes ago so, speak, Y/n» You took his defiant look and raised your eyes, slightly pulled your hair, and said: "Touch me please" Jake laughed because he wanted to ruin you.

«You have to be more specific»

"Oh my god, stop doing that to me. Touch me where you kissed me before you started torturing my buttocks" Jake was literally testing you and loved to see that underneath you were definitely a good girl because you didn’t want to say the word "pussy". When he pulled down your thong your clitoris was already wet and slightly slimy, Jake hisses in appreciation of the sight of your pussy, and let out a moan of pleasure in seeing you so needy of him, slipped a finger between your vaginal lips to surround your clitoris. «Holy shit, you’re so wet» You pulled your hair again, and with a smile without warning put another finger get into that tight pussy.

«You look so needy of me that you don’t seem a good girl» Put two big fingers in your pussy at once, up to the knuckle, and moan his name, "Jakey is too much" You heard his laugh and began to pump until you were accustomed to the length of his fingers inside you and as in the book that you had read before he put the third finger inside you and while pumping at the same time he bent and curled his fingers to make you feel All three of them. You were seriously ecstatic by the sensations you felt, the groans that came out of your lips, and while Jake looked at you so lost and excited for him with another finger she started to tease your clitoris and pinch it slightly to make you come only thanks to him.

"Jake, I’m coming" You felt his fingers pumping even harder and at the same time an adrenaline rush invaded you and white sticky, and slimy sperm invaded your pussy and Jake’s fingers, you tried to stand up slightly, But you felt Jake give you some light pussy licks and he took a finger close to his mouth and sucked it.

«Well, I can say that I have fulfilled your forbidden dream and that perhaps the things represented in those books can be really realized.»

Jake returns from a long day at the university. The living room light is off, but he notices your bedroom door closed. He knows you’re home because your shoes are by the entrance, but he hasn’t seen you for more than a few minutes or talked to you in days. He lets himself fall on the sofa with a sigh, passing his hand through his messy hair.

«What the hell did I do?»

Think back to that scene on the bed, his hand that drew circles on your skin, and when you moaned his name. At that moment he had found you relaxed, even comfortable with him. But now? Now you were avoiding all interaction with him. The idea that you might feel uncomfortable or, worse, disgusted with him haunted him.

You were lying on the bed, phone in hand looking for distractions between your friends' messages and your followers' comments. But Jake’s thought keeps coming back. Every time you close your eyes, you still feel the warmth of his hands and hate yourself for letting it happen. Not because you didn’t like it - in fact, it’s the opposite. You liked it so much that it was days before you fell asleep you remembered in your mind the kisses and how good they made you feel.

"Ugh, you’re pathetic."

You turn to your side, staring at the book still on its bedside table. That book has kindled something in you, but now you can’t even look at it without thinking about Jake and how the line between you two has faded too fast.

You were with some friends at the bar of the faculty and with the girlfriend of Heeseung and does not miss the opportunity to tease you.

T/N << Oh, you’ve already finished reading the second book? Or are you too busy "experimenting" with your roommate? >>

You choked on his coffee, blushing violently.

"Nothing like that happens!"

<< Sure, sure. It’s just that Jake doesn’t seem to be the type to quit easily. And honestly? He looks at you as if you were his favorite snack and we can also admit it is really sexy but at the same time has that sweet face that would make any girl crazy. >>

The other girls laugh, but you can’t get it out of your head. Maybe T/N was right. Maybe Jake didn’t touch you just for fun or curiosity. And maybe, your problem was that you didn’t mind the idea.

You came back late hoping to find Jake already in bed but instead, he was sitting at the kitchen table with an open physics book and a cup of tea next to it. When he saw you, he stood up immediately but did not approach.

«Hey,» you looked at him for a moment smiled at him, and then sat down on the sofa without answering. Jake moved slowly, sitting in the chair opposite her.

«Can we talk? you’ve been avoiding me for days and I miss spending time with you even just to have a cup of tea» he said looking at you like a puppy

"There’s nothing to say, Jake. I miss spending time with you too but" didn’t stop you talking as he came closer to you.

«Yes, it is. Y/n, if you want me to step aside or... find somewhere else to stay I can go to Jay or Sunghoon, I understand. But please don’t ignore me like that. You’re driving me crazy.»

You looked at him, surprised by his frustration. There was sincerity in his eyes, and the knot in his throat loosened a little when he heard you speak.

"I don’t want you to leave." Jake relaxes slightly, leaning on the back.

«Okay, then help me figure out how not to ruin everything with you?»

You laid your hand and stirred his slightly long tuft and smiled at him.

"You never ruined anything, Jake" and you hugged him timidly feeling your heart beat.

After that argument with Jake things seemed to be "normal" between you two. You were sitting on the couch with your laptop on your knees, pretending to be working on a new video for your channel. In fact, your ears were tuned to the noise coming from Jake’s room where he was getting ready to go out and when he did, your heart skipped a beat.

Jake wears a black shirt with slightly swaggy sleeves and jeans that fit him perfectly. The hair is in a studied disorder, and the perfume he put on seems to fill the whole apartment. When he sees you, he leans nonchalantly against the wall and smiles in a cheeky way.

«What do you think? I’m presentable enough to get the attention of some girls?»

You looked at him for a moment, trying to look indifferent, but you felt a squeeze in your chest. It’s too good. Too much. And the idea of other girls touching him makes your blood boil.

"You will definitely impress someone. I would say too much."

Jake raises an eyebrow, amused by your tone, and approaches the couch. He bends slightly, looking straight into your eyes.

«Jealous, Spicy Girl?»

"Jealous? Of you? Pff".

«Oh, so you don’t care if someone tries to kiss me tonight?»

You’re a little stiff, and Jake doesn’t miss the slightest change in your expression. He enjoys too much to see how badly you hide him.

"You do what you want, it’s your life. I bet you’ll get in trouble and call me."

«Ah, so you think of me when I go out with my friends. Interesting.»

You stare at him with defiance, but inside you, there is a storm. Every fiber of your being wants to tell you to stay, but your rational mind blocks you. Jake comes even closer, lowering himself to your ear with his low, warm voice.

«For the record, there will be no one like you this evening. You know, in case you were wondering.»

You feel the heat rising to your face, but it refuses to give way.

You feel the heat rising to your face, but it refuses to give way.

"Go, Jake. I’m sure your "friends" are waiting for you, you don’t want to be late". You said coldly

Jake retracts, but the cheeky smile remains on his lips. He puts on his jacket and heads for the door, taking one last look at you.

«Try not to think too much about me, okay?»

And with a quick nod, he leaves the apartment, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You let yourself fall on the couch, your heart beating fast and a mix of anger and... something that you don’t even want to admit to yourself.

After a few minutes, you were seriously angry with yourself and so you wrote to Heeseung’s girlfriend if she wanted to surprise him and presented you at the place where they had gone then about an hour later you entered Armleaved with T/N, in a black cocktail dress, Elegant but with a touch of sensuality that makes you feel confident. You have carefully chosen your accessories and your hair is smooth and frames your face, with a loving smile you approach the group of Heeseung and Jungwon, who welcome you warmly, Complimenting you on your outfit but your eyes are fixed on Jake who is talking to a girl and seconds later as if he felt someone was looking at him, Jake turns slightly and sees you laughing with Heeseung and Jungwon’s girlfriends but his eyes were glued to your body.

