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joelsgoldrush · 8 months ago

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“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

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

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

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

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

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

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

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

Why is he about to fight a cat?

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

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

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

“Ask away.”

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

Okay, that was… weirdly specific.

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

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

“Fucking, you mean.”

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

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

“I can walk on my own.”

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

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

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

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

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

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

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

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

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Kid.”

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

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

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

“Do you have an off switch?”

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

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

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

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

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

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

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

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

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

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

“What if—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t.”

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

“I said I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

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

“How did you pass History in high school?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey, homey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

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

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

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

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

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

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

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

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

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hey.

You again.

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

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

Okay.

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

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

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

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

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

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

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

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

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

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

Lord have mercy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

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

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

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

“Drop it, kid.”

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

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

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

God, you love it when he’s mean.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Inside.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

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

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

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

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

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

4K notes · View notes

sooniebby · 3 months ago

Text

ఌ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐄

w.c › 6k

warnings › face claims. Part 3. Bottom male reader. Brief use of the word “pussy”

plot › you start to date Mingi, learning how much he has wanted you for years while reevaluating your relationship with Yohan

kinks › feminization, friction play, size differences, Noona kink, calls reader “girl”, praise kink

Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male will call an older male. Jagiya/Jagi (자기야) — “sweetie/baby.” Noona (누나) — a term a younger male will call an older female.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Four years ago

“I heard you.”

Yohan glanced over at you, staring at your back. It was the day of the group’s first performance. The other members were to the other side of the dressing room, doing vocal exercises. You were fixing your tie. Everyone was dressed in school uniforms.

“Heard what?” Yohan asked, tilting his head. He never talked to you unless necessary. While every other member seemed to just fall at your feet—he wanted nothing to do with you.

It took a minute before you turned and looked at him. His eyes widen at the sight. You were on the verge of tears but somehow you were able to glare at him.

You walked over to him, “I heard you say that I must’ve slept with the CEO to get my position in the group.” Your voice was quiet. “I heard you say that Minnie probably hates me because I ‘replaced’ him.”

“Minnie?” Yohan whispered, raising an eyebrow.

“Let me tell you something, Park Yohan.” You leaned over, your breath brushing against his ear. “You don’t have to like me but I won’t take disrespect and I won’t let you tear this group down because you’re upset I’m a better leader than you.

“Besides, a real leader wouldn’t let his feelings get in the way of the group’s performance.” With that, you pulled away, not even sparing him another glance. You moved to where Gaeul was standing and motioned for her to help you fix your tie.

Yohan just stood there, staring at you in shock.

What the fuck?

He couldn’t even think about anything else—mainly on just what else could you have possibly heard.

But he didn’t get to think for long when it was Miracle’s time to perform. The group got on stage and Yohan felt weirdly uncomfortable. Almost all of the members looked at you for guidance—they didn’t even spare him a glance.

As each member got into position, Yohan glanced over at you. Your eyes were soft and resembled a doe. He took note that you didn’t even pay any attention to the people in the crowd but the members, giving each of them a wide smile.

You glanced at him and immediately your softness was gone. You simply nodded at him and fixed your head mic, making sure it was straight.

The metronome in the earpiece ticked before the song burst into the quiet scene. Everything was going well for the most part. While the crowd wasn’t too excited as it was the debut stage—a few people were getting interested.

Every members mic was on but you were certainly the highlight, managing to sing non stop, even singing your ad-libs.

As Yohan moved about stage, he heard the sound of fabric tearing. He didn’t even need to touch his legs to know his pants had ripped. Fucking cheap stakes! The pants were already tight on him, of course they ripped.

He continued dancing while subtly checking where the damage was done. His inner thigh… which was fine until he could tell it spread to the area of his crotch.

For fuck sakes. Yohan debated running off stage so he didn’t flash the audience as he got in a still position during your final chorus. As he mentally cursed himself while thinking of ways to subtly run back stage, you began tugging off your blazer.

You did it subtly enough that it looked as if it was apart of the performance. You didn’t even skip a second as you wrapped your blazer around Yohan’s waist, covering the growing split.

Yohan felt himself stiffen as you rest your head on his shoulder, finishing your line before Kihyun took over for the high note. This part of the song had all of the members frozen beside Kihyun.

Yohan tried to calm himself down as you stayed pressed against him, sacrificing your original position of standing beside him. He didn’t even know how you noticed his pants ripped. Everyone was so focused on completing the performance without a problem.

The rest of the song went fine, ending with each member’s picked out ending fairy. Yohan couldn’t even care too much, way too happy about not flashing anyone. He’d have to complain to the stylist today.

As the crowd clapped, the members released their pose and began to bow, thanking the audience. Yohan was about to say something when the sound of a whimper caught his attention.

He looked to his right to see you bawling…?

You took off your microphone as you covered your mouth to muffle your cries. Hyojin was almost immediately by your side, rubbing your back in comforting circles.

It didn’t take long for Doha to join, patting your head. Kihyun took a moment before coming over. Mingi looked nervous as he covered your body from the crowd’s face, almost like a way of giving you modesty.

Yohan just stared….

His group were comforting you as if they knew you for years now.

What the fuck?

After the group helped you walk off stage and everyone got changed into their regular clothing, Yohan was ready to just go home. He just hated that would still have to see you.

Everyone lived in a shared apartment, two boys in one room each. They had only moved in a few days ago and he was unlucky enough to room with you.

When they reached the apartments, Yohan was confused to see Kihyun taking some boxes away from his room. He walked in to see you on your side of the room, rubbing at your face. You glanced up when you heard him and frowned.

“Park Yohan-Ssi.” You said, he didn’t know how to feel with how respectful you were speaking to him—as if he was a coworker. “I’m switching rooms with Dodo—Doha. It… makes sense.”

“Makes sense?” Yohan asked, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”

You almost looked nervous before shaking your head. “A..anyway, I wanted to apologize… it was rude of me to say such things to you today right before a performance. I made you perform terribly.”

Yohan could only stare at you.

This…

How can someone be this….

He didn’t understand.

“I’ll go now…” you whispered, leaving the room quickly. Yohan didn’t even flinch.

Even if you had just apologized…

You weren’t wrong.

He was fucking up the group’s dynamic.

And it was all because he fucking hated you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

After the 24 hrs performance, you had gained a wider audience than before. Gaeul had mentioned that there was a growth in female fans for you and she was certainly right. It was nice to see some fans that weren’t just thirsting over you but this somehow pushed you into more of the NSFW sphere of Miras.

You had went back to visit Hanniesmira only to see that she had started talking about you more. She had recently reposted another post of you.

The most repost was of a short clip of you at the amusement park. You were showing off the makeup the lady had done.

→ I wasn’t familiar with your game, bottom (Name) enthusiasts…

This account was of what looked to be a Kihyun biased Mira. You didn’t know to feel about there being ‘bottom enthusiasts’ but it was nice to see people appreciating your looks. Lots of comments even just innocently saying that you look great feminine.

You scrolled through some other posts when you came across a video from your debut. It was of the group at a variety show and you were standing together as the host was talking about something.

→ ??? I’ve never seen (Name) act like this before??

You didn’t understand what the Mira could’ve meant when you clicked on the video. It started off small as nothing out of the ordinary happened, just you fixing your position to stand straight. But then the clip replayed, with it zoomed in to your shoulder as you stood beside Yohan. The footage was slowed to show how when Yohan brushed up against you, you practically froze and immediately moved away.

@hanniesmira

↳ you didn’t know? Are you a new Mira?

@dohasflatass

↳ man, it was a whole thing! Yhn and (Name) didn’t interact with each other at all for the first six months

@hanniesmira

↳ six months? Naaaah, they didn’t get close until the group’s second year ㅋㅋㅋ

@hyoojinie

↳ dark times… now Yhn can’t leave (Name) alone ㅎㅎ I wonder why they hated each other so much

Before you could read anymore, Mingi came into your room. You shut off your phone and placed it down. You’d knew that it wasn’t exactly a secret for the fan base that you and Yohan weren’t chummy until the group’s second year.

You had honestly believed you’d never get close to him at all. But after your family emergency back then—Yohan practically changed.

Deep down, you constantly wondered if he would’ve still hated you if you didn’t go through that whole accident. You were deep in thought as you stood up and got into the motion to get ready for a shower.

Mingi being in the room didn’t even register until he suddenly spoke.

“Why can’t I tell anyone?”

You frowned, glancing over at Mingi who was now lying down on your bed. He was watching you get undressed. Even though you always tell him to look away—he doesn’t exactly listen to you anymore.

It had literally only been two days and Mingi acts as if he is your husband.

“It’s not smart. Hannie obviously can’t hear about it right now and it’s not fair to tell everyone but him.” You said, tugging off your boxers. “Just wait until after our album promotion… we’ll get a six month break so hopefully that’ll be a great time for Hannie to handle the news—if he really does like me.”

Mingi sighed. “You’re so naive, Hyung… you’d think you’re the youngest.”

You glared at him. “Just because I’m your boyfriend doesn’t mean you can speak so lax with me.”

“Why not?” Mingi smirked, his eyes glancing down at your bare lower half as you tugged off your shirt. “You’re lucky I haven’t showed you just how little honorifics mean to me. I’d like it if you’d call me Hyung in bed.”

“Mingi!” You whispered, eyes widen as you stared at him in shock. He was kinkier in ways you didn’t think was possible. But then again, you were a virgin… maybe this wasn’t that strange to be average adult.

“Can I take a shower with you?”

“Absolutely not.” You stormed off to the bathroom.

After showering, you came back to see Mingi was still on your bed. He turned his phone off immediately and gave you a grin. You only rolled your eyes, pulling out some pajamas.

You draped the towel on your shoulders as you pulled up your boxers. “Ah, I wanted to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I found a fan account of mines… Itsokokok. It’s so nice to see that I do have a fan account.” You said, glancing over at Mingi. He looked weirdly happy, a wide grin on his lips.

“Really? Of course you’d have a fan account.”

You smiled. “I guess. But, I think I know who runs the account.”

Mingi immediately sat up. “Wha—Ho—Who??”

You turned to fully face him, “Well I always knew the owner was a guy but it was weird how he talks about me. It’s like he knows me so well… but he hardly even responds to comments.” You smiled, walking over to Mingi.

He stared up at you, his eyes wide. You didn’t understand why he looked a bit nervous as you leaned down and kissed his nose.

“Who do you… think it is?” He asked.

“Kim Pilseung.”

Mingi blinked before raising an eyebrow, “who?”

“Kim Pilseung! The guy I signed the album for, I even gave him my number—”

“—excuse me?” Mingi stood up at that confession but you carried on, slipping on your shirt.

“But he hasn’t called me yet. Maybe he’s just shy.” You slipped on your shirt. “But it makes sense! He’s been around for a while—he’d know where to find pre debut videos of my past performances.”

“I’m still confused on why you gave a stranger your phone number.”

“I have two phones.” You said. “A work phone and a personal phone. I just gave him my work phone number.”

Mingi frowned. “What phone number do I have?”

“Work phone. Only my relatives have my personal phone number, I hardly use it because I don’t want a sasaeng to get the number.” You walked over to your night stand and opened the drawer, pulling out a phone that looked considerably older. “My personal! I’ve had it since I was in high school.”

You tossed it back inside, “it’s not like I use it often. It’s quite old, I need to buy a new one.”

Mingi only shook his head. “Anyway, I just want to know who the fuck Kim Pilseung even is. What the hell was he talking about when he mentioned a performance you did with someone else.”

“Don’t speak to me like that.” You said, sending him a swift glare. Mingi quickly straightened his posture as he apologized. “Good. Ah but Seungie was talking about the duo I was apart of. It was me and an old classmate of mines.”

“Seungie?” Mingi asked. “Wait, you were in a duo with a classmate?”

“Yea, cute right?” You giggled. “Mhm. My classmate and I performed together until he debuted in his company. We couldn’t perform together anymore after that. I almost gave up when that happened.”

You grabbed your (work) phone and pulled up your mother’s Instagram. It took a minute as you scrolled through the numerous photos she posted about you until you got to the first ever video she took.

