#all i’m thinking about tonight tbh

[femmeofhearts]

possessive butch save me…save me possessive butch…

[shepscapades]

[dbhc flavored] Hermit a Day May: Day 14 — Doc!

Featuring both a current-day s10 doc and a verrry early s8 post-deviant doc! :]

[apostaterevolutionary]

Okay can I be a bitter Anders fan for like. Just 2 minutes here lmao

Cause bioware released some game stats for veilguard and apparently 72% of players redeemed Solas which is like. Okay yeah the game kinda pushes you towards that. But when I think of all the shit I used to have to put up with just for enjoying Anders like at all and…

(This is not me being anti-Solas, I do not care if you love or hate him, but I am gonna say what he’s done is like. Objectively worse than literally every other companion so lmao. And that’s fine! You can still enjoy him! I’m not saying you can’t and it’s important to me that people understand that! I’m just saying he did in fact do objectively morally worse things in game than Anders did and I don’t think that’s really debatable. And I can’t really make my point here without saying that but I do want to make it clear this is not some moral condemnation of Solas enjoyers cause it’s not)

Getting anon hate on the regular, being told “oh you’re allowed to like Anders as long as you regularly talk about how much he sucks”, people gleefully describing how much fun they have killing him ON your posts about the fact that you like him, the devs making jokes about shitty fates for him when fans asked innocent questions about him, the absolute audacity of his writer to say half the shit she did in interviews (about bisexuality and mental illness, most critically), and then being beaten over the head again in inquisition about how Anders is the worst character to ever exist and there’s no redemption for terrorists who lie to you one time in the entire game and he deserves death or worse and that’s it

And now… 72% of people are down to redeem the guy who lies to you for 2 games straight and who did a lot of questionable things that includes creating the fucking blight and. Like. I guess I’m glad that Solas fans can live in a world where they aren’t constantly harassed and can give their ship like. A pretty damn good ending all things considered. And that the devs love Solas and actually give the option for that happy ending and have characters go to bat for Solas throughout the game and the most annoying thing they have to see are people making scrambled egg memes. I would not wish anyone to have to deal with the shit Anders fans had to put up with back then cause it sucked. It really sucked. And I’m glad it’s not being repeated with a different character, if nothing else

But like. Man there really is a difference when the writers actually like the character who does the thing, huh

[myokk]

fast sketch of ominis & fast intro to the ominis longfic I'm working on!! This is going to be the most self-indulgent pride and prejudice ripoff that ever existed, 100% based on the ominis of my oneshot💘

I am just OBSESSED with exploring the idea that he’s a natural legilimens & OBSESSED with the thought that he thinks too much for his own good🫶🫶🫶

Ominis Gaunt has always suspected he is cold-blooded.

It makes sense, really.

He always seems to be cold: frigid, long fingers that are often stiff and difficult to move; goosebumps raising the skin of his arms and the back of his neck any time he walks through the drafty halls of the dungeons; even his eyes, he has been told, are reminiscent of ice. They are apparently quite unsettling. The only time he feels comfortable in his body is when he basks in the heat of the sun.

His earliest memory is of the cold. It went like this: he was four years old: his older brother, Marvolo, had led him outside as a joke, he swore up and down that it was just a small joke, and how was he supposed to know that poor, blind Ominis would not be able to find his way back home? When his parents had finally found him, his frail mother sobbing and holding his tiny, blue, hypothermic body to her chest, Ominis remembers feeling quite perturbed at the disturbance. Couldn’t he just be left alone, in the silent soft snow?

He does not know if he has ever felt warm since.

As he strides through the dungeons, the copious amount of warming charms he casts on himself do not seem to be enough, but he keeps casting them anyways and also: wrapping his wool scarf more tightly around his neck, quickening his pace in the hopes that blood flows more easily through his limbs, wishing that he had remembered his gloves. Winter is always a terrible time of year (this winter more terrible than usual), and every breath of warm air leaves his lips reluctantly. How he wishes that he could just hold on to it a bit longer and yet the warmth leaves him precisely fifteen traitorous times a minute, the frigid air gleefully entering and burning its way down his throat in response. Maybe it’s a punishment of some sort.

His whole life has been defined by punishments and sometimes he preoccupies himself with the thought that it is the only way he can view the world. Most of the punishments are manifested in curses inherited from his family. (His parents and Marvolo insist that they are gifts, but Ominis begs to differ.)

First, his blindness: the only true punishment-curse that even his family rejects: caused by inbreeding, no doubt. He did not cry after his birth and his mother cradled his tiny body in silent arms, lovingly whispering nonsense-evil-Parseltongue to him but when he opened his eyes and she saw a brilliant celestine blue with no iris, she screamed in horror and shattered the frigid peace of the room. His parents tried everything to fix him, make him whole, throwing money at various possible solutions to no avail. Magically induced disabilities are not, apparently, curable by magic.

Ominis is not sure that he hates being blind, although he suspects everyone thinks that he should. It is as much a part of him as his fifteen-breaths-per-minute, and he thinks that vision is not all it’s cracked up to be. He is always terrified at the thought that his tenuous hold on sanity is only due to the fact that he cannot see, until he realizes he shouldn’t be terrified of hypothetical situations that cannot come to pass. He consoles himself with the thought that maybe, if he has had to give up his vision for his sanity, it is a small price to pay. Although, he also thinks sometimes that it would be nice to live a life without any morality holding him back.

He is entirely too introspective, after all.

It is precisely this introspection that is his downfall in this moment (and his cold blood). Ominis is so busy casting warming charms on himself and thinking in circles that he cannot use his wand to help him sense his environment and so he should not be surprised when he crashes into her.

And yet he is. Terribly surprised.

Maybe if he were not so caught up in his own thoughts he could have paid more attention to his surroundings. Instead, he spent too much time ruminating on his reptilian heritage and has now barreled head first into his arch-nemesis.

Rosalie Harris.

The girl who has stolen his oldest friend from him.

The girl who is currently making angry noises as she clambers to her feet and is picking up the things that he has crashed everywhere. Even if he could see, Ominis is not sure he would help her. Helping her would be akin to betraying himself, after all.

“Hey! Watch where you’re - oh, hello, Ominis.”

“Rosalie,” he says shortly, nodding his head where he thinks she might be standing and stepping to the side. He tightens his grip around his wand, feeling the texture of the wood change from rough to smooth as he runs his thumb down it. Smooth where he always seems to worry it, rough where the wood refuses to yield to the brushes of his thumb.

He surreptitiously casts the spell - he has at least done it so many times he no longer needs to say it out loud - and his surroundings light up. Or, he supposes that is the most apt description, considering he cannot actually differentiate between light and dark. He senses Rosalie’s silhouette to his left - she is standing with her arms crossed and her foot taps impatiently as she waits for him.

Waiting for what? he thinks, slightly irritated. She never seems to leave him alone and he wracks his brain trying to think of something, anything he can say to get rid of her.

Maybe if he speaks in Parseltongue, she would finally be scared away for good. He does not really want that second reminder of his family’s curse, though.

His family preferred speaking in Parseltongue with each other, believing the ability made them morally superior to everyone else and Ominis had not even realized until he had arrived at Hogwarts that no, it was not normal. When his name had been called at the Sorting, furious whispers had erupted amongst all the students, and his every step (terrified, confused, unsure - he had still been getting used to using his wand to navigate his surroundings) to the stool at the front of the Great Hall was plagued with a susurration reminiscent of snakes. Except these whispers, sneaking their way into his mind, had been unkind and overwhelming.

(He had not realized in that moment that he was also hearing their thoughts.)

Maybe now, with Rosalie standing in front of him and just annoyingly waiting for Merlin-knows-what, Ominis should use his Legilimency to find out what Rosalie wants. (He hates it, though.) It would not be difficult. (The thought makes him shiver in horror because he doesn’t want to abuse the ability.) He can feel the edges of her mind, her magic, and all he has to do is reach out - she is right there, and -

“Ominis?”

Her arms are crossed, he hears an impatient huff.

Why hasn’t she left him alone yet?

Hadn’t the Hogwarts Express already left the station, bringing all of the students home for the winter holiday? Ominis had thought he would be one of the only students left in the castle, and if he is being honest with himself, he had been looking quite forward to having the place to himself.

Ominis’s winter has just gotten infinitely worse.

Going to Gaunt Manor for the holidays is out of the question (he will not think about the nightmares that have been plaguing him ever since he received the owl demanding he go home), and Ominis does not want to be more of a burden to the Sallows. They already do enough for him over the summer, and Sebastian and Anne have convinced him to go to Hogsmeade with them at least twice over the next two weeks. Besides, with Anne’s curse progressing, Ominis does not want to be in the way.

“Why are you still here?” Ominis asks. He knows his voice comes across as cold as his blood, blunt, but he cannot help himself. Ever since Rosalie arrived - her entrance to Hogwarts also causing quite the stir - Ominis has been intensely annoyed by her presence. She is too happy. Too carefree. Too…well, everything he is not.

And, she does not seem to leave him alone.

Rosalie is always there, always hanging around Sebastian. (Taking Sebastian away.) He even showed her the Undercroft, which had almost caused a rift in their relationship. Ominis could not believe that Sebastian would be so careless, showing someone who for all intents and purposes is crashing her way into their lives, forcing them to pay attention to her. They barely even knew her, and yet Sebastian thought it was a good idea to show her such a sacred place?

(It does not help that she is intelligent, and Ominis has caught himself on more than one occasion about to ask her about her opinion on something before he catches himself.)

“I was looking for you.”

Ominis tilts his head at that and fiddles with his ring. He considers walking away, leaving -

“I mean…Sebastian said that you were also going to be here over the holidays and since everyone else just left I thought -”

“Thought what?” Internally, Ominis winces at the biting tone to his voice. It came out harsher than he intended, his voice loud and echoing through his mind, bouncing off the cold, stone walls surrounding them.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s3 episode 6 thoughts

it’s been an exhausting day. work was awful. i was brave and didn’t cry whilst there. and for that, i deserve this episode even more than usual. 

oooooh it’s an internet episode!!!! an episode about an internet killer!!! that probably felt new and scary back then!!! i’m excited to see something i assume as naturally dangerous as hitchhiking to be seen as scary and new. let us jump in, and enjoy the adventures of our agents, and numb ourselves to the hardship of the outside world.

these two people are in a car. he is smooth talking her. oh… they only waited three months to meet in person after talking online. hmm… is that speedy or not? i guess that depends on who you ask. for me, i’m gonna say speedy. because they didn’t even see each other’s faces before this.

he has mysterious scars on his neck. yeah, i noticed that very conspicuous camera panning. the music is very ominous. and now they’re kissing. 