«Fuck. What the hell is she doing here, dressed like that? It’s not possible. It didn’t have to be so... all show. Those clothes that show more than they should» he thinks to himself, Jake stands up sharply, interrupts the conversation with the girl, and walks firmly towards you. He doesn’t greet you like a normal friend, not even as a normal roommate. There’s something different about his attitude. He is not only curious or worried. He is angry and possessive.

You turn around, smiling as he approaches, but when you see him closer, your smile shakes a little. Jake is about to say something, but he stops for a moment, looking at you once more. His breath is heavier, and his eyes stare intensely at your body as if he wanted to possess you with the look.

«So, this is your game, huh? Let everyone around you see... Wearing (gesturing with the finger in the direction of his dress) this piece of cloth?» you were slightly surprised but a small smile made its way into your mouth.

"Jake, what’s the matter with you? I was bored at home and I wrote to T/N if he wanted to come with me to this club where his boyfriend was also there. I’m alone with the guys, you don’t have to be so..."

«It’s not them I’m talking about, Y/n. It’s you. You didn’t have to be so pretty and show yourself like that.» Jake ran his hands through his hair and even his tongue passed between his lips slightly cracked from the cold. You smiled and went to T/N’s to talk and after a while, with the careful look of Jake and Heeseung you were down on the dance floor Jake never left you with his eyes and after 10 minutes he was tired of this situation and came up to you and took you slightly by the hips and whispered. «Want to get some fresh air, Spicy Girl? The place is getting too crowded for you.»

You knew it was an excuse to take you out of the club and I said no with my head but he took your pulse slightly and started walking towards the exit

"Jake, what... what are you doing?"

He looked at you with a bold and dangerous smile, making a gesture towards the door. «You’re too perfect to be here. I want to take you home. I see how they look at you, how they want you. But you are not made for them. You are made for me. And now, come with me.»

Jake does not wait for an answer. He grabs you with delicacy, but with the force that leaves no doubt. At that moment, his mind is on fire. It is not only the physical desire that drives him but something more. A visceral need to have you all to yourself, without more interference, without more third-party players.

"Jake, but I..."

«Don’t talk, Y/n. Come with me. I want to show you something. I want to make you feel what I read. I want you to understand how much you’ve been driving me crazy for months now»

When you arrived at your apartment, you took off your shoes but after a few moments, Jake trapped you between the wall behind you and he put his hands on your hips, pulling you to himself. You felt dizzy, was it really happening?! put a finger on your chin and raise your head. He loved the expression of your red face, and your trembling lips and eyes. You were so scared, but at the same time so excited and you could see that you had just done it to make him jealous and to get his attention. Jake presses his cock against your dressed pussy, smiling as you instinctively push your hips against him and groan, noticing your reaction, Jake slowly rubs his dick against your clitoris again, and you moan in his mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck and put your hands on Jake’s muscular shoulders, your nails sticking into the skin still wearing your shirt and feel your dress pull up, Making you hiss and groan for the cold air that hit your legs and your sensitive pussy. Jake pushed his tongue past your lips, exploring your mouth at will while you rubbed gently on his jeans-clad cock.

He heard how wet you were by putting your palm between your panties and wanted to drive you crazy «Fuck, you’re even soggier than last time. Bet when I was out training or class you were touching yourself thinking of me, right, y/n» you annulet slightly and a grin took hold of Jake’s face. «Let’s see if I’m even better than that masked devil, turn around and sit between my legs, I want to make you come like in that scene where he fucks his girlfriend in front of the mirror» obey Jake’s request feeling too excited to answer. He pulls you closer to him by the hips and starts playing with your clitoris, rubbing incredibly slowly. you have leaned towards him, turning your head to hide your face in his neck, but he grabs your jaw and forces you to look at yourself in the mirror. You pushed slightly over his cock and felt how hard it was but your concentration was on Jake’s fingers around your pussy.

«Look. Look how pretty you are while I fuck you with my fingers in front of the mirror, who knows later how it will be to see you not only in front of me but also thanks to the mirror reflection take my dick as a good girl» lowers your panties and looks through the mirror while Jake spreads your wet folds, showing you your swollen clitoris and tight hole. " Jake, pls" was embarrassing to see, so you tried to close your legs, but Jake was quick to use his other hand, forcing you to open your legs again.

Jake shoves two knuckles into your pussy and starts pumping in and out of you at a steady pace, you’ve never felt anything like this before, No one had ever shown you how excited I could be and was full of emotions, especially in front of a mirror where you saw all excited and Jake’s fingers pumping at an incensing rhythm; It was both too good and too overwhelming, but you couldn’t ask Jake to stop even if you were terribly embarrassed to see you like that, not when you were feeling so high at the time.

«Holy shit people are right to say that those dirty sex scenes can be replicated, Y/n after this session you can tell everyone how excited you were but the problem is that these things you can do only with me and with no one else» pressed her thumb against your clitoris, surrounding it. Your back bowed as you tried with all your strength not to moan loudly "Jakie, pls is too nice" Jake pushes his fingers deeper inside you and hits a specific point, Start moving your fingers faster but keep hitting that spot you love so much. He made you crazy and as he fills you with his fingers feel his cock rubbing more and more against your ass and feel how Jake was holding back so that it didn’t explode immediately. Use your other hand to massage your clitoris at a much, much more violent pace than last time. You moan her name, louder than ever until you hear your clitoris pulsate. The sight of you two being lost like that in front of the mirror made your head spin. He pulled you incredibly closer to him, kissing you along the neck as both his hands worked on your pussy: One touched you and the other abused your clitoris until you came Jake put his hands to his mouth and started sucking it and the reflection you saw was so perverse, you completely out of your mind, Jake with the ruffled hair, His lips full, his fingers full of slimy cum, he who carried his fingers to taste your sperm and after a while brought a finger around your lips and licked your own semen.

Jake made you relax a little bit but after a while, he felt his cock too hard push against his jeans, turned you around and his lips never left your skin for even a moment, sweet noises of kisses rang in your ears. You get a thousand chills when you feel Jake lower the straps of your dress and you’re dead skin until it reached your breast and started with one hand to tease him and gently squeeze him instead of the other sucking your already terribly hard nipples. " Jake, I need you. I don’t care at all to recreate those scenes, I just want you right now" Jake growled in a low voice when he heard this confession from you and slightly pushed his hips to get his jeans and at the same time his boxer shorts, you were sitting between his legs and his hard cock was banging lightly against his V-line, it was big, a little red and full of liquid and you licked your lips at the sight of him so vulnerable but at the same time excited thanks to you.

«Do you trust me, Y/n?» you said yes with your head, he pumped some of his cock, the muscles of his arm swelled up with every movement and you were enchanted to see his big hands veined around his dick.

