#walking into the new year a very different person for sure

[sinnabarmoth]

Idk if you’ve done this already, but what do you think the LIs’ “type” would be, focusing on personality? Ik they’re in love with MC, but I’d like to give hope to those who don’t relate to MC (including me T^T)

Zayne: For Zayne I get the vibe that he would love a soft extrovert. Someone who enjoys going out and trying new things and can pull him out of his shell but is very chill about it. They are a very optimistic person and are bubbly but in a laid back kind of way. Ideal dates are trying out new restaurants or signing up for a one night beginners tango class but also like taking walks through the park. I also think someone with a lot of patience and organizational skills would just be a big plus for him too. He not only wants but needs someone like that in his life because he will only work and go home otherwise.

Xavier: Xavier for sure likes the cozy gamer girl introvert! Despite his job what he really seems to like is just staying at home and having a peaceful time in. She's in his hoodie 24/7, is on year 5 of a Stardew Valley farm, snacks on the desk, the whole shebang. They are the cuddle couple. They will be sat in the living room playing a co-op game and she is in his lap while they are playing and tries to distract him by suddenly kissing him and stuff. She's baking cookies partly for snacks and partly to make the house smell incredible. When they do go out it's usually to an old reliable favorite restaurant or playing at the arcade. I think someone who can just be this well of soft mundane pleasures to come home to after a long day is what he would love!

Rafayel: Rafayel is the kind of guy where his partner needs to be able to match his freak. Whatever energy he is coming at them with his partner has not only gotta be able to receive but also deal it back at 200%. Someone who isn't afraid to tease and be sarcastic and a little dramatic. Raf is the kind of guy who will play fight with you whenever just cause he's bored. You'll be at an art gallery and he'll be looking for an excuse to cut out early and gives you a look and you both just silently agree to start having a stupid verbal fight right then and there. He's trying not to laugh the entire time and it always ends with one of you chasing after the other like "No baby! Don't go! I'll change I swear!" Someone who will drag him out of his house and force him to be social but also loves being able to cancel plans to stay inside when they are straight up not feeling the crowd vibe. Someone not so serious and with a good sense of humor is a huge win in his book!

Sylus: Sylus is looking for someone adaptable and able to roll with the punches. Oh we have to go to a different restaurant for dinner super last minute? Sure, not a problem. Someone who is independent and has a sharp tongue that isn't afraid to call him out on stuff. I really just see him with someone who is like "this is my guard dog Sylus, I can tell him stand down but 9 times out of 10 I will let him kill you. He needs the enrichment." He likes someone who likes new experiences and doesn't mind being the center of attention because you know he is going to be dragging them along everywhere he goes. He loves to be able to flaunt his partner and while being shy can be cute there's something so damn attractive about a partner who knows they are hot stuff.

[petersasteria]

That's That Me Espresso - G-Dragon/Kwon Ji-Yong

Pairing: Senior barista!Ji-Yong x New barista!Reader Summary: Coffee shop AU. Haters to lovers.

A/N: HEAVILY inspired by my life bc i work as a barista and it's my first job and i've been a barista for like a year and 6 months

You're a fresh graduate with a degree of hospitality and restaurant management. You've always wanted to start your own business, but you wanted to have enough work experience first. Lucky for you, your favorite coffee shop near your apartment is hiring. After you did your chores, you got ready and went to the coffee shop.

Upon opening the door, you were immediately greeted by the warm welcome of the baristas there with an award-winning smile. Of course, you smiled back as you approached a man behind the counter. He smiled, "Hi! What can I get you?"

"Um, hi," You squinted and read his nameplate, "Ji-Yong! I saw that you were hiring and I was wondering if that position has been filled already?"

He looked at you and smirked, "No, it hasn't been filled yet. Though, if it were up to me, you can start today and I'll personally train you. I've been a certified barista trainer for 5 years." He looked very proud of himself. You scrunched your face a little bit before saying, "Anyway, I'd like to leave my resume here." You handed him your resume and he gladly took it from your hand.

He skimmed through everything and nodded a few times with an impressed look on his face. He glanced at you and said, "Cool credentials." He placed your resume on the counter and looked at you, "Listen, I'm like the second senior barista here so I'm basically like a supervisor at this point."

Why was he telling you this?

"Um, okay. Good for you." You said. He chuckled.

"I'm telling you that info because I was going to let you know that you can sit down and I'll tell the manager. It's a bit of a slow day, anyway. I'm sure she can give you an interview today." He smiled.

"Oh, that'd be great! Thank you, Ji-Yong." You gave him a curt smile.

"Maybe next time, you'll call me 'baby' instead." He flirts and winks at you before disappearing in the back office to talk to the manager. You shook your head and sat down on one of the tables near the counter.

After about a minute, you hear footsteps approaching you and you look up to see a different barista holding a tray with a cup of warm latte adorned with a beautiful, simple latte art. "Here's your complimentary latte, miss." He smiles.

"Thanks you..." you trailed off. He didn't have a name tag.

"Oh! Sorry. My name is Daesung."

"Thank you, Daesung! I'm Y/N." You both shook hands and conversed a little bit. You learned that he only started working there the week before and you were quick to learn that he's quite funny. After a quick chat with Daesung, he went back to work after Ji-Yong told him to come back and help make drinks.

The manager walks out of the back office, sees you, and smiles. She walked over to you and said, "Y/N Y/L/N?"

You nod before standing up. You reached out your hand for her to shake, which she did, and said, "You must be the manager."

"Yes, I am. Let's take a seat and talk about your application."

-

Needless to say, the interview was a success. Today's your first day and you were excited and nervous at the same time. It's your first job, after all. You dressed in a simple outfit and when you arrived there, your manager was quick to inform you that Ji-Yong would be your trainer.

Oh, how you found him annoying as hell.

Since he's your trainer, all your breaks are scheduled together. Every chance he'd get, he wanted to be close to you. It started with small things. He would stand next to you and guide your hands to steam the milk correctly, he'd sit next to you on your break time and take a peek on who you're messaging, he'd take a bite of your food before running off laughing. You'd always roll your eyes and just let him be. It was clear that he wanted a reaction from you and you didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

After a pleasant month of working at the cafe, Ji-Yong decided that it was finally time to train you on the ins and outs of working behind the register. You were extremely nervous. When you asked him for advice, all he said was, "Just don't press the wrong thing."

One day, your manager didn't come in for work because her son was sick and didn't have anyone to take care of him due to her husband being away for business. That would mean Ji-Yong had to step in and play the manager role. After all, he was currently on store manager training.

Throughout the day, many people came in and out of your store and at one point, the line reached the door. Daesung was absolutely busting his ass off making drinks as fast as he could, Taeyang was quickly calling out people's names for them to claim their drinks, and Ji-Yong was jotting down advanced orders and placing them down next to the register for you to see while he heats up the pastries customers bought to quickly hand it to them as they wait for their turn to pay.

And you? Well, you were doing your best. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, you wanted to have a mental breakdown. But you sucked it all up because you were NOT going to cry today. Especially not now when your trainer, Ji-Yong, is stressed. Of all the days the manager's son could've gotten sick, it had to be on a busy weekend. Ji-Yong was on his wits end.

There were actually two registers, but Ji-Yong decided that since you're under-staffed, that would leave Daesung the only one left to make drinks if he made you and Taeyang transact customers. He had enough compassion and empathy to know that it wouldn't be nice for Daesung to be left like that. That's why he chose you to transact customers as part of your training.

'Taeyang got off easy.' You thought to yourself.

Ji-Yong was quite intimidating and scary. You've never seen him like this before. He was usually fun and relaxed. Not today. He moved so quick. When he joined Daesung to make drinks, he got the ice blended drinks while Daesung worked on the simple hot and iced drinks. In the span of 5 minutes, Ji-Yong was able to make 20 drinks all by himself (tricky promotional drinks included). Daesung was only able to make 10 drinks. A bit irate by that, Ji-Yong sternly said, "Taeyang, you know Daesung's only been here for only a month and he's not that quick yet. You've been here for a year and you know it's a rushed day. Switch."

It was chilling to hear. Taeyang and Daesung immediately switched places, not wanting to be killed by Ji-Yong's intimidating gaze. If they were nervous around him, they can't imagine how scared you are of your trainer. It was at this moment you wanted him beside you because when he left to help make drinks, it felt chilly and you were scared.

After he was done with the ice blended drinks, he wiped his sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, wiped his hands on his apron, took a deep breath, and walked towards you. By now, the line is shorter, but it's still a lot of people.

"How are you?" He quietly asked as he looked for his notepad; preparing to take advanced orders.

"I'm hanging in there." You replied meekly. He snorted before taking advanced orders again. You glanced at him as he plastered a fake smile on his face while conversing with customers to make them less irate. He was quite charming, even though you hated to admit it. You were grateful for him despite the annoying shit he does.

Eventually, peak hours were over and it was now time for a break. Coincidentally, there were no people left. Just then, Ji-Yong did the unthinkable.

"Everyone, gather around." He called out. You, Taeyang, and Daesung left your posts and walked towards him. He was standing by the pastry case, his hand on top of the glass as he leaned over, deep in thought.

"What I'm about to do, shall never reach our manager. I trust you all and I know you guys have trust in me. I wouldn't be here if you didn't." He said quietly. It was almost dramatic like in some Captain America movie where he's going to sacrifice himself or something.

"What're you gonna do?" Taeyang asked, curious about his actions.

He removed his hand on the glass, turned around to face all of you and said, "I've decided to close the store for an hour to get our much needed and long awaited lunch breaks. Because of all your hard work and commitment, I bought all of us lunch and you're free to get your complimentary drink. I'll make a sign that says we'll be closed for an hour. Until then," He trailed off.

He looked at you, "Y/N clear the register. Make sure nothing's on top of the counter, not even your Sharpie. Wipe the pastry case's exterior with glass cleaner and replenish what is needed in the pastry area."

You nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Well? What're you waiting for, Christmas? Go!" He said and you hurriedly did what you were told.

"Daesung, replenish what is needed in the production station, clean them, replenish the milk in the fridge, and for god's sake replenish the beans!" He said and Daesung immediately did that.

"Taeyang, you've always been really quick at lobby duty. You know what to do." Ji-Yong said coolly.

Taeyang nodded, "Yes, sir. Clear the tables, sweep the floor, mop the floor, and throw the trash."

"Good job, now, go." Ji-Yong said as walked to the back office. "I'll make the sign now and once you're all done, remove your aprons and put it in your lockers, wash your hands, and get settled on the table. I will join you shortly."

When all of you were done, you all watched as Ji-Yong taped a sign that said: "BARISTAS ON BREAK. COME BACK AFTER ONE HOUR."

Just as he placed it there, a delivery boy came and Ji-Yong immediately paid the guy as he got the food. Ji-Yong locked the door and made his way towards you with a big smile.

You all decided to share a table because it made no sense to separate. He sat next to you and he distributed all your food.

"Thanks, Ji." Taeyang said as he took a bite.

"Thank you." You and Daesung said at the same time. You all ate in silence when Ji-Yong asked, "Just wondering, how am I doing so far? Y'know, as the manager for today's shift?"

"Ji, you're very skilled." Taeyang started. "You wouldn't be running our shift today if you weren't. You're doing great. I'm actually pretty glad that you're not like our manager. I mean, she's nice and all, but she just stays in the back office the whole day until she decided it's time for her to go home. You stuck with us and ran the shift effectively as you see fit."

"You were quite scary." Daesung admitted. Taeyang chuckled at his confession and Ji-Yong laughed.

"Daesung, I'm only scary when I need to be. I can't be your buddy-buddy barista forever. I'm on manager training now. There are boundaries I have to put if I want our shift to be smooth. However, I'm still your friend and you can still count on me if you make a mistake and want to keep it a secret." Ji-Yong said with a real smile. He turned to look at you, "My wonderful and beautiful trainee... how did I do?"

"You're a natural born leader, that's for sure. I agree with Daesung; you're quite scary, but now I understand why." You said.

"Thanks, guys." Ji-Yong grinned.

After lunch break was over and your table was cleared, Ji-Yong waited for all of you to settle in your stations before removing the signage he put. To his surprise, a long line was waiting. He turned to all of you and said, "Long line again! Be your best selves. Our goal for this part of the shift is to not get a complaint about behavior and attitude. We all just ate, so we have all the energy." He turned to face the customers waiting as he unlocked the door. Immediately, people came in.

Time passed and it was now near closing time. Taeyang was already on his planted position in the lobby area. He was spraying unoccupied tables, wiping them down, and flipping the chairs. Daesung was already cleaning one of the espresso machines and he already shut off one of the blenders in the station behind him. Ji-Yong was removing the empty plates inside the pastry case and removing the signages of food that isn't there anymore. You were transacting the last customer of the day.

"I'd like 5 of your ice blended mocha with 5 additional pumps of salted caramel syrup on each. I'd also like 6 slices of your cheesecake and 5 cookies." Your customer said with a vibe you didn't like. This customer was so full of it. Ji-Yong and Daesung didn't start preparing anything because you didn't endorse anything yet.

"Um, sorry to ask, what size will you be getting for the ice blended mocha?" You asked nicely.

"Ugh, are you stupid? I said large!"

You swallowed the lump on your throat and asked, "As for your food, um, you never clarified what kind of cheesecake and cookies you wanted. For the cheesecake, we have New York cheesecake, blueberry cheesecake, and cookies and cream cheesecake. For the cookies, we have chocolate chip cookies, red velvet cookies, and oatmeal cookies."

"What did I say earlier? I said cheesecake, right? Which means it's plain. It also means that I meant it's the New York cheesecake. As for the cookies, are you really THAT dumb? What's the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word, 'cookie'?? It's obviously chocolate chip. Can you stop being dumb?!" The customer shouted.

The other customers looked up in shock, even Taeyang stopped mopping the floor. Daesung put a hand on his mouth, not knowing what to say. And Ji-Yong? Well, he's had enough. You were his trainee and you happen to be his work crush. No one treats his trainee and work crush like that. He looked up from what he was doing and coolly walked towards you.

"What's going on?" He asked sternly.

"This cashier girl is stupid! She-"

"I heard you the first time. What I meant to ask was, what's going on and why's your underwear in a twist, huh? You think shouting at people who work in customer service is good? You think so highly of yourself, is that it?" Ji-Yong asked with a raised eyebrow.

"She's my trainee and people I've trained are not stupid. Every barista you see on duty right now, I've trained. They turned out fine. She's just doing her job like I taught her how to. I heard everything. You never said the size you want for your drink, you never said what kind of cheesecake you want, and you never said what cookie you want."

"I'm a regular here! She should know my order by heart!"

"I've been working here for 5 years. I've never seen you before. If I have seen you before, I would know because I would've warned everyone here about your shitty attitude, so don't come here pretending like you own the place because you don't. If the barista says you're not being clear, then you're not being clear. How are we supposed to do anything right, if you can't order properly?" Ji-Yong argued. He wasn't holding back at all.

You looked at him. His veins were popping on his neck and his forehead. Oh, he was MAD.

"How dare you talk to a customer like that?! Where's your manager??"

Ji-Yong smirked, "That would be me."

The customer looked in horror and said, "I'm leaving! I don't want to order anymore!"

"Good! We don't need a customer like you. You're the only customer with many demands that aren't clear. So, yes, do us a favor and go home." Ji-Yong said with a proud look on his face. The customer scoffed and left.

-

As Ji-Yong double checked all the stations, all three of you were outside of the cafe, waiting for him.

"That customer was intense, no?" Taeyang said. Daesung nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I thought the customer would bite your head off, Y/N. I mean, thank god Ji-Yong was there to speak."

"He's always had a smart mouth." Taeyang snickered. "I wouldn't put it past him to do shit like that, especially if he's going to be a manager now."

"He was so quiet in the back office. It was weird. I mean, thank goodness the dishwasher made white noise. Otherwise, I'd go insane." You said. You closed the backroom area and you'd glance at Ji-Yong from time to time. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he typed away on the store's computer.

When Ji-Yong was done checking the stations, he closed the air conditioner and the lights before exiting the store. He looked surprised, "Oh, I thought you guys left me already."

"Ji-Yong, you bought us lunch and became our star barista of the day. Of course we'll wait for you." Daesung said with a smile. He's always so positive and joyful.

Ji-Yong's cheeks flushed in a pink color when Daesung mentioned that he was a 'star barista'. He smiled to himself as he locked the door of the cafe. "If you guys want to leave already, you can go now." He said. He looked at the three of you, "Thanks for trusting me today. I hope I didn't let you down. I'm very open to feedback and if you have some feedback for me, well, don't hesitate to send me a message. It's been a pleasure manning our shift."

You all thanked each other and just like that, Daesung and Taeyang left. He looked at you expectantly and asked, "Aren't you leaving?"

"Well, I just wanted to thank you for standing up for me back there." You said in a small voice, afraid that if you spoke louder, you'd cry. His face softened and pulled you in for a hug.

"Aww, it's no problem." He pulled away and looked at you as your tears start clouding your eyes. "You're not stupid because if you're stupid, then you're trainer's stupid. Lucky for you, I'm your trainer and I'm not stupid." He playfully winked, making you chuckle.

"You did great today at the register. I half expected you to cry. I was ready for you and Taeyang to switch places and I know he can transact customers 10x faster than you." He confessed.

"Well, why didn't you?" You questioned.

He shrugged and gave you a boyish grin, "I believed in you. If you trusted me enough to know that I won't fail you as your trainer, I should also trust you not to fail me as your manager. This is a give and take thing, Y/N. Just like how you trust Daesung to make drinks correctly or how you trust Taeyang to give the customers their orders correctly. So, don't be so hard on yourself especially when you're still getting the hang of it. You'll get there eventually."

You nodded, speechless by his encouraging words. "Thank you, Ji-Yong... for everything. I'm learning a lot from you."

"I'll be absolutely terrified if you don't learn anything from me." He laughed. "I'll walk you home. It's not safe to walk this late. Which way are you going?"

You pointed in the direction you usually walk on and he nodded, "Oh, I use the same route too. Where do you live?"

"I live in the apartment nearby, actually."

"...Is your apartment building beige with a random blotch of blue paint?"

"Yes... how did you know?" You eyed him suspiciously as you both started walking.

"Two reasons. One: it's a weird design and two: I live there too." He laughed. "What a coincidence."

"Wow, it's like I can't escape work." You joked, causing him to laugh really hard.

"Wow, and she jokes!" He laughed, kicking a random pebble. "You really are something, Y/N."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I like you, Y/N."

You stopped in your tracks and he stopped too. Neither of you looked at each other.

"Um, sorry for saying it like that. I just-"

"Well, that's that me espresso." You shrugged and continued walking. He chuckled and jogged a little bit to catch up with you.

"What was that?" He chuckled.

"I just mean that you liked me for me, I assume. So, that's that me espresso." You giggled. "I will admit that it does sound silly, but it makes sense to me."

He smiled, "So, would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Isn't it bad to date your co-workers?" You questioned, both of you entering the apartment building.

"Lucky for you, I won't be your co-worker for long." He trailed off sadly. "No one else knows this yet except our manager, but I've submitted my two-week notice three days ago. I got a job offer to be a manager at a bigger cafe and the pay's better."

"Well, in that case, I'll be sad to see my trainer go, but I'll be happy very happy to see you when we're going on dates." You flirted as you pressed the elevator button.

He stared at you in surprise and exclaimed, "So, is that a yes?!"

You shrugged, "I don't have a trainer that's stupid."

"Wow, using my words against me." He laughed. The elevator doors opened and both of you entered. He watched as you pressed the floor number you're going to and said, "I'll take you out when I'm not working at the cafe anymore."

"That sounds fine to me."

"In the meantime, can I call and text you?"

"Ji-Yong, we live in the same apartment building." You snickered. The elevator dinged. Both of you got off on your floor and walked to your door. "You know exactly where I live. You can just come over."

"Yeah, I know. It's just that I want to start off on a good note... preferably, not when I'm your superior. That's not going to look good, especially on me."

You pulled out your keys, unlocked your door, and hummed. "Okay. We can call and text, but since you want to start off on a good note, maybe we can call and text as friends? Y'know, just until you're settled in your new fancy schmancy bigger and better cafe."

"Sure." He laughed. "It's been a pleasure to walk you home, beautiful. Good night, Y/N." He took your hand and kissed it before dropping it gently.

"That's not very friendly." You smirked.

"I know. I just wanted to give you something to remember me by in hopes that you'll miss me tonight." He winked before walking away. "Good night again, Y/N." He called out.

"Good night, Ji-Yong." You smiled to yourself before entering your apartment.

-

A/N: this took me two days to write holy shit WAHAHAHAHAHA lmk if you want to be in a GD taglist! 🤍

[joyridingmp3]

end of an era

[jattendschaton]

Some people are very good at talking to a group and creating an environment where all of them feel very welcome and proactively making sure people are included in all aspects of the conversation and then some people talk to a group as if they are trying to keep everyone divided? Like they are using inside jokes that only one person understands or talk in a guarded way that suggests they are everyone's closest confidant but no one else is allowed to know each other. No real point, I'm just thinking about how much I would rather be the first type of person but how much more common I think the second is

[grimark]

i wanna hang out with my brother so fucking bad, but unfortunately we live in different states, and i’ve got this stupid job, and he’s got this stupid PhD thesis.