It was another angle of the A.D.T.O.Y. Performance you did back in high school. This angle showed that you weren’t alone on stage but there was another boy beside you.

The caption was a bit crazy, but your mother was just an eccentric woman.

→ my baby performing!!! The voice of an angel, got it from me of course ㅋㅋㅋㅋ edit: Stop messaging me that song is inappropriate, he’s fully clothed!!! And yes, I know His friend is there too… I guess he sounds good too

“His name is Hong Garam.”

“He shares the same last name as you?”

You giggled, “yeah! That’s how we first started talking. Cute right?”

“We find different things cute.” Mingi rolled his eyes. “I’ve never heard of him, I guess he didn’t make it in the business.”

“You’re so childish. He has a stage name. He even—”

“Okay, okay, I care more about this Kim Pilseung. You think he’s the owner of your fan account, why do you care?”

“I want to thank him… is that weird?”

“No… I guess not, but honestly—you don’t need to.”

You frowned, “why not?”

Mingi sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to talk about another man right now, I was planning on having fun tonight.”

“Fun?”

“Never mind. I wanna sleep, lay down.” He didn’t even wait for you to respond as he pulled you to lay down on the bed. You didn’t even fight it, allowing him to manhandle you into his arms as he cuddled you.

“Minnie… I need to turn off the lights.”

“No.”

As he easily fell asleep, you couldn’t help but think back to the day everything changed between you and Yohan.

Two years ago

You were standing by the bridge, glancing up the moon. It was cool, the April weather finally starting warm up as May was approaching. You had to miss the group’s trip to the amusement park due to a family emergency and you were trying hard to not think about it.

It was silly. It was just an amusement park anyway…

Your gaze was on the water beneath the bride as you stood up on your tippy toes to get a better look.

It was almost calming when you were suddenly tackled to the ground. A loud scream left your throat as you immediately tried to fight against your assailant when you came face to face with… Yohan?

You stared up at him with wide eyes before a frown pulled on your lips. “Yohan-Ssi, what are—?”

“—are you crazy?!”

You blinked. “Crazy?”

Yohan glared down at you as he gripped your wrists. “Were you seriously about to jump? I know everything seems terrible right now but you can’t.. you can’t just leave the others… they’d be crushed.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“—even I’d… I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone.” His voice had gone soft, his grip loosening. “They can’t.. no, we can’t go on without you. I know I’m such a dick and nothing I say can change that but please… let me make it up to you, no matter how many years it takes. Don’t leave us, Hong (Name)… we can be your new family—especially after losing—”

“—Park Yohan, my family didn’t die.” You said, interrupting him.

“Huh?” Yohan opened his eyes, they were surprisingly wet with tears. “But the nurse said they died at the scene…?”

“The car accident wasn’t anything serious.” You shook your head. “I had to come for my mom so they can patch a cut she has on her forehead. Only the car got damaged.” You frowned. “The nurse must’ve gotten me mixed up with someone else.”

“So… your mom and brother didn’t die in a car crush?”

“No. I don’t even have a brother.” You stared at him up, tilting your head. “Besides… there’s a net attached to the bridge, it’d catch me if I really did want to jump.”

Yohan simply blinked. “So… so I…”

“You cared enough to run after me?” You whispered, a slight grin on your lips. “Y’know, this wouldn’t have happened if you visited when the other members came.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.” You laughed. “So, is that it? Will you start ignoring me now?”

Yohan got off of you, staring down at you. He glanced over the bridge—possibly checking to see if you weren’t lying before shaking his head.

“No. I guess I just needed a push to be honest. I meant every word.”

It was your turn to stare at him in shock. Your lips parted as you tried to speak but only a gasp left you.

It was from that moment, that Park Yohan had realized how bad he—no, the group—needed you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Kim Pilseung still hadn’t called you—you were beginning to think maybe he didn’t want to. But then again, he was shy when speaking to you. Perhaps he was just nervous.

You were in the dance studio with the other members after a long day of practicing. Mingi and Yohan looked to be acting normal so you were semi happy. Though there would be instances of Mingi would purposely touch your waist in ways he’d never done before.

Luckily Yohan didn’t seem to be taking the bait, yet…

“You keep staring at your phone,” Kihyun suddenly said, wiping at the sweat on his neck. “Waiting for someone? Maybe that guy you visited all the time?”

Mingi immediately sat up from the floor, staring straight at you. “What guy? When was this?”

“When Hyung, Hyojin and I shared an apartment together,” Kihyun said, unknowing to the inner turmoil he was sending Mingi into. “Hyung would leave at 10:00 pm sharp and come back with this guy. The guy was always overly dressed—hat and face mask. He wouldn’t even speak, just dropped off a sleepy Hyung before leaving like the flash.”

Hyojin hummed. “I thought he was drugging Hyung but it seems Hyung just has a natural clock.”

You frowned, “that’s a bit embarrassing.” By natural clock, it simply meant your body automatically shut down by midnight. No matter how hard you tried—you would practically drop like a rock into slumber. You only managed to stay up to 12:30 am, once. Back in middle school no less.

“Who was he anyway? You stopped meeting with him right before we moved into double apartments?” Kihyun asked.

“Ah. Hong Garam.” Only Mingi seemed bothered by this while the other members only stared at you in confusion.

“Who the fuck is that?” Doha asked.

“Hyung’s old classmate,” Mingi answered, his face tense as his jaw tightened. Shit, you’d have explaining to do later.

“He’s also Hong Hwan.”

That seemed to cause Hyojin to sit up. “Hong Hwan?!”

Even Kihyun seemed shocked. “Hong Hwan?! I’ve met Hong Hwan and I didn’t even know!” He cursed to himself, shaking his head.

Mingi groaned, “who is that?!”

“Hong Hwan,” Doha answered. “A popular actor. Well he used to be an idol but he’s basically more of an actor nowadays. His group disbanded but he has solo songs.”

“Do you guys still talk?” Mingi asked. “You haven’t been leaving the dorm.”

You nodded. “He’s busy with promotions for his latest drama. I can let you guys meet him when he’s free.”

“I’d love that, Hyung!” Kihyun immediately said, a grin on his lips.

The other members chimed in agreement while Mingi only huffed, shaking his head. You sighed. After a few minutes of brief conversation, Gaeul walked into the studio with a grin on her face.

“Hey, Hey~! So tomorrow you guys will record content but it’ll be different from normal!” She said, giggling in excitement. “It’ll be a roleplay—like a family type thing. There’ll be two parents, three kids and the other is one of the character’s boyfriend.”

“Like a drama?” Doha asked.

“Yes yes. The whole plot is that the parents and younger brothers don’t approve of their eldest daughter’s boyfriend because he looks like a gang member.”

“Daughter? So one of us has to play a girl?” You asked.

“Technically two girls, as there’s a mom. Anyway, we allowed Miras to pick all of your roles! We did a poll on Twitter. So first, the boyfriend will be played by Mingi!”

Mingi perked up at that, “really?”

“Yeah, yeah. Ah, the younger brothers will be played by Yohan and Doha. You can pretend to be any age you want.” She scrolled on her phone as she hummed slightly. “And now for the daughter, Hyojin will be the daughter—is that okay, Hyojin-Ah?”

Hyojin hummed. “I’m fine with it.”

“Great. That leaves (Name) and Kihyun.”

You kinda mentally prepared to be the dad—it was obvious. Miras constantly called you Miracle’s dad! But you never thought they’d vote Kihyun as the mom—he wasn’t the type. Honestly you were shocked Doha wasn’t the boyfriend as his whole assigned persona was a bad boy.

Maybe Miras wanted a little change as well.

“Kihyun was voted as the dad and (Name) as the mom! The van will pick you guys up at noon tomorrow, be ready! I’ll see you guys later.” With that, she left.

You blinked. That was a surprise.

But a welcomed one at that.

The group all went home after that. You expected Mingi to immediately start questioning you about Hwan but he seemed to have forgotten all about it. He only sprawled out on the couch and began watching a random Thai drama. You gave him a quick kiss good night before leaving to your bedroom.

You pulled out your phone and began checking Twitter again, wanting to see the polls. It wasn’t anything too crazy—no one seemed mad at the results. In fact a lot of Miras were excited to see Mingi as a ‘bad boy.’

A few giddy to see Hyojin as a girl.

As you scrolled you came across an older video—it looked to be from the group’s second year. The groups first ever festival performance. You remembered it was for a college festival.

The video looked to be off the ending. Each member was walking to their ending position. The song playing was ‘Sweet Dreams’ so each member got down to the ground and laid their head on the other’s shoulder, pretending to fall asleep.

After the final verse, each member began to ‘wake up’ as they waved at the fans. But when it reached Kihyun, second to last, he didn’t get to get up because your head was still resting on his shoulder. He reached over to tap your shoulder only to find out you were fast asleep.

He immediately began laughing and comfortingly patted your head as the other members turned around to see what was wrong.

You vaguely remembered why you had fallen asleep—it was midnight by the time the performance was over. It was a miracle you even managed to finish the performance when you remembered being sleepy the entire time.

A dip in your bed caught your attention as Mingi appeared beside you. He looked tired as he laid down, patting the spot beside him. You only rolled your eyes but laid down, immediately cuddling up in his arms.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I think I make a pretty girl.”

You glanced over to see Hyojin already fully dressed in his girl costume. Because his hair was already a bit long, the hair stylist only added extensions to make them reach his shoulders. His outfit wasn’t too feminine by all means. A pink t-shirt and shorts.

He had on light makeup—one a teen girl would normally wear. You gave him grin.

“Cute~ My daughter is cute.” You teased, giggling as Hyojin rolled his eyes. The others were already done for the most part, waiting out in the living room. Filming was taking place in a random house the company rented out.

You were almost finished—the hairstylist simply fixing your wig. Dressed in a more feminine outfit—you wore a fluffy white sweater with a black pants that disguised itself as a flowing skirt.

The wig the hairstylist was putting on you was black that reached your back. It looked cheap but with the curls the stylist put it made it have more volume. Your makeup was minimal and hardly noticeable.

Hyojin hummed, joining you by the makeup stand. “You look like you could be someone’s mom.” He said, laughing when you glared at him through the mirror.

The both of you join the others where a staff member is clipping their mics to their clothing. Yohan was dressed in a soccer uniform while Doha still had on a school uniform with fake glasses.

Kihyun was dressed exactly like a dad. Rectangular glasses sat on the bridge of his nose while his hair was swiped back with gel. He’s dressed in a polo shirt and black slacks.

But they didn’t matter too much to you—your members always looked good. No, who caught your eye was, of course, Choi Mingi.

His blonde hair was shaggy and purposefully messy, a bit of dark eyeliner that sharpened his fox like eyes. He wore a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt and black ripped jeans. He was fixing his clip on mic when he gazed over at you.

You watched as his eyes slowly widen with recognition as he took you in. You felt your cheeks burn as you wanted to look away but kept staring back at him. Did he think you looked good? Hopefully you looked good.

Filming started shortly after Gaeul reminded every one of the plot—you were all free to improvise basically everything. You sat down on the couch near Kihyun, leaning against his shoulder. His arm slid underneath your back as his hand let itself rest at the slight curve of your waist.

Even if you didn’t view Kihyun romantically, you couldn’t help but blush a little.

The little roleplay went fine for the most part, you acted like the ‘mediating mother’ who didn’t necessarily hate the boyfriend while the father and brothers hated him.

It was fun for the most part. Though throughout the roleplay, you could notice a strange tension rising between Yohan and Mingi. You began to watch them nervously as they faked argued. It was started to feel a bit too real with the words they were using.

“And how can you even be good for her—?” Yohan started.

“—Hey, Hey, you act like I’m ten!” Hyojin interrupted.

“Yeah, you’re so controlling,” Mingi chuckled. “What makes you the one who gets to choose for her?”

“Because—!”

“—this so annoying, she’s not worth this hassle. what if I take your mom instead will you still be this angry? She’s hotter anyway.”