When it entered inside you a loud cry came out of your mouth, tears stung your eyes as you felt tense only by its tip that slid in. " God is so big, Jake. put your hands on me his hips I want to hear you all" Exhalaste, the eyes that lowered to check, Jake put his big hands on your hips. You were panicked, the head that turned when you saw how much length he still had left. Jake whimpered at your narrow walls that swallow him so well and when he brought you closer to him, you felt all his cock inside of you and it was a wonderful feeling You got up slowly and after a while, you started riding it with the same succinct dress that you had put on to make it go away, Your breast flashed slightly to every push that you took the cock of Jake and with one hand held you by the back and with the other he clutched a breast and with the mouth sucked your nipple. You felt every inch of him, the way he pulsed, the way he grew incredibly bigger each time your walls were tightened, the way he effortlessly hit all your sensitive points: you could feel everything about him. Your head began to spin, whining for the pleasure that was beginning to overwhelm you.

"Jakey" whimpered, leaving little suckers in his neck. he hummed in response, shivering every time your walls were tightened on him. "Faster, give me faster." He panicked, Jake, his body stiff as he stared at your dazed expression. He pushed his hips and his dick even more deep inside you Whatever you want, baby, you’re taking it like a good girl. Turn your head and look at you riding my dick» You were slightly still a little embarrassed by the situation but when you turned I saw you so overwhelmed with Jake’s cock pumping inside of you while you rode it like in the scene of the book.

You shivered, whining as deep as it was coming. You could hear the thick head of his cock knocking on your deeper walls, stomach almost swollen from the pressure. " Jake please", you whiny, "it’s too much for me."

«You’ll come for me, y/n? do it, baby. let me see... let me see how good you are to me as you come around my dick.» Jake was dizzy, his eyes were focused on the way your face writhed nicely or the way your boobs bounced off each push, or the way your hair fell on your face, He had imagined this scene a lot of times when he read by chance that scene in the second book.

«Fuck», sighed Jake, the shivers passed through his body. could feel your walls writhing and huddling around him, munching his cock greedily. He kissed your neck, «just a little more, okay?»

Before you could ask him what he meant, his hips had already started moving, setting a brutal rhythm from the beginning without letting you rest. " Fuck! Fuck, Jake!" you sobbed, trembling sensibly.

In the midst of the brutal rhythm, you could feel Jake’s cock pulsating deep inside you, signaling his own orgasm. you screamed, leaving more scratches on his chest, trembling when you felt his sperm cover your walls. Jake stayed inside you for a while and when he pulled out the white sperm dripped all over your walls, hugged you to himself and gave you small kisses on the forehead and in the slightly sweaty hair, He felt how your heart was beating fast and so did he.

Morning light filtered gently through the curtains, creating soft reflections on the room. You woke up slowly, with your body still wrapped in Jake’s warm embrace, he was beautiful with his hair ruffled, lips slightly open and his arms clinging to his chest, he was like a big adorable puppy... an incredibly sexy puppy. You moved slightly towards him and, without thinking too much, you put your lips gently into his. Your mouth sought his in a gesture of affection that you did not know exactly how to explain, but that seemed to come from the bottom of your heart. You tried to move slowly, but Jake made a small roar and pulled you even closer, holding you as if you were his favourite pillow.

«Don’t go anywhere... you’re too comfortable.»

Laugh, have fun. It was amazing how he could be so irresistibly tender even when he was awake. You caressed his hair gently, as he sank his face into the curve of his neck.

"Jake, you’re like a giant koala. How can I move if you hold me like this?"

Jake finally opened an eye, looking at you with a sleepy smile but a cunning smile

«You can’t. That’s the plan. I’ll keep you here forever!»

I hope you like it:) I had a lot of fun writing this one-shot about Jake. I think he is one of the easiest members to write stories with for his character that comes out through the en-o-clock or various videos about him.

©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2025.

[niccolites]

i don't wanna break the heart of any other man (but you)

johnny (soap) mactavish x fem!reader, brother's best friend au. cw dub-con

read on ao3 here, originally based off of the very talented @ceilidho 's ask here

--

It starts with a ribbon in your hair, neat and pink, ripped out by Johnny’s hand. He laughs in your face, all gummy smile at the age of eight, grinning as you cry and try to get it back.

You are seven-years-old, and you don’t know why your brother hangs out with this bully. Even worse, the inaction. Your perfect big brother, reduced to a faceless bystander.

Lungs catch and then stutter, devastation as you learn and relearn the same lesson until it sticks. A boy can treat you how he wants, as long as he minds his ps and qs about it.

The world around you is defined in the short-term - the sky is blue, your mary-janes have a scuff on them that your mother is worried people are going to notice, and you hate Johnny Mactavish.

He becomes friends with your brother and steals him away from you. Best friends once, you and your brother. Now you've been replaced by some snotty little boy who is constantly yanking on your pigtails. In your own living room, your brother is silent when you run from the room crying.

He's your bully, a twist in your stomach when no one seems to understand this. You sit on the back step, hiccuping tears as you listen to Johnny and your brother have fun in the living room. Only Johnny seems to notice your tears when you come back in and sit, sullen, in the corner. His gaze is a living thing that crawls over you, something alive that shudders like a second skin over yours.

The defining story of your childhood is told like this, after the fact: Johnny keeps picking on you, one day he steals your ribbon and you cry. He keeps the ribbon to this day. Cue the hand on the heart and the coos from the audience. A hit every time, an instant classic.

(One part of the story that is always missed out when this is told and retold again and again is how you actually swing at him. The last time you’re on an even playing field because he unwillingly takes it on the chin.)

Respective parents swoop in, fussing and pulling the two of you apart. Injustice doled out swiftly as Johnny clings to that ribbon, as no one takes it off of him.

“Oh, honey, boys do that when they like you,” your mum coos at you. It's a pathetic attempt to comfort you, leaving you confused more than anything. Here is the sharp reality, your perfect hair undone and mussed. Here is the crack that distorts the image, smoothing over the edges and makes it more palatable.

Johnny catches this, mouth agape as he takes it in. There’s a red mark on his chin from your hand, blue eyes wide and watery.

You wonder if Johnny remembers this. You can see the exact moment that this registers with him, as if he had never considered the ‘why’ of what he was doing to you. And here was the reason, delivered to him from the woman who always gives him an extra cookie when he comes over to play. A click, the universe has righted itself. Something slotting into place according to some higher power. Path set, direction coordinated. Your ribbon clenched in his fist. Meaning applied, after the fact.

It matters to you, you suppose. A politically incorrect statement that alters the start of your life, for all intents and purposes. Here is the centre of it, tattered ribbon and throbbing knuckles, and a lie that is swallowed and turned into truth. Johnny probably doesn’t care. The centre of his entire infatuation does not matter as much as the gulf of the rest of it. Who cares about him snapping your training bra, what matters is the image of his fingers as they wriggle under the strap, the warmth of skin before the snap of plastic. Johnny’s vision of you seems to be half-eclipsed by what he does to you.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but Johnny is a lesson that the bitterness is quickly forgotten once the pill hits the bottom of your stomach. Well, then there’s just the acceptance of how things are meant to be, right?