[guhhhhhhhhhhh]

Oh little people in my phone, we're really in it now 😔😔

[bettsfic]

one of the best decisions i've ever made was to stop arguing.

i'd always been an arguer. i was defensive about everything and mindlessly contrary. it wasn't all my fault; i was (and still am) talked down to and patronized a lot, and when you live your life that way, you become kind of a raw nerve and dedicate a lot of energy to trying to prove yourself. someone even told me once, "it's just fun messing with you. you get so upset."

at 23, i was working in an environment where about a half dozen middle aged conservative men were always telling me what to do and explaining things to me. i either argued with them when they said heinous things or stewed about it for hours or even days. and so my new year's resolution one year was simply: no arguing.

it felt a little like defeat at first, like i was no longer standing up for what i believed in, even though no matter how right i was or how much proof i had for my claims, no one had ever been swayed by anything i told them. part of that was because they had no respect for me and didn't take me seriously; the other part was the simple truth that arguments are almost never productive. when someone says something and you immediately reply with, "you're wrong and here's why," a wall goes up and nothing can go over it.

i couldn't just let these men talk at me though, so i started asking questions. not leading questions, not with an intention to prove a point or walk them into a corner. i genuinely wanted to understand how they came to shape the opinions they held. i realized that understanding and agreeing are two different things, and just because i seek to understand doesn't mean i condone.

a truly fascinating thing happened: these men walked into corners all by themselves. it turns out nobody had ever actually tasked them with speaking their opinions aloud to a neutral audience. no one had ever been sincerely curious about them and their views. sure, their loved ones probably asked, "how are you doing?" all the time as a show of affection, but that's much different than, "what do you think?"

knowing what i know now, i think that's true of everyone. how many people ask you for your opinion and listen to what you have to say without speaking their opinion back to you? without judging you? how many people actively and intentionally try to understand you?

it's been over ten years since my resolution and i think i can count the arguments i've gotten into on one hand. one finger, even. it's amazing what happens when someone tries to rile you up, pick a fight with you, and your only response is, "can you elaborate on that?"

you can work someone into a very open and vulnerable state when you ask questions. they eventually run out of their usual talking points and move into the personal. when i do this, it's not like therapy; i'm not trying to help anyone. and it's not like teaching; i'm not trying to educate anyone. i just want to understand how people reach the conclusions they've come to. even after all these years of asking questions and not arguing, it still amazes me how few people in this world feel understood, and how easy it is to get them to open up when you say, "i want to know what you think."

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAKE HER REGRET IT

A/N: i was really in the mood for some smut and the neighbors trope popped into my head, so here we are!

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your freshly divorced, insanely hot neighbor needs your help: you have to pretend to be his new girlfriend when his ex-wife comes over, however your little stunt outdoes your expectations in a lot of ways.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It's a basic instinct for you at this point to look up at the balcony whenever you’re approaching your apartment building. However you’re not looking at yours, but the one next to yours that belongs to one hot, freshly divorced guy who moved in next door about two months ago. 

You remember the morning the moving truck appeared and you knew someone was taking the vacant apartment beside yours. You just arrived back from your morning run and you jumped right into guesses about who it will be. Maybe someone your age? A girl you can go to yoga with? Or a sweet old lady you can have tea with on warm afternoons? Hopefully not a noisy family, because the walls are way too thin to endure the screaming of a child. 

Then you saw him. Carrying a heavy looking box up the stairs, a simple white shirt stretching on his torso, tattooed arms flexing under the weight of the box, you knew you were fucked the first time you saw Harry Styles. 

It took you no time to lurk over the next day and introduce yourself as his neighbor. 

“If you need suggestions for coffee spots around the neighborhood, I’m your person,” you smiled at him charmingly as he stood in his doorway in gray sweats and a black t-shirt, hair messy but so delicious, it was screaming for your fingers to run through his locks. 

“I will definitely keep that in mind. I can offer to fix anything around your apartment, I’m kind of a handyman,” he chuckled and your knees almost buckled hearing his creamy british accent. 

Fate played on your hand, because you kept running into each other so it didn’t take long for you to go out for a coffee run together and it was smooth sailing from then. You learned about how he just got divorced, his wife cheated on him and he found out on their second anniversary, tragic story and you still can’t quite understand how any woman could cheat on a man like him. You practically drool every time you catch a glimpse of him arriving back from a run in nothing but a pair of shorts, his tanned skin glistening from sweat. You definitely love to move out to the balcony around the time he can be expected to appear in the late afternoon, you watch him stretch and breathe heavily and the sight alone makes you break a sweat as well, but for a whole different reason. 

You’ve been trying to flirt with him every possible occasion, but you also make sure you don’t come off too pushy. After all he just got out of a marriage, it must be hard on him to recover from being cheated on. There’s also a slight age difference between the two of you, not that dramatic, but that eight years could easily be a deal breaker for him, so you’ve been playing it safe. 

When you’re lying in bed late at night and sleep is not coming to you, you can’t help but think of how he is on the other side of the wall, you imagine him sleeping without a shirt, maybe thinking about you the way you like to think of him… But it’s all just a fantasy, one you fancy very much. 

The door to his balcony is open so you know he is home, but he is not out. You take your time walking up the stairs, your legs are definitely tired from the run you just had and just when you reach your floor Harry’s front door swings open and you stop, watching him walk over to your door. He didn’t notice you, so you stay still and watch him take a deep breath as he lifts his fist up to knock, but then it falls back to his side and he shakes his head, stepping backwards before returning to his spot on your doormat and that’s when you decide to put him out of his misery. 

“Are you out of sugar, neighbor?” you ask, slowly walking towards him. Harry spins around with a stunned expression. 

“Oh, I didn’t–I didn’t see you.” You catch his gaze running down your body and legs and you’re thankful you decided to wear your shortest shorts. 

Playing with your keys in your hands, you finally reach him. 

“What’s up?”

“Um… I have a bit of a situation on my hands and you might be able to help me.”

Unlocking the door you push it in and gesture for him to follow you inside. 

“Do tell me.”

Rounding your way into the kitchen you step to the fridge to grab some water. Harry hesitantly follows you and stops by the kitchen counter. 

“So, I talked to Rory this morning,” he starts. You’ve heard enough about Rory, his ex wife to know that if she’s involved, it’s for sure something messy. “You know that painting in my living room?” You nod. “Well, she insists it’s hers, because a friend of hers painted it, but I was the one who paid for it. Whatever. She’s been trying to get me to give it to her and honestly I’m over it so I gave in. She is picking it up today.”

“When will the part where I can help come?”

“Right here,” he chuckles nervously. “We got into a fight, no surprise. She screamed at me over the phone and told me I’ll die alone because no one can put up with my shit.”

You need to force yourself to swallow the bitterness in your mouth. That woman sounds very much like the spawn of the devil, because who would say that to anyone? Especially to Harry? Aside from being insanely hot you’ve also learned just how kind, passionate and funny he is, basically the whole deal. Rory is the biggest loser in history for letting go of a man like him. 

“One thing followed the other and I just… Um, I told her that I have someone.”

The light bulb switches on in your mind, because you already know where this is heading. And you like it, very much. 

“I don’t know what got into me, but I told her she can meet my alleged girlfriend when she picks up the painting so she can see herself that I’m not the loser she thinks I am. And… as you might now, I do not have anyone…”

“You want me to be your fake girlfriend,” you finish for him, saving him from having to say it out loud. You can see just how awkward he is, having to ask you for such a thing. 

“Basically, yeah. Only if you don’t mind being part of this shitshow. I understand if you find it weird and I don’t expect you to–”

“When should I be over at yours?” you simply ask and watch his eyes go wide. 

“Y-You will do it?”

“Sure, sounds fun. Besides, I’m curious to see the stupidest woman on earth,” you add smirking and he finally lets out a relieved laugh as well. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. Really, I owe you big time. She’ll be here in about two hours.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there.”

For the next two hours, you do everything you can to bring out the hottest version of yourself. Hair, makeup, dress, everything is on spot when you step out of your apartment and walk over to Harry’s door, ringing the bell. 

When the door swings open and Harry sees you his mouth hangs open, giving you that one last ego boost you need to be the best possible fake girlfriend ever. 

“Satisfied with your girlfriend?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“I-I uh–Yeah! I’m… yes.”

“Can I go inside then?” you ask with a chuckle and he steps aside in a hurry.

“Sorry, yeah come inside.”

“So what’s the plan?” you ask, walking into his living room and making yourself comfortable on the couch. Harry follows, but he takes the armchair across you and you can tell he is still struggling with not ogling you, especially your exposed legs and deep cleavage the dress teases him with. 

“I don’t… I have no idea, I have never done this before.”

“I have.”

“Really?”

“Just once, in college. One of my friends broke up with a girl who did not take it well and I was his fake girlfriend for a week to get her to stop harassing him. It worked.”

“Then… I trust you with anything.”

“What’s the goal?”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, as if he is embarrassed to say what’s on his mind. 

“Harry, say it. I’m happy to help with anything.”

“I want to make her regret it.”

“Regret what she said?”

“Regret everything,” he corrects and when he looks you in the eye a shiver runs down your spine from the determination that’s behind his green irises. 

“Consider it done,” you smile at him devilishly. 

At your suggestion you both take a shot to ease your nerves and make it easier to lie. It seems to loosen him just enough that he doesn’t look like he is about to attend an interrogation. 

And then the bell rings. 

“Show time,” you smile at him and as he walks over to the door you take your place on the couch again. 

You hear the door open and then a female voice mixes with Harry’s before the footsteps follow. Harry comes into view first, but then Rory steps out from behind him and you see the pure shock in her eyes when she finally spots you. 

“Oh, hi!” you smile at her almost disgustingly sweetly as you stand from the couch and walk closer. “You must be Rony. I’m Y/N.” You hold out a hand for her and watch as her mouth twitches when she hears you mess her name up. 

“Rory,” she sassily says and shakes your hand at last. “So you’re the… girlfriend.” The disgust in her tone is apparent, she is not even trying to hide it and it just makes it way more enjoyable. 

“Yes and you must be the cheating ex-wife.”

Harry coughs beside you, he was not expecting you to be this blunt, but the look on Rory’s face is priceless, because she can’t deny what she is. Moving closer to Harry you wrap an arm around his waist and though at first he freezes at your closeness, he is quick to recover and join in on the act, his arm finding your waist as well. 

“The painting is over there, just take it and let’s get over with it, alright?” Harry nods towards the painting he already took off the wall, now it’s leant against the console table that’s been underneath it. 

“You didn’t even wrap it?” she scoffs. How am I supposed to take it like this?”

“Rory, I’m not a fucking gallery. You wanted the painting, take it.”

“It’s gonna be ruined if I just put it into my car like this!” she argues. 

“That’s none of my business.”

“Harry, this is so not okay! I can’t–”

“Jesus, Rory fine! I think I have some bubble wrap,” he grunts, heading into his bedroom to find something to wrap the painting in, leaving the two of you alone.

Rory gives you another long, dirty look, as if you were the woman Harry cheated on her with when she is the culprit of this mess here. 

“So how long have you been together?” she then asks, pretending like she is just chit chatting, but you know she is eager to know everything about you.

“A little over a month now. You know, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but Harry is just the perfect guy and I couldn’t stay away from him.”

“Oh, he is not that perfect, little girl.”

It’s obvious she tried to derogate you by calling you a little girl, she must be around the age of Harry, not more than thirty-six for sure, but she can’t find anything to use against you other than the fact that you’re clearly in your twenties. How mature. 

“I know. But everything he can give me makes it worth it. And the sex, ah!”

She gives you a puzzled look. You knew this would stir her up, Harry mentioned how distant they grew in the last few months and sex wasn’t the same anymore. Looking at the timeline she must have started her affair around that time and Harry couldn’t perform the way he otherwise could because she wasn’t open to him anymore. It was a vicious cycle, but you also know Rory is the kind of woman who must have humiliated him because of that. Harry never said, but you just feel that she criticized his sexual performance when she left him even if it all happened because of her. 

And now hearing that he is giving his all to another woman is definitely something that can drive her nuts. 

“Oh please, he sucks in bed,” she scoffs.

“Not with the right partner. He is so good, I honestly don’t know how you could let go of him.”

“He couldn’t make me cum for months!”

“That’s unfortunate. I get an orgasm basically after every meal. He is so good at it, honestly, it’s like he just wants to please me every possible moment. I mean, I can’t remember a morning when I didn’t wake up with his head between my legs, he loves quickies, I have to sanitize the kitchen counter like twice a day.” You let out a chuckle and just watch as her face grows redder while staring at the kitchen counter, raging jealousy swirling in her mind for sure. It’s clearer than daylight that she didn’t cheat on him because he wasn’t manly enough, this woman is simply a stupid loser who couldn’t appreciate what she had, maybe panicked that she can’t mess around with others and then simply chose to ruin everything. 

You’re more than happy to remind her what she lost. 

“Alright, this is all I got,” Harry emerges from the bedroom with some bubble wrap he probably had left from moving, but when he sees you and Rory staring each other down, he stops. But before he could speak up, you decide to push that knife into Rory’s chest as your final move. 

Stepping over to Harry you push yourself up against him, he drops the bubble wrap and his hands grab you by the waist instantly, though you see confusion in his eyes before you take his face in your hands and pull him closer, lips pressing against his hungrily. 

It’s not a sweet, shy first kiss. This is the perfect show off, messy, passionate, full of tongue and eagerness as you practically devour each other. For a bit you forget about the show you’re putting up and it’s your real desire you’ve been fighting for weeks now. Every time you try to pull back Harry just keeps demanding more and you happily give him what he wants. He bites into your bottom lip when one of his hands moves down to your ass, giving it a not-at-all shy squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 

It feels like it takes forever for you to stop, when you open your eyes you’re met with Harry’s hungry eyes, his lips are slightly swollen and shiny from your kisses. 

And then you remember you’re not alone. 

“Oh, fuck you. Fuck you both!” Rory pops the bubble around you and when you turn to look at her, she is already grabbing the painting, not even bothering to wrap it. 

“It was nice to meet you!” you call after her.

“Fuck you!” she repeats, marching towards the door and you’re just smirking like an idiot, pleased with yourself for pissing her off so badly. 

Harry follows her to shut the door behind her and you let yourself bathe in the sweet victory you just earned. 

“This went amazing, right? She was so mad, oh my God!” you laugh, but your smile quickly disappears when you realize the serious look on Harry’s face as he is walking back towards you. 

Shit, maybe the kiss was too much. He didn’t want it and now he is pissed at you.

“Are you mad about the kiss? I-I’m sorry if it was too–”

The words die down on your lips when they crash against his again, his hand cupping the back of your head while the other returns straight to your ass, groping you so hard your whole body smashes against his. 

Your mouth opens in surprise and it gives him the chance to push his tongue against yours, he is demanding, rough and so much more raw than what you imagined him to be like. 

“What did you tell her?” he asks against your mouth, moving you around until the small of your back hits the kitchen counter. “What did you tell her that made her so pissed?” he demands, his hand already eagerly moving underneath your dress. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“I said, ah–I said I wake up every day with… your head between my legs, and… Oh fuck!” You’re losing your ability to speak your thoughts as his fingers start circling, the fabric of your underwear is so drenched, if you could think straight you might be embarrassed just how aroused he made you so fast. 

“And?” he urges you to continue, but at the same time he pushes your underwear to the side and pushes two fingers into you without warning, making you gasp so loud that people on the street must have heard it through the open balcony door. 

“A-and that you fuck me on the… the kitchen counter all the time.”

He curls his fingers inside you as he keeps talking.

“Then that’s what I’ll do to you now. Are you okay with that?” he asks and you nod eagerly as you hold onto his broad shoulders. 

The next moment he pulls his hand back and you whine, feeling empty all of a sudden, but then he lifts you up and makes you sit on the counter, he lowers himself and places your legs over his shoulders with careful, but confident moves. You grab onto his hair as he pushes his head between your thighs and his mouth meets your clit. 

“Oh, fuck! Harry!” you gasp out, tugging on his hair as he swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, his fingers teasing your hole again. Then they push into you and he sucks on your clit, making you see stars. 

You imagined him to be skilled, but whatever it is he is doing to you, it feels out of this world and now you know you weren’t wrong when you praised him that much to Rory before. 

You’re totally out of breath when he comes up, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue, your hands impatiently tug on his shirt to get rid of it. Soon the fabric lands on the tiled floor and you map out every inch of his hard chest with your palm and while you keep kissing like there’s no tomorrow, you faintly hear the zipper of his pants come undone. 

You look him in the eyes when you reach down and take his hard length into your hands and you can’t hold back a gasp when you realize just how big he is. 

“I know you can take it, baby,” he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth and you’re ready to take him right then and there, but he moves back, making you reach for him in panic. “Condom,” he says and you lean back onto your elbows with a sigh as you watch him disappear in his bedroom. You have just a few seconds you process that here you are, on top of Harry’s kitchen counter, with your dress bunched up around your waist, your drenched pussy on show, waiting to be fucked properly. You definitely did not expect this outcome when you woke up this morning, but you’re not complaining. 

Then Harry appears and he is walking over to you, completely naked, his dick in his hands as he rolls the condom on while moving and you bite into your bottom lip, hoping to remember this view until the end of time. 

When he reaches you again he simply curls his arms around your thighs and tugs on you so you get closer to the edge. His erection wedges between your wet folds and the tip pokes against your clit, making you clench around nothing. 

“I have to admit, I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on this counter since the day I moved in and saw you for the first time.”

“Just on the counter?” you ask teasingly. 

“Every surface of this fucking apartment,” he admits with no remorse.

“Make a list then and I’m more than happy to do them all. But let’s tick the counter off first.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He reaches down and circles his thumb against your clit a bit before grabbing his dick by the base and dragging it up and down your cunt a few times before pushing the head in first, letting you adjust to his thickness first. When you claw at his chest he takes it as a sign to go deeper and he keeps pushing until you take his whole length, feeling fuller than ever before. 

“I want to go hard,” he breathes out, staying still for now.

“Go hard then. I can take it,” you assure him, though you do have doubts feeling just how stretched out you are now. 

“Of course you can. You’re my good girl,” he praises you and before you could get a word out, he pulls back and slams into you hard. 

There are moments when you actually think you’re about to burst, Harry did not joke when he said he wants to go hard, his thrusts are fast and rough and he makes sure he buries his whole length into you every time he pushes into you. At one point he pulls your legs over his shoulders and it allows him to reach a point in you no one has before and it pushes you towards the edge rapidly. The counter is painfully hard underneath you, but you somehow forget about the pain and only focus on how hard Harry is railing into you. His stamina is incredible, your body already feels like goo and you’re not even doing the actual work. 

“Harry, I’m so close,” you moan and his fingers dig deeper into your thighs at your words. 

“Come around my cock, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze me.”

You cry out his name again, a tear rolling down your cheek, because you’re so desperate to let go. Harry moves a hand to where you meet and his thumb returns to your clit and that’s what throws you over the edge. 

Your back arches and you squeeze around him uncontrollably, gasping for air as he ruthlessly keeps fucking into you. 

“That’s it, baby. You look so fucking beautiful, coming on my cock.”

You can’t stop moaning as you ride out your orgasm. The last waves are washing over your body when his movements fall out of rhythm, he slams into you hard and he sucks on his breath before moaning out your name over and over again, pushing into you a few more times as he comes. He falls forward, his face burying into your heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath along with you. There’s a long minute of silent bliss, his cock is still inside you, his lips peppering soft kisses onto the skin that’s exposed on your chest while you’re mindlessly playing with his hair. 

When he straightens up he pulls out of you, the empty feeling hitting you again. He carefully helps you off the counter, but keeps his arms around you, because when your feet hit the floor you wobble. 

Nuzzling your nose against his chest you take the cross pendant on his necklace between your teeth and pull back, looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t do that, or we’re moving to the next place on the list.”

Giggling you let go of it and push yourself up to steal a kiss. 

“Give me some time to recover, but I’m all in to check out another place.”

“Jesus, I knew you’d be the death of me the moment I saw you,” he breathes out, before his mouth claims yours hungrily. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[sossolei]

things I learned after shifting to Hogwarts ‧₊ ᵎᵎ⋅ ˚ △⃒⃘

SIDENOTE: hogwarts was not the first reality I shifted to ! this is a uni reality ! there is no war ! ask any questions you want !

.☘︎ ݁˖ BATHROOM. I’ve genuinely never seen anyone talk about this but ( at least in my reality ) there’s a bathroom on the Hogwarts Express and holy fuck??? On the outside it looks tiny asf but I went in there to change into my robes and it’s wayyy bigger than it looks on the outside. It works like the tents in Goblet of Fire basically. The toilets and everything look relatively new so I’m assuming they change it every couple years just to keep in good condition.

.☘︎ ݁˖ MUGGLES. Have you ever wondered exactly how the muggles don’t notice wizardry, or at least at the platform? In my personal experience, unless it’s magic very intentionally and obviously done in front of muggles, there will usually be a moment distraction where they don’t see the magic happening. In the sense of platform nine and three quarters, there’s usually a couple trains that arrive around the same time and blare the horn so everyone usually gets distracted by that. But a personal example of this happens when I was standing in front of the barrier getting ready to cross through the wall, a young child was watching me from afar and as soon as started walking forward, he tripped over the wheel of his mothers luggage and didn’t see me go through the wall.