OH??? THERE IS A STICKY FLUID. IN HER MOUTH. an unusual one. not whatever you were thinking. what the hell… was that man some kind of insect????? there was real goop in there, man. eughhh it was very gross. 

cop is approaching the car next day. and she is like. jelly? as in, covered in gel. the gelatin monster has struck and apparently he’s surfing the net. 

(trust when i say i’m not a gelatin monster. or don’t trust. perhaps skepticism is better)

okay, investigation time. this guy shakes hands with mulder and entirely ignores scully. tells me a lot about his character very quickly. mulder has also got some more conventional looking shades this time around. perhaps his other ones were just not keeping the sun out like he had hoped for.

body reveal! so it seems that the goop has um. melted her skin? EUGH. mulder swabs the goop. it’s just a prop, i tell myself to avoid gagging. a prop with excellent construction that was very carefully crafted. shoutout prop team as always. 

detective looks real freaked out by the goop. yeah he’s not special in that regard.

mulder says he has heard of similar killings from women placing ads in the paper! i don’t want them to separate though, as he announce he’s going on an investigation while she does an autopsy. c’mon, can’t we do some teamwork in the same room?

scully looks disgusted at the bloody goop in her hand. this is appearing to be a universal sentiment.

the goop man is at the computer typing to another woman. and smiling mischievously. we learn, from a woman dropping a key off at his door, that his name is mr. incanto, and she thinks that since he types and gets a lot of packages, he must be a writer or an editor. and she wants him to read her poems. wow. leaping to conclusions here. i admire it. it’s clear she’s flirting with him, and the idea of a person you’re attracted to reading your poems is a wild one for me to entertain. personally i would rather explode crazy style.

scully is scrubbed up <3 and she is so cute <3 i don’t mean this in a condescending way… she just looks cute in a fully “i respect her capabilities” kind of way. don’t worry. but this man is not respecting her and is shocked she’s a doctor. rude as hell… could never be me.

he says he’s old fashioned. umm okay if you want to be all manly about it how about you cut up the goop body yourself… oh that’s right you can’t. because you don’t have the skill set. or even any skill sets, as far as i can tell.

he says this is effecting her judgement because the victim is a woman and he isn’t being sexist. IF YOU DON’T SHUT YOUR MOUTH MAN…. she is so patient even when she ought to rip his heart from his chest with her teeth

she’s making a face when he leaves like she really IS thinking about doing some heart ripping and then she gets into the recording mode. and the body has increased in goopiness. in fact. there is only a skeleton now and a LOT of liquid. oh… 

mulder is asking about the murder victim, and he’s sitting on a very 90’s printed couch, and yeah he looks good. don’t worry about it. he’s asking the victim’s roommate what chat room they met in. now personally, if i was talking to people on a chat room, i would not be telling my roommate the names of said chat rooms, but maybe it was different vibe wise at that time. imagine if my roommate knew i ran a blog like this. i couldn’t picture such a thing. and the victim would READ her roommate the letters???!? OH I CANNOT IMAGINE SUCH A THING!!!!

he uses the roommate’s house phone to call scully, who is dealing with a very wet skeleton. but that’s so funny to me. he wanted to use someone else’s phone to call her. maybe his phone still hadn’t been replaced since that kid melted it in episode 3.

he’s putting out a localized online warning… is that a thing? wow. you learn so much on this television program.

“in life, bones have the tensile strength of forged iron”, says scully. and i’m giggling. n kicking my feet.

ohhh the bone is SQUISHY. it is not supposed to be this way. but it did look quite satisfying. again, props team, shoutout.

oh tea… the body fat wasn’t there!!! it disappeared. scully is like, why would he do that, steal a victim’s fat. and i would love to know the same thing. 

another woman is preparing to meet with the goop monster. oh, but someone is telling her there was a warning SPECIFICALLY for woman in cleveland to not go meet people online! but she’s like nooo i’m a good judge of character. LIES LIES LIES. she’s only been talking to him for a MONTH???? HOW CAN YOU JUDGE A CHARACTER IN A MONTH?

the killer’s at a fancy restaurant looking place with a bouquet of flowers and he’s checking his watch. oh and he dumps the flowers!!! queen of self preservation saved herself tonight by standing him up??? yes, it appears this is the case!! 

now there are a bunch of ladies on the side of the road. i have only seen this happen in this show and never in real life, but maybe i'm not looking in the right direction. NO! he sees a woman and smiles. they go to a back alley… no!! but she won’t kiss him. okay, i think, she has a chance. alas. i was wrong. so he attacks. OH AND HE IS SLURPING ON HER BODY???? another woman finds her goop-ified. 

they’re at the scene and the detective is being awful (shocker!) but mulder hands over some of the letters from the killer, and notes that they contain letters from 16th century italian poems. which tells me he is familiar with 16th century italian poems. ohhhhhhhhhh. blushing a lil. 

focus. so the fellow would have access to niche italian poems, is what we are learning here. likely a college professor, or a grad student, or something along those lines.

the killer should also have a wound pattern, they note, because the woman scratched him very well.

and BLEGHHHH, cut to his place, where he’s cutting his wound??? like straight up trimming it like it’s fabric or something. nasty nasty nasty nasty!!!

someone is bringing him a package. and the woman who asked to show him her poems asks him to dinner?!?!?! but he says he’s busy. the teenage daughter reads him for filth. he’s creepy and smells weird. delivered by a girl who meant every word she said.

scully is posing impeccably, looking as someone types on a computer. it was formidable.

mulder comes by with some results and he sort of. scoops her out of the room. 😳

theory time in the hallway! hallway theory time!! always one of my favorite times. “okay, it’s not yet the finely detailed insanity that you’ve come to expect from me” <- at least he’s self aware 

FAT SUCKING VAMPIRE LET’S GOOOO. such a preposterous creature. i have to admire it.

there are examples of this in nature, right? “i don’t know too many scorpions who surf the internet” scully, you just offended the coolest scorpion alive somewhere out there. but they couldn’t hear you so it’s okay. just don’t ever say that again…

scully wants to brief the people involved in the case and the detective is again being weird. mulder recognizes this. i can see it.

okay, so the killer has some more niche italian poetry. and an email from the woman who saved herself by not showing up! nooo, i thought she had escaped!

knock at the door. it’s scully. but not at the door of the right guy!! the detective is at the door of the right guy!!! 

mulder makes some remark about not being a good salesman because no one answered the door. and yeah i giggled. but she cuts him off with the fact the detective hasn’t answered his calls or returned… has he been gooped?!

now the killer is out with the woman who previously saved herself. and she sees his skin. and she offers to drive him home!!! noooo ellen :( don’t fall for his tricks and lies

the poetry woman is at his door. she puts a HUGE thing of poems under his door. 

but back in the car he is about to smooch ellen. somehow poetry lady let herself into his room??? and a bunch of flies are around. 

(we later learn she was the housekeeper or landlord or something so yeah. she would have access to the keys. but at the time i was baffled)

goop monster and ellen don’t smooch because he sees the poem lady is in his room!!! and the detective is in the tub!!! and he walks in right as she sees this!!! oh no. violence ensues…

her daughter comes to the door. and asks where her mom is. and he GRABS her weird as hell. and says he’s leaving.

mulder is sitting on a table again because he’s weird. but the girl calls the police!!! and they found her mom’s body and the detective's. the little girl asks scully why someone would do this and she says she doesn’t know… STOP I’LL SOB

okay, this dude’s name is virgil and there are no records of him existing. virgil. damn. maybe he’s FROM 16th century italy, because that’s a 16th century sounding name. are there any italian legends of fat sucking vampires? can’t say i’m very familiar with their lore 

they’re trying to get into his computer and all the files were deleted. ohhh they have floppy disks!!! i love floppy disks 💾

the killer went to ellen’s place?!!?!? and she locks the door. ellen please pull out a glock at this time. 

scully sent out a warning to everyone in proximity. and three of them were already missing!!!! that is evil :(

and ellen got the email but he’s in the room. and he starts attacking… oh lord, just as the agents roll up. 

they get in formation and then kick down her door and WHEW they way they work as a team… i’m eating it up. sweeping the rooms. guns cocked. 

ellen is under some sheets and coated in goop whilst mulder does parkour to go and find this guy. GO GO MULDER RUN RUN!!! his voice is all growly while he holds a shadowy figure at gunpoint, but he only runs into a teenager. no! poor kid :(

NOOO… THE KILLER WAS HIDING IN THE BATHROOM AND SCULLY WAS GOING IN THERE TO GET SOME STUFF TO TAKE CARE OF ELLEN!! he smashed her head in the mirror and he starts to goop her until ellen does in fact roll up with a glock. and shoots him in the chest. YES ELLEN I KNEW YOU HAD IT IN YOU <3

so they have him in custody now and his skin is suuuuuuper dry and peeling and nasty. and scully asks what the hell he was doing and he goes on about stuff blah blah blah and then he quotes some italian and she gets freaked and dips. and we end with a hannibal-esque shot of his evil peeling nasty face. and some contemplative music.

so. that was gross.

grossness established. i once again kind of enjoyed this episode. like was i gagging, and not in the good way? yeah i was. but again with the suspense. i think the plot could be absolutely ridiculous- like an actual fat vampire- and if the plot and pacing are the right tempo, i’ll find myself fully absorbed into it. 

but i can’t help but feel that i’m missing something. the italian seemed too purposeful. is there some medieval tale of a fat vampire? i’m being so serious btw like actually. is that a reference that flew over my head? is it in dante’s inferno or something? i love history but middle ages europe always puts me to sleep so i can’t say i’m familiar with the literature or tropes beyond what i learned in art history class. where we never covered ANY sort of vampire. just a lot of baby jesus and also mary and sometimes adult jesus. 

hmm. so i’m wondering here what that was about. and yeah, i could google it. but again, more fun when you tell me things.

i mean, if it was something they just made up for fun, i get that too. like earlier we had that evil mermaid baby that lived in the waterways. and we had that evil twin that looked like the fiji mermaid. and eugene tooms the lizard man. the seriousness with which the situation is played enhances the campy angle when you ponder it.

overall, it was interesting to see a world where the internet was new and fresh and scary. now it’s scary in mostly familiar ways. but it was not always this way! and while i am a little confused on the concept of the episode itself- who exactly our monster of the week was, if he even WAS a monster of traditional sort of means- i won’t lie, the episode had me invested. there were also moral questions raised about how someone could do something so evil, specifically in relation to scully’s character, which probably speaks to her biggest fear being that anyone could pose a threat, which i think i’ll contemplate at another time, because it is fascinating, especially when you consider… i think it’s s2 episode 13? where the narrative also really dives into this question. how can people do evil things, and how can good people cope with knowing that it’s impossible to know who is capable of doing terrible things?

after a hard day at work in which a million things went sideways, it does feel nice to watch my pals mulder and scully do some sleuthing, no matter the situation in which they find themselves.

the goopsterrrrrrrr

[damthosefandoms]

actually twttin would’ve been much funnier if johnny & dally lived because half the plot would’ve been mark driving bryon nuts by ditching him to hang around ponyboy, not because they’re friends but because mark really idolizes dally and thinks befriending ponyboy curtis is the way to get close to him (he’s truly onto something there)

[r0semultiverse]

PREDICTIONS FOR HSBC UPD8: Tonight we’ll get...