Everyone blinked as they stared at Mingi. It took a second before Kihyun realized he should act as he immediately stood up and began spouting some nonsense while you could only stare. You felt hot as you couldn’t even come up with a line but only bury your face in your sweater.

You’d kill him later.

Shooting ended not even twenty minutes later. None of the staff seemed to be mentioning the whole ‘she’s hotter’ sentence. You wondered if they would just edit that out as you handed over the mic to a staff member. Each member looked ready to go home and eat—you included.

You need to take your wig off however so you began walking to the hairstylist when a hand grabbed your sweater and tugged you away. You didn’t even get a chance to scream before you were slammed into a storage closet.

It didn’t take a genius to know who had dragged you here.

“Mingi—can you be a bit gentler next time?” You whispered, sighing softly.

“Sorry, sorry.” Mingi gave you a cheeky grin before slowly guiding you rest your back against the wall. “But you look too good right now… I want to kiss you.”

You blushed slightly. “You look good too.” You shyly whispered, glancing up at him. Your hands slowly reached up and rest on his shoulders, gripping at his jacket before pulling him further down. Mingi didn’t need to be told twice as he eagerly kissed you, his hands grasping your waist.

The kiss was intense, Mingi kissing you like he wanted to eat you. His fingers dug into the waistband of your pants before managing to tug them down. They pooled around your feet as your eyes widen in shock. You pulled away from the kiss and stared up at him in shock.

“In.. in here?!” You whisper-yelled.

Mingi hummed, undeterred as he began pressing light kisses on your neck. “Just this once. I won’t ask for something like this again. Please, Noona?”

Your body shivered at the title, a strangled gasp leaving your throat as he teased the tip of your cock. Wait when did he pull down your underwear? Any part of you that didn’t want to do this was pushed down at the immediate pleasure of him teasing your cock.

No way you can wait until you get home now.

“Okay… just this once.” You whispered.

Mingi immediately began unbuckling his jeans with speed you thought was impossible. He still kissed and nipped at your neck—still careful to not leave any marks. You bit your bottom lip to muffle any moans as he gripped your thighs, lifting you up.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, nervous for how this would work. Wasn’t he supposed to prep you? But he was quite big, how long was he supposed to prep you for?

As you tried to calm yourself down, you felt his cock rub against yours. He had pulled up your sweater to show off your stomach. You shuddered and glanced down to see him line his cock right on top of yours.

“What’s this..?” You whispered, gasping as he began to slowly rub against you. “I thought you… were gonna put it in.”

“In here?” He asked, an incredulous expression on his face. “No way, not for your first time. We can get off like this. Just let me lead, Noona.” You blushed again as you meekly nodded.

His hands slid up to your waist as he pressed his body fully against yours. Your cock was now firmly against his—unable to slip away. Mingi pressed a soft kiss on your collarbone before pulling away just a bit to see your face.

“I’ll make it quick… so they don’t get suspicious.” He said, though you could tell that he would’ve dragged this out if there wasn’t the threat of getting caught. “Don’t make a sound, I don’t want anyone hearing you.”

It was slow at first. His hips bucked forward as your toes curled, his thicker cock dwarfed yours as they rubbed together. It burned a bit as there was no lube to make the friction smoother. Mingi seemed to notice this as he spit into his hand and rubbed it against both cocks. You tried not to be grossed out.

Sex was messy anyway.

He started out slow before speeding up. You almost wished he actually fucked you. This must’ve been how he usually fucks anyway. The tight grip on your waist as he slammed forward, your body shaking from the force.

The pre-cum leaking from your cock began to coat both cocks, allowing for an easier friction. Your voice was beginning to get louder as you buried your face into his neck, clawing at the jacket for some type of purchase.

“I bet you’re tight… so tight, Noona. Next time, I wanna fuck your pussy, can I? Can I, Noona?” He whispered, into your ear, chuckling when you only answered with a high pitched moan. “Do you like that? Calling your hole a pussy?”

His hips suddenly stilled as you cried in disappointment. “C’mon, Noona. I’m doing all the work… you can answer my question. Do you like it?”

You whined before nodding your head.

“Ah, ah, use your words. You’re an adult.”

“So mean…”

“What was that, Noona? You want me to stop?”

“No, no! I…” you whined, your cock aching for release. “I like it.. please I wanna cum.”

“See~” he cooed, “that wasn’t too hard. You’re such a good girl, Noona.”

His nails dig into your skin as he slammed his hips up, your cocks rubbing together once more. Your moans immediately leave you as you feel yourself reach your peak. You cum not soon after, Mingi’s name leaving your lips in a pathetic whimper.

Mingi follows right after, biting down on your bare shoulder. Luckily the cum didn’t reach the sweater. It coated both of your stomachs as he loosened his grip on you. You both breathed heavily as he glanced over at you.

“You really are hotter.” He said, a slight smirk on his lips.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

After that whole storage closet incident, you and Mingi have finally felt a bit more comfortable sex wise. In short, you guys were humping each other practically every night. Which led tonight: you were sitting on his lap, wearing only your boxers with a t-shirt.

You had been watching him gaming when he suddenly asked for a reward for beating his high score. You refused at first since you had wanted to go to bed an hour ago but he had begged you to watch him play.

It only took one puppy dog pout before you conceded and allowed him to choose a reward.

Of course the reward was you grinding on top of him. Your ass was directly over his dick. You could tell he wasn’t wearing any boxers underneath his sweatpants. It began to harden beneath your ass as you slowly grind on top of him.

“You’re so sexy, Hyung. I’m not sure if I can take this anymore,” Mingi groaned, reaching over to grasp your waist. You shivered.

“You.. don’t have to… I’m ready.”

Mingi blinked. “Really..? I can..?”

Your hips stopped as you blushed slightly, nodding your head. “Yeah… humping each other is fun but I wanna feel you.. i..inside me.” You thought you’d die of embarrassment.

But that almost seemed to send Mingi over the edge as he immediately flipped your positions to where you were laying on the couch. You stared up at him shock as he pulled down your boxers, your cock flopping free.

You couldn’t help but feel excited at how eager he was. You shyly opened your legs wider so Mingi could have easy access. Just as he was about to kiss your stomach, your phone began ringing.

You immediately shot up, ignoring Mingi’s whines as you reached for your phone. People hardly called you so you always immediately checked. It took a second for the name to fully register but when it did, a grin pulled on your lips.

홍가람

Hong Garam.

Three years ago

Mingi was a bit camera shy when it came to variety shows. He hardly looked into the camera as he just let the other members talk until he was called upon. Because of that, his gaze was focused on the members—mainly you, really.

So he noticed how you practically froze up when Yohan accidentally brushed against you. He’d never seen you react like that before. If he wasn’t on camera he would’ve said something but he decided to do something less disruptive.

Because everyone was standing in a huddle than a line, it was easy for him to slip between Kihyun and Doha to get to you. He stopped though—wanting to make it seem like he was just shifting around. After a minute or so, he moved again, gently pushing you further to the right so he could fit between you and Yohan.

Yohan didn’t seem to notice at all while you glanced over at Mingi, a confused look on your face. But Mingi didn’t look at you, knowing that if he did he would’ve fold immediately. He just stared at the host—pretending he was paying attention the entire time.

If he did glance over at you, he would’ve noticed the slight blush on your cheeks as you smiled to yourself.

The whole idea for a family drama thing was definitely from SKZ lmao. Leading heavily into feminization but Mingi has multiple kinks, just wait and see

Tag list: @tehyunnie @euthymiko @iwishtobeacrow @onementally-unstabel-kid @jaxyy219 @hoshimochicchi @honey-valentin3 @bensontrechic @ofclyde @star-3214 @love-kha1 @chill-guy-but-cooler @tomoeroi @the-ultimate-librarian @mooncarvers-world @mello-life25 @yuzuukix @smellwell @remdayz @cherry-blossoms-187 @kiiyoooo @secretivemessenger @me-when-life @bangbangdevotee @bangchansdirty-slut @chaevvonders @jjsmeowthie @diamondnightsky23 @1-800-darktea @anchoredphoenix

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #male reader #oc x reader #mlm ns/fw #smut drabble #male bottom reader #original character

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xinganhao · 4 months ago

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🍨 svt spoiling their partner.

★ prompt: how ot13 spoils their partner? 🥹🥹🥹 i am just a girl give me treats c/o @shinwonderful

ⓘ established relationship, pet names, fluff. headcanons under the cut. special thanks to @chugging-antiseptic-dye for helping! ♡

🍨 read more?

seungcheol 𖹭 planning dates. he will refuse to let you lift a finger for your day out. everything will be meticulously laid out, finetuned to be something that you'll enjoy. his goal is to lessen the mental load of decision-making and planning; he wants you to be able to focus solely on enjoying the surprise, and he'll break his back to make sure that happens.

jeonghan 𖹭 'parallel play'. even if the two of you might not be interested in the same things, that's okay. he's happiest to spend quality time with you at home, where the two of you are free to do your own thing within eachother's presence. just being in your vicinity already makes him content, and so he plans everything around the two of you getting to explore and share your respective hobbies.

shua 𖹭 acts of service. need help with your taxes? need someone to fill up your tank? he's already on it. he'll say that these are all 'little things', call it the bare minimum, when it's apparent that he makes it a conscious effort to make your day-to-day easier. his brand of spoiling you comes in the form of quietly doing things that will improve your quality of life.

junhui 𖹭 buying clothes you'll like. he can't help it, really. when he sees an article of clothing that he thinks suits your style? when he finds a local brand that shares your advoacy? he's already pulling out his wallet. he likes the idea of dressing you up. nothing makes him happier than knowing you're wearing an outfit that he entirely picked out for you.

soonyoung 𖹭 daily reasons why he loves you. people always joke that he has a bit of a motormouth, so why shouldn't he use it on talking about you, you, you? he's big on words of affirmation, on making sure you never doubt how he feels for you. he'll point out the little and big things that make him adore you, and it's never the same reason twice.

wonwoo 𖹭 indulging your interests. he may not always understand these trends— blind boxes, must-have fashion pieces, et cetera— but he'll never make you feel bad about it. if there's anything that you want, he's already doing everything within his power to get it. his greatest joy is seeing your face light up once he's gotten you your 'priority' item; it's why he keeps doing it in the first place.

jihoon 𖹭 trying new things for you. there's a long list of things that jihoon never thought he'd do, but then he started dating you. time and time again, he willingly goes out of his comfort zone to accompany you on the little adventures and experiences that you ask to go on. he does these things scared, does them anxious, does them begrudgingly,— does them all for you.

seokmin 𖹭 meals he thinks you'll like. he's the type to have dozens of tabs open for homemade recipes dot com. he knows he's an amateur at this, but he's undeterred in trying. whether it's a trending pastry on tiktok or the comfort meal that your mother makes you, he's determined to learn it so you're always eating well.

mingyu 𖹭 getting-to-know card games. he gives as good as he takes, which means mingyu's way is to listen and remember. a night where the two of you can just have deep conversations with no interruptions is his ideal evening. he will know he succeeded if the two of you end up talking until the sun rises, feeling like the hours haven't passed at all.

minghao 𖹭 postcards from tour stops. he loves art and he loves you. his postcards are pocket-sized reminders of those facts, always packaged with a few choice words that are sweet and sincere. his trinkets are very "i-got-you-this-because-it-reminded-me-of-you" in nature, and you know each one was purchased with you at the front of mind.

seungkwan 𖹭 getting you your favorites. he figures he should put his industry connections to use somehow. he's always amused by how happy you get over a rare photocard, signed album, or concert tickets, and so he keeps it up. buying dozens of albums, contacting other labels, bearing the arduous ticketing. your excitement at the end of it makes it all worth it.

vernon 𖹭 producing songs. he hadn't really pegged himself as the making-music-for-the-sake-of-it type until he met you. now, he revels in getting to send you a track that's for your ears only. all the lyrics just seems to flow naturally when it's you inspiring him, and so he sends you works-in-progress with reminders that you're the only intended audience.

chan 𖹭 at-home massages. he's all too familiar with the aches of an ailing body, so he knows exactly how and where to work on you. he always does what he calls 'the works'— a good bath, scented candles, essential oils. he lets you take your time, and he takes his time with you in helping you unwind.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

#svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt smau #seventeen smau #── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine #── ᵎᵎ ✦ reqs #[ need this . Rn . pls ]

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saetoru · 2 years ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on.