.☘︎ ݁˖ THE GREAT HALL. The candles are never ending. They don’t drip. They don’t melt in any way. I just had to say that cause I legit stared at them for almost an hour trying to see if it would melt. You have to talk pretty loud to be heard at the front where Dumbledore usually gives his lil speeches, which means the students who sing have lungs for DAYSSSS it’s actually so impressive. The benches are uncomfortable, not unbearable but not recommended for sitting for a long time lol. There’s no menu or anything, the food rlly does just appear there but there’s always something for everybody. Some people even walk up and down the table looking for what they want.

.☘︎ ݁˖ OTHER SCHOOLS. I didn’t stay in this reality for very long but I was always asking questions ( sorry mcgonnagall ). Ilvermorny is currently trying to admit more Native American wizards into their school but Native American wizards (as far as I know) have their own kind of magic and legit do not want anything to do with Ilvermorny. Kind of similar issue in Australia and Aboriginals I’m pretty sure. There’s a lot of, like a fuck ton of wizarding schools in Africa. I know JK Rowling has like one wizarding school in Africa but geographically speaking, that never made sense to begin with and I wasn’t surprised when I found out there were different/smaller wizarding schools around Africa.

.☘︎ ݁˖ STUDENTS. I don’t know how many students are in Hogwarts but I do know that it’s never a surprise who comes to Hogwarts. The ministry genuinely keeps track of every single wizard who has children, and even hold records of wizards who have families without wizarding abilities, just in case someone pops out with it. Easiest way to think of it is that families like Ron’s are always kept track of as well as Hermione’s, so it’s never usually a surprise when someone turns up muggleborn cause they’re usually expecting it.

.☘︎ ݁˖ PROFESSORS. The professors are not as silly goofy as they are in the movies guy :( They’re not miserable or anything but they all just remind me of the standing emoji LMAOOO. But seriously, someone like Mcgonnagall is not as welcoming or “chill” as she is in the movies or towards Harry. But some definitely are more chill, especially the younger ones. Slughorn is my silly king but even he has his moments.

Since this is a uni, Snape isn’t as uh…violent (?) as he is in the movies. Neville is a grown ass man, Snape is def not his biggest fear but Neville in general has a strong urge to prove himself and it reflects in his relationship with Snape. Snape isn’t scary, he just demands lots of respect and has respect for people that have proven they are “worthy” of it, i.e., high marks, put together, confidence, strong willed, etc.

.☘︎ ݁˖ DIVINATION. Did you guys know that being a witch/wizard doesn’t automatically make you good at all forms of divination? I scripted Mattheo Riddle into this reality and me and him are soooo good at other forms of divination like tarot, coffee grounds, and even the the crystal ball, but Theodore Nott fucking sucksss at it. Hermione also didn’t do as well in the class as I know she could’ve done, but according to Treylawney, all forms of divination require open mindedness towards something you can’t understand. Someone like hermione, for example, wants to know everything all the time and doesn’t beat around the bush, so tarot isn’t her cup of tea because she doesn’t think it’s giving her exactly what she wants.

.☘︎ ݁˖ HOMEWORK. Homework can either be really fun or really time consuming. It’s just like regular homework where you recall everything you learned in class but homework isn’t very common the more you move up in classes, mainly because the magic you start to do becomes more hands on rather than memorizing. This doesn’t apply to Snape though. He loves homework.

.☘︎ ݁˖ UNIFORMS. THE ROBES ARE INSULATED. It’s very thick, good quality fabric and keeps you real warm during the winter but during the later hot months like September, it’s not uncommon to walk around with the robes open or in your hands, but you have to wear them in your body during class, no exceptions. They absorb stains??? This is one I wasn’t expecting but it’s a magical robe so…okay! I dropped cranberry juice on the sleeve and it just completely absorbed and it didn’t stink or anything. This doesn’t apply to the tie or anything else, those have to washed for sure.

.☘︎ ݁˖ REALITY. If you haven’t shifted yet, you’ll often hear people say “it’ll feel natural because you’ve already lived there your whole life” and while that is true, it’s also not because how am I supposed to be natural walking past Robert fucking Pattinson to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts???? In my mind, he’s always been Edward from Twilight and seeing him in the hogwarts robes just made me stop in my tracks and stare. Some things come natural and some things don’t but I embrace everything with open arms.

.☘︎ ݁˖ EXTRA. Draco is blonde as hell! Like Targaryen level blonde. I do think it’s natural tho cause Luna has the same platinum type of blonde going on. Harry’s scar is soooo much cooler in this reality, it’s thin but branches out on the side of his face and it’s much more noticeable than the one in the movie. Hermione has curly curly hair! I don’t know if she straightens it in the books but I know she does in the movie, in this reality she literally just got a better curl routine. She has a ton of products and really cares for her hair and she’s lowkey embarrassed cause it’s the one thing she considers “vain.”

There’s a “club” of sorts where a bunch of students get together and run around the castle at the crack ass of Dawn for exercise ( best believe they have NEVER seen the likes of me ). I was told there are wizards who are famous in muggle spaces, typically for music or art. The painting will warn people when the stairs are about to move lol. That whole house discrimination stuff doesn’t happen as often as it does in the movies/books, most people don’t actually care and Slytherins get along with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs well—however, Gryffindor does have the tendency to poke fun and Slytherins respond with dry sarcasm so sometimes it’s not a perfect fit! House discrimination was bigger in our parents age but as the years have gone by, the current gen doesn’t care fr.

That’s all I can think of atm, thank you for reading and yes I will be doing this with other places I’ve shifted to!

[galene-gothic]

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗌

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

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Trigger warning

Your bare face is gorgeous. I’m not sure why I felt the need to say that but it just came through and I couldn’t ignore it. Your lips are an area of focus in this reading as well. I’m not sure what it is about your lips - it could be that you have naturally pink lips, cupid bow ones or have hyperpigmentation around your lips that make it look like you have a natural lip liner (it’s going to be different for everyone) but no matter what, they’re extremely gorgeous. Maybe because it’s winter in the northern hemisphere, many of you could wear lip balms, petroleum jelly or lip glosses but it gives your lips a wet appearance. If not, you lick and bite your lips a lot, like even if you don’t have any of the attributes mentioned above, the way you move your lips, the way you touch it, lick it, bite it, everything just gives you a different vibe. Now moving beyond your lips because while I could sing praises about them all day, I want the reading to consist of more. Your energy is such that when people see your vices or perceived ‘flaws’, it doesn’t disinterest them but instead only add more dimension to you. It makes you more attractive to them because they experience a certain ‘rawness’ in you that they might not get to experience elsewhere in this world due to how everyone is striving for perfection to the point they all seem manufactured. You’re someone who people stare at when in cafés or public places and I’m so sorry but you have fallen victim to catcalling possibly multiple times especially when you were younger than you are right now. You didn’t deserve that. People find themselves losing a certain level of consciousness when they’re close to you, especially physically. You cause people to feel a heat when around you and even away from you, it depends on the person, sometimes it is a gentle warmth that envelops them, sometimes it is a certain hotness running through their that makes it hard for them to contain themselves around you, to even breathe around you, let alone act normal and sometimes it is in the form of jealousy, people of the same sex or who are interested in increasing their appeal but haven’t been able to find their own spark feel intimidated by your scorching heat that seems to engulf all around it unapologetically. One thing that I need to warn you about is that you definitely have people who are jealous of you. You don’t even seem to notice it but when you’re out, people who are literally taken tend to check you out right in front of them, causing their partner to feel a certain hostility towards you. People stare at you a lot, it is very obvious. It’s come through multiple times. Right now, you’re someone who is just very nonchalant. You don’t hold onto connections too tightly, let alone chase them.

You used to formerly speak with your eyes a lot with certain people, it created a sense of knowing, belonging, connection and familiarity but now you just walk past those same people like you don’t know them or you might greet them, smile at them but you don’t seem to have the same gaze in your eyes anymore, often breaking eye contact quickly or not even caring enough to maintain it, it causes them to feel hurt sometimes, wondering if they never meant anything to you, if you just forgot them, if they were just that forgettable to you but it also makes you irresistibly attractive to them. You’ve developed a certain peace within yourself, there were days when you didn’t know how to live or had forgotten how to do so. You had become very internal, causing you to live within yourself and with it came a lot of overthinking. You used to hold onto grief and people could have underestimated you back then but you have moved far past that. You’ve become more present and mindful, you have started living beyond your mind. You’re starting to smile more, live more and keep your life, treasure it, even if it isn’t perfect, even if it didn’t turn out the way you had imagined. You’ve definitely had a past that was full of tears. It was difficult but you’ve left it all behind, this sense of presence and contentment is adding onto your attractiveness because the sorrow you’ve experienced has also given you a lot of wisdom. One thing that you don’t want to fall into is mourning and desperation because you have experienced both. ‘Extreme nostalgia’ is what I just heard. The sorrow you’ve experienced on your path, the tears that you’ve cried are the very things that are helping you move forward with such confidence and self assuredness. Since you’ve experienced so much, many dark thoughts too, possibly suicidal ones for some of you and have always managed to find a way out, you just feel like things will turn out fine in the end. You have tortured yourself enough in the past, it’s time to live now. That’s how you think and this shift is noticeable because you’re just focused on your own life. Your perception of connections especially romantic ones is that while they’re beautiful, people can burst your bubble so you just want to be discerning enough to only let a certain kind of people into your life like that. You desire to love but it’s not that big of a desire anymore, everyone wants love, to give and receive it, to be desired and desire someone but the way you look at it is “I’ve been there, I’m glad I’m out”, you’re just glad to be over it. It doesn’t even have to be romantic, I’m picking up on major disappointments in connections in general, causing you to prioritise yourself first and foremost.

You’re actually a hopeless romantic, a devotee. When you love, it’s very deep for you, your love is of divine nature. There’s no wandering eyes or anything of that sort, there’s just your person who you hold to be dear, almost divine, your love is devotional, almost like worship. I wonder if there was a point when you were devoted to the platonic or/and romantic connections in your life just for them to end and you were devastated about at least one or a few of them but the fact that you’ve managed to come out of it has given you more power because you know how deep your love runs, you know how you love and what kind of love you give out, and desire for yourself so it gives you the self assuredness that you deserve similar energy. You hold yourself and others to a high standard but if they don’t live up to it, you just abandon them and move forward. It’s nothing malicious but you just don’t see the point in getting caught up in the waiting game, training game or sticking around to entertain less than what you know you deserve. You have a different, slightly detached and elusive vibe to you. Your eyes and words tend to teleport people to a different world, not literally obviously but that’s what it feels like for them. Your energy is not possible to ignore, it bothers those around you because of the elusiveness mixed with the heat that I mentioned earlier but it’s not a bother that they ever want to get rid of. They enjoy the feeling of slight discomfort that comes from your presence. You interact with people very casually, not with everyone obviously but your ease of interacting with others is something that adds to your attractiveness. The vibe that I’m getting from you is that some people are bothered by your heat, others find it warm but both of these parties do not even realise when you started filling their world with nothing but yourself, it just hits them randomly and so strongly. I’m picking up on a romantic vibe from you and your beauty, it seems very gentle despite the heat you radiate. You’re also full of contradictions, despite your heat, you have a romantic appeal but despite the gentleness and elusiveness of it, you really confuse people. Some of you get turned on by fighting, not the excessive toxic kind of fighting but the dramatic yet silly ones that add to the pulse on your vertical lips are very much welcome by you 😭. I keep on hearing ‘what do you mean?’ by Justin Bieber here. “Don’t know if you’re happy or complaining”, “first you wanna go to the left and then turn right, wanna argue all day, make love all night.” You feel like home while simultaneously repulsing people. You’re a complex person full of contradictions and that’s what seems to make you attractive. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

This pile is for you if you have been touching and rubbing yourself a lot recently or just do so a lot generally. You have an intense sexual nature but really innocent eyes. You also crave fairytale love, like the innocent kind of love that doesn’t include touching and rubbing but just an eye contact makes you feel something, just an accidental brushing of skin is enough to make blood rush up to your cheeks, that’s the kind of love you desire and also give out but despite that, your sexual energy slips past your fairly pure and innocent exterior. Despite your love for consuming romantic content, you are not desperate for it. You understand that it’s a luxury to be with you and act like it. You know that people pleasing is self betrayal so you do not go out of your way to please others but at the same time, when they’re around you, you do please them? It just comes naturally to you. Much like the last pile, I’m getting something with the lips but in this pile, either you have plump lips, have a protruding lower lip or just pout a lot. Maybe, it’s just a natural slightly pouty appearance but I’m literally getting flying kisses so I’m not sure. Despite this innocent appearance and your desire for romance, you are very good at leaving people behind. You’ve learned that it’s best not to overstay your welcome anywhere. You’re someone who leaves people and things behind at the required pace, and you do not even seem to care about what anyone might think. You are fine with being lonely, what you’re not fine is getting used and heartbroken by people who might not have your best interests at heart. You have always had this delicate balance between being a friend and a lover. This could have led to misunderstandings in the past, you tend to treat your friends affectionately and generously, and those of the opposite sex or the sex you are interested in romantically might misunderstand, taking it as a free pass to underestimate and disrespect you? It has likely happened at some point in the past, definitely not for all of you but this quality of yours makes you very attractive. Also, when you fall apart from such people, they aren’t even able to voice out how much they miss you because you didn’t have a relationship set in stone and you just act as though you never even met them, as if you don’t know them, never did. In the past, you may have been unable to maintain this delicate balance or might perceive it as such but you are starting to go forward in life with stronger boundaries and that makes you very attractive.

I wouldn’t be surprised if some or in fact, many of you stopped making friends with the opposite sex due to such misunderstandings and disrespect. People from the past miss you, they’re terribly attracted to you and you’re irreplaceable but you’ve clearly grown out of that. If not, this is not your pile. I’m getting a lot of youthful energy here. It’s not just this delicate balance that has made you feel misunderstood in the past but also your friendships with people of the same sex. I’m legit getting friends from school missing you if you’re out of it and away from them (especially if you separated from them connection wise). You do not realise just how hard the nostalgia hits people of the past when it comes to you. People remember you as ‘the one that got away’ honestly and I hate this concept because it’s just sad, and I believe in true love being present, and not getting away but yes, you’re awfully missed. This is funny but people realise that they love or miss you at around 1-3 a.m. in the morning. You have something melancholic and lonely about you but also something so wholesome, and warm at the same time but you also interact with them by rolling eyes, sighing, vacantly staring, calling them dumb and saying something like “who cares?” All of this is dearly missed when you’re gone. You shouldn’t have to get away for people to want you, to appreciate and desire you, to treat you kindly, and with love and respect. You have this thing where you naturally love your friends a lot and don’t hold them inferior to other connections but this has led to you naturally relying on them and also treating them with a lot of love, and priority, and it was not rewarding for you because they used to develop hostility towards you over time for some reason. You’re very attractive to those from the past because they’ll genuinely never find someone like you anywhere. You’re an unconditionally loving person but you also understand that it’s better not to get involved in the lives of messy people. Also, you have a very casual and friendly way of interacting with people when they’re around you, you greet people and treat them as though you’ve known them for years at least for the amount of time that you’re around them even if you’ve just met them. You also have a tendency to be mean and get on people’s nerves but it only makes you more endearing because they get obsessed yet repulsed by you.

There’s something very innocent and pure, almost naive about you but also someone so dirty and mature. The energy here is a bit more contradictory but your contradictions are what seem to make you attractive. People who are used to being in control and are able to read others well find themselves being unable to remain controlled when around you and fail to read you, causing them to be frustrated, intrigued or/and drawn to you. There’s just something different about you that makes others feel like they’re changing, they’re shaking up, it’s not something that they can even put a finger on, it just is. People can’t help but want you around after meeting you, your presence and energy are intoxicating. I wouldn’t be surprised if once you enter a new environment, you see specific people everywhere around you because they just want to be close to you even if it’s from a distance. Many of you here seem to look like puppies or possess that kind of energy. This is the pile where you attract or at least intrigue those slightly older than you. Even people who claimed to ‘not date someone younger than them EVER’ can’t help but be curious about you, be attracted to you. Despite your youthful and puppy like energy, it’s them that feel like a puppies? Like, after meeting you, initially you’re the one acting like a puppy, treating them well and lighting up when you see them but the more the time starts passing by they feel like you’re not taking them seriously, they’re the one following you around everywhere, wanting to prove themselves to you, they do not even understand why they feel so lovesick without you around as if they were a puppy without their owner. Also, another thing is that some people have their youth attached to you and well, they’re still attracted to you even if you’re no longer in touch. Time passes by too fast when you’re around, people find themselves wishing that the hours would go slow so that they could spend more time with you. You’re a piece of warm sunlight of the first spring when it’s not hot yet but just a pleasant weather with a slight amount of coldness that vanishes when you graze their skin. You’re a joy to be around - a dream girl. You’re pleasant because there’s nothing too imposing about you but your energy though gentle and soft in nature is felt strongly, enveloping all that’s around you. People can’t help but want to be a part of your world. There’s also a sense of fragility that I’m picking up on here but it’s something that others feel fortunate to see about you. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

I think that some of you love dancing or just enjoy being young and enjoying life, being present. You’re just so candid, there’s something youthful and timeless about you due to how present you are because you’re someone who actively tries to be present. You do not want to perish with time which is why you try to make every moment count, to have adventures, to try and live your dreams, to leave a legacy. “People will not remember what you wore but they will remember how you made them feel.” You seem to have a solid understanding of this and try to make others feel good about themself and life itself. You’re very busy making the most out of your youth and out of your life but in your presence, you try to make sure that others don’t feel left out, you try to be as inclusive as possible, understanding that they too will only live once. You have an energy that’s everlastingly young about you and your eyes are very attractive, like they’re just captivating regardless of their size, shape and colour. Your eyes give you an appearance of goodness because they look like eyes that would belong to someone good, they’re open, inviting and warm but it seems like more of a disguise once you’re gone because when people run into you or are around you again after a falling out of some sort, your eyes lack that old familiar warmth that once greeted them and they feel an actual ache at the thought that your life continued on without them. You are someone who won’t stop your life for anyone, you want to have fun and spend your life joyfully so when you’re not getting that with certain people or in certain environments, you’re quick to pull yourself and continue on with your life, trying to make it as beautiful and celebratory as possible. Many really extravagant words are coming through for you, I wonder if your energy is a bit dramatic and extravagant too. You are someone who knows how to touch people and gently persuade them but remain distant, causing people to admire you and almost need you. There are times when people think that you’re wasting their time and try to give up on you but something happens that causes them to lose their discernment and heart to you again.

It’s hard to stay composed when you’re around because you just make them feel like little children. I find this endearing, you have a way of making everything very personal. You make memories with people and one thing in particular that stands out to me as attractive is when you call people by their name, it feels personal, it feels sweet. However, most people do not come forth to you beyond yearning for you. You’ve probably had friends confess to you in the past, out of nowhere. You’re very loveable in every sense of the word and people who share closeness to you or once did cannot help but wish for more than that. Many people do not even manage to get as close to you as they’d like to. There’s a lot of fear attached to confessing their feelings for you. The helplessness attached to liking you makes you irresistibly attractive, pretty much obsessively magnetic. Seduction is supposed to be subtle, it’s supposed to be non threatening, that’s what your attractiveness is like. I won’t lie, you do have a very scary attractive appeal too, like people who are attracted to you right away but even so, you win them over more and more over time. When you are around people, the world seems to stop but they don’t even notice it until after a while, they’ll have no clue when it started, when it got so deep. People do have a recognition of a connection with you from the start itself, of course it isn’t like that for everyone and it doesn’t have to be but those who recognise this are still unable to voice it out, however, if you’ve experienced this, you’re probably aware of how they act because their actions and mannerisms likely do give away their feelings. I’m picking up on humiliation, ridicule of looks, etc. You seem to have glowed up, take good care of yourself physically and dress to the best of ability, carrying yourself with your head held high because you remember how you were treated when you weren’t as attractive. This could be something like people close to you leaving you or disrespecting you too, it seems to extend beyond just looks actually, you’ve glowed up mentally and emotionally too. Also, you are forgetting the past, you are trying to, you have grown and don’t want it to hold any power over you at all. You are not in denial or anything, in fact, the kind of ‘forgetting’ seems to be a very healthy one, you’re naturally letting things go without regrets.