Commander Karkat dies

Tavros Crocker held hostage by the brig boys much to the horror of Jake

Gamzee’s heart was jumpstarted by the lollipop juju or something else and he’s running wild beyond the grave or in trickster mode as a sort of troll zombie.

Meenah’s ring of life gets stolen RIP

Ultimate Dirk is doing something with his homebrew SBURB game and/or Arquiusprite is there helping Dirk prep for the game.

Jade gets told that Rose and/or Tavros are gone and it breaks her concentration on keeping the force field up (and that’s the cliffhanger we get for the first update of this month)

Dave and Aradia doing more time powers training and Jade is there (or they all smoke weed or something)

We get some dialogue with Kanaya (on the green space ship) talking to Roxy about Rose going off with Dirk.

Alt Calliope tries to once again posses Jade

Aradia tells Sollux its time to GTFO of there and he’s surprised she’s back, asks for 5 more minutes and she asks what game he’s playing and they catch up.

[courtillyy]

tonight someone was insisting that jungkook is gay. And if anyone tried to argue that maybe she shouldn’t say it with such certainty she just got more pissed off and smug. I know I’m literally running a rpf tournament rn but it took my entire sense of self restraint to not go off on her

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

disco elysium fan in the wild !!! wooo!!

[awrkive]

summary: where you and jungkook are in a situationship and you kind of hate each other but the sex is great

wc: 2.8k

warnings/misc: idol!jk x producer!(fem)reader, they are mean to each other 😬, just.. weird dynamics tbh. explicit sexual content: unprotected s*x, multiple positions, cre*mpie, brief c*nnilingus

note: this is entitled "something" in my docs. i genuinely dk what this is but i read this and i was like. oh! okay! i think i had a vision so i want to share!! ik im not the #1 fan of mean jk or idol aus for that matter but the oc is equally just as mean so i kind of fw this tbh aishdixh. not proofread. sorry!

The surface of the leather couch is cold against your back when Jungkook pushes you to it – quite roughly, as if he has something to prove. 

And it definitely feels like it when he shoves your panties to the side once he’s situated on top of you – two of his fingers inserting themselves in your pussy without any warning. 

“Fuck, what’s gotten you so wet?” Jungkook hisses on the side of your head, pushing his slender fingers in your heat until he’s knuckles deep, buried to the hilt.

“I– oh fuuck,” your words get cut off with a moan when Jungkook starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, fast and erratic. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook says, a little mocking, squeezing your waist with his free hand, noting the way your heavy breathing fills the space of your studio. It’s dimly lit, just like you like it, and Jungkook knows there could be someone anytime that could walk by – the staff, his juniors, seniors, whoever – but it’s not your first time fooling around in your studio and it sure as hell isn’t going to be the last. 

“J-jeon—” 

“I’m just Jeon now?” Jungkook picks up his pace in your pussy, sliding his fingers in and out until you’re a panting mess under him, moans influencing his blood to travel to his dick that’s considerably getting bigger every second that passes by. “Come on, not even Jungkook? Kook? And there you were a while ago back at practice studio calling Mingyu oppa when he’s fucking barely older than you.” 

“Oh my god, shit— J-jung– it’s–” 

Jungkook doesn’t know exactly what comes over him, but he begins fingering you so fast he felt your wrist wrap around his own, and he could see a hint of tear drop from the side of your eye before Jungkook notices the way your thighs shake, a telltale sign of your orgasm. 

And he’s usually a giver. Always is, to be frank. Especially when it comes to you. Because as much as you infuriate him, you also look really fucking pretty when you cum – but this time, Jungkook feels a little petty. 

So when you say you’re about to cum just like Jungkook predicted, he abruptly slides his fingers out of your pussy, leaving you empty. 

“What the fuck—” he doesn’t let you finish, just uses his strength to flip you over the couch with his hands on your waist, and in swift motion gets you in all fours. 

“You don’t deserve to come before I put my dick in you.” 

Jungkook kneels behind you, takes his engorged cock out of his sweats, and enters your sweet, wet hole suddenly in an almost abrupt motion, hearing the way your breath hitch when the first inch comes into contact. 

“Oh god…” you moan at the delicious stretch, burying your face deeper in the couch as Jungkook begins entering you slowly.

It certainly isn’t the first time you’ve fucked without much prep. Jungkook always insists on an orgasm first before he pushes his cock deep into you while you say otherwise – but perhaps he’s most especially pissed at you tonight that he’s even breaking his own rules. 

You don’t really care, though. The burn feels delicious. It’s slow and it’s steady and you can just feel Jungkook holding out from slamming into you right away, his dick getting even bigger in you, every ridge crossing your inner walls.

His deep grunts and heavy breathing paired with your whimpers and moans bounce off the walls, and you’re beginning to think it’s one of the benefits of getting a studio soundproofed so you can fuck someone in peace in it. 

“S-so fucking tight—” Jungkook groans, sliding out slowly. The loss doesn’t last long when he enters you again, grabbing your hips tighter as he goes. “Is me fucking you almost everyday not enough, huh?” 

“You don’t fuck me everyday– ah,”

A hard thrust, one that feels a little punishing. It makes your legs shake, almost making you give out on your position. 

“Whose fault is that?” Jungkook hisses. Then, he speeds up again, and soon the sounds of skin slapping against skin filtrates the room. Jungkook jackhammers into you, and this time you’re more than sure he’s trying to prove something. 

“I’m not the– the– busier one–oh— between us.” You reaching out for something behind you – nothing in particular, but Jungkook takes your hand anyway, placing it on the small of your back and keeping it there is he slams into you again, repeating the motion over and over again until you’re near tears. 

It’s so good, and you’re so wet and you want to cum so bad.

You’re just about to whine for it when Jungkook suddenly changes your position again, splaying his hand around your stomach until all you know is that he’s manhandling you over the couch and he’s seated on the leather while you end up on his lap. 

Jungkook slides your top upwards until they’re halfway on your chest, expertly creeping up your back to unhook your bra, the flimsy garment falling down your lap. He doesn’t waste more time and maneuvers you a little to suck on your nipples, hands coming to your waist to start bounching you on his cock. 

You whimper at the simulation, hands grabbing his hair at the shock. There’s a mirror across from you that lets you see everything that’s happening, and you can’t help but let out a loud moan when you see the way his engorged head disappears in your pussy every time he pushes you down his lap, with his messy hair buried deep on your chest. 

You look a mess, with your skirt on the floor and portions of your ponytail breaking away from your elastic tie. But you help Jungkook anyway, holding onto his arm as you bounce up and down on him, pushing your shirt way up your chest until your breasts are free from the constraint of the fabric.

“You’re always so pliant when you’re on my cock like this,” Jungkook says as he bites your nipple. And it felt petty, together with his words. 

“Shut up. M-make me cum.” You hiss, grabbing his hair a little tight to make him look up at you. 

He does, but there's a smug smirk on his face. “You think you deserve it?” 

You arch a brow, despite feeling the tight coil in your stomach. “When do I not?” 

“Wrong answer.” Jungkook tsks, shaking his head. Your eyebrows meet, but you find it incredibly hot when he does that thing with his tongue in his cheek. “Wrong answers mean I get to come before you. So sit back and be a good girl for me, hm?” 

“Fuck off—” You’re interrupted by Jungkook giving a forceful thrust from down under, so powerful that it almsot knocks you off his lap. 

“Look at you, such a fucking slut. A gorgeous slut,” Jungkook says, cupping the side of your head and directing you to look in the mirror you were looking at just a second ago. Your breathing is heavy, and your boobs bounce the same time you go up and down on Jungkook’s cock at a quick, abnormal pace you’re literally running out of breath. “Pussy so fucking tight and tiny but you can always take my dick, huh? No matter how big it gets for you? Right, princess?” 

You whimper. “Don’t call me that.” 

Jungkook only smirks. “Oh, but you are a princess. Always whines when you don’t get what you want.” 

“I d-don’t– fuuckkk – I don’t whine.” you hiss directly to his face, glaring at him. 

He chuckles, dark and deep. His fingers begin to creep over your pussy, and soon he’s rubbing fast circles over it, and you want to bite back with an answer to get the last word – but the words die on your tongue when Jungkook changes the position again, roughly placing you on the couch, turning you to your side.

Jungkook grabs your leg and hook it on his shoulder, finds leverage on one of your ass cheeks and enters you from that position, jackhammering thrusts making you almost scream. 

It felt so deep, so close, and the stretch is almost godly. Delicious. The way Jungkook’s dick fills you up so good makes the tears form in your eyes, and you keep your eye on him as he pumps in and out of you, sweat already forming on his brows, abs clenching, veins popping out of his arms.

“S-shit–” Jungkook hisses, breathing heavily, a telltale sign of his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna cum. Shit, can I– can I cum inside?” 

You nod your head vehemently, grabbing your own chest at the sight of him to give yourself some form of relief. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans before he slams into you in and out, repeating the motion over and over again until his thighs shake. Pauses. Then, he takes his cock out slowly from you, and you look down to see the way Jungkook’s abdomen clench when he starts pumping his cock to shoot his seed into your hole. 

It’s warm on your pussy, a little cold when it begins trickling down. 

“J-jungkook, I want to—” 

“Shh, princess. You’ll come. Just wait a little.” he squeezes his cock for more, spurts of cum shooting into and onto you, and you feel like you could cry at this point. 

“Jungkook—” 

“Easy.”

He puts your leg down and you thought he was going to enter you again but he adjusts you on the couch, kneels down on the floor, and pokes his tongue out to taste you. 

“Oh god!” you gasp when Jungkook suddenly dives in, hungry and impatient, tongue eager to get everywhere all at once.

It happened so fast you don’t exactly know when you released. But when you do, you’re lax on the couch afterwards with Jungkook sitting beside you, massaging your breasts. 

“Kook… that’s enough.” you say, holding his wrist. 