//

What starts off as the play fighting of a rough child in puppy love becomes the earnest approaches of a lovesick teenager. Supposedly.

Before, maybe someone would have eventually stepped in. Maybe there is a finite number of times that a girl can come home crying after having her hair pulled before someone does start to get concerned. Maybe you were a few hundred short when puberty hits and Johnny makes a sharp pivot.

Gone are the shoves, Johnny sticking his foot out to trip you up. Pulling your hair and dashing away, as if unable to stand being near you. His attention is an ugly thing that sits between you. Even he doesn't seem equipped to handle it, breath always coming a little bit too sharp when he steals your teddy, eyes on your reaction even as he tries to dart away.

Now, Johnny is always near. He doesn’t shove anymore, just stands, always too close. You start wearing a training bra and he is a bit too focused about it. Asks you how it feels, gaze hot on your face, like he wants you to say something hot. (You know it doesn’t matter what you say, he’ll likely think that anyway). Petty at the age of 13, you spit into his drink to try and gross him out and he downs it like he had been waiting for it.

Years are not defined by time passing, but rather Johnny and his relationship to you. Years pass with the deterioration of the two of you, scratches in the wall to track the history of how bad everything spirals out of control.

You’re thirteen, and Johnny is pinging your bra strap. He's fourteen, and now he's a few inches taller which he starts using to his advantage, leaning over you when you try to get by him.

You're fourteen, and Johnny is telling you that he jerked off to the thought of you last night before smiling at your mother while you scoff in disgust. He's fifteen, and deciding he wants to start heavy-lifting, wanting to get in shape for you.

You're fifteen, and Johnny is begging you to come swimming with them, hands smoothing over your hips while you try to shove him off. He's sixteen, and he’s holding an enlistment pamphlet and asking how much you would miss him if he went.

You’re sixteen, and Johnny is yanking up your jumper and his breath comes out as a wheeze when he sees the light blue cups that he is convinced match his eyes. He’s seventeen, and trying to get you to drink with him, pupils blown as he tilts the bottle to your mouth and some of it spills over your bottom lip.

You’re seventeen, and Johnny is shoving his hand down the front of your panties, won’t you let him see his favourite girl before he leaves? You don’t know if he’s even really referring to you anymore. He’s eighteen, and he’s almost gone. The weight on your shoulders is heavier, the way it must be before it’s lifted. Almost out, the crack of light in a tomb, mouth watering for it.

He’s trying to be gentle with you, he explains, nights before he leaves. Your nipples are raw under your shirt from where he had yanked your shirt up and ducked down to bite them with a groan. You scowl.

Sitting in your room, your family downstairs. He had asked for a moment with you, for the third time that day and your mother had been charmed. She had been blubbering since she found out that he enlisted, back bowing as you seem to lift higher with each hour that passes.

He needs to make you understand what is going on between the two of you. Needs to make it clear to you before he goes. “We���re meant to be,” he says, patient, even as his hands flex, smoothing over your knees. A creak of bone against muscle, seconds away from wrenching your thighs open and taking what he believes he is owed.

It seems like some kind of stupid honour code. You’re too wriggly. He can have his pound of flesh but he wants the full slab. Maybe he thinks he has to earn it, wants you to spread your legs and let him in.

Fat chance. You tell him as much, delighting for a moment at the way that dopey smile drops off his face. You imagine punching him now, wonder if you could break his nose this time, you think you have enough anger built up to really manage it.

Before you get a chance to really think it over, he grabs you, hands hard on your hips. Yanking your leggings down, and you think that you were wrong, if you didn’t bring over the full cow he was just going to and wrangle that fucker himself.

Minutes later and he’s puffing hot breath into the crook of your neck, the head of his cock between the gusset of your underwear and your pussy. He had gripped your hand and guided it around his dick, up and down. You would stop, but his hand is manacled around your wrist, palm hot against the pulse of your veins. Two layers of skin between your respective flesh, nothing really.

He whines when pre-cum aids the way, huffs a laugh when he nudges against your clit and you tremble. Barely any slick between your folds but he hones in on it like he does with everything to do with you. Dips the head of his cock further down to catch it, forehead thumping against your shoulder to watch as his cock shines with the slightest bit of your juices.

Here is the body’s natural reaction to stimulation. And here is Johnny taking the explanation that he has been waiting for.

“A knew it,” he mutters, feverish as his hips stutter, your hand tightening for a second as he nudges against your clit again. “Knew you were wantin’ it, lovey. But you had tae act like a right cow, eh?” He chuckles, dark before he yanks your chin up (you had been staring as well, you realise with a flush of shame), slants his mouth over yours.

He’s still angry, thumb digging into the soft flesh beneath your skin as he drags his tongue over yours, sucking it into his mouth until you hiccup.

He’s big like this, eighteen, and the puppy fat had shrank off years ago. Shoulders hunches to reach you, hand cradling your jaw in place, almost ear to ear.

He pulls back and you loll forward, pressure that had been holding you in place suddenly gone. You reel with it, almost falling forward before he nudges you back again. He huffs, a mean thing into your temple, hand sliding to the back of your neck. “Ye wantin’ it?” he asks. You wonder if he actually wants an answer, know that he already has his confirmation between your thighs.

His hand squeezes your wrist, and you clumsily twist your palm when you reach the top of his shaft, morbidly curious. He told you how he liked to jerk off two New Years ago, did it how he thought you would do it for him. Prophesied.

His shoulders shake, moaning wantonly as if you aren’t in your bedroom with your parents watching TV just downstairs. “Fuck,” he hisses, eyes on how your hand barely covers half of his cock as you stroke him. His hand thumps into the wall beside your shoulder, other hand flexing with his thumb on your wrist bone.

“Ah, fuck, dae that again,” he huffs until you do, again and again until he whines, head back into the crook of your neck as he drools into the collar of your shirt.

Both his hands are on your arse now, squeezing and kneading as he humps like a misbehaved dog into your hand. “I know you didnae mean it,” he mutters, pulling the spit soaked collar of your shirt down to kiss and lick and bite your collarbone. “You were jus’ missin’ me already, eh? A know, lovey, a know, there we are, just havtae show you the way sometimes, my poor wee angel, a forgive ye, a dae, a swear.”

He grips the backs of your thighs and squeezes when he comes, pushing until the head of his cocks kicks up near the entrance of your cunt, whining and shuddering through it. He pants as he comes back down, cock jerking idly in your now loose grasp, red hot against where you are now wet. Probably, mostly with Johnny’s cum.

He gives a heaving sigh, pushes his palms against the wall to look down at you. He likes what he sees - spit slick mouth, red neck, bare pussy with his cum staining you and your underwear.

“A willnae be gone long,” he says, as if you had been mid conversation. “A will come back f’ you, angel,” he promises, gaze hot on the crux of your legs.

You stare up at him, hand still loose around his shaft before you let go. A curdled desire settles in your stomach. Always for Johnny, and always half ruined at inception because it’s for Johnny.