You make people feel very young, to share an innocent bond with you, full of memories, they can’t help but yearn for you. It’s your friends and those you share communities with that find you to be the most attractive. Also, you’re someone who literally doesn’t have regrets in terms of connections because you’ve always done your best, you’ve always given your all. You have really strong self respect, it was likely developed with time and experience but those you share memories and past with, if they were struggling, you’d not let them come back in order to search for comfort, support and companionship because you remember how they left. Those who have lost you have especially had to pine for you, the realisation that there’s no one like you is hitting them. Many of these people, even platonic connections seem to have acted like you weren’t all that in the past but now the reality of having lost you is starting to set in. Some of you have nice thick hair or you do something that makes it look full, you could simply just leave it open for example, some of you here use a lot of eye pencil, liner or eyeshadow too probably in brown or black, if not you just have captivating eyes like I said earlier. Your energy brings about a heat that is hard to ignore, it’s usually a strong heat than just a warmth, the type to make people act out of control because they’re not sure how to act around you. It’s like you make them lose control and feel hot, and they regret certain things they say or do but still crave more of it because it’s addictive. The way you move too, gosh, you might not even pay that much attention to it but you’re so attractive like lethally attractive. I keep on getting a theme of you wasting people’s time but it doesn’t even seem to be intentional, you just move on with your life is all. You come off as someone who’s like “if we meet again, we meet, if we don’t, you have my memories to remember me by.” You make everything feel like a movie - a dream - in fact. People get so attached to you, they get so used to you, when you’re not around even the most familiar place starts feeling strange. Some of you could possess dimples or one single dimple. I hope that you enjoyed this reading. Thank you for reading, much love and take care.

[vatelixx]

On the concept of ‘want’,

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

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Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

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December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.”

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.”

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he’s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

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To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s…”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

──────────────────

The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

[cherriegyuu]

one and the same | k.mg

pairing: mingyu x f!reader - friends to lovers genre: angst, fluff, suggestive, hurt/comfort word count: 7.6k summary: mingyu only had eyes for gyuri, and you only had eyes for mingyu warnings: mentions of alcohol and food a/n: it's been a really long time since i posted anything at all, so this is almost new lol. huge thanks to @joonsytip who not only was my beta for this one, but also read each paragraph as i wrote it. i hope you like it!!

You lowered the camera in your hands, your eyes focusing on the man at the end of the porch, on his furrowed eyebrows, crossed arms over his chest, and the redness at the tip of his ears—a clear sign that he should have listened when you told him to put on a beanie.

The faint winter sunlight touched his skin in a caressing manner but did very little actually to warm him up. Your words from the night before kept on echoing through his mind

“There’s nothing wrong in taking a step back and putting some distance between you and something that hurts you”

It was the first time he had ever seen Gyuri like that, as a catalyst for pain, in his life. Throughout all the years he had known her, Mingyu thought of her almost as a haven, the one person he went to when he needed comforting. It took him such a long time to understand that she was also the reason why he needed comforting in the first place. 

Maybe it was all his own fault, if he had made a move when an opportunity presented itself, and there was at least a handful of them over the years, he wouldn’t be feeling like that like he had just missed his very last chance. 

He felt even worse for thinking that way when he knew how deeply in love she was with Seungcheol, how her entire face lit up at the mere mention of his name, how the man would break himself into pieces if it meant that he would get to see her smile once again. 

“I didn’t mean to make you sad when I said those things to you last night”

Mingyu finally turned to you, the frown on his face easing once he saw you, a smile taking over his lips as he shook his head. 

“You didn’t. I asked you to be honest and you were, I should have been prepared to not like what you thought of the whole thing”

You hang the strap of the camera on your shoulder, taking decided steps towards him. He suddenly felt shy at the fact that your eyes never left him, even when someone walked by and said hello. Your response came quick and polite, your customer service voice taking over but the person never really got your attention. 

“Mingyu” his name left your lips in a quiet tone, your eyes suddenly searching his face.

“What?” his voice too was quiet, like he could barely push the word out. 

He didn’t know what this sudden change in your demeanor meant. You had always been on each other's tails, bickering away just for the fun of it. He wasn’t too sure how to react to a different version of you, a you who seemed to care for him far deeper than he could have ever anticipated. 

You extended your hand, cupping his cheek while your thumb ran over his lip. A second later your other hand was on his face as well, only this time it ran from his nose up to his eyebrows. 

“Stop forcing yourself to smile when you don’t feel like it. You don’t have to pretend, at least not with me”

It felt weird to be the one nursing someone’s broken heart while said someone is someone you liked. While you sat there, by his side, helping him pick up the broken pieces of his heart, your own stood in front of him jumping up and down as if saying “Look at me! I’m standing right here, all you have to do is notice me”

There you were in this romantic place, in front of a fireplace, a glass of wine in your hand, a blanket around your shoulders, the guy you had a crush on by your side, his knee bumping into yours, all the while you felt your own heart breaking. 

You had set yourself up for failure, that much was beyond obvious, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself. The moment you saw Mingyu stand in front of you, in clear distress, eyes red with unwashed tears, your heart both constricted and expanded, all at once. 

It felt good that he had gone to you but it also felt terrible to know that he was suffering and there was nothing you could do to ease his pain away. 

“I never asked you why you brought me here with you,” Mingyu said during dinner. 

It was the first week of January, the start of a new year, the start of, hopefully, a lifetime together for your clients, but to you, it was just another day working. In your mind, after calming down a very distraught Mingyu, inviting him to a resort in the middle of the winter made sense. A change in scenario, you had convinced yourself, would be too good for him, it was far better than staying at his apartment thinking about Gyuri and her now imminent marriage. 

“I needed help carrying the heavy stuff,” you laughed. 

It was a clear lie. You had given the week off to Chan three seconds after you said bye to Mingyu, but he didn’t need to know that. You knew that he would never find the truth out, he had never even met Chan before, and the last thing he’d ask was why Chan had to skip work – another lie about Chan’s mom needing him.

“You know I don’t believe you, right?” he had his eyebrows raised, waiting for your confirmation “We both know that you’d rather cut off an arm than ask for help, especially my help”

It’s how two people can have extremely different views of the same situation. In your mind, you always did your best to be around Mingyu whenever you could, most of the time you were truly really close to looking like a pathetic mess. 

Should you have played the damsel in distress card? Would that have helped your situation in the least? It was hard to tell. Although Gyuri wasn’t one to demand attention, Mingyu was constantly around for her, whatever she needed, he was there. 

You sipped on your wine, your eyes never daring to stay on him for more than a second at a time. All the bravado you had shown earlier, getting too close, touching him in a way that felt so intimate, was absolutely gone. There wasn’t a single drop of it in your bloodstream anymore. 

“Come on, I’m not that bad” your voice was a whiny childish sound and you hated it. 

Mingyu laughed, his head tilted back, the corners of his eyes creasing, his teeth on full display. After the laughter died all that was left was his breathtaking smile. Your heart did backflips in your chest, like celebrating a gold medal. It was the first time he had smiled, a real smile after Gyuri told him that she was getting married next September. 

“You’re far worse, to be honest” you rolled your eyes, bumping his shoulder with yours, causing him to laugh once again. 

It was why you had started to bicker, in the first place, because you wanted to see him smile more, wanted to get his mind off of whichever dark place it had drifted to. If a little banter, a snarky comment here and there, were enough to brighten up his day, then you were all for it. 

“Be honest with me, just this once” he asked, trying to make his eyes go as wide as possible like puss in boots.

You laughed and pushed his face away from yours.

“I’m always honest” you played defensive.

It was his turn to roll his eyes. 

“I never know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours” he tapped your temple twice before letting his fingers slide over your face, down to your chin until his hand finally landed back on his lap. 

You pulled your knees against your chest and rested your cheek on them, not giving yourself any option but to look at Mingyu. How many times had you stared at him bluntly but he never noticed? However many it was, it was enough for you to have his face memorized. The light curve of his nose, the tiny mole on its tip, his soft eyes, the way his lips would quickly turn into a pout when he felt contradicted. 

“We’re one and the same, Mingyu” you allowed yourself to say. 

You knew that Mingyu would never connect the dots, knew that he would never be able to tell. Unlike him, you were careful with how you expressed your feelings. Mingyu was loud and obvious, everyone knew about it, and it was clear for anyone to see, while it would take someone who really knows you to tell the difference and in the circle you shared with Mingyu no one knew you that well. So, your biggest secret, the truth you were reluctantly sharing would fall on deaf ears. 

“Who is he?” he whispered, pressing his body closer to yours. 

You thanked the gods that each of you had your blanket, you wouldn’t survive if the only thing separating the two of you was your shirts.

“Doesn’t matter, he doesn’t like me back” your smile was sad, like you had already given up entirely on the matter, and in some way you had. 

“Who is the idiot that doesn’t like you?” his expression turned into a scowl as if he couldn’t really believe you “I can punch some sense into him if want, it would be great to let some aggression out”

He was joking, it was obvious. You knew that it was just a joke, but somehow you found yourself trying to swallow the lump that had suddenly become prominent in your throat, trying to blink away the burning sensation in the back of your eyes. 

Why would his words suddenly cause that reaction? You had, as much as possible, made peace with the idea of never being loved back by him. There would never be a version of the world where the two of you ended together. Hell, not even an end, just a long period of time. 

In Mingyu’s heart, there wasn’t enough space for you. All the love that he had to give was given to someone who didn’t want it. 

“Hey, no, I’m sorry” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into him, placing a kiss on the top of your head “I didn’t mean to make you cry”

His words and actions only made you cry harder. For a brief moment in time, you were exactly where you wanted to be with who you wanted by your side. It was maybe the saddest moment you had ever found yourself in. 

“You’d lose” you whispered against his chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat like a sweet lullaby “It’s the kind of fight you could never win”

You pulled yourself away from him, but Mingyu didn’t seem willing to let you go. His arm barely moved. Instead, he only gave you enough room to move so that you could look at him. 

His eyes had gotten too intense to the point you felt your cheeks get warm under his gaze. Mingyu’s eyes moved from your own to your lips, then back and forth again. 

Your breath got caught when you felt him lean forward and stop. He was half an inch away as if asking for permission or consent. You could have said no, you could have pushed him away, could have done anything at all to stop what was about to happen. Instead, you inched forward and pressed your lips to his. 

Your entire body melted under his touch, the loudness in your mind suddenly quiet at his touch. A quiet moan escaped your lips when Mingyu deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding passage through your lips as one of his hands traveled to your neck, the tip of his thumb on your chin, slightly tilting your head back. Your hands created a kind of their own, running over his clothed chest to the back of his head, your fingernails scratching his scalp. 

It would be a lie to say that you had never imagined yourself in a similar position. Nothing in the world, no amount of imagination, could have ever prepared you for the real thing. How hot your skin got under his skills lips, how your body molded into his once he pulled you over his lap, how you nearly lost your mind when he sucked on your neck leaving a mark that you knew would last for days on end. 

You pulled back for a second, needing to catch your breath again. Mingyu looked at you with glassy eyes while trying to catch his breath too. He moved his hand down your back, going slower at the curve of your ass and the back of your thighs, his touch teasing, daring almost, as he smiled. 

“This is a terrible idea” you whispered. 

Mingyu smiled then, pulling your body flush against his, your center pressed over his growing erection. 

“No” he murmured over your lips “It’s the best idea we’ve ever had”

The sound of Mingyu’s footsteps rang repeatedly in your mind like it was happening all over again. If it had been weeks since it happened, since you pretended to be asleep when you felt he untangle his body from yours, quietly put on his clothes, and leave the room after he made sure you were fully covered with the blanket. It was a sound that kept you awake at night and when you did manage to sleep it haunted you in your dreams. 

You didn’t know what you were expecting from him, from the situation. The truth of the matter was that you shouldn’t be expecting anything at all to begin with. 

Taking Mingyu on your work trip had been the start of all your terrible ideas. It was followed by the colossal mistake of being with him in a dimly lit room and then everything after. 

You had never seen or heard from him again. When you finally managed to move into bed, after the pain in your heart eased enough to allow you to breathe, you saw his text on your phone “sorry, something came up and i had to leave in a hurry, let’s talk soon, okay?”.

The soon he mentioned never happened. You didn’t want to be the first one to reach out to him. You would never give someone, even if that someone was the person you were in love with, the chance to see you at your worst. Being the first one to call would be exactly that. 

On top of it all, you were well aware of what you were getting yourself into. You knew Mingyu was in love with Gyuri, you knew that there wasn’t the slightest chance of that weekend becoming something more than it was, of somehow changing your relationship with him. It did, in fact, change, but not in the way you’d expect. 

Your phone on the table lit up, an incoming call. There were days you had expected a call from Mingyu, wished and prayed for it. You had chosen to believe when he said that the two of you would talk soon, but a day turned into a week, a week into two. Eventually, you gave up. 

The only person that still called you was Gyuri.

“Are you free this weekend?” she asked before you even said hello. 

“No, I’ve got work, on both days” 

You put your phone on speaker, not bothering to even raise it to your face. You were tired, your entire body aching from the kickboxing classes you started a few days before. All you wanted was to finish your meal and go to bed. 

“Your job sucks” she complained and you could hear Seungcheol’s laugh in the background. 

“My job is great and it pays more than yours, babe” the teasing in your voice was evident, the first time you smiled at something regarding Gyuri. 

“I’m still waiting on Seungcheol to make me a housewife,” he said something in the background but you couldn’t tell what it was. 

Their relationship dynamic was cute, it was clear from the moment Gyuri introduced Seungcheol to the friend group. She made a whole announcement off of it, there were so many warnings around it. You still remember clearly how Mingyu’s entire expression changed, his bright eyes slowly lost their spark. It was the first, and only, time you hated Gyuri. 

“Where will you be working?”

“Saturday on the cathedral downtown and Sunday two towns over, a beach ceremony”

“Your favorite,” she said dreamily.

Over the years being a photographer you found out that your dream perfect wedding wasn't one many people were willing to have. The whole setup for a wedding was expensive on its own, the word wedding making every price skyrocket, but having it on a beach was that much harder. 

“Yeah, my absolute favorite”

Mingyu was an asshole, he was well aware of it. He felt like an asshole when he left you, when he wasn’t the first one to reach out to you even though speaking with you was probably the one thing he wanted the most. 

The problem was him, it had been all along. 

When Mingyu was with you during that weekend it felt like the pieces of his shattered heart were mending together. All cracks and scratches were still visible, the pain was still kind of there but much more subtle than it had ever been. And then you were in his arms, body tangled with his, a mess of shaky breaths, sweat, and moans. Suddenly it was like all the gears in his mind and body had clicked together, like everything was finally in the right place. 

And it scared him. 

For a moment, perhaps in his innocence, Mingyu thought that spending the night together would bring somewhat of a solace to the both of you. He didn’t think something in him would change. He didn’t think a change could happen so fast. He was overcome with fear, so he left. 

Seeing you there, wrapped up in him, a look of complete peace on your face caused a new wave of feelings to crash over him. He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to untangle himself from you. He wanted to enjoy the warmth of your body, wanted nothing more than to simply hold you the entire night and wait to see what morning brought to him. But as Mingyu lay there, the feel of your heartbeat on his chest, the conversation you shared a couple of hours before suddenly came back to him. 

We’re one and the same, Mingyu. 

Doesn’t matter, he doesn’t like me back.

Yet again, Mingyu saw himself in the position of being interested in someone who had no interest in him. So he left. 

Every single cell in his body demanded that he call you, that he went to you. He wanted to hug you again and know, god knows how, that you were made to be in his arms. He wanted to kiss you again and hear the sounds you made. He wanted to fall asleep by your side and wake you up with kisses on that sweet spot on your neck that he learned all too quickly about. 

Still, he held himself back. 

The whole situation seemed unfair to him. He wanted to be with you while still kind of liking someone, you wanting to be with someone else but somehow settling for him. 

“What happened between the two of you?” he heard someone ask by his side. 

Mingyu looked away from the door and to Gyuri, who had a perfect frown on her face. When she called and invited him for dinner he almost said no, but when she mentioned that she had invited you as well, he knew that he would be there.  He waited for the thing for days, his heart flipping as it got closer to the time of the dinner. But once Mingyu got there and realized that you were nowhere to be seen and that you wouldn’t show, he wanted to leave. 

“What do you mean?”

Gyuri rolled her eyes and sighed, clearly pissed off. 

“I know yn invited you to go on her work trip and although I might not know why and what you even did there, I do know that something happened. She’s barely talking with me, and you’re barely speaking to me. She shuts down the moment I say your name and you’ve been looking at that door like you’re waiting for someone and the only other person I invited today was her. So you’re going to tell me what happened between the two of you, right now, or Seungcheol is going to beat you until do”

She was out of breath when she stopped talking. Mingyu turned to Seungcheol, eyebrows raised, but all the other man did was laugh and shake his head. 

It’s almost comical how Mingyu used to see Seungcheol almost as a competitor, but while sitting on said man’s couch he looked like just any other dude. 

Mingyu half expected something to happen inside of him when he saw Gyuri but it was just like seeing any other of his friends. Nothing happened, there was no tension, no urge to leave because he hated to see you around Seungcheol. There was indeed a need to leave, but it was to go towards you. 

“Can you find out for me where she’ll be this weekend?” 

He was avoiding his question, sure, but he had also made a decision. Mingyu was a man with a mission. 

There was something that brought you peace when you worked. It was hectic, yes, and loud, but the second you held the camera and pointed it at something it was like the volume of the world was turned down. It was like an almost out-of-body experience. This feeling paired with the incredible view of the beach, made your heart feel good for the first time in months. 

It was already the end of the celebration, half of the guests were drunk and the other half was helping those who were. The newlyweds had left and there wasn’t anything else to do. You packed your equipment, put it in your car, and went in the opposite direction of the wedding. 

Although you enjoyed being at the beach, you rarely went to one. The craziness of the day, the lack of a routine, and sudden weddings, all made it impossible for you to have a day or two off. There was also the fact that you had been avoiding free time because it gave you a chance to think about Mingyu, and thinking about him usually led to crying, crying led to binge eating sessions that would inevitably cause a migraine. 

You doubted your heart would heal any time soon. It was like the wound was still open, thinking about him or talking to Gyuri was like throwing salt at it. 

You heard your name being called and turned around. Slowly you turned around, certain that you were confused about who was calling you. There was no way it was actually Mingyu. 

However, there he was. In light-colored pants and a dress white shirt with the first three buttons open, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was much longer than it was the last time you saw each other, falling over his eyes slightly, his cheeks were red from being exposed to the sun for too long. He had the most beautiful smile as he walked towards you, one of his hands in his pocket, the other carrying his shoes. 

It was almost pathetic how your heart was suddenly filled with hope and joy at the mere sight of him, after months of complete silence. 

“I can see why beach weddings are your favorite, it’s really beautiful out here”

You wanted to ask how he knew that or why he was even there, to begin with, but you didn’t, sure that Gyuri’s sudden call on Thursday had something to do with it. Instead, you turned around and kept walking until you reached the spot you were looking for. Looping down on the sand you removed your shoes and tossed them aside, happy to finally feel the sand under your skin. 

“I’m sorry I left like that,” he said as he sat by your side “and I’m sorry I didn’t call you like I said I would”

You shook your head. 

“It’s fine, I could have called you too” 

Whatever was the meaning of the conversation, whatever was the reason why he went after you, you wanted to be over already. There’s only so much hurt a heart should be able to handle and your quota had been met a long time ago. 

“Can you let me explain?” 

Mingyu reached for your hand but you pulled it away. You were already so close to just allowing yourself to fall into that same wheel of repetition with him, putting yourself through absolute pain to be around him. You needed to break the cycle and that meant being away from him – though you were sure the whole what the eyes don’t see, the heart doesn’t feel thing was actually a bunch of crap because your heart was hurting plenty, even after months of being away from him. 

“You don’t need to” you hid your hands under your thighs when you noticed that he might reach out again “I knew what I was getting myself into that night, it’s not like you played me or anything”

Saying those things out loud brought an entire new wave of pain to you. In a certain way, keeping quiet about those feelings, refusing to cry over them, was like shoving all of it into a box and pretending it never really existed, or maybe that it was a dream all too real. 

“I left because I was overwhelmed. I thought I had all my feelings figured out, and thought that it would be about two people with a one-sided crush finding a bit of solace in each other. But then…” he paused and turned his body to you and you had to use all your self control not to look at him, to not fall into the deepness of his eyes “Being with you was like finally being able to breathe or stepping out of a cave for the first time in my life. You were the light drawing me out the whole time and I was just too dumb to realize it sooner”

You closed your eyes as the tears started to roll down your cheeks, even if crying in front of him was the last thing you possibly wanted. 

Mingyu was saying all of the right things, all the things you always wanted to hear from him, but somehow your heart got tighter inside your chest. There was no relief, just more pain. 

“So you’re not in love with Gyuri anymore?” 

Your heart constricted just at the thought of his answer. 

“I’m sure I was at some point but I think somewhere along the line I simply got used to it so I didn’t know how to fully let go”

“So I’d be your rebound? The getting under someone to get over someone thing?”

Those words hurt so much to say, it was like taking a knife to your skin and pricking it open, not enough to bleed but just enough to burn and scorch. 

“No! No, of course not!” the desperation in his voice made you open your eyes and turn to him “I know it’s confusing and I know it doesn’t make any sense. I know that. But something changed that night and I got scared, so I left”

He was saying all the right things and even so… It felt like it was both too soon and too late. Too soon to get over someone he had been in love with for years and too late to try something with you. It had been a whole three months since you saw him for the last time since you interacted in any way. You had been hurt too deeply, perhaps even beyond repair. 

“Do you remember that night, when I said that you could never win a fight with the guy I like?” Mingyu’s face twisted like the mere mention of the guy brought a sour taste to his mouth “You could never win because you’d be fighting yourself”

You watched as his face went from confusion to relief like he had finally reached the shore after swimming for hours. 