Jungkook arches a brow. But he lets go. 

The post-coital momentum hits you the same. 

It’s always like this when you’re doing fucking. You pick up your clothes, and Jungkook starts dressing himself properly too. 

You comb your hair through your fingers, putting it back into a decent ponytail in the mirror. You see the reflection of Jungkook behind you seating himself on the couch. 

“You’re working tonight?” He takes out something in his pocket, a familiar small, pink electronic device. 

Your expression sours immediately. “Keep that shit away from my studio, Jeon.” Jungkook halts, arching his brow your way. You roll your eyes. “If you’re gonna smoke, do it with a real cigarette. Don’t be a pussy.” 

Jungkook snorts a scoff, but he tucks away the vape in his pocket back again, anyway. 

“You’re getting real creative with being hateful about my smoking. Careful, princess. I’m starting to think you wanna be my girlfriend.” 

You walk towards your swivel chair in front of the keyboard. On the screen is a song you’ve been working on for the past month, unfinished, with way too many versions of the melody. You can’t seem to figure out what fits best. 

You look back at Jungkook with a disgusted face. “You keep on mentioning that word. I think you want me to be your girlfriend.” 

He laughs, relaxed against the sofa, watching you from across the room. 

“I would’ve already asked you way before if I wanted that.” 

You pause. 

Huh. 

What a fucking asshole. 

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But you’re the one getting all worked up just ‘cause I called your bestfriend oppa when he's barely fucking older than me.” You quote him as a retort, throwing his words back at him, going back to your computer. 

“Did it flatter you?” 

You tried some notes on the keyboard, and again, it doesn’t feel right. Something's missing. Something's too much.

“No. Why would it? You’re a good fuck, I’ll give you that. But you’re not more than that to me.”

A few keys again. It felt way too… bright. The lyrics don't fit. Yoongi would know what to do with this track. But you can’t come to him again, especially after what happened a week ago. A drunk confession and a sober rejection, with the confession coming from you and the rejecting coming from Yoongi.

Now you have to act as if that didn't faze you. Hell is going to freeze over way before you show everyone you give a fuck about anything.

You don’t even notice that Jungkook hadn’t said anything to the last thing you said because it was just that quick for you to get holed in at work. 

Until you hear footsteps coming your way. 

“What are you working on?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the whole equipment before you. 

“Songs.” you say, not really interested in getting into more conversation with him tonight. 

The sex was good, and you won't tell Jungkook this – it's unspoken anyway – but sex with him has always lessened your stress. Made you feel free, even just for a moment. Jungkook likes sex, and he makes sure to prove it to you everytime you do it.

“Wasn’t really obvious.” Jungkook sarcastically says.

You sigh at that, eyes focused on your screen. Clicking away at the software, trying out some keys again. The sound of the keyboard almost rings to your ears at this point.

“Jungkook, I’m working.” 

“I know. What? I can’t watch you? Yoongi always tells me it’s better if I watch how you guys work so I can learn a thing or two.” He shrugs, sitting in the available chair next to you. 

The mention of Yoongi makes you jump a little, something you hope Jungkook doesn't notice. When he doesn't say anything, you arch your brow at him.

“Why? Thinking of producing your own shit from now on?” 

You didn't really think that through. Just wanted to... say something. Retort. But you see that flicker of something unknown flash his face, and you know to yourself instantly that was a… low blow.

Jungkook had always felt… you don’t know, really. He’s just close off when it comes to his… own works. He almost doesn’t really mention them to you, even though that could be something you can talk about when you’re not trying to get in each other's pants.

“None of your business.” Jungkok says after awhile. 

You bite your lip. “Okay.” 

The room feels quiet until Jungkook breaks it.

“He’s planning to ask you out, by the way.” 

Without looking away from your computer, you ask, “Who?” 

“Mingyu.” 

“Oh.” 

“What are you going to say?” 

Your brows furrow. “Not sure. You’re his friend right? Is he a nice guy?” 

“You like nice guys now?” 

“Who doesn't?” you roll your eyes. “Maybe I’ll say yes.” 

Jungkook suddenly stands up, the chair scraping against the floorboards.

“Okay, well. Just tell me when you two start fucking, just so I know my health isn’t at risk here.” 

You look up at him incredulously.

“You know you’re such a fucking asshole sometimes, right?” He doesn’t say anything. You scoff. “As if you haven’t fucked anybody else since we started doing this.” 

“Who the hell else have I fucked, quickly?” Jungkoon furrows his brows. 

Shit. You’re confused now. The software is dancing in your eyes. Maybe it was wrong to get right into it after having sex; your brain's mush. And Jungkook's picking up a fight with you as fucking usual. You genuinely don't want to get into it right now.

“I don’t fucking know, Jeon. A random idol at some music show backstage? Maybe one of your fans? I really don’t care. As long as you tell me. ‘Cause I’m as concerned about my health as you are yours.” You say the words with a particular bite to it, making sure to look at him when you use your words against him.

“I haven’t been in any pussy other than your own uptight one since I fucked it, so good luck on that beef you have with an imaginary woman.” Jungkook spits out before he takes his keys out. “I’ll have dinner delivered to you ‘cause I know you haven’t eaten shit. Until then, I’m heading off. Just text me if you’re staying over at my place or not. I don't care. You have a keycard.” 

One you never used. Jungkook's aware of that.

You avoid looking at him. “I'm not.” 

“... Okay.” 

He leaves just like that.

You slump in your seat and shut your eyes close.

[lyriumsings]

ooooo i’ve been itching to draw my crown more and now i’m like what if,,, i give her a destiny au hMmMmah

[nymphoniah]

wonderful tonight | logan howlett

pairing: old man!logan x younger!reader

i’m yearning for old man!logan so fuckin’ badddd. just been thinking about curling up next to him in bed, resting your head in his lap while he’s propped upright, smoking a cigar.

content/tags: domesticity, pet names, hints of sexual content, just very fluffy tbh lol, implied age gap (logan is >200 years old, reader is in their 20’s).

one hand is occupied with rubbing finger eights with his thumb along your jawline, and the other is pinching the spine and pages of the book he’s reading. the cigar rests in the corner of his mouth, and he releases the occasional puff to let the smoke out.

he always pays attention to his girl. he’ll make sure of it. whether he’s busy or tired, he’ll always make time for you.

and right now, that’s petting you like you’re his own little cat, which isn’t too far off of a description—with every caress of his calloused fingers against your face, you’re mewling. all you need to do is grow a tail.

“such a pretty girl,” he murmurs, huffing out some smoke. he glances down at you, pinching your cheek before he moves his hand away from you to rest his cigar on the ashtray.

licking his index finger and thumb, he then flips to the next page of his book, looking down at the contents through his glasses.

“logan…” you whine, tugging at the hem of his shirt in an attempt to get his attention.

“don’t think i forgot about you, darlin’” he chuckles, running a hand through your hair, ruffling it slightly.

he folds the corner of the page of his book and stows it away on the beside table.

“now show your old man some sugar,” he lulls, patting his thighs for you to sit on.

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you were accommodated in such a shabby hotel, the last thing you needed was a power outage. and upon learning about one of your colleagues' fear of the dark, you can't bring yourself to not help him

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, spencer is afraid of the dark and the reader comforts him, they comfort each other tbh, elle&morgan my fav duo, glasses reid obvi.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.7k

𝐚/𝐧: these are my official apologies for all the recent stories 🫶🏼 i wanted it to be so much shorter but i just love writing conversations between characters so that's how it turned out. @mggslover i'm so sorry for not adding spencer falling off the bed but i didn't want to ruin that subtle ending :(( maybe next time

"Please, I’m begging you, I’m really begging you—begging in the name of a god I don’t even believe in. Tell me we’ve got the wrong address," Morgan said, squeezing his eyes shut the moment you all crossed the threshold of the motel where you'd been assigned to stay while working on the case in another state.

You noticed Elle’s expression falter as well. From the outside, the place hadn’t looked that bad. Well, perhaps it only seemed that way because the street it was on was so dark you couldn’t make out much of anything. Midnight must have been approaching; the first day of the investigation was officially over.

“We didn’t get it wrong,” Reid declared, stepping inside as the last of you, quickly scanning the interior. “I memorized it perfectly. Besides, there aren’t any other accommodations in the area, so this has to be it.”

“Do you remember that one case,” Elle started, “where the unsub killed women in hotel rooms and decorated the interiors with their intestines?”

You glanced at her, curious—or as curious as you could be under the circumstances. You’d only joined the team fairly recently; this was your third or fourth case at most, and none of them had been quite that… gruesome. Of course, you were well aware cases like that happened. It was only a matter of time before one came your way. Unfortunately.

“This motel totally looks like the kind of place where something like that happens on a daily basis,” Elle continued. “My advice? Don’t look under the beds tonight. Or in the closets, if there even are any.”

“I just hope there’s hot water,” Derek sighed, his voice carrying a tone of resignation. “We once ended up in a place that didn’t have any. I almost handed in my resignation.”

“You deal with gruesome murders every day, but no hot water is too much for you, Princess?” you raised an eyebrow, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye as you made your way toward the reception desk to pick up your room keys. The motel’s walls were yellow—not the cheerful sunflower or sunny kind of yellow, but more like dried-up cat pee yellow.

“He’s got a point, though,” Elle chimed in, taking the key from an elderly woman at the reception desk. “Think about it. You come back after a long, grueling day, from dawn to midnight, just like today. You’re exhausted, barely standing, and you can’t even take a hot shower.”

Morgan pointed at her and nodded in agreement. You shrugged.

“Cold isn’t that bad,” you muttered. Honestly, you hadn’t expected anything luxurious from the place you’d been sent to. It was just a few days, after all.

“Oh, are you one of those people practicing that millionaire morning routine?” Derek teased. “You know—waking up at three, cold shower, steak for breakfast, daily planning, self-help book…”

I just grew up poor, you thought to yourself, but aloud you only let out a short laugh.

“I’d kill to have time to read a book before work. Any book. Not to be yanked out of bed by Hotch at five, like today, and scrambling to get out the door.”

Elle and Morgan exchanged a very brief look, almost secretive. You narrowed your eyes, suspicion suddenly welling up inside you. Before you could ask about it, someone else spoke up.

“He called me at half past six,” Reid said, tilting his head in mild confusion.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the others silencing him with a look.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you stopped in your tracks, demanding an explanation. “He called me half an hour earlier than the rest of you?”

“You live farther away.”

“We’re practically neighbors, Elle Greenaway.”

“I’m about to drop,” Derek suddenly interjected with theatrical exhaustion. A change of subject. A not-so-subtle change of subject. “If I don’t lie down soon, I’ll fall asleep standing up. See you all tomorrow, folks.”