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend.

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned.

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast.

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up.

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek.

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand.

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway.

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that.

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake.

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.”

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit.

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself.

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness.

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench.

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him.

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.”

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself.

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with?

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him.

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded.

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings.

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too.

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well.

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend.

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings.

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted.

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself.

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on.

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole.

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands.

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know.

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn.

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff.

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away.

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here.

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him.

“why did you leave me?” he asks.

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists.

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love.

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days.

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly.

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out.

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead.

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head.

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying.

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight.

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper.

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray.

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion.

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could.

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt.

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you.

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating.

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known.

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him.

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst

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theonottsbxtch · 5 months ago

Text

I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

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agirlwithglam · 5 months ago

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🌟 become your dream girl before 2025! 🌟

THIS WILL *ACTUALLY* CHANGE YOUR LIFE.

do you know how many people are waiting until next year to glow up and actually start to become their dream self? now just think, if you started now, before 2025, how far you would be. how much more skills and knowledge you would have. you're literally getting a head start. so what are you doing dilly-dallying until 2025? heres your guide to ending this year accomplishing everything you need to and starting 2025 with everything you need.

in this post i will include mindset shifts, how to become a better person, actionable advice, actually becoming a new person <3

👑know what you want.

who do you want to become at the end of this year? what does your dream girl look like? what kind of body does she have? her clothes? who are the people she hangs out with on a daily basis- friends?

create a very clear version in your head and use pinterest to show photos of what your goals are- for ex: girls at the gym, journalling, writing, studying, reading, learning, walking, with friends, spending time outside, going swimming, playing sports, doing a skill/ hobby.

you can also find an idol/ an inspiration- a youtuber, influencer, parent, anyone who you look up to and want to somewhat have a similar life like them. (for ex: thewizardliz, tam kaur) whatever is important to you this goes hand in hand with the next point:

👑goals.

any unfinished projects, any goals you said you'd do in the beginning of the year, get them all down on paper. if you've finished any of them, great!- tick them off. but if you haven't then its time to lock in. pick the ones that are most important to you. that you know that achieving these will 100% get you closer to your goal. doing this makes sure you get rid of the ones that you think are "productive" when in reality they just help you procrastinate.

finish any unfinished projects or books you have before the new year begins because 2025 is about bringing in new, fresh opportunities and things. for me personally, i have a few crochet projects that i want to finish before the end of this year so i can start the new year with nothing old from the year before!

👑cutting.

you are going to be becoming a new person- new mindset, new values, new perception on life, etc. the people in your life currently probably won't align with this new version of you. because if the people around you still only know the old you, your growth won't happen because it will feel extremely unnatural without the right people around you. this means you're going to have to decide whether you are letting any of your friends go. if they don't serve you or make you feel happier or bring in any value to your life, im sorry but its time to cut them off.

but of course if you actually have good, kind, loving friends who grow with you and support you all the way, keep them. the goal is to remove the people who don't serve your highest self. not remove the people who you know will be there for you.

but along with this, if you notice that those people are acting a bit more weirdly/ strangely now that you're improving- giving you backhanded compliments, talking about you behind your back, or just giving you a weird vibe in general, trust your gut. those people don't want to see you going to a higher place where you're thriving- keeping them in your life can be terrible for your highest good.

remember that doing this doesn't mean that you're not going to get better because BETTER ALWAYS COMES. god will give you more people who you couldn't have ever dreamed could be so amazing. so never keep toxic people in your life out of fear that you'll be alone forever. (remember: 8 billion people in the world.)

👑mindset.

dont wait to change your mindset only once you achieve the dream body or the best grade- start now. people can take away everything from you but they can't take away your mindset, skills, and knowledge. here are some mindset shifts to develop:

the abundance mindset. know that everything happens for your highest and greatest good only! everything will work out in the end for you because God hasn't put you on this earth to suffer. if you are religeous (God) or spiritual (the universe) or even believe theres a higher faith, why on earth would you willingly believe that your purpose here is to have a bad time? obstacles will come your way and you will make bad decisions and mistakes. but all these jsut contribute to the person you are today and the person who you'll be in the future!

i will make it. believe in your vision and yourself so fiercely that you know in your bones that you will achieve your goals. you will travel the world and discover new places, you will get to retire your parents, you will get to buy expensive bags for your mom, you will be that rich sister/daughter/ wife, you will help people around the whole world, you will have people around you who love and care for you, you will achieve whatever dream you had since you were a kid and whatever dream you have right now. you will you will you will! know this so strongly but also know that i will achieve there one day, but i also am so blessed and grateful for the life i have right now! i have so many privileges and such an amazing life that i would never trade away for anything.

growth mindset if you fail, IT IS NOT THE END OF THE WORLD. please stop being afraid of failing, be afraid of never trying!! you have no idea how freeing failing is because once you do, then you'll never have that "what if" in the back of your mind, never have that small voice asking what could have happened if you had done that thing. so if you do fail, perfect! that means that you won't waste any more time wondering what would have happened. having a growth mindset means that you know you're human and you'll make mistakes, but that doesnt make you a bad person and it doesn't take away your capability to still accomplish your goals. if you fail be able to brush it off, and keep trying again and again. Thomas Edison had 1000 failed attempts to make the light bulb. yet he learnt from what didn't work, took that into consideration, then tried again. and again. and again. and now? your probably sitting in a room with light that you have because he persisted in his goal!

stay positive always have a positive outlook and perspective of life. look at the beauty and what you have instead of what you lack. feel happy joyful energy vibrate through you everyday. do things that just make you a more positive person in general! feeling happier makes you look 100x more attractive and will change the way you interact with the world!!

👑be a better person.

new year new you right? so its time you up level the way you talk and treat others. because the goal isn't to be A b*tch, the goal is to be THAT b*tch! so going around being rude isn't going to do anything for you. being kind however- having manners, checking up on people, asking how their day was, being charismatic, etc- thats what can get you so much more opportunities! you're going to be kind, but not a people pleaser- ofc prioritise yourself always but also at the same time- if you have made a commitment to be somewhere for someone at a certain time, honor that commitment. be the friend you wish you had.

being mean to everyone just because you were hurt by someone else is not it. yes, so you were hurt. grow, evolve, heal. you're stronger than this. you're stronger than you think. you can overcome anything and you can become an even better person, capable of loving fully and wholly!

misc tips:

change what you consume. start watching thewizardliz, tam kaur on youtube. have an inspiration/ idol to look up to in life.

workout. i dont care if its not one of your goals to have a fit body, but don't workout for that. workout because you love yourself. because its actually proven to make you happier, because you deserve a healthy, fully functioning body.

DRINK WATER. do you know how many benefits something as simple as that has? clear skin, unchapped lips, better digestive health, weight management, better health, feel more alert and energized, better for immune system, increases brain power, eliminate toxins, ETC ETC!

have a morning routine that literally sets yourself up for success. stimulate your mind with reading self help, learn something, study, focus on a skill, do something that makes your mind active.

journal & check in with yourself.- document your progress! write about how you felt after everyday. did you feel esp happy during anything? do you feel satisfied at the end of the day? or do you find that your day made you feel tired and drained? do you feel regret and wished you did more at the end of the day?

diary- links with the earlier point. document the day. you can write about it, or what i also like to do is video myself yapping to the camera. talk about whatever you want and let your mind wander free!

you are that it girl! dress the part, smell good, make yourself feel so good that you just can't help but feel like you can conqure anything!!

make sure you're consistently reminded of your goals. what do you want? why do you want to achieve it? reminding yourself of your goals will actually motivate you and make you stop procrastinating. for me its that i don't want any old projects or books having to continue into the new year so i've made a plan that will definitely get it done before the next year!

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

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A fair payment [W. W.]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

People who might be interested: @strugglingwriterwattpad @cattail5 [Timothée masterlist]

some minor Wonka spoilers I guess! If you like it, tell me in the comments, that will make me happy :)

“Can you mend it?” Willy asked, carefully holding his emerald green jacket that had the sleeve seam torn.

The boy had arrived a couple of weeks ago to turn the world of everyone present in the laundry upside down and, honestly, you were already beginning to enjoy his presence. You looked in the background at the blackboard that Noodle used at night to give him lessons in the hope that he would learn to read because, according to the girl's words, because of that he was almost eaten by a tiger. But in the man's words, what was important was the almost part.

However, tonight he had asked you especially to go to his room, because he had a problem that he thought only you could solve.

“I think so, I just have to pass the needle a couple of times” you smiled.

Since your arrival Mrs. Scrubbit had used your sewing skills for her own benefit, because after all you had ended up in that mess trying to save a little to be able to buy the necessary materials to make a pretty dress that would be worth enough to advance in the business. Although, obviously, that had not been possible.

"Thank you! I'm afraid that's my only jacket."

“It will be ready in no time. I’ll just go to my room and come back, okay?” you said kindly, placing the garment in the boy's lap and earning a sweet smile from the aforementioned.

Just as Willy had his little briefcase for his chocolates, you had your own, full of threads, needles, and buttons, which you just had to grab from the floor to get everything you needed. When you arrived back you settled at the little table and he remained attentive to your every movement, pulling out a chair so he could observe what you were about to do.

“There was a boy on the ship who helped me with these things,” he began to tell you, keeping his curious nose on your shoulder “But I never thought about learning. You know, for when I had to be alone”

“Well, it's lucky you ended up here. We are a curious collection of workers,” you murmured ironically, referring to all the people gathered there against their will by the work of fate "What did you do on the ship?"

"Cook. Mostly sweet things, but I also know a couple of useful non-chocolate-related recipes. I was the chef,” he said, and you laughed at the exaggerated way he pronounced the last bit.

Willy began to tell you about some of the adventures he had had on the high seas and you listened attentively as the tip of the needle went in and out to join the fabric. It only took a few minutes to get his clothes looking like new, taking the liberty of repairing other places that also needed it.

“Put it on,” you asked, trying not to look at him too much when he did so or pay attention to the way the jacket fit him perfectly.

"It is perfect! You can't even tell it was torn, huh?” he said with emotion, feeling with his hands as much as he could. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

“I insist,” the man murmured. His curly hair bounced across his cheeks as he sat next to you and he lifted his small briefcase off the floor, opening it to reveal all the little bottles of ingredients. “Your talent for mine. It's a fair exchange."

You had to admit that the chocolates you had eaten were a complete delicacy, but a part of you didn't want to get used to that luxury or you knew that when Willy was gone you would miss his sweetness. In the literal and figurative sense.

Locked in that laundry it was impossible to meet many people your age and Noodle was your greatest company, as if he were a little sister to you. But now that he was there, there was a certain happiness in chatting with him, much more now that his ingenious mind had devised a way to get you out of there even if it was just for a few hours to see the light of day and get coins from the sale of the chocolates to free you of the enormous debt to Mrs. Scrubbit.

“What flavor do you want to try today? Do you want me to add some unicorn skin glitter? Rays of sunlight from a twilight on the seashore? Tears of an African crocodile?”

“Just give me something you think I need,” you replied softly.

Willy thought about it for a moment, because it wasn't the kind of answer he would have expected. What was he supposed to give you that night? A little hope? Happiness? Nostalgia? It was difficult to decide.

Through his bright eyes you watched him reflect and just a second later his hands began to work. You noticed there was a hint of mischief in his smile as he poured milk, chocolate, and the contents of a couple of jars into the processor, glancing at you from the corner of his eye from time to time.

“What are you going to do when we get out of here?” he asked suddenly, not neglecting the tasks.

“Working in a sewing workshop, I guess.”

“Why don't you open your own fashion house?” Willy suggested carefreely, as if it were a very easy thing to do, “You are a great dressmaker.”