“I have liked you almost as long as you have liked Gyuri” you started before he could say anything else “I watched as your heart broke when she talked about someone, when she introduced Seungcheol, and how we all collectively understood that he was the one for her. I watched you suffer through their relationship and even more so when she announced they were engaged. Your heart was hurting for her while mine was hurting because of you. I don’t believe you when you say that you’re over her because I watched all of that happen”

You stood up and picked up your shoes. You needed to leave, needed to put some distance between yourself and Mingyu. 

“All the things you said just now? I dreamt, wished, and prayed for the moment you’d see me and say those things. I never thought I’d walk away from you if it did happen” when Mingyu stood to follow you, you raised your hand, smiling sadly at him “Please, don’t follow me”

The weird thing about a broken heart is how physical it can get. Hearts were simply muscles and therefore it shouldn’t hurt over emotional pain, still as you lay in bed that night it felt like you had been run over. No part of your body wasn’t in pain. A weird mix of heartache and sobs was all that you could feel. 

It was like that for days. You only forced yourself to get out of bed when you were needed for work and if you didn’t need to be there, Chan was running things on his end. 

There were countless texts and calls from Mingyu, all left unanswered. You used to sit and watch and your phone screen would light up with his name and go dark, just to light up again a few minutes later. He gave it no rest but once he realized that you’d never pick up his calls, he started to leave voice notes. 

“I know why you won’t pick up my calls, but I hope at least you’ll hear this message, like you have been reading all of my texts until now” 

You had put off listening to them. You desperately wanted to, but you were scared that millions of pieces of your heart would break again and leave nothing but dust. A heart that could never really be mended again. 

Liquid courage was needed to even click on his name, a double shot was required to listen to the first message. 

“Out of all the things you could have possibly said that day, me being the guy you like was at the bottom of the list. When you told me about the guy, I got so angry. All I could ask myself was who is dumb enough to let her go? Turns out I’m the dumb guy. You see, the reason why I left was because I got scared, but only because I realized that I liked you way more than I ever anticipated and once again in my life, I saw myself liking someone who didn’t like me back. It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it? I was scared to put myself out there with you, scared to see you with someone else, that I kept myself from you for months, when all I wanted was to be by your side. The moment I got into that train I wanted to go back to you and never let go again. I know you don’t believe me, but I wish you would”

At the first word he said your eyes filled with tears. You had wanted nothing more than to just be around him, in his presence for whatever reason. Listening to the first one was like breaking a dam and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. 

“I’ve thought about it, why you’d think you’d be my rebound and I want to assure you, though I’m not really sure how yet, that you’re not. There’s no version of the world, even the ones I’m dumber than I already am, in which I’d treat you like a rebound. The only reason why it took me so long to get to you was because I wanted to be sure, that I wasn’t making a big mess in my mind. I have you in so high praise in my mind that I’d rather cut off an arm or a leg than do anything to hurt you”

“I feel like the greatest jerk ever, you know? Before, we used to meet alone and then I’d just cry about some other girl and you were just so willing to listen. I remember how sad your face would turn when I said something and I used to think that you were simply feeling sorry for me but now that I know the truth? I’m so sorry that I put you through that. For the longest time, I kept thinking that I was in the worst position one could be, while you were in a much worse one. I’m so so sorry”

You listened to audio, after audio. Each one of them brought a new wave of tears to your eyes, a new sob to leave you. 

After all the audio messages, there was a text. 

“Please, agree to meet me. Give me just one chance to prove to you that I’m not just talking out of my ass, that I mean everything I said”

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, not a simple cloud in the sky to ruin a perfect sunny day. The perfect weather for the kind of pre-wedding pictures Gyuri wanted. 

“After the week we had, I thought we would have to postpone today's shoot,” Chan said, setting down the equipment on the ground. 

It had been raining the entire week, the one of rain that just setting the foot outside the door meant getting drenched. Gyuri had called you in complete desperation every single day, almost crying. Both you and Seungcheol going around in circles to calm her down. 

“God listened to all of my prayers this week,” you joked. 

While you and Chan were setting up your equipment, Gyuri and Seungcheol were getting ready inside the house. 

You turned around when you heard the sound of another car approaching. You thought everyone had already arrived. 

“Shit”

It was a car you were all too familiar with, having learned how to spot it from far away, even if you weren’t exactly the kind of person who knew a lot about cars, despite having your own. 

The car parked right by yours and a second later Mingyu stepped out. His eyes were covered by sunglasses and in unusual casual clothes. He smiled as soon as he saw you. 

He took out a few boxes from the back seat and turned to you. 

“Do you mind?”

Blinking away your surprise you took one step forward but froze in place again. 

“I’ll help,” Chan said, already going towards Mingyu and taking the boxes from his hands “Where do I put these?”

Mingyu's smile faded a little. He blinked the surprise away and turned to Chan. 

“On the kitchen, please” Chan simply nodded and entered the house while Mingyu walked to you, his most charming smile in place “Don’t think you can simply ignore me today”

The words whispered in your ear, causing a flash of that night to cross your mind. 

God have mercy on my soul. 

The entire day was a big test of self control, on how much you could focus under enormous pressure. The pressure of being the photographer at your best friend’s wedding was already enough. But having Mingyu around? That was a whole new level of pressure. One you were still yet to meet. 

You could feel your eyes tracking your every move. Every step you took, every word you said, every breath you took, was under his watchful eye. 

When Gyuri and Seungcheol went inside to change clothes, Mingyu approached you. 

“Here, drink some water” he extended a bottle of delicious cold water, but you hesitated for a second “Come on, it’s like a hundred degrees, you’re all in black. It’s just water”

“Why are you here?”

Mingyu took the cap of the bottle out and handed it over to you. He waited until you drank some before he answered. 

“I invited myself, figured it was a good excuse to run into you” you rolled your eyes and turned away from him “You don’t believe me?”

That’s the thing, you did. 

For days you kept listening to his messages, one after the other, and then the ones he sent after. Sweet, sweet words that made you giggle like the teenager you never were. His date ideas, followed by not-so-sweet things he’d like to do with you. 

“I do” you handed him the bottle back. 

Mingyu blinked at you a couple of times, like he was having a hard time registering what you just said. His confused face was easier on his eyes than his charming, flirty, side. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you, that’s absolutely the last I ever want to do. I’m sorry for being a complete idiot and never realizing both of our feelings, because honestly, it takes a complete idiot like me to overlook something that was right in front of me the entire time”

He reached for your face, his hand covering almost the entire side of your face. 

Finally, you caved in. 

You closed your eyes and leaned into his hands. The weight that had covered your heart for months was suddenly gone. All that was left was this fluttery feeling. 

“I missed you”

The admission came in a whisper. 

You missed him in every sense. Mingyu was your friend before he was the guy you liked, a presence so constant in your life and then suddenly there was no him. 

No random annoying texts, no midnight tours to McDonald's, no sudden barges into your apartment because you’re not fooling me, I know you haven’t eaten the entire day miss. 

“Oh, sweetheart”

He smashed his lips over yours. Mingyu was like a man who found water after days in the desert, a hungry man gifted with a banquet. Your body was pulled entirely against his, both of his hands on your face, holding your face close, your own on his back. 

Mingyu was the first one to pull away. He placed small kisses all over your face, up your nose, your forehead, and then back with a quick peck on your lips. He sighed as he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“I missed you so much,” he whispered and quickly kissed your lips again. 

“Do you mean it? Everything you said to me both on the beach and in your messages. I can’t take another heartbreak, Mingyu”

He tilted your head back, making sure that he had your full attention. 

“Every part of me is yours. There’s only one person I want by my side and that’s you”

You stood on your tiptoes and pulled Mingyu to you. The heat taking over your skin had nothing to do with the scorching sun, but everything to do with him. 

“I missed you so much,” he said before pulling you close again. 

The world seemed to have stopped moving. It was just you and him and nothing else. 

“Oh great, the sexual tension in the air will be even worse now” someone groaned behind you. 

Unwillingly you detached yourself from Mingyu and turned around. Seungcheol had a grin on his face while Gyuri had a full-on smile. 

“Oh, so that was the issue. Just two idiots taking too long to realize that they wanted to fuck” 

“See? I told you but you didn’t believe me!”

Gyuri threw her hands in the air. 

“I thought she couldn’t stand him”

“Sweetheart, that’s called sexual tension”

You pointed a finger in their direction. 

“If you two keep talking, some pictures will get ruined” you turned to Chan “You, not a single word about this”

Mingyu laughed and turned to him, hitting his shoulder once and then pushing him away. 

“And you, go away. You’re too distracting to be around”

There was an unfamiliar weight over your body. It was too hot under the sheets and the extra weight wasn’t helping a whole lot with it. The night sky didn’t help tell the time or even an approximation. 

When you tried to move the weight around your body got tighter and heavier. You turned around in bed and all the irritation over the heat vanished. 

Mingyu had your body wrapped up in his. His right arm and leg over you in a position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable for him but you didn’t dare to move again. 

You had struggled to fall asleep. Your mind constantly took you back to that night, to the sound of Mingyu leaving and your heart shattering at the same time. 

“Sleep, I’m not going anywhere” he promised, placing a kiss on your forehead and tightening his hold on you “This is the only place I want to be, with you”

After a few minutes, Mingyu noticed your breathing evening out and he too was able to relax. He hated that he was the one who caused you so much pain. 

When you told him about it, Mingyu was washed with both happiness and regret. Happiness because you liked him back and regret because he wasted so much time. 

He had liked Gyuri, he wasn’t going to shy away from that. He had and that was it. Finding out her engagement wasn’t as soul-shattering as you had thought, or at all. What was truly soul-shattering was seeing the pain so evident in your eyes, how you seemed to barely be holding yourself together, and knowing he was the cause of it. 

Slowly he started to notice the difference in your actions. Small things that you’d do for him but not for other people, shit you’d take from him but never from someone else. 

He had so much he wanted to say to you, things that maybe would make the situation clear for the both of you, but you, rightfully so, weren't taking any of his calls. When he noticed that you were at least reading his texts, he took it as his chance to expose his feelings. At first, he thought about writing but those would be too long and that was something he knew you hated. His second option was audio messages. He could only hope that you would listen to them. 

Having you accept his feelings for you was indescribable. You were the light in life, pushing away all the dark clouds that threatened to darken his day. 

“You’re thinking way too hard in this ungodly hour” he murmured with his eyes still closed. 

Mingyu noticed when you stirred awake, the tension going over your body. The light sleeper on him woke up to every small movement you made, and you moved a lot. 

“I’m hot” you whispered.

“Yeah, you are”

You laughed out loud and Mingyu pushed his face further into your hair, taking in the soft jasmine from your shampoo. He missed your laughter, he had taken it for granted for too long. 

“Laugh again and I’ll let you go”

You poked his rib trying to push him away.

“You have to be funny first and you're, like, the most unfunny person I ever met”

Mingyu made a quick movement, suddenly he was sitting on top of you, holding your arms over your head.

“Take that back right now” you simply shook your head, doing your absolute best to hold back a smile that threatened to peak out “You're sure about that?”

You simply nodded and that was enough for him. He slowly moved his hand to the side of your body. What could have easily been a sensual touch quickly turned into a merciless tickling session. You did your best to keep your laugh in, not make a single sound, but there was no fighting against it. Soon enough you were a mess of laughter, tears running down the side of your face. 

“Okay, I surrender! You win, I laughed”

Only when your body stopped shaking that Mingyu fully let go of your hands. 

“From now on, tears of happiness are the only ones you’ll ever cry. I’ll make sure of that”

Slowly, you ran your hand up his arm that was holding his weight next to your head, to his shoulder, until you were able to tangle your fingers through his hair. 

“Well, I was hoping that I could cry because of other reasons too”

Something in his eyes changed.  The softness was gone, replaced by mischievousness. 

“We can arrange that”

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[pedroscurls]

training partners

summary: you hire a new personal trainer to get you back on track, but you don't realize that she's also hugh jackman's trainer until you show up to the gym. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), reader has some description (hair, outfit), sexual tension (lingering gazes, teasing / complimentary banter, soft touches - come on, hugh jackman will be spotting you), no use of y/n. word count: 5.7k a/n: ok, so this is my first real person fanfic in a very long time. i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman and this is purely fictional (all in my delulu mind). next part.

That night, your trainer sent you a text to let you know that your next session tomorrow morning with her would include another person. You didn’t mind, though, you had been training with her for over three months now and she had gotten you back on track. Not only with your physical health, but you were back on track to loving yourself and putting yourself first. 

Your boyfriend of three years had broken up with you before you hired your personal trainer. Throughout that relationship, you had let yourself go. You prioritized him in ways that you never planned to and the feelings were never reciprocated. You always put more into the relationship than he did. You were heartbroken though and still recovering from losing him, but you had come to realize that him breaking up with you was a blessing in disguise. You weren’t happy. You knew that you had fallen out of love with him, but you just couldn’t bring yourself up to be the one to end the relationship. 

And now, meeting your personal trainer three times a week has been something you looked forward to. She always pushed you past your limits, very well aware of your potential, and she always made sure to hold you accountable – with your workouts, with your diet, but most importantly, with your self-talk. She had truly become someone you can rely on and as the months passed, she became a close friend. 

You read the text she sends you: Hey, I hope you don’t mind, but someone is gonna join us tomorrow. I’ve been training him for years and we’ve had trouble finding a good day and time for him to train with me. It’s possible that this will become more permanent since he’s so busy. I hope that’s okay!  

After all that she’s helped you through, you knew you couldn’t complain. Besides, you wouldn’t mind her attention being elsewhere. You knew she would still be there to help you. So, you send a reply: That’s fine with me! It’ll give me a bit of a break if your attention is on him, instead of me. 

She replies quickly: You’re not gonna be slacking off, if that’s what you’re getting at. 

You laugh to yourself and then send her a wink emoji followed by another message: Of course not! I’ll see you tomorrow. 

—

The following morning, you pull up to the gym and climb out of your car. There are two other cars in the parking lot – you know one belongs to your trainer, but the other, you aren’t sure whose it is. Climbing out, you grab your duffle bag and water bottle before making your way inside. You’ve always dressed in an oversized hoodie and spandex shorts when going to the gym and today is no different. You’re wearing a faded black oversized hoodie with black spandex shorts and gym shoes with white socks. Your hair is in a single dutch braid, but is covered when you put the hood over your head and your headphones draped around your neck. 

Once inside the gym, you notice your trainer setting up but you look around and don’t notice anyone else there. Huh, you think to yourself. Maybe it’ll just be me after all. 

You walk over to her and greet her with a hug, setting your duffle bag and water bottle in the corner. “I thought you said there’d be someone else today and it looks like there’s another car outside, but I just see you.”

“Oh, he’s in the bathroom.” she chuckles and then points in the direction of the mats to signal for you to start stretching. “Go ahead and stretch. We’re gonna be doing a full body workout and we’ll start with a cardio warmup.” 

“Yes, coach,” you salute, causing you both to let out a laugh. 

You begin stretching, putting on your headphones over the hood and letting the music play in your ears. Surprisingly enough, you’re playing the soundtrack from The Greatest Showman and it pumps you up, gets you ready for what you expect to be a grueling workout. You’re on all fours, doing the cat-and-cow stretch for several seconds before you see a pair of feet in your peripheral. 

You turn your head completely and look up at the man who decides to begin stretching next to you, flashing you a smile that immediately makes your stomach do flips. He’s wearing a black tank top with black shorts and he’s saying something, but you can’t hear him. You can’t even speak, but then he points to your headphones and you blush instantly. Of course you couldn’t hear him, you’re blaring From Now On and you’re sure that he can hear it from his end with how loud your music is. You remove your headphones, letting it rest around your neck and pausing the song. 

“You know, listening to music that loud can hurt your eardrums, I hear.” He speaks and you melt instantly, his Australian accent thick. 

“Gets me ready for a workout.” 

“What does? The song or how loud you’re listening to it?” He winks. 

“So, you heard what song was playing.” 

“I did. What can I say?” He smiles. “It’s a good song.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “You’re literally Hugh Jackman and I’m trying not to freak out over here, but I don’t think I’m doing a great job.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle and then reaches out a hand for you to take. You realize that you’re still on all fours, staring at the man who you’ve had a crush on since he became the Wolverine. Quickly, you move to sit properly, not really wanting to introduce yourself in a position that can be taken as very inappropriate.

“Well, I’m Hugh,” he winks, his Australian accent coming through thickly. 

You reach for his hand and gently shake it, looking down at it. His hand is so much larger compared to yours. You introduce yourself and tell him your name before dropping his hand, biting your lower lip as you look around to see your trainer look through her notebook. 

“Nice to meet you,” you finally say. “I’m sorry if I’m crashing your session.”

“I think I should be the one that’s sorry,” he says. “This is only the day and time that works for me right now and she’s the best of the best,” Hugh continues, pointing in the direction of our personal trainer. “She’s helping me get back into shape for the Wolverine.” 

“Oh, so you are coming back?” 

Hugh chuckles and lowers his eyes to the mat before he looks back at you. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that, but yeah. I’m comin’ back.” 

“Well good,” you reply, standing up after you’ve finished stretching. You look down at him and let your eyes rake in his body. It’s one thing to see him in pictures, but it’s another to see him in person, this close. “I always did like the Wolverine. One of my favorites, actually.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, his eyes lowering to your exposed legs and back up to your eyes. 

You can feel the tension thicken in the air between you as you both stare at each other. Your eyes can’t help but rake over his arms, the veins along his biceps, his chest flexing with each movement. You clear your throat and nod, biting your lower lip. “Definitely. Guess I got a thing for older men.” You don’t give him a chance to respond before you walk away and leave him to continue his stretching, but you do feel his eyes on you as you walk away. 

You approach your trainer and look at her with wide eyes. “Um, you should have told me you’re Hugh Jackman’s trainer!” 

She laughs and looks over your shoulder at him who’s still staring at you. “If I did, would you have come?”

“No, probably not. I’d be too scared. I won’t be able to keep up with him. I mean, have you seen him? He’s jacked!” 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You can keep up with him,” she reassures. “Trust me.” 

“Well, what if I can’t? I’m gonna make a complete fool out of myself and–”

“Stop.” She interrupts and points at you. “You’re spiraling and you don’t need to. You’re not here to compete with him. You’re both here to work out and who knows, maybe having him here will push you extra hard.”

“You already push me extra hard,” you say. “I leave completely drenched after every workout I have with you.”

“You don’t have to impress anyone. He’s here to workout. You’re here to workout. Remember why you started,” she replies. “And remember how far you’ve come.”

“You’re right,” you nod. “You’re right. He’s just so…” you sigh dreamily and then look over your shoulder to see him stand up and begin making his way over to you both. “Hot.” 

She laughs, “Well, I hear he’s single.”

“Oh my god, he would never go for me! I mean, he’s completely famous and I’m just… Me.”

“There’s that negative self-talk again,” she tsks. “I’m gonna have to put you through a really tough ass workout to make you think of yourself differently.”

“Okay, okay,” you tease. “I’m amazing. I’m perfect. I’m–”

“Beautiful,” Hugh interrupts and winks in your direction. “Sorry, should I have not chimed in there?”

Your cheeks begin to heat up and the pit of your stomach feels like butterflies are swarming in there. He’s staring at you with a grin on his face and it makes you look away shyly. 

“Okay, lovebirds. Can we get this workout started?” Your trainer interrupts, laughing quietly. 

“Um, yeah. Let’s, um, yeah, let’s workout.” You walk over to the stairmaster and climb on it before you see Hugh do the same next to you. You look over your shoulder to see your trainer walk towards the speakers to play the music to get you both ready, but she knows that you like to listen to your own music when warming up.

This gives Hugh enough time to gently lean over and tap you on the shoulder to get your attention. You look up at him with big, hopeful eyes and he’s staring back directly into yours. 

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line there,” he says genuinely. “I just–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, smiling up at him. “If we’re giving each other compliments, then I think you’re hot.” 

Hugh looks down and lets out a quiet chuckle. “Even for an old man?” 

“Oh, you’d be hot if you were my age too. But I like that you’re older. Gives you bit of an edge.” 

“An edge, huh?”

“Well, I have always had a crush on you, so…” 

Hugh smirks and he’s about to say something before your trainer speaks up to begin your warmup for fifteen minutes. You then nod in his direction before putting the headphones back on and starting the machine. You’ve always put your all into each workout and you have to tell yourself that you shouldn’t act any differently because the Hugh Jackman is working out with you. You had been so nervous and anxious to be working out alongside Hugh that you didn’t realize just how far you had come, just like your trainer mentioned earlier. For years, you had put someone else before you, put their needs before your own, and for once since then, you feel like you have control over your life again. 

And for once, you knew what you wanted and you were going to go after it. 

—

Fifteen minutes later, you and Hugh both stop the machine and climb off of it. You remove your headphones and take off your hood, already drenched in sweat. You look in Hugh’s direction and notice the sweat slicking off his frame as well, his tank top stained with sweat. You clear your throat and walk over to your duffle bag, setting your headphones inside and grabbing your small towel to wipe the sweat from your brows and temples. You know you’re going to end up removing your hoodie soon, but you feel a bit self-conscious and wish you should have worn a t-shirt because once you remove your hoodie, you’ll be dressed in just a sports bra and spandex. 