“You’re absolutely right—sleep well.”

With that, he and Elle headed up the stairs to the third floor, where they’d been assigned rooms. You and, as it turned out, Reid were staying on the second floor.

You turned to him slowly, arms crossed over your chest.

You didn’t even need to say anything—your stern gaze alone made it clear you were waiting for an explanation. Reid looked like he was about to throw his hands up in a defensive gesture, clearly regretting that he’d brought up the topic at all.

“Okay,” he sighed nervously. “What I’m about to say is not meant to offend you in any way, not even the slightest…”

“Offend?” you repeated, furrowing your brow. “Jesus Christ, Reid, don’t look at me like that—I’m not about to punch you in the face…”

“It’s just…” he began, a little calmer now. “All of us, including Hotch, I assume, are aware of the fact that, occasionally—just sometimes—you have a slight tendency to…run a bit late to work.”

He looked at you, and a telling silence fell between you.

"Yesterday, you were fourteen and a half minutes late."

"Fifteen minutes doesn't count as being late. And have you heard of a grace period? It's allowed to arrive within that time frame, without any consequences."

"Fine. What about two days ago, twenty-one minutes and seventeen..."

"Metro malfunction. I had no control over that."

"And six days ago, on Tuesday? Twenty-four minutes and..."

"I don’t remember such a situation, because, Mr. Big Brain, not all of us have such a memory. But I assume there was a reason..."

"Alright, fine," Reid interrupted you calmly. "I’m not saying there wasn’t a reason. But still... it happens quite often, and that's a fact. So it’s no surprise that Hotch, when the situation especially calls for it, prefers to call you a little earlier than the rest. Just out of caution."

You sighed, no longer able to argue about it. Maybe he was right; you did sometimes lose track of time in the mornings or fail to wake up to the sound of your alarm, closing your eyes for an extra five minutes... which resulted in small delays. You had never been directly reprimanded for it, so you were unaware that it had become such a big issue. Slightly embarrassed, you pressed your lips together.

"As usual, I guess you're right. And by the way, I’m heading to my room. I had thirty minutes less sleep than all of you, I’m exhausted," you said in a lighter, joking tone. A brief smile crossed Reid’s face. "Good night, wise guy.”

"Good night. And don’t look under the bed."

"Believe me, I wasn’t planning on it!"

With those words, you both disappeared into rooms directly opposite each other. The sounds of doors closing synchronized. You started your usual evening routine, placing your suitcase in the corner of the room. It was really small, narrow, and rectangular. The walls had that same awful color, the light was too bright, causing a headache. So you decided to just turn on the night lamp on the shabby nightstand next to the single bed.

It turned out that the only bathroom was in the hallway. You almost cried; you didn't want to take all your things with you and then come back with them. You remembered that you'd taken a proper shower that morning, so maybe a repeat wasn’t absolutely necessary. You were too sleepy for it, so you just set the alarm for fifteen minutes earlier to do it in the morning. After changing into comfortable clothes, you immediately lay down on the bed. Following Elle’s advice, and then Reid’s too, you didn’t check what might be hiding under it.

You weren’t hiding it, you were a terrible sleeper. Falling asleep in new places usually wasn’t a problem for you, even if it was a place that looked like a dive where someone could stab you in your sleep. But that night, something was bothering you. After giving it some thought, you realized it was Reid’s words.

Of course, it wasn’t that you held it against him. He was just stating facts; he had no intention of offending you, as he assured. And you didn’t even feel offended. More like unpleasantly confronted with a certain fact. You had only been part of the BAU for a short time. Well, just a week ago Derek stopped calling you the new girl. Although on the outside, you came across as very confident, on the inside, you were preoccupied with the team’s opinion of you and what they might think about you. Mainly because they were all older and more experienced.

You were especially worried about the fact that your tardiness and chaos had drawn the boss’s attention. Being on good terms with your superior was incredibly important, in case something ever happened, in case you made a more serious mistake…those small things could influence how the rest of your career would unfold, and the decisions made about you.

But above all, you wanted everyone to like you. Simply like you. So you wouldn’t walk around every day with your heart in your throat, praying for the day to end, constantly overwhelmed by a sense of misfit and loneliness.

You turned to your side, not sure how long you had been lying there, thinking. Suddenly, you realized you had to pee.

With great reluctance and sleepiness, you reached for the bedside lamp to turn it on and go to the bathroom. However, when you tugged at the cord, it... didn’t turn on. The room remained shrouded in darkness. You tried once more, then blindly made your way to the light switch in the room. You pressed it, and nothing.

What was going on, a power outage?

You shook your head in confusion. Whatever was going on, it didn’t change the fact that you had to go to the bathroom. You remembered the flashlight in your jacket pocket, and in the darkness, it took you a while to find it. When you finally had it in your hand, you felt ready to complete the mission. To pee, that is.

The moment you stepped out into the hallway, a light source flared up right before your eyes. You let out a muffled exclamation, partly from surprise, partly from being almost blinded.

“Damn, sorry…” Reid hissed, equally confused, turning his flashlight downward, away from your face.

You rubbed your eyelids, turning off your flashlight. Two light sources were unnecessary.

“Is there no power for you too?” you asked.

Reid nodded. It was only then that you really looked at him—he was wearing very loose pajama pants and...

“Cute,” you clicked your tongue, pointing at his white sweater with a bear wearing glasses. He had them too, worn very low on his nose. He must have put them on absentmindedly, in the dark, right after getting out of bed.

“I got it from Penelope for my birthday,” he said in a tone as if he were giving a statement. His hand briefly touched the fabric, right at the center of the brown bear’s face. “It’s really comfortable and soft. Perfect for sleeping...Anyway, I was heading to the reception to find out what the issue is and whether anything can be done about it. You too?”

"No, I just really need to pee. Do you really want to go there at this hour?" you asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "I mean, outages happen, and they'll have to fix it, but it's the middle of the night. We don't really need the lights right now, and if you want to go to the bathroom, you have a flashlight, as I can see."

You kept your gaze on him, realizing that since he noticed the lack of light, he must have been either heading somewhere himself or keeping the light on. Or maybe he had been sleeping with the light on. He did seem a bit tense. One of his hands was still resting on the half-open door, nervously gripping it. The other was pressed tightly to his body, his chest rising in an odd rhythm. Not a quickened pace, like with a panic attack, but more unnatural, like he was trying to control it.

"Are you afraid of the dark?" the question slipped out of you directly. After a moment, you realized it might have been a little too blunt. You had asked it carelessly, suspecting there might be another reason behind his behavior. For some reason, fear of the dark didn’t seem to fit his rational character.

Reid quickly shook his head, firmly denying it.

"No. No, of course not. I was just... reading when the light went out."

Oh, you didn’t even need to be a profiler to see right away that he was lying. You crossed your arms, a little amused by how stubbornly he was denying it.

"You were reading? At this hour? When we’re back to the investigation first thing tomorrow morning?"

He shrugged, shaking his head again.

"I couldn’t sleep."

You sighed. In the end, neither his fear nor his shame were your concern, so you didn’t see the point in interrogating him any further. You signaled that you were dropping the subject, and some expression passed across his face. Gratitude. Gratitude for not pushing the issue or mocking him. You felt a bit offended that he had even thought you might do that.

“If you still plan on going to the reception, wait for me, I’ll go with you. I just need to quickly stop by the bathroom.”

Reid opened his mouth, clearly surprised by your suggestion.

“Well, what?” you replied with a shrug. “I can’t let something eat you on the way. A demonic hand emerging from the darkness…”

“Very funny,” he commented, rolling his eyes. However, the corner of his mouth twitched, and his breathing seemed calmer.

“…The ghost of Richard Ramirez haunting the walls of this hotel. Or some other bloodthirsty maniac.“

"Didn't you really have to pee badly?"

"The team wouldn’t recover from losing you, Reid!" You threw that line over your shoulder as you walked toward the bathroom.

Of course, there was no light there either, so you had to use your flashlight. He was waiting for you, and together, in silence, you headed down the stairs toward the reception. Given how small the motel was, it wasn’t open 24/7. You had to wait a while before someone came to assist you.

“That happens sometimes,” the employee shrugged. “We’re not sure where the problem is exactly, but someone’s supposed to come check it out tomorrow…”

“Can’t anything be done about it now?” Reid asked, a trace of frustration in his voice that he was trying to mask—especially when he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Maybe it’s just a simple overload? Where are the fuse boxes…?”

“Reid,” you said gently, placing a hand on his elbow to draw his full attention. He turned his head toward you, surprised by the tone of your voice. You gave the employee a discreet signal that you didn’t have any further questions and he could leave.

“You’re not fixing the electricity in some rundown motel. That would just be… ridiculous.”

“I’m not talking about fixing it,” he clarified quickly, though it was clear he hadn’t let go of the idea. “But in most cases, it’s just a simple short circuit. I could just take a look—”

“—Or you could just sleep in my room.”

The words left your mouth, surprising not only him but also yourself. Yet, it wasn’t as though you regretted them or wanted to take back the offer. On the contrary, the moment you said it out loud, it felt even more fitting. When you were a little kid—like most children, probably—you’d also been afraid of the dark, and running to someone else’s room always helped. Curling up beside someone, just knowing someone was there, made all the difference.

You watched his reaction, the way he shook his head slightly from side to side, a small frown creasing his forehead.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all. Come on.” You grabbed him by the wrist—the hand not holding the flashlight—and pulled him along. He moved hesitantly, but he seemed too caught off guard to plant his feet and stay put.

He stopped only when you reached the door to your room, pulling his hand free from your grasp.

"How do you even imagine this working? There's... there's only one bed in there."

"If that bothers you, grab the mattress and some bedding from your room. You’ll hardly notice the difference—those beds are unbearably uncomfortable anyway."

He lowered the flashlight slightly, letting the surrounding darkness of the hallway creep over his face. It was barely visible now, but the hesitation etched on it was unmistakable. Standing across from him, you held his gaze without saying a word, silently reinforcing the fact that you weren’t joking.

The thought of him struggling to fall asleep for the rest of the night and then suffering through another day made you feel genuinely sorry for him. Besides, even though you hadn’t known each other long, you already considered him a sort of friend. If there was anything you could do to help, you wanted to do it.

"It's no big deal, Spencer," you reassured him one last time, hoping the words would finally sink in. "Really. And if you want... we don't ever have to talk about this again. Tomorrow, or ever."

His chest rose as he drew in a deep breath.

"Th-thank you," he said at last, cautiously, as though he'd packed so many thoughts into the single word that saying it out loud was an effort.