“And you are a great dreamer”

“It's my best quality,” he exclaimed, almost offended. You waited a moment before answering.

“I just don't think it's that simple. It requires effort, time, and a lot of money…”

“We will have everything,” he interrupted you, with that optimism that characterized him. Suddenly he stopped what he was doing and one of his hands traveled to take yours. “When I open my factory, we will all be able to fulfill our dreams. And you are going to have a fashion house, I promise you.”

“You make a lot of promises,” you responded, blushing.

“And he planned to fulfill them all. I always do it"

Maybe there was something about the softness of his grip on your hand or perhaps the sparkle in his eyes that made you look away out of sheer nervousness. He seemed to be good and innocent, to the point that he probably didn't even realize how close he was to you or how inappropriate the position would be if Noodle ever walked in.

A tap interrupted your moment and then he abruptly pulled away, excited to show you the product he had just made. It was a pretty circular candy that was bright pink and seemed to be emanating smoke from the inside.

"What's that?"

“You'll have to try it to find out,” he murmured, as he extended the treat in your direction.

You had to admit that you were somewhat curious to discover what the man was offering you, so you took it between your fingers carefully, and even under his watchful gaze you took a bite.

At first it tasted like ordinary chocolate, but then it took on a strange tone, which made you feel a certain warmth in your chest that spread to your cheeks. It was a most pleasant feeling, like bubbly joy combined with the embarrassment of a hug.

You thought for a moment about what flavor that could be, without any success, until after a few seconds you realized that it wasn’t a flavor in itself, but a feeling, an experience... Was it love that Willy had given you?

“How does it taste?”

“Yummy,” you responded, covering your mouth so he wouldn’t see the wet chocolate on your tongue, but also to hide your smile “Delicious, actually. What does it contain?”

“A special and secret ingredient”

"Oh, come on! Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“I just want to know if I got it right,” he murmured and you frowned slightly, not understanding him “About what you asked for. Did I give you something you needed?”

You had to bite your lip to keep from smiling again, your cheeks feeling hot from the simple fact that he was looking at you. You thought that this could even be a love potion that you had consumed without thinking about it, just because he was the one who was offering it to you.

“We could say yes”

“We're even, then,” he exclaimed as he waved the sleeve of his jacket and you nodded in amusement, eating the rest of the chocolate he had made for you.

A yawn leaving your lips made you aware of how exhausted you were and although you didn't love the idea, you knew it was time to leave.

“It's late, I should go to sleep before we wake anyone up.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Willy said quickly, getting up from his seat to accompany you to the exit. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Rest,” you said kindly, and, gathering courage, you leaned forward a little to say goodbye with a hug that he gladly returned.

As you walked down the hall to your shabby, damp room, you thought that it probably wouldn't have even taken a love potion to fall for the charms of the pleasant chocolatier. You just needed one of his smiles.

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka movie #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #willy wonka #roald dahl #wonka fanfic #willy wonka 2023 #wonka fanfiction #wonka x fem reader

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whore4mattsturniolo · 3 months ago

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Safeword ♡︎ Matt Sturniolo

warnings: smut (obviously), bdsm themes, degrading, crying, use of safeword, aftercare

And a little girl should be careful, but who's gonna make her?

Matt pounded into you, his rough hands gripping your hips with such strength that there would definitely be bruises the next day. It had been hours of his ruthlesslessness, hardly giving you a break to come down from your high.

"Such a good fuckin' slut," he repeated, his hand coming down for yet another harsh slap against your ass, before soothingly rubbing the red marks he'd left. "Dirty little whore. Always—fuck—always takin' what I give you."

Matt in and out of the bedroom were two completely different people, and you had learned this soon after your first time having sex with him. Outside, he was calm, sweet, and loving. He was gentle and protective, would never dream of hurting you. During the late hours of the night, however. That was a different story.

The quickness in which he would go from whispering sweet nothings into your ear to pushing you on your knees and shoving his cock down your throat made your head spin each time.

He was vulgar. He was rough. He was mean. For hours he would continuously thrust into you, laughing as tears rolled down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

He'd degrade you, calling you a slut and a whore, saying you weren't good for anything but his dick. He'd choke you until your vision started to go fuzzy and the white spots started appearing.

It wasn't that you didn't like it. You loved it, but today just wasn't your day. You had a bad day a work, you were behind on your to-do list, and just overall stressed out. Matt's cruel words didn't help either, they only sent you down a hole of overthinking.

"When those boys start playing too rough, well, who's gonna save her?"

Tears started to form in your eyes, soaking the mattress that Matt pressed your face into, arching your back until he hit that sweet spot, "F-fuck," he moaned, his thrusts growing more erratic. "Mmph—You like it, huh? You like me treating you like the worthless little slut you are?"

He slaps your ass again, harder than before. "I know y'do, baby. I know y'love it...can feel you fuckin' squeezing my cock."

The tears weren't from pleasure, like normal. They were from pain, and hurt. His words cut into you like a dagger, his rough thrusts only making it worse. He wasn't focused on you in this moment, he was only focused on his own pleasure, chasing his high again and again.

You bit the sheets, trying to hold on for him, knowing that once he finally came in you (again), he'd be done, and he'd go back to the sweet, gentle Matt you loved. But you couldn't wait for him. Not this time.

"Remember your safe word"

"V-Vermont," you stuttered, your voice muffled as you slowly lifted your head up from the covered. "Vermont!" The shout sounded more like a sob as your voice broke.

Matt's thrusts slowed, before stopping completely, pulling out of your abused hole and moving to your face. His heart broke as he watched tears fall down your cheeks, your eyes cold and doleful.

"And if everything could come to a stop, just for something she says"

"Hey...s'okay...it's me," he said gently, moving your hair out of your face as he watched you curl into a ball, bringing your knees up to your chest and holding them there. "Did I do somethin'? Did I go too hard?"

"I thought the whole point was you were living on the edge"

Looking up at Matt, you nod, tears still running down your face. "M'sorry," you choke out, your voice quivering with broken sobs. "Just had a bad day. I really need you."

He looks at you with sorrow, frowning at the idea of hurting you. "Fuck, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for going too hard. I'm sorry that you needed me and—and I wasn't there for you," he felt his own voice break. He felt awful. "I'm gonna go run you a bath, okay? Gonna get you cleaned up, and then we'll talk...talk about your day—"

"No," you say softly, reaching out to hold his hand. "Stay. Just stay here with me. Please?"

He stops his movements, before smiling at you and nodding.He lays close to you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "I love you so much," he whispers, kissing the top of your head. "Always."

You smile at his words, your crying subsiding as you feel his warm body next to yours. This was all you wanted. He was all you wanted.

"Remember your safeword"

tags: @bowsandsturniolos @yourmother29 @sweetshuga @sturns-mermaid @leah-sturniolo @spideylana @dykes4chris @sophsturns @freshhhloveee @mattsbunnyxx @slut4christopherr @trevorsgodmother @sosasturns @emely9274 @courta13

#✞ whore4matt #✞ whore4reqs #Spotify #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolos #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo angst

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deesseshesca · 7 months ago

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PAC :How will your future lover explore your body ? (18+)

I found a little name for all of y'all ... Bébé d'Amour. Vous etes maintenant mes bébé d'amour (Y'all are now my Bébé d'Amour).

Good morning pretty souls, I'm not a lovey dovey human but for y'all I am ready to do almost anything.

SALE

Until October 31 all readings on my ko-fi is 30$, only

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION.

Rules and Disclaimer

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST

PILE 1

Page pentacles, 2 swords (reverse), magician (reverse), page wands (reverse)

Their touch is going to make u reminisce about all the time u let someone else touch your body in ways u settle for. Like u never really wanted them to touch but you were to fucking lonely to refuse the act knowing damm well they were using u. Also they were not treating you correctly. They touch is going to make all the monster go away. All the time you were touch with little cares all forgiven to make place with memories of they’re caring touch. Some of y’all have self harm scars, suicide attempt scaring, they will caress it with so much love and thank u everytime for the fact that u stay even thought it was hard. They are grateful upon every stars that u’re self sabotaging behavior never got the best of u otherwise they would have never met u. Some of u don’t think you have a pretty pussy. Maybe u feel like u’re lips of too big or that they are not the same color as the rest of your cooch. Hey, they will to touch your pussy. Always munching with happiness. Others u are not circumcised, don’t matter they bumping their month on your dick with happiness in their eyes. Some of y’all have religious trauma, like your ex-environment made you think that sex is forbidden. Y’all don’t even like touching yourself. Even though u left a long time ago, u can’t seem to shake those fears off. They are going to take their time with u and respect which one of your boundaries. At the end, you might still not like getting head but u are not going to feel as uncomfortable with the concept of it after their healing touch. Some of y’all have some vaginismus, I see them learning about it. So they can help u heal and respect the boundaries set by your body. I see them introducing the first toys before even going in themself. Until they are not sure u are ok, there’s no jumping the big boy. If you have endometriosis/PCOS, they will stop penetration sex and alter to fingering to make sure not to disturb the peace of the uterus before the big week. For all my pillow prince/princess today is your big day, they love leading. They don’t care if you spend the whole relationship on a pink/blue pillow. They love it for you. Their touch will still be playful. They will love to tickle u. Also they will love placing a hand on your stomach, even slepping on it. Especially my masculine energy, your pump stomach is literally their safe place. They will love giving you a good handjob while staring into your eyes (y’all probably have deep brown eyes) and caressing your stomach.

💌 : Honestly Pile one, they are not going to be able to let go of you. Might be clingy, also they love language is physical touch. Will love updating you throughout the day. If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 2

4 wands (reverse), King cups (reverse), Hanged man, 6 swords

They love to have their hands on your private parts on all times, not in a creepy way. They would be driving and suddenly here u go, being a finger fucked passager princess. If you are an owner of a dick, u better drive with both hands on the wheel because at any moment, they may start giving u a blowjob . If you have boobs, they will have they hand on them all the time. Not even in a sexual way but because it becomes their habit. Y’all might not give a fuck at some point, until somebody stare at u in public. U end up apologizing while glaring at u’re partner making sure to get they hands the fuck out your top. They are very sensitive to your reaction. Let’s say they wanna give u a hug and u move slightly away … here comes the overthinking. If they try a new move on u in bed but u don’t moan as good as usual. They don’t reproduce it. If u give an excellent reactions, they will put that move on rotation. Also if you have painful period cramps, they will message you stomach. If you have to go regularly to the doc, they will always try their best to be there and hold your hand. Touch = love regarding your future lover. They will caress your face when u speak. Tie your hair when your hand is busy. To my burn out babe that are trying their best or my type B babe who is always so damn clumsy, they will always be behind u giving u a hand. Even when u give them head, they still worry about your well being. I’m hearing : ‘’ Baby I don’t care, if u care or not. I love when (moan) u are giving (whimper) head and are comfortable’’ before attempting to tie your hair. After a week of bad depressive episodes they will run you a bath. When they sense that u are starting to distance yourself, they will always have an hand on your waist, on your leg, shoulder any fucking where. Just to keep u from leaving with your bad thoughts. All this stand for my man in the audience, your next babe don’t play about you. Their touch heal making u realize how much you DO matter.

💌: If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 3

King wands (reverse), page wands (reverse), page cups, ace pentacles

Straight from the beginning I’m getting a bad girl/boy from your person. They push everyone away but you. Actually they only see you. They don’t see any other women/men. They don’t even care about their own parents, the way they care about you. Your future person may have experienced deep trauma from age 8 - 10 years old, every night. Since is not the reading for and I did not ask for permission, I will not dive deeper into their lore. They touch = fire, when they lay their fingerprints on u, it is like your whole body is in heat. They enjoy mixing pain and pleasure. A fan of breathing plays because they get to squeeze your neck safely to give you pleasure. Loves squeezing you in general. If you have boobs, will love to squeeze them until it hurts. If you are a man, love to pinch your nipple until they see a little bit of blood even. They will also enjoy putting pressure on your balls while giving you a handjob. They are very experience lover. Probably have 15+ body. They love to play game with y’all. I’m hearing: ‘’ Let’s see how many times I can make u cum in a minute, princess…’’. If you are a man, they will love to eat your ass. If they lose you, they lose everything. They will probably haunt until they find you back again. They will NEVER raise their hand on u and NEVER yell at you. I see a vision of a text conversation.