You then realize that Hugh’s bag is right next to yours and see him grab his own bottle of water and towel to cool himself down before the start of your workout. 

“Aren’t you hot in that hoodie?” Hugh asks. 

“I like to get a good sweat in,” you blurt out. You clear your throat, not believing that you just said that. “I mean, I just–”

Hugh smiles. “No, no. I understand. It’s like your own personal sauna.” 

“Sure, kinda.” You gnaw at your lower lip before you stand upright, holding onto your bottle of water. “I mean, eventually, this is gonna come off because she makes me work,” you laugh, referring to your personal trainer. “But I like to keep my body and muscles warm.” 

“Ah, so I will get to see what you got hiding underneath there,” he grins. “I mean, your legs look great. I’m eager to see what else you got.” 

Your cheeks heat up once more. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too excited. I don’t have arms like yours.” 

Hugh chuckles and looks down at his own arms, flexing them in front of you and you feel the heat rush immediately between your legs. God, he’s just so muscular and chiseled and– 

“I’d be impressed if you did,” Hugh winks. “Now come on. If we keep her waiting, she’s just gonna make us pay for it,” he continues, pointing to your trainer before he reaches down to take your hand. 

“Ah yeah, that’s a good point. Thanks,” you say, taking his hand as he hoists you up to your feet. You stumble a bit and fall into him, your hands immediately reaching out to brace yourself on his chest. You clear your throat, feeling the hardened muscles underneath your fingertips. His hands fly to your waist to keep you steady and you’re extremely aware of how close you two are. 

“Oh, be careful,” he whispers quietly, looking down at you. “Would hate for you to get injured.” 

“Good thing I’ve got a big, strong man to brace my fall.” 

Hugh chuckles and then releases his hold on you, making you do the same as you both take a step back to create some distance between the both of you. “You’re good for my ego. I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna have to get your number later so that I can be around you all the time.” 

“Are you asking me for my number? The Hugh Jackman?” 

Hugh laughs. “Would that be alright?” 

“I guess we’ll see after today’s training session.” You smile in his direction, feeling more and more confident as the minutes pass. You walk away from him and make your way to your trainer who has two sets of dumbbells next to each other. One set is obviously heavier than the other and you know it’s for Hugh. 

“We’re gonna start off with some bicep curls, supersetting it with bent over rows.” Your trainer begins, continuing to list off the rest of what the workout will consist of. You know that you’ve gotten stronger than when you first started and you try not to focus so much on the man next to you and focus solely on improving than the last time you had trained. 

“After this superset, we’re gonna then move onto a barbell bench press and we’ll also superset it with push-ups.” 

Your trainer continues to speak and you look in the mirror to find that Hugh’s staring at you too. You smile to yourself and then turn your attention to your trainer. She mentions that you will also both be doing squats with a superset of pull-ups. Once she finishes, you watch her make her way to the speaker to turn it up louder. 

Throughout the first exercise, you remain focused on your form, inhaling and exhaling when needed. You feel the burn in your biceps when curling the dumbbells and the burn in your back muscles when doing the bent over rows. You’re dripping in sweat and by the time the first superset is finished, you finally lift the ends of your hoodie over your head. You walk over to your things to drop the hoodie into your duffle bag, grabbing your towel to once again wipe away the sweat. 

Now dressed only in black spandex shorts and a black sports bra, you look up to see Hugh’s eyes taking in your newly exposed frame. He tries to be subtle with where he’s looking, but when your eyes meet his, a shy smile lines his lips. He mouths sorry and then turns away to walk over to the bench where your trainer is setting up. 

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Your trainer asks. 

You speak up instantly. “I’ll go first.”

Your trainer smiles. She always loved your eagerness. “Perfect. We’ll warm up with the bar, both of you.” She points to the bench and you nod, brushing past Hugh to lie back on the bench. You arch your back on the bench and reach up to grip onto the barbell above you. 

“This should be easy for you,” your trainer says. “Aim for 15, but slow and controlled.” 

You nod and unrack the bar before dropping it low to your chest before pressing it back up above you. You focus on your breathing and form as you continue the movements for 15 reps. Once you’re done, you re-rack the barbell and then sit up, looking up at Hugh who’s staring down at you with an impressed look on his face. 

“Same thing for you, Hugh.”

Hugh makes the barbell look like it weighs close to nothing, yet he still controls his movements. You can’t help but watch his muscles flex as he presses the bar for the required amount of reps. It does something to you, seeing him like this, focused and completely in his element. You bite your lower lip and then see him stand up from the bench. He walks away for a moment to retrieve his towel and bottle of water, which gives you enough time to add weight to each side of the barbell. 

This continues for four sets until the last set, your trainer adds 15 pounds to each side, totaling 75 pounds for you to press. You look over at her with wide eyes. “You think I’m able to do 75 pounds?” you ask genuinely. 

“Oh yeah, it’s gonna be easy for you.” 

“But what if–”

She interrupts. “Self-talk,” she says simply. “You can do it. Aim for 3 reps. That’s all.”

Then, Hugh gently nudges you with his shoulder. “You can do it,” he comments, adding your name at the end of his sentence. “And if you want, I can spot you.”

The trainer nods, “That’d be great, Hugh.” Hugh then moves to stand at the top of your head and watches you lie back on the bench. You look up, biting your lower lip at how close his lower half is to you and while you should be focused on bench pressing your personal best, you can’t help but your mind drifting to him. 

“You ready, love?” Hugh asks, the term of endearment slipping past his lips. 

You nod and then place your hands on the bar to unrack before you let it drop slowly to tap your chest before you push it above you with difficulty. It’s heavier than you’ve ever bench pressed before, but having Hugh hover nearby gives you the confidence and strength to do this. 

“Great job, that’s one.” Your trainer says and then you continue for the next two reps without any issue. “Go for five,” she adds.

At the last rep, you struggle, but Hugh’s there to help you push the bar above your chest and then re-rack it. You sit up and grin, sweat dripping from your temples as you stand up. 

“I did it. Oh my god, I did it.” You say with a grin, practically jumping up and down with pride and you quickly move over to hug Hugh, not realizing what you’re doing. Once you do though, you pull back immediately and the heat in your cheeks begin to rise. “Sorry. I just got excited and–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hugh smiles, his hand moving to rest on your lower back. “You did great. It’s somethin’ to be proud of.”

“Alright, Hugh. You’re up.” Your trainer says with a smile and his hand slowly drops from your back to then add more weight to the bar. 

You move to the mats to do push-ups, but you can’t help but be distracted by Hugh. There is at least one 45 pound plate on each side of the bar and he’s pressing it so easily. His muscles are flexing and you can hear him grunting and it makes you squeeze your legs, clenching around nothing. It’s when he stands up from the bench that he makes eye contact with you and flashes you a wink. 

Oh god, you think to yourself. He definitely knows what you were just doing. 

Throughout the rest of the workout, you and Hugh train without issue. You find that you train really well together, pushing each other to the limit, but also very considerate once you’ve each hit that limit. When it came time to squats though, you find that Hugh’s eyes are glued onto you with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes take in your frame, lingering on your legs and definitely your backside. You pride yourself in the strength you have with squats, being able to add a 45 and a 25 lb plate to each side, totaling 185. 

“Oh, you can do way more than 185,” Hugh says with a chuckle. “That’s way too easy for you.”

“That’s exactly what I said last week,” your trainer laughs. “I think you can at least add another ten pounds each side.”

“That’d be 205 total,” you say hesitantly. “I don’t know…”

“Come on. Let’s add ten each side.” Hugh says, grabbing two ten pound plates and handing one to your trainer. He slides one on one side of the bar while your trainer does the other side. He motions for you to get in position and then steps behind you. “I got you. I’ll spot you again.” 

“But–”

“Self-talk,” your trainer calls out. 

“Fine.” You get underneath the barbell and place it between your shoulder blades as your hands come up to grip the bar. You take a deep breath, looking in front of you in the mirror and seeing Hugh nod reassuringly. “If I’m not able to squat this–”

“You got this,” Hugh interrupts. “It’s all in the mind, love. You gotta believe you can do it.” 

Love. The term of endearment actually motivates you and you take a deep breath before unracking the bar and taking three steps backwards. The bar rests heavily between your shoulders as you squeeze your shoulder blades tight and then you take a deep breath and slowly lower yourself to a squat. Hugh squats with you, arms stretched outwards underneath your own and then stands up once you do. He sees you struggle a bit, but then he watches as you push through your heels until you stand back upright. 

“See, easy,” he whispers into your ear. 

“You’re distracting me,” you call over your shoulder. 

Hugh chuckles and then lets you continue your set of reps. He’s in awe of you. There’s not a lot of people that can keep up with him or his trainer, but he finds your dedication and eagerness to push yourself incredibly attractive. He finds you incredibly attractive. He isn’t paying attention until you re-reack the bar and accidentally bump into him, your backside fully pressed against his front. 

Your trainer wasn’t in the room at the moment, having had to leave to go to the bathroom, so luckily, she wasn’t here to witness the tension that begins to thicken in the air again. Hugh’s hand darts out to rest on your hip, realizing that you were not stepping away from him. 

“You’re impressive,” Hugh whispers, hand tightening on your hip. He feels you push back against him and he growls lowly into your ear. “You keep that up, love and–”

“Hugh,” you whisper, slowly turning around to look up at him. Your hands move to his chest, feeling him flex underneath your fingertips. His other hand comes up to rest on your other hip, pulling you flush against him as the front of your bodies press against one another. “We’re all sweaty,” you point out. 

“Doesn’t bother me.” 

“I think I like having you as my training partner,” you say quietly. 

“Training partner, huh? I like the sound of that.” 

“So, about my number…” you begin, biting your lower lip. 

“Yeah?” 

You really want it?” 

Hugh nods. “Yeah, I really want it.” 

You can’t help but notice the true meaning behind both of your words and you’re about to lean in when you hear the sound of a door opening. Quickly, you pull back from Hugh and look up at him. He’s smiling in your direction and then moves away to remove the weight off the bar. 

“Let’s finish this session and then we can talk.” 

—

After two hours, you and Hugh finally finish the training session with your trainer. You’re lying on your back on the mats, trying to cool down and catch your breath before your trainer gently nudges your foot. You sit up and then stand on your feet. 

“Are you okay with Hugh joining us more regularly? You two are good partners.” she says, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Yeah, that’s fine with me. That was a really good workout,” you point out. 

“Good workout because he was here or because–”

“Because of you!” you interrupt with a chuckle. “And it helps that he’s here too.” 

She laughs. “You did really well today. I know you got in your head a few times there, but you showed up for yourself. How do you feel?”

You shrug. “I’m a work in progress, but today was a good day. I’d consider it a win.” 

“Good,” she replies. “I’m proud of you. It’s not easy, but you’re putting yourself first and that’s a huge improvement from when we first met.” 

“I’m trying,” you say. “Taking it day by day, but I’m feeling good about myself. I feel like I finally have control again.” 

“Well, you deserve all the good things in this world. You just gotta believe that too. I’ll see you next week.” Your trainer walks away to start cleaning up and she waves at Hugh who’s walking towards you now. 

He leans down to grab his bag and drapes it over his shoulder as he looks down at you. “So, I think we’re training partners now.”

“I heard,” you smile. “Will that be okay? I know you have extreme training to do to become Wolverine again, but–”

“Of course it will be okay. Seeing you push yourself out of your comfort zone helps push me out of mine. This will be a good thing. Trust me.”

“Oh, I’ve done a lot of trusting you today,” you tease, grabbing your bag and slinging it across your body. You both wave at your personal trainer before leaving the gym and walking outside to your cars. 

“And I haven’t failed yet, have I?” he asks, walking alongside you to your car. 

“No. No, you haven’t.” 

“Good,” Hugh smiles. “I don’t plan to.” He watches you place your duffle bag into your trunk and then before he could speak, you reach your hand out, palm facing upwards. “What?” 

“Phone please, sir.” 

Hugh’s eyes narrow down at you. Sir. He wants to push you against your car and just devour you, but he has to refrain himself. He reaches for his phone and then hands it to you, watching as you type away. Once you return it back to him, he looks down at his phone and lets out a soft chuckle. He sees your number, but then he notices the name that you entered. 

Training partner 💪

“Oh, very clever,” he smiles. 

“Maybe if I get as muscular as you, we’ll upgrade that to swole-mate.” 

Hugh laughs, his nose wrinkling as the sound of his laughter comes deep from within. It makes you smile that you’re able to make him laugh. You had put him on a pedestal for being a famous actor, but after spending just a few hours with him today, he’s so much more normal than you thought. 

“Swole-mate, huh?” Hugh says after his laughter slowly dies down. “Is that a play on word for soulmate?” 

“Maybe,” you chuckle. “It’s dorky, I know. I was just kidding.” 

“No, I like it. You don’t have to be muscular to be my swole-mate. So, I’m just gonna go ahead and change that.” He then types away on his phone and then turns it in your direction. 

You smile to yourself and see the new name that’s now attached to your number.

Swole-mate 💪

“Perfect,” you say with a smile. 

“I think so.” Hugh responds, staring deeply into your eyes. “So, I guess I’ll see you next week.”

“Yes, you will. Thank you for spotting me today… And pushing me.”

“Happy to do it.” Hugh winks. “Get home safe.”

“You too, Hugh.” 

—

Later that night, you stare at your phone and realize that while you had given your number to Hugh, he hadn’t given you his. You try to reflect on today’s events, but your mind keeps drifting to Hugh. There was certainly something there between the both of you, something unspoken. You convince yourself that the attraction is mutual – after all, you couldn’t help but think back to that moment at the squat rack. You felt every inch of him when you pressed back into him and his hands on your hips– 

You sigh, trying to shake the thoughts out of your mind. There was no way that someone like Hugh Jackman would be interested in someone like you. He’s famous and he could have any woman he wanted and you… Well, you were just normal. 

Your mind continues to drift, but you feel your phone vibrate. It takes you out of your thoughts and you look down to see an unsaved number. Opening the message, a smile begins to line your lips and your heart begins to flutter with emotions you hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

UNKNOWN: Hello, swole-mate. 

You don’t even need to ask who it is because before you can even respond, another message pops up. 

UNKNOWN: It’s Hugh, by the way. 

You lie back on your bed, phone in your hand as you stare up at it with a goofy grin on your face. It feels like you’re a teenager all over again talking to your crush. You then add his number to your contacts list and add the same name that he has on his.

YOU: Hello, Hugh. 

Then, after a few seconds, your phone begins to ring. You answer it without hesitation and hear his voice on the other end of the line. It sounds so much deeper and his accent is thicker as he begins to talk.

“I had to make sure you gave me your actual number,” Hugh chuckles. 

“Why would I give you a fake number? When Hugh Jackman asks for your number, you gotta give the right one.”

He laughs. “You know, I’m a normal person too.”

You smile to yourself. “You’re the Wolverine, Hugh. I think saying you’re normal isn’t doing you justice.” 

“What would you call me then?” He asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Hot, maybe?” Hugh teases. 

“Okay, okay. That got to your head, didn’t it?” 

You can hear Hugh laugh all day if you could. It’s so infectious and it makes you giggle too. “Maybe. Just surprised that someone like you thinks an old man like me is hot.”

“Here we go with the old man thing again,” you giggle. “Have you seen yourself, Hugh? You don’t strike me as old.”

“Oh, well my bones and joints will disagree with you, love.” 

Love. There it is again and your stomach feels like it’s doing flips. 

“You know, you are very distracting, Hugh.” 

“Yeah? Am I distracting you right now?” 

“Maybe…”

Hugh chuckles and then responds, “You’re very distracting too.” 

“And we’re training partners,” you say with a quiet laugh. 

“Actually, we’re swole-mates.” 

You can’t help but laugh as you turn onto your tummy and bury your face into your pillow. Your cheeks are heating up as you hear Hugh’s voice on the other end.

“What’s so funny?” 

“Can’t believe I got you to say swole-mates.” 

Hugh chuckles. “Listen, um…” You can hear him breathing on the other end and it seems like he’s hesitating. Nervous. Anxious, maybe. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you want to come by my place and have lunch after our workout next week?” He finally asks. 

You bite your lower lip and without hesitation, you reply. “That’d be great. Are you gonna cook for me, Hugh?” 

Hugh lets out a breath of relief and then chuckles. “That’s the plan, yeah.”

“Oh, then I’d love to have lunch with you.” 

“I’ll pick you up and we can ride together to the gym?” He asks. 

“That sounds great, Hugh.” You can’t help but imagine all of the different things that could happen and you can just feel Hugh’s hands on your hips, his length pressed against you as it was earlier. You need it. You need him. You weren’t the type of person to indulge in casual relationships, but after your last and most recent failed relationship, it’s time you prioritize yourself (and that includes your needs and desires). 

“Alright then, love. We should call it a night.” 

“Okay, Hugh. I’ll text you my address.”

“Perfect. Good night,” he says softly. 

“Good night, Hugh.”

You hang up the phone and then look up at the ceiling once you roll onto your back. You have one week until you see him next and you’re sure that something will happen and it excites you. Hugh excites you. 

Before you go to bed that night, you send a text to Hugh with your address. Within a few seconds, he replies.

HUGH: Great. Can’t wait to see you next week. Good night, love. 

[pixiesndberries]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃, 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 —

a small series of Jujutsu Kaisen men as your husband !

☆ OUR STARS : Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Choso Kamo, Aoi Todo, Toji Fushiguro, and more !

━ REQUESTED BY : none

━⁠ WARNINGS : none

ෆ PIXIE'S NOTE ! : were back again at daily posting 🙏🏻 to my pookies who supported me, y'all made me giggle and kickin' my feet in my bed last night 👉🏻👈🏻 love lots!

GOJO SATORU, as your husband !

• Gojo being your husband is no different from being your boyfriend — he still gotta be that same person you dated few years ago, though he became more serious about situations and decisions because you guys are married but his goofy, annoying, clingy side is still there — I mean when he met you and been with you for like two weeks your caller name is already set as 'wifey'.

Gojo who totally acts like a mom when you leave for work, he is like a freaking HOUSEWIFE —

"honey!" he sings as he walks into the living room seeing you brush your hair Infront of the mirror, getting ready for work. "hmm?" you responded and quickly turns your head at him — he's wearing a this is what an awesome husband looks like apron which made you too stunned to speak, "I created a bento for you." he smiles as he hands out a nicely wrapped bento box which was really new to you because it's always you who keep creating bentos for him, usually when he leaves for a mission.

"thank you, honey." you say softly with a warm smile as you accept his bento that he specially created for you, he can't help but to feel like a love sick teenager seeing you smile like that. He officially takes the position of being a housewife 🫡

Gojo who couldn't stop talking about the future he wants with you like nonstop — this man would talk about having three million carbon copy of him with you and would name them after megumi, yuji, nanami and basically all of his friends, students, and dead relatives 🏃🏻‍♀️💨 — I FEEL LIKE HE GOTTA BE THAT TYPE OF PERSON.

Gojo always flexes you everyday and YOU are his hyper fixation — argue with the wall, he gotta be the type of man to say "she's my wife." randomly when he's talking to an old friend he haven't seen for a long time. HE WILL BE THE HUSBAND WHO YOU WILL SEE WEARING "I LOVE MY WIFE" TYPE OF SHIRT WITH THE UGLIEST FONT AND PHOTO TEMPLATE EVER. Once a person mentions your name he ain't gonna shut the fuck up.

I just know this marriage go'n be like Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively's relationship 🙏🏻 ABSOLUTELY RANDOM TEXTS FROM HIM, UPDATING YOU TOO MUCH.

2:32 pm

gojo : shitting at the mall cuz i don't have anywhere to shit on.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : i miss you my wife, my beautiful wife.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : your very handsome husband ❤️

2:40 pm

you : stop spamming me messages love, im at work 🙏🏻

gojo : why? is it turning you on 😏

you : that's a photo of your feet.

Gojo who became a seriously hands on person when you told him that you're pregnant — when he has missions with yuji, megumi, or maybe nobara and you told him that you're very tired to do anything today he will be like,"okay kids, I got to go I have important things to do." and dashed away before they could say something and mf arrived at yalls house within a second.

Gojo who cried when he carry his baby for the first time, he was sobbing like hell — girl dad? boy dad? BRO HE IS BOTH ‼️ "okay we'll name this one suguru and this one-" he is going to come up with the most ridiculous names, probably the worst one was his dead ancestor.

okay seriously, Gojo would be a full time dad after his children were born — he will always stay at home as much as he can, having twins isn't easy plus he's trying to help you with his full power and make sure you don't feel alone through this.

"gojo.." you grumble as you felt his presence disappearing next to you at bed, you open your eyes and sees he wasn't there which led you to stand up and start looking for him — you walk out of the bedroom and noticed that the twin's bedroom door was open so you check it out.

in your suprise, gojo was in the rocking chair with the twin's in his arms peacefully sleeping and he is snoring like hell. You can't help but smile seeing this moment, it warms you heart. You quickly grabbed your phone and took a quick photo, this is what you exactly wished for.