You smiled gently and understandingly. Before stepping into the room, you briefly placed a hand on his arm.

"Oh God, that sweater really is soft..."

He let out a short laugh, perhaps releasing a bit of the embarrassment he’d been holding back. You both disappeared into your respective rooms, and you lay down in bed, waiting for him to show up. Well, the moment dragged on a little too long.

You were almost certain he’d only agreed to your suggestion to get you off his back and had no intention of actually following through. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you debated whether to go to his room and drag him over or just let it go. They say you shouldn’t force help on others. Maybe there was some truth to that.

Shortly after that thought, your door creaked open slowly. You heard it but couldn’t see much—the room was too dark, and he wasn’t using his flashlight. Perhaps he assumed you were already asleep and didn’t want to risk waking you.

Either way, he moved around your bed to lay down a pillow and blanket on the floor, skipping the effort of hauling over an entire mattress. 

"Your back is going to hurt," you remarked softly, your voice adjusting to the rhythm of the night, blending with the surrounding darkness.

You lay on your side, facing the spot where he had set up his makeshift bed. All you could see was the outline of his figure, his hands clasped loosely over his stomach, head resting on the pillow. You even caught the slight shrug of his shoulders in response to your comment.

"Actually, sleeping on the floor can have health benefits. It helps maintain a neutral spine position," he replied.

“Seriously?” you scoffed. “Do you really have to come up with a counterargument for everything I say?”

“Such a curse of mine. If you don’t like it, well, you invited me here.”

“Annoying bastard. I guess it’s too late to kick you out?” you wondered aloud, of course, rhetorically. But you quickly added, worried that he might take it seriously, “Sleep well. You and your spine.”

An amused sigh escaped him.

 “You… and your spine too.”

Well, you guessed that's enough of the chit-chat. You felt a bit disappointed, but you had brought him here for a reason. To let him sleep, not to entertain you with conversation. To your surprise, you didn’t feel sleepy, even though you had struggled with it earlier. You had been thinking about... hard to even pinpoint what, there were a few things. The little worries typical of the night, suddenly growing to some huge proportions.

You were still lying in the same position, some time had passed. Your cheek was almost touching the edge of the bed, on the same side where Reid slept. Well, actually, he wasn’t sleeping. You could see a faint, barely noticeable gleam of his open eyes. They were cast downward, trying not to stare into the empty blackness above his head.

“Have you always been afraid of the dark?” you decided to ask, with no sarcasm.

“I’m not afraid,” he replied, though he could always pretend to be asleep. But the answer came out automatically.

“Alright, brave guy.” You didn’t even scoff, you just said it calmly and accepting. Maybe later he’ll tell you, when he stops being so embarrassed about it. “So, I guess you came here to get to know me better. And you know, I think you’ve got the chance. Could you... could you tell me something? Just honestly?”

"Me?" he asked, surprised, even sitting up slightly. "I mean... sure. But what?"

You suddenly sighed, regretting even bringing up the topic. God, that was so stupid...

"Just remember, honestly. Do you think the rest of the team likes me?"

Reid was silent, a strange feeling gathered in your stomach. Instead of answering negatively, he propped himself up on both elbows, and you saw a slight movement of his head. A nod.

"Are you asking this completely seriously?"

You shrugged, not sure if he noticed, so you confirmed out loud in a slightly hoarse voice. And then, to your absolute surprise, he just laughed.

"I don’t get it," he confessed after a short moment during which you stared in silence at his silhouette. "How... how could you think it could be any different? You’re always joking with Derek and Elle, and... we get along well too, I hope..."

"You’re right. But... but that’s not what I meant, I just... ugh, seriously, I can’t explain it. Fine, you know what, never mind."

You turned onto your back, as if that would completely sever the conversation. The one you’d stupidly started. You hoped he wouldn’t mention it to anyone. Another stupid thought, after all, he wasn’t like that.

Silence again, broken only by breaths. A new sound joined them, a slight rustle of the sheets. When Reid spoke again, his voice sounded somehow higher, and you were sure he was sitting on the floor as he said it.

"It might be a little surprising, but when I was a kid, I wasn't afraid of the dark," he began, completely changing the tone of his voice. He wasn't surprised like before; it was lower, gentler, despite the topic he was addressing. "I mean, I wasn't afraid of it more than any other kid my age. That... that serious fear, the real fear, started later. I don't want to say it was when I started working for the BAU because that wouldn't be entirely true. But it was around the time I started taking everything seriously. Seeing it with my own eyes, every day."

You didn't even realize when you had turned back onto your side, just to look at him, listening to his words.

"Do you have nightmares?" you asked.

"Sometimes. Actually..." he sighed, swallowing. "All of it, the fear and the nightmares, it's like they don't exist when I'm in a place I know. A place I trust. I can sleep just fine with the lights off in my apartment, the same in a jet. Everything starts in places like this. “

There was silence from your side, and you felt a bit… touched that he decided to tell you this. No beating around the bush, no lying, and, most importantly, no overwhelming embarrassment. It was a normal topic after all; everyone has their fears.

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Do you have nightmares?"

In the first few days after starting the job, you did. Then they stopped. That’s just how things go, you suppose.

"Not anymore," you admitted, letting out a small laugh. "But that doesn’t mean I sleep well. Now I just worry at night."

"About whether the team likes you?"

"Okay, I know it sounds childish, but it’s really been bothering me lately. They might… they might seem to like me, but deep down, they might not think that highly of me. I… I'm new, not that experienced, I’m always late, and I don’t think I’m bringing anything new to the table..."

"Of course, you’re bringing something," he interrupted you. You hadn’t noticed when, but you were both sitting up now. Your voices weren’t sleepy whispers anymore, you were having a real conversation. "Each of us brings something different, something characteristic of ourselves. That's how it works in a team. That’s why you’re here. Without you… okay, you might not know this, but since you’ve been here, these last four cases have gone much more smoothly."

"Do you really think so?" 

"Well, you asked me to be honest. Completely honest."

You've always had a bit of imposter syndrome, doubting your abilities, and approaching others' positive comments about you or your achievements with skepticism. 

Something in the way he spoke, his quick words, his engagement in them... made you believe him, somehow.

"Reid," you began, surprised to find that there was less weight in your chest, in your body. "I know, I just know, that you'll refuse, but still, I'll ask. Do you want to lie down with me?"

You didn't even know what exactly prompted the question. Caring about your back, you could answer. But was that really all it was?

For a moment, he was silent, thinking you were joking, but when it dawned on him that you weren't, he scoffed.

"Well, you were right, I'll refuse..."

"Sorry, but I doubt you'll fall asleep any other way. I was watching you, as creepy as that sounds. You were lying there with your eyes open, you were scared."

"I'm an adult man who's afraid of the dark. That's pathetic on its own, without being tucked to sleep by a coworker."

"I never mentioned anything about tucking you in."

He hesitated, embarrassed. 

"You took the least important part of my statement..."

"I took what I wanted. The rest is nonsense. Your age doesn't determine what you can or can't be afraid of. I'm a grown woman, and I'm afraid my colleagues don't like me. Which sounds more pathetic, huh? Fear of the dark or that?"

“I think it’s a point we could argue about for hours.”

“Which we don’t have. It’s late, we should go to sleep. Quick question, are you lying down with me, or are you fooling yourself into thinking you’ll fall asleep without it?”

A heavy, resigned sigh escaped him. Without adding anything else to his words, you turned onto your side, your back to him. You heard the rustling of the sheets, and for a moment, you froze, surprised. But no, he hadn’t joined you. 

You weren’t sure how you felt. Disappointed seemed like too strong a word. It wasn’t as though he had refused some incredibly important request of yours. It was just… perhaps the best explanation would be that, once you had convinced him to sleep in the same room for the sake of helping him, you wanted him to take something comforting from that night. You wanted it to be one of those good nights, like the ones he had in his apartment or in the jet, the ones he had mentioned. Not one of the others, filled with fear.

But then, the mattress beside you dipped, as someone else settled onto it.

You turned to the other side, and suddenly your faces were right across from each other. Reid swallowed, almost nervously. He seemed to be adjusting to the situation, to the sudden closeness, the small space you shared. You propped your hand under your head, observing him discreetly. It hit you that he always had a bit of an issue with contact with others. A doubt crossed your mind: had you made him uncomfortable?

Minutes passed, though, and his body seemed to sink more comfortably into the bed. His arms were no longer stiff, his hands resting freely, no longer clasped tightly across his chest. You could also hear his breath, and the more peaceful it became, the calmer you felt too.

And even though no words seemed necessary anymore, he decided to speak once again.

"Thank you."

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @kakamixo @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella

[healmydesires]

Ok so the recent post that you made on my filthy thot Logan how about you take the led of dominance one night instead of Logan and he absolutely loves it

a/n: nonnie, this is sooooo hot. I kinda had to adjust it a bit tho <3 hope you don’t mind! thank you for sending this!!! 🩷 mwah

you got my attention ꕤ (l.h)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

summary: Though Logan lets you take control and show your appreciation, in the end, you're still the one begging for him.

genre: smut (with some fluff in the end tbh) (18+ mdni)

word count: 5,8k

warnings/tags: established relationship, same universe as this fic, porn with barely no plot, reader is described as shorter than logan, lap dance, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom logan, sub!reader, use of handcuffs, slight choking, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, slight orgasm denial / edging but it’s short ngl, overstimulation, face sitting, doggy, rough sex, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk. some daddy kink? breeding kink fuck sorry. I wrote this while I’m on my period lol. lots of pet names. this is high key filthy. reader has hair, no further description though. after care. this is not beta read sorry!

this goes without saying, but if you don't like it don't read it <3

AO3 • masterlist

You're sitting on the bed you share with Logan, waiting for him to enter the bedroom where you're dressed in soft, pastel lilac lace lingerie. You've been intimate with Logan many times before, so you know what to expect, but this time feels a little different. Your heart is racing, and you're feeling a bit anxious. Logan usually takes control in the bedroom, but tonight, you've been wondering what it would be like if you were the one to take the lead.

If there's one thing you love doing, it's teasing Logan. You thrive on the thrill of acting out just to get a reaction from him, and you enjoy being a brat more than anything. You love being submissive, and there's nothing you'd rather be. 

But the thought of making him feel like you're in control, even if only for a few minutes, gets you all hot and bothered. You know Logan might take back control quickly, but just having that moment of power excites you.

You’ve always thought that stripping for Logan or putting on a show would be something fun to try one night. The idea of showing him how much you appreciate him by dancing to sensual music while he sits back on a chair or the couch, watching your body move, excites you. Just thinking about it makes you feel hot and turned on.