Hours later and he’s gone. You sit at the breakfast table, your mother fussing in her upset about him being gone. Your brother is quiet as always, gives you a strange look. Johnny’s cum is dried out in your favourite pair of panties upstairs. You bite into a piece of toast, feel each crumb as it digs into your gums and dirties you.

//

It gets worse again after he officially enlists in the army. Before Johnny is the cute teenager that trails after your every move, intent and so so sweet.

Now he is Johnny, the childhood sweetheart. Before both of your parents had viewed you as scorning a poor lovesick puppy. Now you are a couple, constantly bickering about something or other. You insist that he is not your boyfriend, and are met with rolled eyes and knowing looks.

Johnny’s mother confesses that half of his calls to her are asking for you. You briefly consider moving to another country.

He sends pictures of his cock while he is away, the head red and you hate that you know how hot it would be to the touch. You reply and tell him to cut it off and he tells you that you’re the one.

Your mum doesn’t understand when you complain so heavily about him. Every complaint is met with a rebuttal, as if Johnny’s hand is at the back of everyone’s throat, puppeting everything that they say.

He’s too touchy. Because he loves you sweetheart, my god, I wish someone would want me that much.

He’s too close. God forbid someone enjoy your company.

Don’t you think he’s a little bit strange? He’s in the army, you dick, don’t you think you could be just a little bit nicer about it?

You feel half insane, the only one protesting the way that he treats you, the way he has always treated you. The capacity for cruelty has just shifted. Johnny has always worked within the parameters that were available to him. Sure, he can’t get away with yanking on your pigtails anymore, but biting a bit too hard at your neck has the same result. Tears in your eyes, and everyone tells you that this is how Johnny shows you he likes you.

After his first deployment, he gets so close to fucking you that you get spooked. Eighteen now, and suddenly ten years younger, Johnny taking something that doesn’t belong to him. You let him fuck up the length of your cunt, let him lick his cum off of you. He keeps his head between your thighs, eats you out like a man starved until you shake, tears in the corners of your eyes. Shame again, at how sloppy he is, spit and slick and cum everywhere. He likes it, likes how shameful you get about it. Laps that up too, tongue buried in you like he wants to get to the back of your throat. He always wants more of you than you think you have to begin with.

He lies back, barely sated but will at least lie still now and pulls you over to drape over his chest. He’s getting bigger, you think. Maybe he’s taking parts of you, squirreling them away in himself, until you don’t know you unless you find it in him.

You curve one hand over his barrel chest, barely any give in the muscle. He hums, a booming noise beneath your ear. “Tha’s all it took,” he murmurs, hand smoothing over your head like you’re a cat. “A bit ae missin’ me and yer as sweet as a kitten.”

You’re too tired to give a snarky response, though you briefly wonder if you can get away with pinching his side a bit too hard in retribution.

You know he’s going to be even more pent up the next time he gets back, that he’s going to think he’s owed your virginity. You refuse to give him another reason to tie the two of you together indefinitely. You think he’ll propose if he does, he has already been messaging you about it, asking when the two of you were finally going to walk down that aisle that he’s been building around you for years.

You go to a pub the next time he leaves, ignore his messages to call because he misses you so much. Sit at the counter until some sleazy guy who looks double your age saunters up and offers to buy you a drink. You shouldn’t, it is so dangerous. You barely have to cut your eyes towards him before he’s taking this as forwardness. Offers to take you home and immediately starts pawing at you in his truck.

You let him bend you over, the clink of a belt and its all over. You rock with each thrust, hating yourself for catching sight of the man’s hand on yours and knowing that Johnny’s is bigger.

You bring a hand down to rub along your clit, but the first whine that leaves your mouth brings the entire show to a close and you stand up, furious. The man wheezes in the seat as you barely say goodbye, wrenching your panties up and storming home.

Johnny’s been calling you, must be on whatever type of break he gets wherever he is, and you answer after the third missed call. Low timber floods your ear and warms your bones.

He’s so excited he caught you, been missing you so much, baby. Thinking about you all the time, he got in trouble for not being able to focus. Asks if you’ve been taking care of his pretty girl for him?

You let him yap in your ear the whole way home, wanting desperately for your vibrator. “You missin’ me too, baby?” Johnny huffs in your ear. You hum, absentmindedly in response. He’s on it, scenting blood.”Aye? Tell me, how much, eh? You been petting yourself thinking of me?”

You’re home, Johnny still trying to goad you on over the phone, the connection is bad but he seems to overcome it. Hulking, even over a wire to get to you. Maybe you could get him to talk through getting yourself off. It’s disgusting, but maybe you could give yourself a pass this one time. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants, where are your allowances? Johnny gets to hop back and forth over the line of propriety, you’re allowed one slip up before you return to your factory settings.

Your vibrator, hidden in the back of your bedside table, gone. You know it was him, know he binned it. Know he probably didn’t want anything getting you off except him.

You stare at the empty space in the back of your drawer, cold water down your spine that douses any flames of arousal you think you have ever felt and maybe will ever feel again. Anger is back, and so beautifully familiar. Johnny is still droning on, something about letting him see a picture of how much you’re missing him.

“I fucked someone else,” you say, voice gritty.

The line goes quiet. Small buzzes that make up the distance between the two of you, the call dropping and reconnecting. Universe bringing you back together again.

“That’s not fucking funny,” Johnny says, voice low in a way that you don’t think that you’ve heard before.

“Good thing I’m not joking,” you snap back. You feel frightened, eyes darting to the window as if he is about to start running in your direction, all the way across the globe. You wouldn’t put it past him. But never let it be said that you wouldn’t put your hand to the snapping teeth of a rabid dog.

He’s silent, breath heaving before the line goes dead.

You drop your phone to the floor and stand in the quiet of your room. A bird chirps in the distance, life reinstating itself even in the absence of Johnny. You crawl into bed and refuse to get off tonight. A competition where you are the only participant and the only loser too. Fitting.

//

You don’t see Johnny for months after that. Which makes sense, because he is across the globe. But the silence feels eerie, the way you imagine it might be for him. The thunder of a gun and the shutter after. Silence ringing, not due to quiet but because of the absence of sound.

He doesn’t message you at all during this period. Clearly he says something to his mother, because she gives you a frown at church that Sunday. “You must’ve done something,” your mum hisses at you, embarrassed that the story of childhood sweethearts that she gave birth to has become a story of a surly woman who cannot appreciate the man who loves her as he risks his life for his country.

You don’t bother replying. There’s no point, really. Everything has been set in motion and everyone had climbed on board. You were the one that derailed the track and upset everything.

You refuse to admit that you miss Johnny. That your phone buzzes and there is a moment where you think it could be him. For months, it isn’t. You feel like you’re floating out in orbit and your lifeline has gone silent on you. Drifting, the cold slowly creeping in, nothing around to propel yourself off of. Gain some momentum, do something.

You sit and wait for Johnny’s judgement day.