Gojo who couldn't stop posting you and his little angels and his fans are absolutely living for it, it's like his day wouldn't complete without posting cute photos of his angels and of course, you as well. Gojo is indeed a Facebook mom —

; gojosatoru

tagged : @y/n.instagram | fam time 🤍 !

liked by megumi.22 and 8,957 others

itaaa.yuji | I volunteer as a tribute to babysit them 🫡

nobaraaa | CUTIES.

shokoleiri.7 | adorbs

─ REBLOGS, LIKES, AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED FEEL FREE TO REQUEST!

[wishful-seeker]

Tips on how to avoid being unintentionally ableist

1. When a disabled person says they cannot do something, and you wish to offer solutions, do not make a solution that involves them powering through pain, or something thats not accessible to the disabled.

Example:

Disabled person: "washing dishes hurts too much and i cannot do it."

Abled person: "what if you did one dish at a time throughout the day?"

This statement is not respecting that this disabled person just said they "can't". Always respect that. No matter how simple the task would be for you.

Disabled person:" i think ill use plastic silverware so i don't make dishes."

Abled person: "plastic is bad for the environment!"

This statement shuts down the most accessible and disabled friendly option that this disabled person can actually do because of the abled persons personal beliefs. This is not helpful, and ableist.

Better yet, instead of offering solutions, ask them directly "is there anything you need that you do not have that would help you do this?" This allows the disabled person to think about what would work, and they will always have a better idea of what would work than you do.

To add on to this, when we say we have no more energy to solve a problem or do a task, or change our lifestyle, we mean it.

2. If you feel discomfort when a disabled person is talking about their health, good and bad, that is ableist. Your discomfort is coming from a place that deams disabled peoples very existence as a bad thing and you need to fix that.

For example:

Disabled person:" this week has been rough pain wise, ive been through a lot, felt like my body was on fire. Lucky i got new meds though and i think they're helping!"

Abled person: "can we talk about something else, this is a bummer."

Disabled people should be able to exist freely without worrying about your personal comfort. Do you really think its appropriate to tell someone in constant pain that their life is making YOU uncomfortable?

3. Do not treat disabled people as tragedies, do not romanticize their old life or put their current one down.

For example:

Disabled person: "yeah my life is pretty difficult sometimes, ive lost a lot but i still have happy moments."

Abled person: "it makes me so sad to see what disabled people go through :(. You used to love rock climbing and running, i would love to see you move around more again."

This statement is putting more value on the disabled persons abled past, and ignoring their life as a whole.

4. Do not avoid speaking to disabled people because it hurts to see your loved one disabled.

For example: my grandmother avoids conversations with me because it hurts her to see me in pain. While she has good intentions it leaves me being unable to be close to her. This is very isolating to the disabled.

5. Do not stop inviting your disabled friend/loved one out even if they are never well enough to attend. Unless we specifically ask you to stop asking if we can go out, good chances are we want to know you still care because again, disability is very isolating.

6. When a disabled person says certain things in their health have gotten better or worse, do not challenge this because you don't see a difference.

For example:

Disabled person: "yeah things are getting a little better"

Abled person sees disabled person using their wheelchair like usual: "i thought you said you were getting better?"

Better and worse are usually small changes only the disabled experience, its not like abled people healing from a broken arm. Better to a disabled person could mean they can stand for 10 more minutes.

7. Do not expect disabled people to ever be abled again, and again, do not put more value on an abled life.

For example:

Disabled person:"I have been using a wheelchair for 2 years."

Abled person: "oh you're young, im sure you'll be walking around in no time!"

This statement invalidates and ignores the disabled persons current life by hoping they get a more abled bodied life. Its fine to hope disabled people get better, but you don't get to decide what better looks like.

Hope this helps, stay punk.

[rebelfell]

for your viewing pleasure┃vol. 1

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

all my pornstar!eddie blurbs together at last b/c I hated how I published them originally. the og posts are still here, but they have been edited/expanded somewhat, and I’ve included a “finale” of sorts that is new! index for this story is here.

cw: pornstar!au, so…porn. but it’s also a kind of fantasy porn company/industry, so not really at all based in reality or fact. sex work, oral sex (f & m rec), public-ish sex, piv sex.

18+, MDNI┃8.7k

special thanks to @urhoneycombwitch for helping come up with like 90% of this via mutual flailing in my inbox 🥰 ilyaaf

After dark thoughts about pornstar!eddie…who gets fired from his first job.

Because he’s great at sex, but bad at porn.

So, so, so bad. Like, he’s incredible at eating pussy, but incredible because he does it with his whole face completely buried in his co-star. We’re talking fully and wholly submerged in her folds, as though she’s his breathing apparatus.

And that’s great for her, but terrible for camera.

They keep stopping him, telling him he has to pull it back, that they have to see her pussy and they can’t with his big head and bigger hair blocking their view. But much like a dog that’s been told to leave a treat where it is, he keeps edging closer and moving back in little by little until he’s right back where he wants to be—and they’re yelling “CUT” and scolding him all over again.

And the girl is getting frustrated because, like, she’s about to actually come and she looks at the director with this look of pure desperation and ‘just do me this solid—please?’ in her eyes.

So he finally lets Eddie get her off and just films super tight on her face and her trembling legs so it’s really obvious how real it really is.

And so they can move the fuck on already.

Then they’re filming the fucking, and once again Eddie is fucking like he would fuck in real life and the way he fucks in real life is Not. Good. Porn.

He’s not just slamming into her without any care; he’s not using her to get off; he’s trying to make it good for her. And it is very, very good for her.

Like so good, she’s this close to giving him her number once they wrap for the day.

Her boyfriend of six years be damned.

And once they wrap, Eddie’s not exactly “fired” but he’s pretty sure he’s not getting called back.

Except then the movie comes out and BLOWS UP. People are obsessed. Women are buying it in droves (who knew women even watched porn??) and the VHS is back-ordered to shit.

So the production company is like, “We gotta lock this kid into a contract. Now.”

And just so we’re clear, he gets that contract. 

But he (rightfully) feels like he has a bit of juice behind him and refuses to work with that director ever again. And they agree to his terms, but that first guy is hardly an anomaly and Eddie is still butting heads with these other ass hats who keep trying to force him to do it their way.

“My buddy, my guy, my man, you’re fucking her like she’s a person and that’s not gonna sell. It may have worked for you before, but no way does lightning strike the same dick twice.”

So Eddie walks. And he’s ready to call it quits entirely…until you approach him.

Because you are former talent, trying to branch out and direct, but no one will take you seriously. So you went to the heads of production and told them even if all they gave you was a shoestring budget and one Eddie Munson, you can spin some gold. Spoiler alert—you do.

You come to Eddie with your vision of porn for women: story-based, more realistic dialogue, and real orgasms. Some of the same tropes, but done in a way that doesn’t feel so tired and gross and vapid and soulless. Something new.

Something different. Something special.

And, oh. He is so on board with that.

Meanwhile, back in Hawkins, the rumor mill is milling. Because how in the hell did Eddie “The Freak” Munson become a sex symbol overnight? It has to be a deal with the devil—that’s the only possible explanation, right? He clearly sold his soul for a magic cock and a porn career.

And Steve Harrington is LIVID.

He would have bet his entire college tuition Eddie was a virgin, but now every babe who comes into Family Video is renting that damn tape.

They’re literally pouring in looking for it, marching straight to the back, going behind that red curtain where normally only the creepers go. And they don’t so much as blush when Steve scans it.

Robin teases him about it mercilessly. Tells him maybe if he watches it, he’ll pick up some new moves. And, like, Steve has watched plenty of porn. He can’t imagine Eddie is doing anything that earth-shattering. There’s only so much to it, you know? People must just be caught up in the novelty of it being someone that they kind-of sort-of know. It will wear off, it has to.

Then he watches it.

And, oh…Steve has been doing sex all wrong.

For one, he wasn’t going down on girls. He just wasn’t. He’s not like…against it, or anything. But he sort of didn’t realize that was a thing? He lost his virginity in high-school for fuck’s sake—what did he know besides porn and magazines? And that was all the same, so wasn’t that what girls wanted? (Oh, you sweet summer dingus, Robin would shake her head and lament later.)

Secondly…the girls he was with never sounded like that. And he never realized just how fake all those other “orgasms” in porn sounded until he heard the real deal. Now he can’t un-hear it.

From that day forward, for almost two months, they are short one copy of Eddie’s tape because Steve snuck it home in his bag one night after closing. For research purposes only.

No, seriously.

Eddie is a fucking star. Literally.

The second you and he get together, (in a, ahem, professional sense) something shifts. It feels like a long-laid plan plotted from a distant corner of the vast universe has finally come to fruition.

Your first tape is a smash. The camera you get is barely a step up from a hand-held camcorder, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Even with a bare bones crew (you wind up doing a lot of the sound, the lighting, the editing yourself) and everyone doubting you from the jump, it’s a hit.

The concept isn’t anything crazy—Eddie shows up to deliver a pizza, and instead the girl accepts his delivery. But you add a twist: the pizza is for a poker game her boyfriend is hosting. He canceled date night for it and she’s been sitting out here all alone while they play in the other room.

Not on Eddie’s watch.

He goes to town on her, bringing her to the brink three or four times while her boyfriend’s pizzas go cold on the countertop. You push the camera in close on both of them, really trying to give the sense of Eddie as a person. So he’s not just another disembodied guy with a nice dick.

Although his is very, very nice.

His personality shines through when he does things like hike her leg up to fuck into her pussy deeper, chasing her pleasure like her high is his own; and when he grins down at her all devilishly as she tries to stifle her sounds so her “boyfriend” won’t hear; or when Eddie mocks her, making her own little whines and huffs and squeals right back at her in a way that is so infuriatingly hot.

He talks her through it, locking those big brown eyes of his on her, clutching the back of her neck while she tries to block her moans, until at last she can’t hold it back any longer and explodes.

And you have the sound guy stand off to the side and call out, “Everything okay in there, babe?” after she’s done. Nothing but a shuddering, trembling mess on a black leather sofa.

Cut. Print. That’s a wrap, folks.

Eddie is a dream to work with. He’s collaborative and creative; he communicates effectively and often. You guys are like two halves of the same brain, often anticipating what the other wants before they even know it themselves.

It’s alarming, almost. To be seen so clearly.

Even short on crew, equipment, time, money—you can’t seem to fail when you’re together.

The one thing you’re never short on is actresses. Ever since Eddie’s first tape came out, word of mouth (pun intended) has spread. Rapidly. And since you know most of them, you know who to hire. You know which ones are the flakes, which ones are divas, which ones will vibe best with the kind of set experience you’re trying to create. So Eddie trusts your judgment, completely.

He just waits for you to tell him who he’s fucking and then he does it. And he does it so well.

The fucker has chemistry with everyone—down to the guy who brings the sandwiches when you break for lunch. He’s so charming and funny and considerate practically to a fault. He’s fully dialed in from the moment he steps on set to when you wrap for the day. And afterwards, he’s checking in with you, making sure you got exactly what you wanted, asking if you want anything else, if you need him to stay because he’ll be happy to.

It’s…completely and utterly disarming.

He has every right to be a full blown asshole. This entire venture hinges on him and his magic dick, so his head should be as big as a hot air balloon. But he doesn’t ever stray from that unflagging decency that’s so rare in this industry. 

And you pray he never will.

It’s Eddie who pitches your next film.

He’s got this notion of a good girl—a cheerleader—who’s having a hard time and goes looking for weed from the mean and scary tattooed dealer.

(One guess who’s playing him.)

Except he’s not so mean and scary. He’s actually kind of a goof, mock-stabbing himself in the heart and flailing around like a clown, throwing himself off the picnic bench you and he dragged out to this clearing at the ass crack of dawn.

All part of the vision, he assured you.

They look great on camera. His dark, wild hair and clothes and everything in direct contrast to her sweet, round face and bright pastel hues and soft waves. Chemistry’s off the charts, as usual. She starts out really nervous and fidgety, but he makes her comfortable and flirts, offers the bud at a discount. And then her brow cocks daringly and she asks if he has anything…stronger.

Cut to her being eaten out like a banquet spread out on this table in the middle of the forest.

It’s oddly lush and romantic with the rich color of the leaves and the dappled sunlight that filters in through the branches—a foil to the lewdness of their acts and their wanton sounds. 

And when they’re dressed down to nothing, bare skin on bare skin on gray weathered wood, they look almost like forest nymphs or elves caught up in the throes of passion, secluded in the trees.

Especially with the leaves still clinging to Eddie’s hair from when he fell off the table.

Not for the first time, you feel a certain twinge of something that squirms low in the pit of your stomach while you watch them.

Except you’re not watching them…because you can’t take your eyes off of him.

After you wrap, he hangs back. Asks what you thought of the shoot while he helps break down the equipment. Blushes when you tell him you loved it and how good he looked. Explains how it was inspired by these daydreams he used to have about this one girl he knew in high-school.

And you almost, almost, ask him about her—but you’re cut off by a PA who runs up in a panic.

The studio is calling, and they’re pissed.

They’ve just gotten a look at the contract you had drawn up. Rights to a boutique company under their banner, unlimited use of their distribution channels. Full creative control and intellectual property rights to anything and everything.

Plus exclusive use of Eddie.

(Effectively nullifying that horseshit deal they originally gave him for a much, much better one.)

You know they’re gonna fight you on a lot of it—you swung big so you’d have plenty of room to negotiate—but it will all be worth it when they fold. Because you and Eddie have big plans.

You both know you’re onto something special and you’re in it together, to the end of the line.

Apparently, Eddie is also interested in editing.

He shows up to the production offices on a day he’s supposed to be off, but knows you have the editing bay reserved. Brings you coffee and an egg sandwich like a literal angel on earth.

An angel dressed like the devil, maybe. Because he’s got on this tank top with arm holes that’ve been stretched way, way beyond their natural elasticity, drooping down around his ribs and flashing glimpses of his tattoos and the tops of his obliques. And you aren’t entirely sure why you’re getting all hot and bothered over a tank top when there’s not a single intimate inch of his        body you haven’t already seen up close and personal through your viewfinder.

In fact, it’s the same body you’re watching fuck the shit out of that girl on the picnic table from a few days ago. And he’s wearing a whole lot less than a tank top.

You share a brief chuckle over it—the fact that his bare ass is flickering on three screens while you scroll through footage. And it’s not so much that it’s awkward, more like you’re mutually tickled by the fact that it’s not? There’s not an ounce of self-consciousness left between you two.

In a way, it’s like there never was.

He asks if you want any help, or if you mind him sitting in. He’s interested in the process, thinks it might help him on set too. There’s such a rich vein of enthusiasm and curiosity in him, a real thirst to be better and to learn. It’s ridiculous it took him three tries to graduate.

You think it’s a great idea…at first.

But then you’re watching him on the screen with him sitting right next to you. His earthy, woodsy scent layered with the smell of his soap in your nose; his recorded grunts and groans of pleasure in your ears coming through your headphones that are starting to slicken with the sweat.

It’s all wildly distracting. And you must be some kind of masochist, because (not for the first time) you can’t help but wonder how he makes all these women come the way they do.

“So, uh, what…what exactly are you doing here?”

You clear your throat, trying to cover the tremor in your voice as you ask. Eddie scoots in closer, his eyes darting between yours and the screen as he describes the way he’s using his tongue, swirling it around the edges of her entrance, plunging it deep inside her while his nose pushes firmly on her clit. Pretending not to notice your chest heaving with his every word.

“How do you even breathe?” you chuckle.

“I find my moments,” he says.

Smirks back. Winks.

And uh-oh. When did his hand touch your knee? When did he start to rub his thumb over your bare skin through the hole in your jeans? When did his long, ringed fingers start to curl under your thigh to squeeze it? When did he start to lean further into your space? When did you get so wet?

He’s close now. It wouldn’t take anything for you to bridge the gap and let your lips meet his. You can’t, though. You don’t. Because it would be so…stupid. It would be wrong and bad, and it could jeopardize both of your careers. Everything you’re working towards, totally gone.

You’re starting the porn for women movement, here. You can’t fuck your first star!

And you don’t. You keep it professional. You tell him you’re going to call it a day and head home so he’ll do the same. But later that night, when he calls with some new ideas for a script, asking if he can run a few lines by you (just to know how it sounds out loud, you know?), and you wind up having the most insane, mind-blowing phone sex of your entire life…Well, that’s different.

That’s totally and completely different.

The next time you see him, it’s business as usual.

You knew it would be. You two are nothing if not consummate professionals, fully committed to this endeavor. Neither of you would dare let your goals be derailed by a silly little crush.

And it is just a crush. It has to be.

Just the natural result of working so closely with him; of seeing him so completely in his element; appreciating his work ethic and his creativity.

Not to mention the fact that you are consistently watching him have the hottest sex you’ve ever seen in your life. But that’s unrelated.

The next shoot is your biggest yet. It’s at this massive mansion that you’re dressing to look like a spa with two massage tables set up by the pool that looks like something straight out of a resort.  Eddie is playing a masseur who offers a lonely, neglected housewife consolation in the form of his cock after her husband chooses work over their couples massage.

After the success of the pizza delivery tape, you think it’s best you lean hard into the “Eddie fucks it better” sort of storylines.

Because why not play to your strengths?

Except that the call time of your female lead has come and gone and she’s nowhere to be found. You know Trina, this isn’t like her, she’s never late. But you called and got no answer. Twice.

The light is perfect, everyone’s in place…but there’s no one for Eddie to fuck.

Even if you could get a replacement, it would take at least an hour for anyone to get out here and that was being generous. By then, the shoot would be way behind and you’ve literally only got today in this stupid model home before some fucking billionaire moves in tomorrow.

It’s gonna be a massive loss of time and money if you don’t think of something. Like, right now.

Eddie can see you’re stressed. He comes over and you huddle by your storyboards. And neither of you has to say it, but you both are thinking the exact same thing. As per usual.

You could do it.

You’re here, for one. And you’ve done this plenty of times. It just makes good business sense.

It’s been a while, and you’re not quite “camera-ready” after not having to be for the past couple of months, but you and Eddie have been talking about using more normal-looking bodies; bodies that jiggled and had hair where it grew naturally and are authentically real, regular bodies.

The camera guys know what sort of shots you want and you’ve got a bigger crew now—people who know your vision and can help bring it forth.

Plus, you’ll be with Eddie. You know he’ll take care of you. He’ll be sure that you get exactly what you need, no matter what. You’d bet your life on it.And, well…you and he did just rehearse your lines the other night.

The shoot is…interesting.

From the outside, it goes great. Perfect, even. Eddie looks all kinds of cute in his white polo and white pants. He’s got his long hair twisted up off his neck, a few loose tendrils framing his face. 

And you somehow forgot until he puts his hands on you the first time that the whole concept for this shoot was born out of the fact that he actually went to massage school for real.

Before you even get to the sex stuff, you’re putty in his hands. He moves them up and down your calves, slides his thumbs over your muscles in a dizzying pattern en route to your thighs. 

You’re not even faking the deep moans of relief you let out as he moves up higher and higher… arousal promptly pooling between your legs.

He starts going through his lines, striking that perfect balance between his casual, trying-to-be professional voice, while slowly getting more and more desperate and possessive. 

As if he’s constantly fighting the urge to take you right then. Right now.

Telling you how awful it is your husband chose work over you like this; how you should always be his number one priority; how Eddie would never let you out of his sight if you were his…

His hands reach your ass and he grips one round globe in each, spreading you apart so he (and the camera) can see how you glisten, the sunlight reflecting like it does off the water in the pool.

You wait for his next line—when he offers you a very ‘special’ massage with a ‘special’ technique he ‘doesn’t use on just anyone.’ 

But Eddie goes off script.

He licks a fat, wide stripe directly through your folds and your head pops out of the little headrest at the end of the table, the pure shock and delight on your face captured instantly by the camera.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleads, his tongue still swirling in between the words muffled by your ass cheeks, like he can’t stand to take it away, even to speak. “I had to taste you…”

“It’s okay,” you moan, voice nearly cracking in a dry sob, “It’s okay, just please don’t stop—”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going until you come, until you’re reaching back behind you to grip his hair as you push your hips back to meet every thrust of his perfect tongue. From there, it’s back to regularly scheduled fucking. He stays on script, peppering in the sort of ad-libs he knows from experience get a good reaction every time—

That’s it sweetheart, you’re doing so well for me.

Your husband doesn’t know what he’s missing.

This pussy is all mine now, you understand?

And, yeah, that stuff gets you off, no problem. But it’s the other stuff he does—the quieter, subtle things you aren’t expecting—that really push you over the edge again and again. And again.

It’s the things he whispers (actually whispers, not stage whispers) low in your ear so you’re the only one who can hear. You feel way too good/I gotta slow down or I’m gonna come/I know you faked that last one, gimme a real one now—

It’s…it’s almost too much. You knew he’d be good, you just didn’t expect how good. 

And you definitely didn’t expect to feel the way you do when he checks in between takes: asking if you want more or less of anything, making sure he’s not being too rough, telling you how great you’re doing, apologizing again for that initial snafu. It makes you all…fluttery.

But it’s not until after you wrap for the day, after you’ve gotten in the shower at home and start to wash off the massage oil spread all over your skin, that you realize Eddie never kissed you.

Not once.