Logan’s entrance pulls you out of your thoughts as the door swings open. His eyes lock on you immediately, taking in the sight of the delicate lingerie clinging to your skin. “Hi, pretty girl,” he says with a playful smile, clearly appreciating the little fabric you're wearing. 

The lingerie you’re wearing is a lilac set with turquoise and lilac flowers embroidered onto the lace. The cups of your balconette bra are pretty transparent unless it’s for the floral details at the top to the middle of the cups, barely covering your nipples. You can see his eyes travel from your chest to your waist as he takes in the elastic band, covered with the same lace pattern, of the suspenders. His eyes linger a bit too long as he takes in the small thing that barely hides the curves of your ass. A matching thong, the elastic band sitting just below your suspenders. Logan’s eyes wander from your covered core to your shoulders as he notices the lilac see through robe with lacy details hanging off your shoulders loosely.

“Hi,” you manage to respond, your voice soft and trembling. Your cheeks heating up as his intense gaze travels up and down your body, sending a wave of warmth through you. For a brief second, you feel the familiar pull to submit, to let him take control like always. But then you remind yourself to stick to your original intentions.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. Sticking to your original plan, you clear your throat and muster the courage to speak, despite the stutter. “C-could you, uh, sit in the chair?” You ask, nervously. Logan raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your request.

An amused smile then tugs at the corners of his lips as he nods briefly, surprised but clearly understanding what you're trying to do. “Are you asking or telling?” Logan teases, his voice smooth, challenging, and dripping with amusement.

The playful tone sends a shiver through you, momentarily shaking your confidence. You know he’s testing you, waiting to see if you’ll follow through. Swallowing the nervousness building inside you, you take a slow, deep breath, determined to stick to your plan, no matter how intimidating his presence feels right now.

His response makes your heart pound in your chest. Mustering up every ounce of confidence you can find, you lock eyes with him and say, “I said go sit in the chair.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, definitely out of character for you, but there's a spark of amusement in Logan's eyes that encourages you to keep going.

You can tell he’s entertained by this rare side of you, and though it feels strange, the thrill of his reaction pushes you to stick with it. His eyebrow raises slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips, and for a moment, you feel a rush of control that excites you even more.

Logan never takes his eyes off you as he makes his way to the chair in the corner of the room. Settling into it, he leans back, his posture relaxed, yet his gaze remains sharp and unwavering. You watch as takes off his shirt and pulls down his jeans, exposing his hard cock pressing against his boxers. The look he gives you, despite your attempt to take control, makes it clear he still holds the power. His mischievous eyes silently tell you he could end your little fantasy whenever he chooses, effortlessly reminding you of who’s really in charge, even as he watches you with quiet anticipation.

Logan watches you walk towards the closet, opening it before you kneel down on the soft carpet in front of it as your hand tries to reach for something inside the closet. His eyes travel to your ass, observing your curves, how plump your ass looks. The way your cheeks squeeze the barely there material between them.

You can practically feel his eyes burning into you—more specifically, your ass—because you know exactly where he's staring. The heat of his gaze makes you bite your bottom lip in anticipation. After rummaging for a moment, you finally find what you’re looking for and stand up slowly, making sure to give Logan a lingering view of your curves. The sound of his low groan reaches your ears, sending a thrill through you. You close the closet doors and turn around, carefully hiding the vivid pink, silky handcuffs you picked up along with the lingerie just days ago.

Keeping the handcuffs tucked behind your back, you walk slowly toward him, not quite ready to reveal your little secret yet. As you reach him, you lean down to plant a soft, teasing kiss on his lips. It ends far too quickly for his liking, and a deep grunt escapes his throat as you pull away, leaving him wanting more. Your hand trails lightly from one of his shoulders, across his chest, to the other, the soft touch of your fingers making his skin feel like it's on fire. You can feel the tension radiating off him, his body almost trembling from the contact, as you circle behind him. You know he could moan from just the simple touch, and the thought of having him on edge excites you even more.

You take the handcuffs, the sound of the metal clinking behind him making Logan’s ears perk up. You hook one around his wrist, half-expecting him to protest, but when he remains silent, you continue and secure the other cuff in place. You lift your head to his neck, leaning down to press a soft kiss at his pulse point, making him moan as you finish up behind him. Walking back to face him, you notice a playful smile spread across his face, a look that makes your heart race.

“What?” you ask, mirroring his amused expression, but a sudden wave of self-consciousness washes over you as you realise he’s not taking you seriously at all.

“Nothing, princess,” Logan shrugs, his grin widening. 

You roll your eyes at his nonchalance. “Sure.” Normally, on any other day, Logan would have you pinned beneath him or bent over his knee, spanking you until your skin is flushed and raw. But tonight, he finds it endearing to watch you take charge. So, instead of resisting, he decides to lean into it. In fact, he’s more than willing to let you explore this new dynamic and see just how far you’ll take it.

Then, you lean down and plant a soft kiss just beneath his ear, eliciting a deep groan from him. “Now sit back and watch. Let me take care of you,” you whisper seductively in his ear, your breath warm against his skin. With that, you glide toward the desk, feeling the thrill of anticipation coursing through you as you search for the perfect song to dance to. 

A smile spreads across your face as you finally settle on a track that feels just right. Pressing play, the smooth beats of "Sway" by Majid Jordan fill the room, setting the mood with its sultry rhythm. As the music envelops you, you can sense Logan’s eyes on you, filled with a mix of curiosity and desire. The moment feels electric, and you know it’s time to give him a show he won’t forget.

You stride toward the bed, positioning yourself right in the center of the room, directly in front of him. As the singer begins to croon the lyrics, you let the robe slide down your shoulders, pausing just at your elbows, deliberately teasing him with each movement. Swaying your hips slowly to the beat of the song, you lick your lips, feeling the heat of his gaze on you. 

With each deliberate motion, your hands glide slowly up and down your chest, accentuating your curves as you keep your eyes locked on his. You circle your hips, letting the rhythm guide you, fully aware of the effect it has on him. The air is thick with tension, and you can feel the desire radiating from him, fueling your confidence as you embrace the moment.

Temptation, conversation, I hear what you sayin'~♪ 

You lose yourself to the song as you move your body closer to his, still keeping a good distance between you two. 

“Baby girl, you’re so hot…” Logan groans as his eyes admire your body, his eyes flicking back and forth from one place to the other like he doesn’t know where to look.

Playing safe but we're losing our patience~♪ 

With each sway (literally, like the title of the song) of your hips, you move to the rhythm of the song, feeling the music pulse through you as you notice his gaze tracing the curves of your body, lingering over every dip and contour.

The combination of his awestruck expression and your confident movements sends a thrill through you, urging you to keep going. You enjoy the way he watches, almost hypnotised, as you revel in the moment, fully aware that you’re in control.

Doin' things that my body is cravin'~♪ 

Your fingers wander from your hips to your backside and you squeeze your cheeks softly as you give Logan a show. The moment he sees you touching yourself like this, a low moan escapes his lips, and you can’t help but bite your own in response, revelling in the effect you have on him.

The pleasure of his gaze fuels your confidence, making you feel even more desirable. You relish the way he watches, captivated and hungry for more, as you continue to tease him, lost in the thrill of the moment.

So amazing the way that she moves~♪ She's my favorite dancer~♪ 

Seductively, you slowly turn around, then you sink yourself to the floor. Once on your knees, you crawl steadily towards him. As you’re slowly making your way to him, you’re never breaking eye contact as you smile up at him. 

As you draw closer, you rise up onto your knees, your hands gliding along his ankles and tracing up to his thighs. You gently spread his legs wider, making room for yourself between them. Logan's breath hitches in his throat at your boldness, and you can’t help but smile coyly as you bite your bottom lip, savouring his reaction. 

Your hands continue their journey, moving from his thighs to his hips and then to his waist, feeling the heat radiating off him. Slowly but sensually, you rise in front of him, each movement deliberate, exuding confidence and allure as you prepare to captivate him even further.

“You’re breathtaking…” he moans your name while your lips move to ghost over his lips. You feel and see his squirm against the hold of the handcuffs.

You smirk as you hover your hips over his lap. Using the music to your advantage, you move your body to the rhythm of the song, making sure to emphasise on your movements. Your arms around his neck as you slowly lower your lower body on his lap, sitting down, your heat against his clothed cock straining against his underwear. Pressing your needy and throbbing clit against his dick. His eyes are gazing into yours, all you can see is lust and desire. You grind against his crotch making Logan groan at your movements. Finally you lean down your lips against his, swallowing his moans in your mouth. 

“You’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispers breathily against your lips as you continue your little performance, swaying and grinding your hips against his. You hum with a smile before you capture his lips again. 

His mouth moves against yours, slow and passionate. He parts his lips slightly to catch his breath. Your tongue sweeps across Logan’s lips making him gasp, tongue wrapping itself against his a moment later, hot and wet and steady as you taste his mouth and kiss him deeply.

Your tongues slowly swirl and dance against each other as your hands wander all over his body. You feel your core clench around nothing and become even more wet the more you grind against him. You whimper at the feel of him bucking his hips against yours, wrapping your arms around his neck and initiating a hungry kiss. The thong you’re wearing surely ruined by now, clinging against your wet folds.

Soon the music would fade into the background as all you can focus on is him. Logan’s leaning his head forward as much as he can, wanting so badly to grab handfuls of your ass while slipping his tongue into your mouth. He moans into your mouth, biting and sucking on your bottom lip. 

You begin to rock your hips against his, dragging your core over his crotch, the friction sending pleasurable sensations coursing through you. However, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you, leaving you unsure about how to proceed. Despite this uncertainty, you continue the movement, instinctively seeking relief for the ache building in your core. 

Logan notices the hesitation in your movements, his perceptive gaze catching the flicker of insecurity in your eyes. He starts to thrust his hips against yours, urging you on. “Good girl, you can do it,” he says in his low, deep voice, the words igniting a whimper from your lips as you pick up the pace, guiding your hips a bit faster in response. 

“Need you, kitten. Please, I need to feel you. Take these panties off,” he pleads, his tone dripping with desire. You shake your head, refusing to comply, which only draws a chuckle from him as he watches you squirm on top of him.

“I don’t take orders from you. I’ll choose when I want to take them off,” you retort, feeling a thrill of defiance as his eyes wander from your face to your soaked panties. The big wet spot at the front betrays just how much you want his cock filling you up, pushing deep inside and making a mess.