He gets back on a Friday, and he doesn’t come to see you. You know he’s back, because you can hear your brother on the phone to him, asking if he got back alright. You skulk around the corner, waiting for any mention of your name. If there is any, you don’t hear it.

You sit in your room, uncertain. The thing that you hadn’t considered is that while you had been complaining about how you and Johnny had been set up in the direction that you were going in, you hadn’t thought about what you would do if you weren’t doing this. You have derailed the train now, but you don’t remember when you got on, or how to get back there.

You mull this over, legs tucked to the side as you lean into the large bear on your bed. Won for you, by Johnny of course, at some fair when you were kids. Maybe you could leave. Nothing as drastic as another country, but another town maybe, escape the suffocation that comes with being here and everyone knowing you as Johnny’s girl.

Daydreaming, imagining yourself in a place where no one knows who you are, you are startled out of your thoughts when your window slams open. Soap hoists himself up and into your room, with an ease you imagine he must not have had before.

You blink at him as he stands next to your open window, gaze hot on you without saying a word. You shuffle a little, uncertain, refusing to speak first. You feel bizarrely guilty, as if you have done something wrong. Even though you know you haven’t. Just because a man decides he is owed your virginity, doesn’t mean you’re in the wrong for not giving it to him.

Still, you swallow an apology on the back of your tongue and it tastes like ash.

Johnny quietly reaches over and slams your window shut, making you jump.

“Y’know, a went around town and tried to figure out who ye cheated on me wae,” he says, at last, face darker than you have ever seen it. His hair is slightly grown out along the sides, mohawk less stark like this. Hair like he had when he was ten, almost.

“I didn’t cheat on you -” You try to interject, remembering your indignation more than anything.

Johnny lunges for you, hand hot around your ankle as he yanks you down the bed. “Who fuckin’ was it, huh? Y’ know, ave been tryin’ so hard wae you, thinkin’ that you’ve been missin’ me just as much as a have you, but instead you’ve been tryin’ tae hurt me, whorin yourself fae anyone -”

You reel your arm back to punch him in the face, and he catches your wrist just before you can make contact with his jaw. “I didn’t fucking whore myself out, I’m sorry that you’re fucking delusional -”

A hand in the length of your hair and he wrenches your head back, slamming his mouth against yours. It’s sore, all teeth as you both hiss and spit at each other. It feels like an even playing field again, even though you feel swallowed up in his bulk. His hand leaves your hair and grips you everywhere he can, like everything belongs to him already.

You feel white hot, letting him lick across the back of your teeth like he doesn’t want any part of you untouched by him. You hold onto his shoulders, letting him pull you all over, leans back and hooks a finger over your jaw. Pulls your mouth open. You realise what he’s going to do a moment before he does it, spit landing on your tongue. Instinctive to swallow it.

He moans wantonly at the sight, a sound that flushes you in embarrassment. For god’s sake, you’re in your mother’s house. He’s licking into your mouth, spit everywhere and making you feel sticky.

His hand slides between your thighs and you feel the moment that he finds out how wet you are, his hips stuttering a quick grind against your hip. “Jus’ for me, huh?” he asks, feverishly hot. He pulls back as he yanks your shorts off, panties dragged along with. Groans at the sight of you, wet and swollen between your legs. “Eh? Is this what ye did wae that fuckin’ boy?”

Your thighs shake, hands trying to catch his wrist as he slides two fingers into you, thumb mean against your clit. “What?” you croak, blinking up at him.

“Whatever loser you took home with you,” Johnny asks, hawk-like focus on your face. Strange for him, when your pussy is on show. “You take him back here and did ye let him dae this tae y’? Ye think aboot me when he brought his small dick oot?”

You don’t respond and he pinches your clit until you squeak, trying to buck away from him.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he coos suddenly, eyes no longer on your face but between your legs. “My pretty girl, you just need someone to show you, right?”

He fingers you, thumb intent on your clit until you start to shake, voice getting higher, Then he stops, fingers slipping out of you (when did it become three?), with a wet noise that if you were more in your mind, you would flush about.

You start to whine, and he flips you over onto your front, hikes your ass in the air and coos of the sight of your cunt throbbing at the injustice of it all. “A know, angel, A know. A want to give ye what yer wantin, but a don’t know if you deserve it,” he hums. Fucking liar, if the clink of his belt is anything to go by, then the hot stroke of his cock between your sticky folds that has you arching your back like a cat in heat. He’s trying to be teasing, but his voice shakes, restraint held together by a thin chain and he is a big man.

He holds you still with a hand on your hip, the heat of it sinking into your skin. You can hear him beating off, using your slick to aide the way as he stares at your holes. You feel like you want to cry, sitting on display for him to get off on. You do, but it also makes you feel piping hot all over. There’s a sickness in him and he’s been dosing you up on it for years. Viral disease, his spit in your mouth until it clogs the back of your throat and finally takes root in your bloodstream.

“Was thinking about this so much,” he murmurs, as if caught up in a dream. “Wanted tae be the one to make y’ a woman - “

“It was bad,” you manage, throat dry, gaze on the opposite wall. The slick noise behind you stops and you can only hear the sound of his breathing. His scrutiny of you on the back of your skull pulling you down. You don’t know why you’re saying this. There is a cliff edge and you want to say you stepped off of it with your next words, but you’re already freefalling, and you’re hoping for the crash into him rather than the cold dirt. “I didn’t know him, I didn’t get off, and I thought about you and how good that you would have made me - “

Half a sentence in and he sinks in, cock splitting you open. He groans, loud and shameful as you whine, thigh kicking until he stills it, pushing down to get further into you, It may as well have been your first time, it takes a few shallow thrusts and Johnny reaching down to rub at your clit to ease the way before he manages to get balls deep into you.

“Oh fuck,” you wheeze, full. At capacity. You can’t think beyond the stretch of yourself around Johnny, air knocked out as he pushes more weight onto you.

“Fuck, this fuckin’ cunt,” he groans. Hands smooth over your arse, spreading your cheeks to better view what he’s doing to you. “Knew ye would be so good, dreamed ae this - ah - you just wanted tae deny yerself. Don’t worry, angel, I’ll give ye what ye need.”

Then it starts, the pulling out just bottom out again, fast and hard and any air you manage to suck in is immediately shot out.

Your head lolls to the side, you think you might be drooling onto your sheets, but can barely find it in you to care. His balls slap against your swollen clit, so loud and yet you cannot remember why you should care about that beyond getting him to keep doing that. You realise that your muttering please, over and over again, not even aware of it.

He shifts to the side, and suddenly his thrusts are deliberate, and you tense up even more. No pause, no grinding out, you come and he keeps going, grunts as you tighten up and spasm, sobbing into your sheets.

It’s like a point is being hammered into you. You suspect if you hadn’t admitted that you didn’t come with the other guy, then Johnny wouldn’t have given a shit. But this is purposeful, a lesson being taught until only the whites of your eyes are showing. It always did so many times for you to take a telling, Johnny coos in your ear. Thank god he’s here, he’s got you.

He comes with a groan, mouth hot against the back of your neck as he mouths at your nape, teeth a little bit too sharp for your liking. Damning, feeling his cum in you. No part of you, untouched.