When Eddie calls later that week, it’s to ask you out. Not on a date, though. 

Which is good. Really, it is. A relief, even. Because contrary to the way your heart leapt into your throat when he asked if you were busy this weekend, you absolutely cannot date him.

It doesn’t matter that you’re attracted to him. Or that you came out of your eyeballs multiple times with him the other day. Or that you haven’t been able to think about anything besides him since.

You. Can’t. Date.

You’re pretty much his boss, don’t forget. Maybe not technically, maybe not on paper—but if you start something up with him, it will be messy and complicated and it could put everything you and he have worked for in jeopardy. More than that, you don’t want anyone thinking he got where he is by any other means besides his hard work (pun intended). He’s earned everything he’s gotten.

And now that includes an award.

That’s what he’s calling about. He’s been nominated for what is essentially the porn equivalent of an Oscar for that first tape he made. And now he has to go to this ceremony, except he’s sort of freaking out because he’s never done anything like this before and he’s really nervous and he kind of needs you there because ‘you’re the only one I’m always comfortable with.’

So he asks if you’ll go with him. As friends.

And you say you will. And it’s fine. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this—FUCK. 

Why does he have to be so hot? Showing up in a black Prada suit with a sheer shirt underneath? Almost as bad as wearing nothing under it at all. Worse, maybe.

It’s unbuttoned nearly to the middle of his torso, layered chains dangling low, hanging around that tree trunk of a neck you can’t stop wishing you could sink your teeth into, wrap a hand around—

Nope. Nope. You’re not going there. The only place you’re going tonight is these awards.

Except when you get there, the organizers don’t want you photographed with Eddie. At least not arriving together. People still aren’t familiar with you as a director, and you haven’t starred in a project in months. That’s practically a century in porn time.

Plus, the tape Eddie is nominated for you didn’t even work on. It wouldn’t make any sense.

Eddie is immediately poised to protest, but neither of you is given much of an opportunity. While you’re shuffled into the long line of people already being photographed in front of the venue, he’s being whisked away so he can walk with the girl he starred in that very first film with.

You know her, sort of. You did a group scene once upon a time. She’s a biter.

They even sneak him into her limo so it looks like they came together. He gets out first and then holds out a hand to help her, a storm of flash bulbs going off, making her jumpsuit sparkle.

And you tell yourself not to watch. You try to smile pretty for your own pictures and look like you are having a good time. Or at least not look like you’re chewing on glass. But it’s…difficult.

Especially when you look up at the worst possible time—the exact moment she places a dainty hand on his chest and he turns his face toward hers, their lips meeting for a long kiss. 

Long enough for every camera there to capture it.And the very last shot they get of you that night is one of your back as you head inside to get a drink. Or ten. Trying not to think about this sour, putrid, inconvenient feeling in your chest.

Eddie should have walked with you. 

He should have done a lot of things, actually.

He should have told those uppity event coordinators to fuck off. He should have ignored that girl from his first film when she whispered under her breath for him to look at her. He should have dodged that sticky, tacky kiss she planted on his lips without any kind of warning.

He should have asked you out for real instead of hiding behind this ‘as friends’ bullshit.

Maybe if he had, he’d be tasting your lipgloss instead of the glittery mess he was wiping off his chin. Maybe it would be your hand in his as you walked the carpet. And maybe it would be him getting you a drink and clinking his glass with yours instead of the guy you’re with right now.

Eddie knows him. Well, he doesn’t know him, he recognizes him from a tape with some absurd name like Sex Kittens 4 that featured a surprising amount of doggy style, considering the title.

Plus you in a never-ending stream of animal-print bikinis.

(He definitely did NOT go looking for every movie you’d ever made. No, that would be ridiculous. He just sort of…happened across one. Or five.)

And it’s not that he’s jealous—because there’s nothing to be jealous of. You met him doing a job. A job very much like the one you did with Eddie. You’re just catching up with an old coworker.

It’s fine. Totally fine. Did he mention it’s fine?

But then Tom Wanks put his hand on your hip, and before Eddie can take even a second to think, or to rationalize his actions, he’s striding up to you and taking your hand to drag you away.

The beaded fringe on your dress swishes noisily as he brings you with him behind a curtain that was set up as a backdrop for more photos. In the shadows behind it, your eyes glint a little meanly and your voice is barbed when you ask what the hell is the matter with him.

And he’s really not sure.

Because much like you, he’s not used to this; he’s not used to not saying exactly what is on his mind at any given time; he’s not used to holding anything back—not when it comes to you.

“I should have stayed with you,” he blurted out at last. “That was messed up, I—”

Your face falls and you dodge his gaze. “It’s fine, Eddie. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I am worried about it,” he shot back. “I could have said something, I could have told them—”

“What for?” you mutter, arms crossing in front of your chest. You look at the floor, hurt. Not just hurt, disappointed. “I mean, what…what would be the point? It’s not like we’re…or that you’re…”

He watches the words stall behind your lips, all of them trying to fight their way out like people on a crowded bus. But in their efforts, they only wind up clogging the exit so nothing gets through.

“God, listen to me!” you laugh bitterly. “I sound like some crazy, jealous…something, and I don’t know why I’m getting this upset when you don’t even like me—”

“Wait, what? Who the fuck said that?”

He can tell you’re shocked by the panic that rises in his voice, staring back at him wide-eyed.

“Wh-when we were filming, you never kissed me. So I thought…”

You fell silent as Eddie’s hands covered the sides of your face. Softly cradling your jaw, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, he stares straight into your eyes and determinedly holds your gaze. 

Your breath stuttered, so lost in those deep brown pools you could hardly recall your own name. And even if you could speak, you weren’t entirely sure what you wanted to say.

Luckily, Eddie gave you something better to do with your mouth.

His lips meet yours in a gentle brush. His hold on your face never tightens, but you can feel the way his fingers flex like he’s resisting the urge to grip you harder. There’s a tenacity in his kiss, as if he’s trying to savor the taste of you, but struggling not to devour you whole.

You break apart too soon for his liking. He easily would have stayed there forever. And he braces himself for whatever might be coming—a slap across his face, a knee straight to his balls.

He might deserve both, but receives neither.

You don’t pull back so much as an inch, happy to let him keep your face close to his. He inhales shakily, still breathing you in, “I didn’t want the first time I did that to be on camera.”

You chuckle at him, dazed and grinning, trying to decide if this is a dream or not. If it is, you don’t ever want to wake up. You want to live in it. Your own hands creep up his stomach, tugging on his silky shirt, feeling the way he shivers in it when he feels the caress of your fingertips.

“What about the second?” you whisper.

And then he’s kissing you again.

Deeper. Hungrier. Messier.

He’s not kissing you like it’s his job; like he’s just doing what was written for him in a script—he’s doing it like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted, desired, chosen to do. Like it’s all he needs.

Your bare back meets the cool wall as he pushes you up against it, sliding his hand inside the slit of your dress, hooking it under your knee to hitch your leg over his hip. He presses every single inch of himself against your seam, harder than he’s ever been in his whole fucking life.

The closest second being when you and he filmed just a few days ago.

You claw at him, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders, pulling open more buttons on his shirt until the gossamer fabric tears and unravels.

“More,” he begs, kisses trailing down your neck. “Fucking please, sweetheart, I need more—”

Your hand takes on a life of its own, sliding down to cup his length through the luxurious suiting. It causes him to release a deep, desperate moan you can feel his lips spreading apart to let out. The sound of it ripples through your body like an electric shock in every extremity.

The dull roar of the crowd right on the other side of that curtain is only barely enough to cover the sound of you and Eddie’s passions. His touch is so enthralling, so engrossing, you are this close to letting him fuck you right there.

Room full of people be damned.

Eddie seems to have the same idea, his mouth blazing a trail down the middle of your chest and stomach as he drops to one knee, his other foot planted to support himself as he drapes your leg over his shoulder. A rush of excitement floods your body as you realize his intentions, fingers sliding into his unruly curls to grip them at the crown of his head.

But the very second his fingers pull your panties to the side and his tongue finds its home in your folds, a commotion breaks through your bliss.

There’s a loud crash as a cater waiter stumbles into the curtain obscuring your entangled bodies and drags it down with them as they fall.

Light floods the darkened space and a sound of collective amusement ripples through the crowd. No one is exactly surprised to see people hooking up—but it’s usually not until the afterparty.

Cocktail hour isn’t even over, for crying out loud.

Then they realize who it is.

The shutters of opportunistic photographers snap as you give Eddie’s hair a sharp tug. But he just moans loudly—too absorbed in what he’s doing to even realize what’s happened.

Finally, you pull him off your clit and he looks over his shoulder at the rest of the room.

Another round of snaps and flashes go off and his eyes return to yours, brightening when he sees the way you’re covering your mouth, fighting back laughter. His own lips, still shiny with your arousal, spread into a wide grin. His gaze lands on an emergency exit and he jumps to his feet, taking your hand in his and pulling you towards it tucked securely under his arm.

Flipping off the room behind him as you leave.

Together.

The trip back to your apartment is the longest cab ride of your life.

Whereas on the way to the convention center, you’d ridden mashed against your door trying to leave a respectable distance across the middle seat, Eddie practically has you in his lap on the way back. It’s like he thinks he’ll die if he stops touching you for even a second—lips on your neck, his hands roaming hungrily, whispering filth in your ear under the cover of the radio.

You do your best to catch the driver’s eye in the rearview, trying to shoot him an apologetic look or at least mouth a wholly insincere ‘sorry’ for the display. But he seems unphased.

Still, you stuff a wad of extra bills in his hand as you scramble out of his car. Unceremoniously crashing through the front door, you’re lucky not to break it down in your haste to get Eddie inside.

Of your apartment, that is.

Lips locked for every step across your cramped studio, you tumble to the bed and let out a soft grunt when a plastic hanger digs into your back. Hearing you yelp, Eddie pulls back and can see you’re lying on top of the ten or so discarded outfits you went through trying to decide on what to wear tonight. Sequins rustle under your bodies as the bed shakes with your gentle laughter, and Eddie drops a kiss to the tip of your nose before he climbs off you. Reluctantly.

He watches while you gather the dresses strewn across the bed, smiling when you try and stuff them back in your closet, fumbling with only the amber street light filtering through your blinds to see by. When you finally turn back to face him, he’s still smiling. Head tilted at you, eyes slowly raking over your form, heart rate picking up in his chest when yours do the same to him.

The pause is nice. It gives you both a minute to catch your breaths, for your brains to catch up with your bodies. Your steps turn careful and slow as you move towards him. With trembling fingers, he pulls open the last remaining buttons of his sheer shirt and lets it fall to his feet.

Remembering only just now that his jacket is still on the floor of that hotel ballroom.

You come to a stop in front of him and he closes the distance left. He reaches around you and pulls down the zipper of your dress, fingertips dragging lightly along your spine as he reveals it.

It’s the closest you’ve ever come to feeling like a gift someone is unwrapping.

With your dress pooled around your ankles, Eddie’s hands are free to wander. He runs them up and down your arms, sweeping them along the inside of your wrists to twine your fingers with his. He brings them to his lips to kiss and the sight of plush pink brushing your knuckles is bordering on being too much to handle—more erotic than anything you’ve ever filmed.

He’s going slow because it’s slowly dawning on him what you’re about to do. 

And how this time it’s not going to be for work or for a camera. It’s going to be real. 

Except…is it going to be real?

Should he do something different than what he did when you filmed? How can he, when he used all his best moves during the shoot? Shit…

He doesn’t want you thinking he’s just doing with you the same thing he does with everyone else; that this—that you—aren’t special to him.

Then suddenly, he’s not going slow anymore.

He’s stopped completely.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Y-yeah,” he chokes out, like the word is made of sawdust. “I just, ahhh…I don’t know, I think I’m psyching myself out? Thinking too hard.”

“Thinking about what?” you whisper, your teeth tugging back your bottom lip.

His head just shakes, eyes still scanning your face while his thumb lightly strokes your jaw, until he lets out a sigh that’s heavy with fondness and whispers, “How I don’t want to mess this up.”

He takes another deep breath, letting his forehead rest against your own as his chest shudders. Confounded as to how something he’s done in front of a whole-ass camera crew could make him feel so self-conscious when it’s just you here with him. A few seconds of silence pass until his lips part in a smirk and his gaze cuts to the side, right to where a camera would be.

“Is it just me…or does it feel like something is missing?”

It takes a few minutes of digging to find your old camcorder buried in the depths of your closet. 

Eddie chuckles when you emerge, brandishing it with a flourish and a little ta-da! before you set it on top of your dresser pointed at the bed, angling it slightly to properly frame the shot.

The red light blinks as you hit ‘record,’ barely taking a second to check if there’s a tape inside. You let it run, capturing your figures half in shadows as he sits on the bed and pulls you into his lap. He helps you settle on his thighs, runs his hands up the backs of yours, slips his long fingers under the elastic band of your panties to rest on your hip. He pulls them back and snaps them softly on your skin, earning a hum of approval from behind your pressed lips.

You wriggle on top of him and delight in how it makes his chest reverberate with a low groan.

“That better?” you whisper, the answer to your question immediately stiffening underneath you. He nods fervently, his voice tight and strained as he struggles to keep his cool.

“Wanna taste you,” he grunts out roughly.

He moves his hands to grip your waist so he can flip you underneath him, but your hands find his shoulders and stop him before he can.

Big, doleful eyes look up at yours, his face etched with concern as you shake your head. His bottom lip wobbles as he searches your face for why.

In a reassuring press, you mash your lips to his and lace your fingers behind his neck. You kiss all the air out of his lungs, until his fingertips are digging into your flesh hard enough to leave ten tiny bruises. You kiss him like you’re trying to take the weight of the world off his shoulders, like you’re going to accept his every burden as your own so he doesn’t have to carry them alone.

There’s a quiet pop as your mouths separate and you press your chest flush with his, wrapping your arms around his neck so your lips find his ear as your nose nudges through his curls.

“Tell me you want me,” you whisper. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“I don’t want it,” he groans back, “I need it. I’ve needed it since I fucking met you.”

The heat in his voice, the rumble of it in your ear, causes a wave of arousal to rush through your body. You unwind your arms from around his neck and slip slowly, painfully slowly, from his lap to stand between his legs. You place a finger under his chin and tip his face up for him to look at you, your thumb settling in the tiny dip at its center. Too small to see, it could only be felt.

“Everyone always uses you,” you tell him softly, almost mournfully.

His eyes stay wide and hopeful, never leaving yours as you sink down to your knees. His long, dark lashes flutter as your hands run up his muscled thighs, the edges of your thumbs grazing the outline of his cock. He hisses through his teeth and you grin devilishly at the sound.

“I want you to use me,” you instruct him. “Take whatever you need, as much as you want.”

And you can literally see how your words affect him, his eyes bugging wide as the wheels in his head are turning behind them. He reaches out to touch your face and you turn it to kiss his palm.

“Sweetheart, I—oh, fuck,” he gasps, cut off with your sudden squeeze of his clothed cock.

“I’ll stop you if I need a break,” you reply firmly.

The muscles in his neck pull taught as he nods. He leans back on one elbow, reluctant to let his other hand leave your face. You kiss his bare stomach along the top of his waistband and he curls his hand around the back of your head, gripping it tighter when you tug down his fly.

And you knew Eddie’s dick well by now. You knew it inside of you as well as out. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for the sight of it tonight. Thick, and veiny, and weeping with pre that dribbles down its sides. He’s almost ashamed of it, almost embarrassed by how hard he is for you; by how close he is to blowing his load when you’ve not even gotten started.

It was practically a miracle he didn’t soil the inside of his suit when you pulled his hair earlier.

His pupils are blown out when your eyes meet his, your lips hovering so close to his cock he can feel your breath on it. Saliva pools under your tongue so rapidly, you almost feel like you’re at risk of it spilling out of your mouth and running down your chin when you speak.

“Fuck my throat, Eddie. Please.”

And he does. He lets you set the pace at first, still holding fast on the back of your head he watches your lips surround his tip. His chest heaves with deep, gasping breaths as you take him fully into your mouth and start to bob on his perfect cock. It’s almost too much, too perfect, the feeling of your warm, wet mouth and your soft tongue and, fuck, your hand—

He pants wildly as you cradle his sack, your fingertips stroking them and spreading the spit from your mouth that’s dribbling down his shaft to his balls. They tense in your palm and his stomach tightens the faster your mouth moves, the more your throat relaxes to take him in deep.

The man who gives the best head imaginable finally having the favor returned.

“Jesus Christ…”

Eddie's words are whispered like a prayer and you look up to take in the sight of him.

Eyes pinched shut, his brows drawn like he’s in pain even though the sounds he’s releasing are nothing short of euphoric. You tease all the most sensitive nooks and crannies of his cock, all the places that make his eyes roll back and his head loll on his shoulders and his chest heave. Every ridge, every vein, every muscle that twitches under the attention of your tongue.

“Oh, pl…p-please,” he gasps, tightening his hold on your hair to still your movements as his hips start to move in an instinctive and primal thrust.

He hits the back of your throat and you swallow more of him down, taking him deeper, deeper until your nose brushes the wiry hair at his base.

You groan around his length, enthralled by the exquisite ache of him hitting your soft palate, and the sound is Eddie’s undoing. He lets out a long, low moan and spills hot and thick down your throat. His arm trembles as he fights his own iron grip on the back of your head, forbidding himself from pulling your hair. You can feel the tremors of his fingers against your scalp.

His abdomen spasms as you stroke him through the aftershocks, flirting with overstimulation. Fucked-out eyes, heavy-lidded and sleepy, but nothing short of reverent, find yours and they’re wet—shiny, shimmering with tears that crowd their rims and threaten to spill down his cheeks.

Quick as you can, you’re on your feet cradling his jaw to ask if he’s okay. And Eddie can’t answer, can only nod as he kisses, kisses, kisses your palm, the heel of your hand, your wrist, down the inside of your arm all the way to your elbow.

He can’t kiss you enough, it seems. 

You giggle softly as you sit beside him and reach out to ruffle his bangs, tucking some of his hair behind his ear and letting your touch linger on his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you brush a tear that has leaked out of the corner of his eye. He looks back at you with a smile and swipes the pad of his thumb along the corner of your mouth to wipe away a drop of his spend.

And you know there’s still a lot left to figure out—damage control that will have to be done, difficult conversations that will have to be had. There will be whispers and rumors and sidelong glances.

Not to mention the firestorm those pictures of you two at the ceremony will undoubtedly stir up.

But none of that matters right now. Nothing does, beyond this bed and this night. Nothing else even exists outside the confines of this room.

All that matters is you and him.

You lay there for a while, just…being. Your fingers tracing his tattoos and the soft planes of his chest and stomach; his, the slope of your shoulders and the lines of your body he’s always wanted to know better. Quiet words pass back and forth, teasing jokes and soft confessions. Admissions of fears that held you both back and don’t seem so daunting anymore. Don’t seem so scary.

When he’s hard again, you pick up the camera and point it at him as you guide him to lay on his back. You push in close on his face when you sink down fully onto his length and start to ride him at an egregiously slow pace just so your shot holds steady. And because he looks so pretty taking it.

“Something wrong, Ed?” you goad him a smidge, toying with him in more ways than one when your pussy squeezes so tight around his cock it makes him lose his breath and pant out of control.

“F-fu…fuuuuuck meeee…” he whines and writhes, throwing his head back into the mattress.

“Oh,” you chuckle at him, speeding up just a hair, “I’m sorry, is that not what I was doing?”

His head jerks up, eyes ablaze as he stares you down through the camera lens. You peer at him over the top of the viewfinder and shiver despite the thin layer of sweat building on your skin.

Okay, yeah, that might have been a little too far. Or just far enough, you think, almost giddy.

“Nah,” he growls, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “Sorry is what you’re gonna be.”

A loud squeal bursts out of you as he rolls your bodies to the side and pins you underneath him, somehow managing to keep himself seated inside you the whole time. Breathless, you watch as he takes the camera from you and practically tosses it away so he can hold your arms over your head. For a while, all it captures is a blurry close-up of your duvet cover, the frame shaking in time with every deep, solid thrust of Eddie’s hips that rattles the entire bed and you in it when he gets going.

Your moans and his grunts mix in a symphony that will surely earn you some side-eyeing from your neighbors tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to give a single ounce of a shit.

The song that you make together swells to a crescendo as you topple over the precipice you’ve been dangling off the edge of practically from the moment you met him. Eddie fumbles like mad for the camera and picks it up, recording your blissful expression before he swoops in to press his lips back to yours. Kissing you like he’s trying to eat you, like he’s trying to fuse your faces.

You’re certainly not complaining.

And now that he’s the one with the camera, he’s eager to keep going. He pans it up and down your whole body, guiding you into every filthy position he’s been imagining all those long nights alone in his bed. Through his eyes behind the lens, there’s not a single angle on you that isn’t pristine. 

He gets you up on all fours, films tight on your ass as he squeezes it and cracks his palm down on it when he lets go. The sting makes you keen, your back arching as your hips thrust back—seeking more, more. His hand then smooths over your buzzing flesh, soothes the ache he’s made.

And even as you’re making it, you can tell this is not just another sex tape.

It’s a love tape.

thank you for reading — love you, mean it! 🏝️