U : jhabwdbcaw

Them : hey babe, is everything ok …

U: auijdxja party hbduiAHBNDIL

Them: Can u give the phone (one of your friend).

U: But I wannnnnna takcfjawo to u

Them: I know but I wanna see you. Can you please give the phone ?

U: abxda yes hnqcfu

Them: Give the phone, love.

Their touch is very gentle but very practical. Gently take your makeup off when u come back drunk. Gently draw into your tattoo if you are a man. Will casually lift up bridal style when they see dozing off while studying. If you are a guy, will softly wake you up and guide u to the bedroom.

💌: If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 4

Knight wands (reverse), Lovers (reverse), Emperor (reverse), Strength (reverse)

Touch = understanding, will give u a tap on the shoulder to encourage you. Will caress your arm while y’all are arguing. There’s a use of: ‘’ Good girl/boy’’ in y’all relationships. When they see you grabbing the sheet, while they are down to town, that’s when they know you are on cloud 9. The only time they will stop munching even if you have already orgasm. They will love to caress your inner thighs. Pass a sneaky hand on your tits. Loves making you want more, like I see y’all making out and they are barely touching your tits while you are caressing their body. Have a very brat energy. Love to get on your last nerve because they know you will punish them. That’s what gets them going. Has a high sex drive can go round and round in the same day but it will always start with some kind of teasing.

💌 : Y'all are going to have an amazing communication. I sense that both of y'all are yappers. Y'all are messy, you love to call each other at the end of the day and share the tea on what's going on. They will never let you go to sleep angry. I see a vision of you mad even at them but y'all still cuddling. You guy are in silence, they know they mess up but they refuse to leave on your own. Better they let you gather your thoughts with them. They may have a trauma about somebody that die on them in a middle on text con versation. That's why they can't let u go when u are mad. Don't get them wrong, they won't force u to hug them or talk. If you can't handle looking at them, they will tare at the wall, while u are in the bed thinking. If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

#tarot #tarot reading #pac #tarotcommunity #pick a card #tarot cards #pick a picture #divination #pick a pile #18+ tarot #love reading #future spouse tarot #future spouse

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henneseyhoe · 6 months ago

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Sunshine

Aaron Pierre x BLACK!FEM!Reader

ORDER:Coffee (Smut) Tea (Fluff), Strawberry Cheesecake (Hair Pulling) , Jelly Filled Donut (Creampie) , Vanilla Beignet (Blind To Love) and a Brownie (Sunny vs Grumpy) served by Terry Richmond.

SUMMARY: Shitty jobs are made worth it cause pretty, funny girls exist!(ig idk chile)

The Bakery<3

✮✮✮✮

“How the hell do you deal with that?”

Was what people would ask Terry when they saw you two together. You were loud, anyone could hear your laugh from miles away and your smile radiated bright happiness that annoyed most, especially in your field of work. You were enthusiastic about nearly everything, seeing the bright side to dark situations that some just couldn’t bear. Maybe that’s why Terry held onto you the way he did. He even gave you the nickname ’Sunshine’ to show.

Everything that was listed, he indeed was not. He was not happy go lucky, he was not enthusiastic about things he had to do and he definitely wasn’t looking on the bright side, for reasons that could probably be justified.

When he was happy, it was mostly because of you. You were best friends (or he was definitely YOUR best friend) and working together in close proximity made it so much easier for Terry to get use to you. It was hard for Terry not to crack a smile when you were constantly in a good mood, bouncing off the walls. You found the spots in him that were soft and poked at them until he gave in, you learned his humor and kept him laughing when he didn’t want to.

He couldn’t lie, he was growing accustomed to being with you, he could even say he loved having you around (he would probably never say that out loud) . He just couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in his chest when you were near, butterflies in his stomach when you made eye contact with him. Little did he know, you felt the same.

Your heart beat down on your rib cage faster than it was on your first mission. You loved a challenge, and Terry was exactly that, testing your abilities to be professional, dangerous, light on your feet, but also keeping your brand of being the happy person you were.

Whenever Terry came into work, even if it was just to train, you were up in his face cracking jokes like you hadn’t just ran two miles. Of course because he was a rank higher than you, he use to send you on about your way the first few times, a little annoyed with your presence and attitude until realizing he couldn’t get rid of you even if he tried. You were everywhere and the crew was slowly growing a liking to you too.

You were like a leech, as he would describe. A cuddly and cute one, but a leech nonetheless.

Coming up on the date of the official homecoming for soldiers, it was time to head back to your respective states and you offered Terry a day to spend with just the two of you, enjoying the scenery of downtown and all it had to offer..as friends, Which he accepted after a huff (which was obviously faked, his ass was happy you asked) . Somehow, Terry found himself not wanting to leave when night had came. Something he had NEVER felt before, and he hated it. He hated that he knew it was because of you too, nothing else. Hell, he didn’t even like the state he was in, he was ready to go when he landed.

Babysitting a beer in your hand, you two sit close around the fireplace of your apartment, or what was yours till tomorrow.

“Feel like we been here forever” He breaks the silence, sipping on his drink while staring at the flicker of the fire in front of you both.

You shrug.

“It kinda has been? Seven months, two weeks, five days, and 21 hours is a long time!” You nod, Terry giving you a look before stifling out the chuckle he tried so hard not to free. You smile, satisfied at how easy it was to make him laugh now.

“So!…You ready to go home to the missus?”

Terry raises a brow, swallowing the bitter drink in his mouth. “Missus?”

You hum, waiting for an answer, but he never confirmed.

“Yeah. I mean, you never said anything about a wife or a kid, but I just assumed-“

“Never said because I don’t have” He interrupts, laughing. He couldn’t even imagine what about him gave husband. He didn’t wear a ring, on the right finger at least, and he thought the flirting he did confirmed him to be single already..Or what he thought was flirting. The making sure you ate and drank every day and teasing about how many push ups you could do didn’t really connect the dots for you. You were looking for a more forward approach considering he was a blunt man.

“What the hell about me made you think I was married with a kid?”

You laugh along with him to save yourself the embarrassment. Truthfully, you asked on purpose to see if he was single or not. To your surprise, no one had snatched him up yet.

“I-…I don’t know. I just see a nigga like you and just expect it” You respond, the palms of your hands already sweating. Your body was once again defying you, you felt like you were in highschool again.

Terry’s laugh shrunk until it was no more and his eyebrows rose at your statement. “A nigga like me?”

“…Yeah. Ya know…” You trail off, shyly looking away. By now regret had already set in your stomach for bringing up shit and snooping in his business. It would have been easier to search his name in the database and read his files, keeping your stalker shit on the low.

“Hm…Elaborate, sunshine. I wanna know what that mean” He presses, his squinted eyes searching for yours, but you refused to give in and see what may have been rejection.

“Look” You huff, shaking your head. “I just mean…You are a very handsome man, and I expected you to be…spoken for? Can you even say spoken for when talking about a man?”

You both laugh, but tension was still thick in the air, you just didn’t know what kind of tension it would turn to. Whether sexual or awkward tension, your nerves were getting worse by the second.

Terry on the other hand seemed cool as a cucumber, his tongue subtly tracing the rim of his beer bottle as he thought to himself before taking his last drink, finishing the beverage off.

“I don’t think so, but still. I appreciate that…so”

“So…”

He tilts his head. You could see it all from your peripheral view. His strong presence demanded attention from you. It was like that while working and it happened to never change outside of it.

“You aren’t spoken for?” He asks, his shoulder softly bumping yours to pull an answer quicker.

You shake your head, simultaneously setting down your bottle.

“Not since a year ago. Maybe if it was possible to pack a niggas dick with you when you leave for work, it wouldn’t be inside your bestfriend, right?”

“…You shittin’ me?” He leans, almost shocked that anyone would dare to cheat on you. Not only because of the person you were on the inside, but also because you could be classified as a high threat even while ass naked. That’s just the type of woman he wouldn’t cross, even at his rank.

“Nope, deadass”

“Damn..” He mumbles. “Whatever nigga out here silly enough to let little miss sunshine walk the earth without being right behind her need his ass beat. Shit, i’ll do it for you actually”

You giggle. “You’re silly”

“Nah, I’m serious”

Who knew that conversation alone would end with you getting ate out by someone you considered a friend, someone who you looked up to just a little, someone who just admitted he’d fuck somebody up for you…maybe giving it up was justifiable.

On the couch with your legs spread to each side, you forced yourself to open your eyes and bask in reality as Terry began the journey of taking you apart and putting you back together again. He placed soft kisses around your lips and on your clit before he licked long strings from your entrance, then sucked, earning a soft gasp from you.

His hands gripped your thick thighs while holding them apart, his strength not allowing you to hide from him at all. He wanted to taste all you had to offer, his tongue doing all the hard work slithering inside of your warm walls as his nose nudged your clit. You tensed up with every nudge, watching as he freely put his face in it. He made it messy enough to admire when he pulled his mouth off of you, your pussy glistening like he just doused you in oil.

“Look at that, mmm” There was a grumble that came deep from within his throat. His green eyes on you made it so hard not to be bothered even with him not doing anything, your poor clit jumping with excitement as he spread your lips open.

“She happy to see me, huh?”

You moan and nod eagerly, bringing your hand to your mouth to suck on a finger. Terry smiles at that, sharp teeth flashing from under his lips. He just wanted to bite you all over.

“Yeah, I know. When the last time you had some?”

“I-I don’t remember” And you truly couldn’t. Nothing worth remembering.

“Yeah? Imma make sure you remember this shit” He ends off with a bite to your thigh, almost as if he was warning you for what’s to come before he dove back into your heat, slurping up your soaked clit. Your belly was doing summersaults, you could barely contain your volume. It seemed Terry didn’t care about his.

When he ate, he made noise. He moaned, grunted, groaned. He was having just as much fun as you.

Your legs had began to shake the longer he was down there, your hands gripping onto the top of his white tank since that was all you had to hold on to after he practically ripped your oversized shirt off of you beforehand, and you feared ruining the couch if you got to pulling on it.

“Yes, yes, yes! I’m so close” You struggled to keep your eyes on him even with his staring back up at you, low lidded and dark. They beckoned you to stay, but pleasure had came rolling through like natural disaster and wiped all thought from your brain, leaving you a shaking, blubbering mess.

His mouth pulled off of you and his hand moved in place of it, rubbing your clit in tight circles.

“Feel it, baby. Let it happen” He coos as you fight against his hand, thighs closing around his wrist which he just smacked away and kept at it until he felt he was done.

“Stop moving, let that shit happen, baby”

You felt like you were literally about to float to heaven, back arching up off of the couch just to get away from the overstimulation.

“Okay! Fuck!”

He moves his hand and allows you to go through the motions, twitching until that special feeling left your center. “Good job, pretty girl” A kiss from him was placed beside your opened mouth as heavy breathing left you.

He gave you time to recover while undressing himself, items of clothing fluttering to the ground until he was in nothing but his shorts.

Your eyes never left his length as it bobbed out of the bottoms. You hadn’t even noticed there was nothing under the shorts till now..So all of that print you were eyeing was all him. He was nothing little, nothing that you had ever seen before and it almost made you ask if that was all of it, hoping he had added something extra, if possible. You wanted to taste him, to lick up the dribbling precum from his tip and test if you could take him in your mouth first, but Terry desperately wanted to be inside you. You protested, pulling him in and stroking his shaft to solicit him into going your way, but he was stern, nearly completely ignoring your advances and lifting you to your feet.

You yelped, legs wobbly from your first orgasm, but you had no need to worry about falling because you were lifted off of your feet as fast as you got on them.

“D-don’t drop me!”

You begged, holding onto him while he bounced you to catch you in the right position to fuck you good, your legs swinging over his arms and his hands cupping your soft ass.