//

You want to say it gets worse from this point again. You think that it has actually just always been the same level of awful, the scale has just broadened.

Johnny tells everyone that you’re engaged after you let him cum in you again. There’s not even an engagement ring. Spitting in anger at your future being decided for you again, Johnny interprets this as you being upset he didn’t take you ring shopping. Drags you to the bathroom and fucks you on the sink with your ankles over his shoulders.

It’s relentless. There is a hairline fracture along the tender tissue of your brain and Johnny has pried it open to fit himself, crawled in and made himself at home.

He tells you that you were made for him. That he had came first, that he had wished for you and you were delivered to him. Guides your hand to his ribcage, tells you there is one missing. “Would give that an’ mare,” he vows, hands swallowing up the arch of your torso, a perfect ring made with the circle of his hands.

He’ll probably marry you the next time he’s back. He can barely be held back from it just now, that leash he places in your hand even if he yanks so hard that the control is all just for show. Just another link between the two of you, his neck yanked back to you up at you.

He sleeps in your childhood bed, muscular arm a band around your waist. There’s a version of you in the corner. She’s still weeping and now only you know. A tear against Johnny’s shoulder and he shuffles closer, tucking you under his chin. “Ave got ye, angel,” he slurs, half-asleep.

You feel restricted, unable to move. And it soothes you to sleep.

//

(Johnny begs you to suck him off just before he leaves for his next deployment. His come tastes bitter as you swallow. Go figure.)

[slvthrs]

can you do a vinnie x fem reader smut where she (reader) is stressed out and vinnie fucks her good on the balcony and they didn’t care anymore if they get caught of what 🙈

ofc my lovesss

BREATHE BABY | v.hacker

— MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD —

stress never stood a chance against a tall blond with an unyielding love for you.

BSF!VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, fucking in a pool over the city, vinnie LOVES u, praise kink, hickies n love bites

word count: 2.5k <3

a/n: idfk if vinnie has a pool in his apt, i added one for the plot 😭

Stress was one of the most constant presences in your life. University, friendships, family relationships. It was as if stress was an obsessive ex that you couldn’t get rid of creeping back into your life once it got good. 

The only thing that could keep it a bay was Vinnie, your best friend of 12 years, ever since you were nine years old the boy was like a walking calmer for you. His presence made you relax and he always reminded you when you needed to take a break.

Ever since he moved out to LA at 18 the stress slowly crept back into your life, and you had to adapt again. More friends in uni and new found appreciation of swimming. 

If you weren't studying or with your friends, you were swimming. Sometimes the water made you calm down, it felt as if all your stress floated away as the water touched your skin.

That’s where you were again, the pool attached to Vinnie's apartment. 

It was so odd, the lanky scruffy boy who you became friends with grew into the type of men you would see modeling- and you did.

Everything was so much more intimidating about the boy. His height, the tattoos littering his skin which make your skin turn hot. 

His new found fame which made your head dizzy the longer you thought about it. The idea of the boy you first became friends with turning into this man who had girls falling over him left in right made your stomach flip and you had no idea if it was good or bad. 

You had kept an eye on what he was up to in LA, his friends, his business, that one fight that made you nearly throw up out of fear. 

And of course who he was dating.

It always said he wasn’t seeing anyone but you were never convinced, no one looks like that and is single, you always thought to yourself.

But it wasn’t just him who had changed. 

Looking back, being stuck to one boy's side for all of elementary, middle, and high school was a hindrance.

Once you branched out in university you flourished.

You grew into a new woman.

Your features were sharper, your curves more defined, your entire face had what your friends called, ‘a glow up’. 

Regular visits to the gym and taking care of yourself made you stand out.

Also being more active in your sex and love life made you more in touch with your body. Your last ex boyfriend taught you so much about what you did and didn’t like, you got better and sex and the burst of confidence helped you in tremendous ways.

You walked with more purpose in your steps and it really did seem like you left Seattle and turned into a different woman.

But this new Vinnie made you feel like a little girl again. Floundering in the big kids pool, kicking your tiny legs for a chance to come up and breathe again.

All of your confidence was for show as when Vinnie walked in you returned into that stressful anxious girl again.

You relaxed lackadaisical at the edge of the pool looking over the edge. 

Everything looked so small, everyone down there had their own lives, your worries seemed miniscule compared to what everyone else down there had to go through. 

An ambulance rushed by and the only thought you had was someone was about to get the most devastating news of your life.

It was like a trance the city of LA put you into.

The city of angels. 

“You look deep in thought.” The velvety voice of the boy who the house belonged to piped in.

You turned and saw Vinnie resting against the sliding door of the balcony. His hands were in the pockets of his swim trunks whilst he had an unbuttoned linen shirt barely converting his ink filled torso. 

“I’m always deep in thought Vinne, you know that.” A small huff left your plump lips as you turned and said that.

“I know but especially today.” He explained whilst walking over to dip his feet in the pool, “Is LA freaking you out? I felt like that for the first year I was here.”

He always did that. Trying to figure out what made you uncomfortable and trying to fix that. He was always kind like that.

“No Vin, it’s everything. It’s so weird. You left Seattle as a scared boy and now you seem like someone I’d see plastered on magazines talking about how many girls he sleeps with in a year.” The crude stereotype aside, Vinnie laughed at your remark.

“I’m still the same guy, you know that.” He said and continued a second later, “Besides, look at you. You're like a different person.”

It was your turn to laugh now, “You can come in you know that? It’s like you're trying to stay away from me.”

He smiled, “Thanks for the invite into my own pool.”

Despite the sarcasm he took his shirt off and entered the pool, walking over to where you were floating. 

He towered over you.

“I don’t think I’ve changed that much.” You toyed with your bikini strap, “I’m still the same anxious girl you met.”

His hands rested on your waist, “Sure, but you're more confident, you're more talkative, plus you look so different.” 

It’s quiet until Vinnie breaks the silence again.

“I kept checking on your Instagram now and again. You seem happier.” You both know what he means when he says that.

“I am. Moving out of Seattle was hard but in the grand scheme of things I couldn’t stay there after you left, it felt empty.” You tell him as he pushes a strand of hair away from your face.

“M’ sorry, I had to leave but my biggest regret is that you couldn’t have come with me.” 

You laugh pulling away from him and turing back around, facing the city again, leaning over the edge of the pool.

“Even if you have asked I wouldn’t have come. I love you Vin, but I was always was gonna go to university. You were the unconventional one out of the 2 of us.” You sigh pulling you hair to one side and playing with the ends, a sort of nervous tick you developed after your first months in university.

“I know.” He breathes out, “That’s why I didn’t ask but a part of me always hoped you would come.” 

He comes closer to you, his hands wrap around your waist and now your back is hitting his chest. His head practically rests on top of yours.

You nearly start crying. 

You don’t know why. 

“You think anyone down there is going through the same thing were going through?” It’s a dumb question on your part but you like talking to the blond.