“I gotchu, baby”

He reassured as he kisses your lips. You could smell and taste yourself all on him, slightly sweet and herbal from the beer. All while sucking on his tongue, you felt the tip of him swipe against your entrance, your heart beating so hard in your chest that you were convinced he could hear it, and it was the same for him. He couldn’t wait to feel you, to be connected in other ways than just conversation and friendship. He longed to know what it would be like, and when he got a taste, there was no turning back from then on. Not that he would want to, anyway.

There was no way you were getting away from him. You were strong, but Terry was strong. The man trained relentlessly and always being on his toes payed off at work and apparently in the bedroom too.

Your thighs ached with a burning sensation as he bounced you on his long dick effortlessly, the tip of him kissing your cervix ever so slightly, but he knew good enough not to hit it dead on, fearing hurting you in the process. You appreciate the thoughtfulness, seeing as you were already losing the part of your brain that made thought out decisions.

“So fucking deep!”

You cried out weakly, nails scratching down his broad shoulders, creating red streaks he’d try to hide with a long sleeve the morning after, the feeling of you still dancing on his tongue as he got dressed. He grunts, palms squeezing the fat of your ass as his pace never seemed to falter. He was determined to get you there. To feel you cum around his dick so hard that the neighbors would wonder if you were hurt, that they would think about calling the cops just to check on you.

“Cmon, baby. You a big girl, take this dick like I know you can” He encouraged you sweetly, voice unshaken and stable as if the ribbon of release in the pit of his stomach wasn’t threatening to come undone, spilling his seed deep inside of you.

It wasn’t long until he decided to change the position and lay you on your stomach instead, a soft pillow placed underneath your hips to make sure you could meet his height and your ass stayed up right for him. Before he entered back into your warmth, he took his time to spread your cheeks and licking up whatever your pussy had started to drip, earning whiny, pathetic mewls from you.

He licked from your clit to the winking rim of your asshole, the tip of his tongue circling around it before going back down to your sensitive bud, teasingly suckling on it softly.

You drooled into your sheets. You knew you looked so damn stupid right now, but you couldn’t help it with how he was turning you every way but loose.

“Taste so fucking good”

He says from behind you, fully standing now with a hand in your silk press and the other laid directly in the middle of your back to help that arch. He didn’t even have to guide his dick into you, you were so wet and open for him already that all he did was wind his hips back to line up with you and push forward.

You could swear your breath was being sucked out of your lungs with each inch he dropped into you. It felt so good that you could almost ignore him pulling on your hair, forcing your head back to meet him for a slow, nasty kiss.

“Fuck- My hair, Terry!” You whined against his plump lips, one of your hands reaching for his wrist, but the tugging only made it worse for you. The sharp stinging in your scalp oddly satisfied something within you, your clit twitching at the newfound feeling.

“Fuck it. I’ll pay for it” He grunts, his teeth tugging at the bottom of your lip.

You both kissed with teeth and all as he fucked you, your ass loudly clapping back on his toned body with every thrust. He felt every motion of it, the waves clashing with his hips so mesmerizing that he couldn’t help but wanna stare.

As he pulled away from your lips, he opted to grab a hold of your throat instead, your moans immediately getting caught.

He made sure to grab you by the part where it was safe to hold, safe enough to where you could still breathe a little, but still got the sensation to feel held.

“Why-“ You managed to choke out, yet you couldn’t finish a sentence.

He cracked an almost cocky smile then moaned out a curse, his dick violently throbbing inside of you and reaching beyond what you thought was gonna be his limit.

“Why what? Spit it out, ma” He teased, his low cut nails almost scratching up the side of your throat when his thrusts got more fluid, the man putting way more wine into every collision.

You began to cry out, him muffling them slightly by letting go of you and pushing your head down into the bed. He only fucked you harder when your arch fell with your hips, your legs giving out as your pussy cried right along with you.

This position had you feeling everything. From the tip of him grazing your gspot to the veins that traveled up his dick and massaged your walls, giving you texture that you never felt before.

Him demanding a word out of you was like speaking to a brick wall. You had already came without warning, now you were just wetting up the sheets with incoherent words spilling from your mouth. He imagined you fucked out under him like this plenty of times before but he never knew it’d feel and look this good.

“Shit! Keep doing that and imma cum” He warns, but that’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted to feel him fill you up to the point you were leaking. You began purposely clenching around him, the first squeeze prompting him to lay a smack on your ass, and the second one making his hips stutter against you. He could feel himself becoming lighter, a swirl of heat blooming in the bottom of his stomach.

“Nut in this pussy, baby. Let me feel it, please” You begged hopelessly, doing your best to keep a good hold on his dick until he released with a loud groan, grinding his hips into your ass. You could feel each and every spurt of his cum being released inside you, warmth and fullness is what laid in the bottom of your belly.

“Mmm, fuck” His hips bucked one last time before he was pulling out with a grunt, large hands gripped on your ass and spreading you apart to see what he had done to you.

“So pretty. Push it out” He demanded, and you abided by it, pushing his cum out of you until you no longer felt full.

✮✮✮✮

💌- I’m criiine, this was supposed to be a headcannon too- LMFAOAOA. and yall wonder why i take so long, lawd. i told yall, i cannot do shit right smh. Anyway! i hope you liked this, homegirl 😭 i also managed to get this out before my first college class so hallelujah! *does ring shout*. also this was the longest smut i wrote in a whiiile lmfao. a whole 3k+ words so yaaay! eb clap for henny and wish her luck on this class 😋

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wintfleur · 1 month ago

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❝ YOUR BODY KEEPS PULLING ME IN, GIRL ! ❞

𝓲. 𝑜𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗌 ⨟ 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝖼 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌

` . . ── 𝓹airing luke hughes x 𝒇 ! reader

𝓻oro's msgs : ‘𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗎𝗒’ 𝖡𝖱𝖮 𝖨𝖬 𝖳𝖱𝖸𝖨𝖭𝖦 🤲🏻 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 🫦 ｡｡ 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗌𝗄

ᆼᆽᆼ 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 & 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ！

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Luke gets really sleepy and cuddly after the act, but he will always make sure you're okay and have everything you need. He’ll get you a warm, damp cloth to clean you up if you don't want to take a shower/bath yet. Make sure you get some water to stay hydrated or a snack, and then join you back in bed. Luke craves physical touch like he craves air, so he's going to be all over you, massaging and caressing, doing anything he can do to feel you. He holds you close, whispering sweet nothings and pressing soft kisses against your skin.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Luke’s favorite part of himself is his hands, for multiple reasons of course. They fit perfectly with yours, they hold and caress your body, they are the first thing you grab, they lift or pull you closer when you're arched back, plus they are essential for his job.

On you, luke finds it hard to pick just one. He’s captivated by everything that involves you, but he's just naturally pulled to your lips — literally. Those sweet, soft, and inviting lips that speak to him so lovingly, that kiss him so passionately, that look so irresistible wrapped around his fingers and cock. Your lips have him hooked every time you use them, pulling him even closer with every word you say or how you use them on his body. A close runner up is your ass…

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Luke doesn't try to be messy; it just sometimes happens to get messy. Luke obviously loves to cum inside of you, watching as his seed drips out of you, using his fingers to push it back in. But if he’s not cumming inside of you, he’s cumming on your thighs or your tits, loving to see you covered with his cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Luke loves it when you take control. There's just something so hot about seeing you take charge and guide him like he would you. The way you'd push his head between your legs, give him commands, push him on his back to ride him, hold his hips to control the pace, it all just drives him insane.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s had a tad bit of experience, but he was still pretty new to everything, and he honestly preferred that because going through new experiences and learning not just what he likes but what you like with you was definitely beneficial for your guys' relationship. He’s a quick learner and naturally good at everything, so it definitely makes it seem like he's more experienced than he is.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

luke can't pick between missionary and cowgirl. He loves how intimate and intense missionary can be, staring into your eyes, his forehead pressed against yours, smothering you slightly with his weight, plus the fact that he can kiss you anytime he wants. Having you on top is an enchanting experience, whether he's lying down or sitting up. He loves to watch you, the way your expression changes when you move your hips differently, the way your hands are clinging to his chest or shoulders, his hands squeezing your ass or hips, either of you controlling the pace.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really depends on how he's feeling and the situation. He’s an emotional person so he usually likes to keep things more serious in intimate moments. He likes to tease you, but it's all out of adoration. but really, he just wants you to be comfortable, so if things get a little silly and lighthearted, then he's fine with it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It’s all about intimacy with Luke; he's secretly a hopeless romantic at heart. Sometimes he just wants to make love instead of fucking. He wants to really cherish the moment, worship your body, whisper sweet things, and just feel your skin against his. The pleasure always feels more intense. He loves holding your hands, keeping eye contact. Will always praise you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Luke really only jerks off when he's away from you and desperate, usually when he's gone for away games, and even then, it’s almost always on FaceTime with you. If that's not possible, he just has to use his imagination and think of you. You keep him very satisfied, so he doesn't find the need to jerk off much.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

a bit of a breeding kink - he's young, and he's not ready in any way to be a father, but the idea of getting you pregnant actually drives him crazy. Watching his seed drip out of you, using his fingers to stuff it back in, teasing you about not wasting a drop.

marking kink - he loves marking your body with his kisses and bites; he thinks you look beautiful with them, and it's just a reminder that you're his. Sometimes, he’ll see a hickey peeking out from your to,p and he’ll almost instantly get hard. He gets a little shy wherever you mark his body, knowing that he is going to get teased by his teammates if they see anything.

size kink - he loves how different you are from each other physically. You have caught him many times comparing the size of his hands with yours; he loves spreading his large hand on your thighs, seeing how small you look trapped under him, your smaller hands gripping his arms.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

It's easily the bedroom; you can do anything in there, and it's where the two of you are the most comfortable, physically and emotionally. A close second is the couch. From you riding him in the middle of a forgotten movie to fucking you lazily in missionary and pepering soft kisses alongside your face

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Literally anything you do, really. But seeing you all domestic, in his oversized clothes, long eye contact, are a few things that really get him going. But again, anything you do turns him on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

The idea of someone seeing or watching them is a big turn-off for him, so he stays clear of anything that’s public. He likes the private little world the two of you have, and he likes to keep it that way. He’s yours, and you are his; no one else needs to see, hear, or know your private life unless the two of you want them to.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s very talented with his tongue; he has a habit of being sloppy, making a mess as he looks up at you with his desperate eyes. He’s most definitely a munch, could spend hours between your thighs, and god, you would let him with how talented he is. He LOVES it when you sit on his face; he was the one to ask you to do it for the first time, and ever since then, it's a thing he literally craves. He loves it when you tug at his hair or have your nails digging into his shoulders/arms.

he will never say no to receiving, he is definitely the loudest he can be when he's getting sucked off. He’s a shy head pusher…he wants to, but he gets nervous that he's going to hurt you, so most of the time, you are grabbing his hand and moving it to your head. and he kinda just loses control; whimpering, abs clenched, head tossed back, thighs trembling. When you stick your tongue out to show him that you swallowed everything, he's hard again.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

depends on the mood. He can be slow, deep, and sensual, just savoring the moment. he loves just thrusting into you slowly so you can feel every inch of him, his hands caressing your body. He can be fast and rougher, the sounds of skin slapping and your breathless moans urging him to keep pounding into you. He's always passionate.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not against them; he just prefers to take his time with you. Sometimes, neither of you can wait, and it just happens. It's usually before he has to leave for practices, etc, when he needs to let off some steam.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Luke loves experimenting with you, figuring out what you guys like best. He's open to taking risks and trying new things, as long as both of you are comfortable with it. He’s an avid thigh grabber, sneaking his hand up your dress/skirt under the table.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You doubt he has a limit, he's a professional athlete; he has great stamina. He can go for multiple rounds, sometimes even more if he's worked up. He can last pretty long, having you cum a few times before he does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

not really interested in them for himself, he has you and his hand. If you have them, he'll definitely be curious about them, wanting to watch you use them or use them on you himself. He has bought a pair of fluffy handcuffs and a blindfold that the two of you often use.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Both of you enjoy teasing each other. He knows your body perfectly, and he knows exactly what to do to get you to your peak and just what to do to have you teetering over that edge. He likes to tease you because you sound so pretty when you beg; you get so desperate and needy. He can never keep it up for long, though; he always falls for your pleases.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not shy about letting you hear how good he feels, at least not anymore. Lots of heavy breathing, groans/grunts, and breathless moans. He gets more whimpery the closer he gets. Lots of your pet names and praises for you flowing from his lips.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

luke loves just fucking into you as deep as he can and just stoping. Smirking at the loud moans leaving your lips and the way your thighs and legs tremble as your body tries to take in how deep he is, you get cock drunk so fast, just becoming a moaning and babbling mess as you weakly cling to him.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It's fairly high. Luke can be really horny at times, just really needy, touchy, and all that's on his mind is fucking you. But he's very self-aware that maybe your sex high isn't as high as his, so he can control himself if needed.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He takes aftercare seriously, so he can never fall asleep without knowing that you have everything you need and are ready to sleep as well. He just wants to take care of you, make sure you're comfortable, and hold you close as you fall asleep.

𝓇oro’s note. 𝗂 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗇𝖾𝗈𝗐 🤓☝️… 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾. 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗆𝗐𝖺𝗁 𝗑

<3 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖺 @winterbarnesblog

m.list

˖ ་ taglist : @cixrosie @lovings4turn @lesrflms @toasttt11 @winterbarnesblog

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venusalexian · 2 months ago

Text

solet • everything under control

barça femení x teen!reader in which the younger players are worried about a B team player and they make it Alexia’s problem, and you learn that maybe letting people care for you isn’t that bad

When Alexia finishes training, she’s looking forward to quickly showering and rushing home, where her newly-arrived-from-a-work-trip girlfriend and leftovers from dinner at her mami’s house the night before are waiting for her. Her plans are quickly derailed when she enters the locker room. In a corner, a group of the youngest members of the team are huddled, rapidly speaking over each other with concerned expressions. Yeah, she’d definitely have to do damage control before making it home.

Surprisingly, she does not even have to force one of them to confess to whatever mess they had got themselves into this time. Vicky, Jana, Kika and Sydney approach her themselves before she can move to their side.

“Hey Capi, do you have a minute?” Okay, now she really is worried. If Vicky is approaching her so bashfully, something must be really wrong.

“Always. What have you all done now?”

“Nothing! Honestly Ale, so rude to make that assumption.” Jana responds, exasperatedly.

“Okay, let’s focus here, please” redirects Kika quickly.

Alexia waits for one of them to continue, but they all seem suddenly nervous and out of words.

Unexpectedly, it is Sydney, the youngest and shiest of the group, who breaks the silence.

“Do you remember the 15-year-old girl from the B team? She was in the group that joined training on Saturday.” Alexia nods. Of course she does. After their Supercopa win, they had decided to have a joint training with the B team, looking to source for up-and-coming talents. At just a couple months away from turning 16, you had amazed her. You had a great eye for plays, reading the game perfect and providing key pass after key pass. A perfect midfielder, only still slightly too young to transition into the first team. She does not understand why her teammates are bringing you up now, though.

“Well, the girls got worried because she wasn’t there when they came to see our game this weekend.” Sydney continues. “And I told them that she has been more distracted lately and showing up late to training. Our coaching team is more angry than concerned and we all think something is going on but we have no idea what to do.”

“So, um, we were thinking you could use your position as captain to try to find out more from the club? Please, Ale?” Jana finishes Sydney’s speech.

Alexia loves to see that you have already made a mark on the other players, and she feels so proud that they are looking after a younger player like she does for them.

“Okay.” Alexia sighs. “I’m not sure how much I can do, but I’ll keep an eye on it and ask some questions. Now, all of you a la ducha. C’mon kids, you stink!” The younger players roll their eyes at Alexia’s remark, but smile at her promise. They know she means it.

When Saturday comes along, you are surprised to find so many first team players at your match, including all four captains. It makes you even more nervous for today’s game. You had left your home after making sure your grandparents were set for the day and the neighbor was staying around to keep an eye on them. You do not wanna disappoint your team for a second week straight. And you know that another absence would get you benched. You had fought hard for your starting spot during the past year, having to prove yourself twice as much due to your age. You couldn’t give it up now.

You stretch with your team try to ignore the presence of the older players. Once the game starts, though, it is just you and the game. You tune out the yelling from the stands, your worry for your grandparents and your exhaustion after your abuelo’s surgery last week had meant a couple nights of sleeping in uncomfortable hospital chairs and getting up extra early to go to school.

It is a great match, especially for you. Two goals and an assistance later, you are beaming as they declare you player of the game. You are so relieved that such a good performance would quiet the concerns over your commitment to the club in the last couple of weeks.

You rush to the locker room, wanting to make it home as soon as possible and help your grandparents with their evening routine. But before you can run out the grounds to catch the train, you feel a hand tapping your back. Sydney, one of the kindest members of your team, is smiling at you. You also really admire her and the work she had been doing with the first team.

”Hey, congrats on the goals and thanks for the assist! The girls from the first team were telling me to bring you over. You made a mark during the joint training and they wanna congratulate you too. Wanna come?” You cannot believe what you are hearing. You forget all about the train you’re supposed to catch and nod enthusiastically. “Ye-yeah, let’s go!”

She smiles at you and pushes you towards the exit. The girls are waiting around in the parking lot. Vicky and Jana are the first to approach you, as you had attached yourself more to them during the training due to your closer ages. The rest come behind them, and you try not to blush when the older players congratulate you. You probably fail. The conversation moves from talking about your game to their future duels.

By the time you realise, an hour has gone by and the chances of you making it on time for dinner are slim. Your realization must have shown in your face, as Alexia touches your arm and frowns at your expression. “All good?”

“Yeah, I just…” You are unsure whether to share your concern, why would she care? But something in the kindness she has shown during the conversation, asking for your input and making sure you felt integrated, and the openness in her expression when she asks, moves you to respond. “I was supposed to be home already, and I’m not sure when the next train that reaches my town passes.” You worry at your lip.

“Would it be okay if I drive you then? It’ll be faster.” You’re shocked at her offer.

“Ye-yeah, that would be great.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.” You’re both too busy saying your goodbyes to realize your smile has faltered and the pointed glances that Alexia is receiving.

The drive to your home is mostly silent after you give Alexia your address. She is shocked at how far away from the city it is, and you’re uncomfortable at her realization of how much time you spend commuting to training using public transport. The silence is not necessarily awkward though. The soft radio music and the constant thrum of the car settle you into a warm comfort. You feel cared for by an adult, instead of being worried about them, for the first team in a while. Alexia breaks the silence mid-way though.

“What happened last weekend? You weren’t there.” She flinches at her own tactlessness, but isn’t willing to let it go.

You squirm, not sure how much you’re comfortable sharing.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry like this, you barely know me. The girls were worried though, so I asked your coaching team and they also didn’t know. Is everything okay?” It takes you a bit to take in her words. You feel warmth at the girls’ concern, but uncomfortable at the idea of people talking about you and trying to pry about your life. You’re used to doing everything yourself, and having other people involved is weird. Still, the kindness and concern are obvious in her voice and expression, so you decide to give a bit of information in the hopes that she will understand and leave it behind.

“Just some family things. All good though, it’s solved and I’m 110% committed to the team.”

“I never thought you weren’t. Just wanted to make sure you’ve got the support you need.” That leaves you silent again. You do, right? You don’t want to worry anyone because you don’t need it. You’ve got everything under control and things are okay.

“I do! Yeah.”

“Good, good.”

You return to silence for the rest of the drive, but both of you are stuck in the other's words.

When the car comes to a stop outside your home, you’re turning around to thank Alexia for the ride but she’s opening her own door and walking towards your door. The sight spurs you o, and you run to the door to reach her before she has a chance to ring the bell.

“You don’t have to come in!” Alexia raises an eyebrow.

“Thank you for driving me, it was so nice of you but I’m all good to go from here.” You quickly add. She frowns, and looks ready to contradict you but your conversation is interrupted by the door opening.

“Good, you’re here! I heard the car coming and was unsure but I’m glad you got someone to drive you instead of catching the train so late, mi vida.” Your grandma is smiling at you from the door, and you forget about your conversation with Alexia in favor of hugging her. When you, after a few seconds, come out of the hug, Alexia’s eyes are back to a soft expression.

“Both of you, in you go! Dinner is at the table ready.”

“Uh… Grandma, this is…”

“Oh, mi vida. I know perfectly well who she is considering how much you talk about her and her career.”

You’ve already blushed a lot today, but now surely you must be the reddest so far. Alexia practically coos at the statement, proud to be a good role model for young players like you, but she’s reluctant to take your grandma’s offer.

“Thank you for the invitation but I would not want to impose on your dinner.”

“Nonsense. It’ll take too long for you to get back to the city. Stay. Dinner is with your team’s rules on diet for mi nieta so I’m sure it’s suitable for you too.”

Alexia seems to be weighing her options. She doesn’t want to impose but she does want to get a better understanding of your situation so she can give a calming response to the girls.

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

As you all walk toward the living room, your grandma must notice your inquisitive looks and reluctance to ask.

“He’s all good, mi vida. We both had dinner an hour ago, and the neighbor came by to help me get him ready for bed. He’s sleeping now, don’t you worry.” You still feel guilty. You should have been here to help make dinner and make sure they took their meds and get them ready for bed.

“Now sit, both of you. I set another plate when I saw you came accompanied by car. I am gonna go to bed myself now. You both have a good night. And a safe trip back home for you Alexia.”

As she takes her leave up the stairs, the room is left silent until Alexia breaks it.

“Alright kid, let’s have dinner then.”

You’re on auto-pilot as you sit down at the table and start to eat, your mind still stuck on all the things you hadn’t been here for.

“So, are your parents out of town for the night?” You swallow audibly. You don’t like to talk about this, but you know she won’t let it go.

“No, um, no. It’s just us three.” You avoid her gaze, not wanting to see the usual look of pity you receive.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that sucks.” You can tell she’s flinching.

“It’s always been the three of us. I was a baby when they passed.” You shrug.

You dare look at her, and her expression surprises you. There’s still the pity you hate, but there’s also an understanding. Right, her dad. Your circumstances might be different, but she does know loss.

“So, um, you help around a lot then?”

“Ye-yeah.” You don’t want her to doubt your commitment to the club though. “But I make it work! I have a good grasp on my schedule and great discipline.”

“I don’t doubt it, you’re such a solet.” (good kid, but also literally little sun)

She smiles so kindly at you it overwhelms you. The conversation shifts to lighter topics, about your play style, both of your future games and even sharing small glimpses of each other’s lives. When you're done, she helps you clean up the table and dishes, it only takes a few minutes with her help.

“I’m gonna go home now, I don’t want my girlfriend to wait until late for me. Please tell your grandma thank you for the meal, it was delicious, and that you have a beautiful home.”

“Yeah, of course.” You smile easily now, her presence comforting.

“And you… you’re doing well. Believe it. But please also let yourself seek help when you need it. You’re not alone. Rely on your team and your coaches. You’re just a kid, let the adults take care of you, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yes, thank you again for driving me home.” You weren’t sure how much you could let go of the tight control you held in your life, but it felt nice to be told that you weren’t alone.

“Of course, my pleasure. I am happy to help. I’ll see you soon, yeah, solet?”

And as you watch her drive out of your driveway, you cannot imagine how true that is.

~~~~~ an:

yay! thank you for reading!

first work uploaded. kinda nervous to get this out there but excited to start sharing my work. (please be nice to me)

I already have some ideas for this universe but I’ll be super happy to receive requests and asks about it, or any other universes you’d like to see from me :))

xoxo, a.c.

part 2 now up!

#barca femeni x teen!reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x teen!reader #alexia putellas imagine #barcelona femeni #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x teen!reader #alexia x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #teen!reader #teen!oc

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