“Are any of them dealing with 2 friends you love each other and have been apart for so long that they don’t know what to do,” He pauses, “Also one of them if famous and the other is the most amazing person on earth? Nah I don’t think so.”

“Mhm that makes sense.”

It goes quiet again.

The wind rustles against the palm trees and if you really focused your ears you could hear the waves crashing along the shore.

“You keep tabs on my insta?” You ask with a smile creeping up on your face

He smiles him self letting a huff of laughter out, “Yeah, I was hoping you forgot I said that.”

“Why, whatd’ya see on there?” Another dumb question, you know exactly what he saw on there.

“You look happier, also you have new friends, ones I would like to meet,” His heart skips a beat, “Also y’know that guys on there.”

You laugh internally and turn around so you can see his face.

“Their some of my friends, I think you would like them.” You know he wouldn’t.

“What about Tyler?” 

Your ex-boyfriend, the one you meet during finals week of your sophomore year. You had dated for nearly 9 months before you broke it off. 

It wasn’t anything serious, he didn’t cheat, he didn’t lie- your lives were too different and you both knew that.

It was a mutual decision but Vinnie didn’t care. Anyone the broke up with you or even hurt you in anyways was evil in his eyes, how anyone could do that to you, he couldn’t explain to himself. 

“Tyler’s Tyler it doesn’t matter.” 

He blinks at you.

“What you want me to bring up all the girls your rumored to be dating?”

“Fuck off you know that isn’t the same thing. Half of those girls I only follow on tiktok and I haven’t been in a single committed relationship with any of them… Why the fuck did I find out about your long term relationship over fucking INSTAGRAM, I’m your best friend what hell?”

He steps back, with his hands in the air like he’s being accused of something.

“I don’t know Vin I just didn’t know how to tell you, everything was too much. I was so worried what you were gonna think and then it got to late. I felt like there was no point in telling you-” 

You ramble and he cuts you off.

“It’s fine, breathe pretty girl, just relax, I’m right here.” 

He pulls you closer to him and the moment you look into his eyes that calming effect he has on you just corses through your body.

Something just clicks inside the both of you and he’s kissing you so gently it’s like hes afraid of breaking you. 

His lips slot perfectly into your’s, it’s like you were made for him, his hands fall onto your ass as he pulls you closer, his eyebrows are knitted together in focus and he’s holding you as if he’s afraid to lose you.

It feels so fucking right. 

You the one that pulls him harder into you, your hands tangle into his hair, deepening the kiss.

Your nails rake the back of his neck and he hums in content. 

Your the one that pulls back, a trail of saliva linking the 2 of you and he looks at you so intently as if he’s studying you.

“Your so beautiful. I don’t think I tell you that enough.” And his lips are back on yours.

Your the one who pulls the strings of your bikini of and his lifting you up so your flush against his body, most likely so he can feel your tits pressed up against his chest. 

He’s grining in the kiss, as his hands grope your thighs and ass trailing up towards your hips. His hands are all over you and your ecstatic they are.

“More” you whisper into the kiss like it’s a secret only the two of you can share or else yoru lives would ruin.

“Please Vinnie I’m begging you.” You know your not telling him what you wnat but you pray he’ll save some of the embarrassment for you.

“Tell me what you want, I’ll do anything for you.” It’s like a prayer or promise of worship.

“Fuck me please, do whatever you want, I just need you.” It’s desperate and it turns Vinnie on so much more.

His fingers link around the straps of your bottoms and he pulls the down, your fully nude under him as he fiddles with his own shorts.

Your legs link around him as he slowly slides his dick in letting you get used to the size if anything. 

You head falls onto his shoulders as you sigh out, your eyebrows knit and you nearly loose your shit. 

He feels so much bigger than anyone else you’ve ever had sex with and your entire body feels like its getting shocked.

The sensation to crynearly hits you before you pull your self together, latching you lips onto Vinnie’s neck as he starts to move you.

It’sa rhythmic pace and it’s a kind one faring his size but you want more. You’ve waited years for this and you want more than him just being kind. 

“Vinnieee,” It comes out as a needy whine as you cry out his name, “More, harder, anything just please needa feel you everywhere.” 

You ramble but he knows what you want. He knows your body, he knows you better than you know yourself. 

His pace speeds up and he tries to keep kissing your but you keep writhing. He finds it adorable but your trying not to cum as quick to draw this out. 

You wanna feel him everywhere, you wanna be able to only see him.

“Vin,” You words are loosing power as he keeps thrusting into you, your thighs are sore and your mind is clouded with the thought of yoru impending orgasm. 

“Choke me please, need to feel you.” His pace falters as he tries to grapple with what you just admitted to him.

The look on your face proves your not joking but he swears he nearly came just by the sentence alone. 

His dick twitches inside you as his hands wrap around the base of your neck, he pulls yoru face up and you look into his eyes. 

You look drunk and delrious and he wants you to have his kids right there on the spot. 

He can’t even tell you what it is, he’s just so much more in love with you.

As his hands add pressure your hands comes to weakly wrap around his, not realy doing anything, just an unorthodox way of holding hands.

Your sense are flooded with just, Vinnie. 

The same boy practically trained to teach you how to breathe when your mind rabbles, cutting your breathe off, and the way he looks while doing it.

His pupils are blown out and his face looks like a mix of lust and love. The whole scene out of a porno but even his eyes can’t hide how deeply he’s in love with you.

When he lets your neck go you inhale so deeply you nearly start coughing and he pulls you closer to him as his thrusts become sporadic. 

Your forehead rests against his as you both cum, nearly blacking out as your vision goes white.

Your panting as he puts you down on the edge of the pool as he finds you a towl and the rest of your clothes floating around in the pool. 

You end up in the bath making sure the get the chlorine off and the residues of sex off the both of you.

Your lying ontop of his as his hands rake through your hair.

“Just breathe baby we’ll take about it tomorrow.” And thats what you do, breathing to the sund of his heartbeats. 

[likeamaya]

can i just say that as someone who got interested in the sonic universe only after the movies i LOVED the series?

seriously i read SO MANY complaints about the series from sonic’s fans and they make it sound so damn serious.

it was fun, it was nice and most importantly we got to see knuckles having fun and getting friends with wade and his family.

LOOK AT HIM. THE DEFINITION OF CUTENESS.

he has always been on the run, he has been ALL ALONE since his father and whole tribe died. he is not used to a normal, peaceful life. and he obviously feels overwhelmed because, despite sonic and the wachowski’s best intentions, they simply can’t understand how strange and different this all is for him.

and thanks to wade he got to feel a bit more comfortable and carefree. wade didn’t tell him what he was supposed to do to get accostumed to earth. instead, he showed him how much fun it could be if he let his guard down. and so knuckles got to act silly and open up to someone who, despite the obvious differences, he could relate to.

so yeah, there obviously were times in which i was like “where the heck is me boy?”.

but when i read people defining the series as “ridiculous” or “trash” i get pissed. it was good enough, sonic’s veteran fans gotta chill.

ALSO

she called him “one of her kids”. KNUCKLES WACHOWSKI CONFIRMED. WE KEEP ON WINNING Y’ALL.