“Just you wait until I’m out of these,” Logan replies, maintaining that boyish smile that makes your heart race. You hardly care about his playful threat; instead, you steady yourself on his shoulders and keep grinding your clit against his clothed cock. He’s right about the panties, but you’re not about to let him dictate the moment. Reaching down, you push the fabric aside, letting your pussy lips glide against him, the contact sending shivers through your body. 

“Oh, kitten,” he moans, captivated by the sight of your arousal dripping down onto his underwear. “Look at you.” His low, sultry voice sends a jolt of pleasure through you, the sensation of his throbbing cock against your wetness nearly overwhelming.

“Feels so fucking good,” you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as waves of pleasure wash over you.

As the pressure builds toward your orgasm, you suddenly stand up, discarding the delicate lingerie that clings to you. As you’re undressing yourself in front of him he can’t help but growl. You glance at him cautiously, as he stares at you hungrily. You’re longing for him to taste you but feeling a hint of embarrassment about taking the initiative. It’s as if he can read your mind when he says, “Go ahead baby girl, let me taste you.” His encouragement sparks a rush of confidence within you, urging you to take control and fully embrace the moment.

His choice of words only heightens your arousal, making it feel as if he’s the one compelling you to act. Logan's cock is oozing with precum, and you can feel the dampness spreading on his underwear as you hook a leg over his shoulder, bringing yourself closer to him. 

You stretch a bit uncomfortably in this position, but any discomfort fades away the moment he leans forward and licks from your entrance to the top of your clit. 

A loud moan escapes you as his warm, wet tongue finally makes contact with your pussy. You sigh into the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut as you tangle your fingers in his hair, anchoring yourself as you urge him deeper. His tongue glides up your folds, skillfully exploring your puffy lips, occasionally pausing to plant soft kisses on your clit. He encircles your clit and sucks, pulling whimpering pleas from your mouth.

Logan groans against you, sending delicious vibrations coursing through your body as you tug on his hair, lost in the pleasure. You find yourself grinding your hips forward, desperately seeking more contact as your arousal drips down into his beard.

“That’s it, good girl, use my fuckin’ mouth,” he moans against you, taking your clit between his lips and sucking gently. He alternates between sucking it in and releasing it, the repetitive motion making your head spin. “Taste so good.”

“Fuck, Lo—” you whine as you grind yourself against his lips.

Each flick and tug sends you spiralling, and you begin to whine, yearning for his large fingers to fill your tight little hole. Frustration simmers beneath the surface as you slip deeper into that precious sub headspace, becoming acutely aware of his restrained hands. Logan picks up on your shift in mood immediately.

“Please, Lo,” you cry out, desperation lacing your voice. You need him so badly it borders on painful.

“Please, what?” he retorts, then dives his tongue into your clenching hole, making you gasp. He groans, fucking your little pussy with his tongue, his nose brushing tantalizingly over your clit. “This is what you wanted, ain’t that right?” 

“F-fuck, ah, I’m gonna c-cum,” you gasp, urgency spilling from your lips instead of a question. The relentless contact of his nose against your sensitive clit pushes you to the edge, and your pussy contracts around his tongue, releasing a wave of pleasure. You scream his name repeatedly, tugging at his hair with a mix of urgency and desperation, your ears ringing as the world around you fades into bliss, unaware of the metal cuffs breaking free.

You can feel his hands on your skin, the heat of your orgasm squirting out of you, painting his mouth beautifully as he continues to feast on your cunt. You breathe heavily as Logan moans loudly at the sweet taste of you, feeling both blissed out and utterly exposed.

You’re still coming down from your high when suddenly, you yelp in surprise as he lifts you with ease, your trembling legs instinctively wrapping around his body. In one fluid motion, Logan throws you onto the bed, and a whine escapes your lips as you feel the familiar neediness surge within you, your pussy so slick and wanting for more.

He pulls his boxers down, letting his erection finally spring free. Logan’s thick and big cock is so hard, dripping with precum and you almost whimper at the sight of it. He then makes his way up to the bed. Situating himself between your legs he smiles deviously. 

Oh—

“Get on your hands and knees for me, kitten. I’ll show you who’s in control.” 

Your cheeks flare up furiously at his request, you feel your body trembling with excitement as you flip on your stomach, getting on your hands and knees, your face down on the mattress as you raise your ass in the air for him. Logan groans when you wiggle for him, spreading your legs a bit more for him exposing more of your pussy.

You bite your bottom lip and can’t help getting even more aroused as you think about finally having him inside.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby. All dripping wet for me,” he whispers to you and you feel his fingers sliding up and down your slit and then opening your folds for him to see.

You wanted to tell him how he’s the only one that can do this to you, how much you love him, but then he grabs both of your ass cheeks in his hands, parting them as he quickly leans down and licks up your exposed pussy, catching you completely by surprise making you almost fall on the bed, your arms almost giving out on you.

You feel your inner walls clenching around nothing as he keeps licking up and down and sucking on your clit. When you whine, his tongue swirls around your entrance.

“F-fuck, s-so sensitive. Da-daddy please, oh—”

But then he pulls his lips away from your lower ones and you whimper desperately at the loss of the feeling of his tongue, only to have him kiss your lower back and up your spine, hands sliding up and down your body.

“Please,” you whine pathetically.

You can't see it, but he's smiling down at you, shaking his head as he revels in his victory over the battle for control. “What happened, baby? Suddenly you need my help?”

You shake your head yes rapidly, not caring how desperate you look. “Please, please, I’ll be good for you, please. I’ll be your good girl.” 

“I thought you wanted to be in control,” he pokes fun at you, his hips not touching as he places soft kisses down your back. You wish he was fucking into you already. You start to whine when you feel his thumb press into your clit. He doesn’t move it at all, just applies slight pressure and lets it rest there. “But you need your daddy, don’t you? You need me so badly. Pathetic little kitty.” 

“I-I do,” you gasp, frustrated by his unmoving thumb. Your body is trembling in anticipation. “Please daddy.” 

A moment later you feel him grind his thick cock against your dripping heat, you’re aching for him to fill you up. A loud moan fills the room along with your whines, with a strong grip on your hips a second later he eases the tip inside, making you gasp as your whole body trembles. 

“Please…” You whine desperately as you feel him halt his movements, a small portion of the tip only inside you. Wiggling your hips you try to push back against him but the strong hold that he has on you makes it hard for you to move.

“Patience baby girl,”

You whimper as he finally slides more and more of his thickness inside of you. You squeeze your eyes tightly as he fills you up. The pressure of his cock deep within your walls overwhelms you while you clutch the sheets below you in tight fists.

“Take it, princess. Take daddy’s cock.”

Then his massive cock is completely splitting you open. Logan thrusts his whole length into you, black dots cover your vision at the feeling of it. Your pussy pulses around him as you struggle to adjust to his size.

“Ah, fuck!” Tears are already dripping down your face onto the mattress. His cock is so big, long and hard and he makes your pussy and tummy feel so full of him. 

You whimper at the new angle, struggling to accommodate his impressive girth. It feels as though your pussy can never fully adjust to his size. As your walls squeeze around him, trying to adapt, Logan uses more force to push deeper, stretching you further. The sensation is intense, almost overwhelming, as it feels like you’re being torn open, split in half by his thickness.

“Oh, sweet girl. I’ve got you,” he soothes and starts moving, fucking you at an impossible pace. The sound of your ass slapping against him fills the room along with both of your frantic moans. His heavy balls are hitting against your clit with every thrust. The feeling is heaven on earth. 

All you can answer with are moans as they slip off your lips. Your mind goes blank as all you can do is focus on the feel of him stretching you, filling you up, so overwhelmed with bliss already. He thrusts deeper inside you, earning whines and moans as you continue to cry out his name. You try to tell Logan, breathlessly, about how good he makes you feel. The sound of your pleasure fuels his desire to fuck you better, urging him to do more. Logan picks up his pace, thrusting into you quicker, harder, hitting the spot that has your body going numb.

You claw at the sheets, burying your face into the mattress to muffle your screams. The air is all stuffy around you as his hips move faster, you whine as you try to push back your hips against his to take more of his thick cock. He moans at the sight, kneading your ass as he tries to bury himself more inside you, the tip hitting your cervix instantly. Your eyes roll back inside your head as you dig your fingers more into the bed, you mewl against the sheets at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

“F-fuck fuck fuck, this feels so goooohhhood daddy, p-please more…”

“Yeah? You love being filled with all of my cock don’t you?” He grunts as he slaps your ass once, making you cry out in pleasure. Your moans grow louder with each movement, blending with the slick sounds of your pussy meeting his dick over and over again. The sounds mix along with the little noises of pleasure escaping your mouth. 

“Does that feel good, pretty girl?” Logan asks as he leans down his body closer to yours making him hit your cervix repeatedly. You whimper and tremble underneath him as you nod, he moans against your ear as he whispers close to you. “Does it feel good? That I’m fucking you like this? Just the way you like it.”

“Yes, daddy. Fuck, please… Can I please cum?” you ask this time, completely out of breath. 

“No, you little brat,” Logan growls, picking up the pace even more. He grabs you by your hair, jerks your head up and pulls you back towards him. “Patience.” 

The delicious thrusts of his cock don’t falter as he presses your back into his chest. He wraps a strong hand around your throat, and the other arm holds you steady by the waist. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” you whimper repeatedly, your body trembling with need.

“Oh, I know you can,” he says aggressively. “I know you fuckin’ can. And you will.” 

He grinds his hips in circles, and you nearly scream from the overwhelming sensation. You desperately try to hold back the orgasm that's building rapidly, clenching your pussy tightly around his thick cock. He lets out deep moans at the feeling of you, fully aware that he’s close to cumming but wanting to savour your pussy for just a little longer. Logan slows his pace slightly, giving both of you a brief moment to catch your breath before he picks up the rhythm again, quick and rough.

“Look so pretty when you’re stretched around my cock, fuck, bet you look pretty full of my cum too.” Logan cursed when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “I’m gonna fill this pussy up, kitten, make it all nice and full,” he promises.

The head of his cock rubs against your walls deliciously, snapping you out of your small daze as you nod frantically. “Yes, yesyes please. Fill me up daddy!” You’re whimpering with every thrust of his cock. 

“Tell me who’s in control and I’ll let you cum,” he says slowly into your ear, grip around your throat tightening a bit and making the feeling that more intense.

“You, Lo,” you manage to get out, “Always you.”

“Cum on my cock then,” Logan gives you permission. Another few thrusts is all it takes to send you over the edge, shouting out his name as your ears ring from the pressure. You’re on cloud nine as you let your body relax and feel the brutal pounding of his cock. It drags inside of you so perfectly, hitting every sweet spot you have. Your needy cunt is clenching, throbbing, and milking his cock while you cum all over him.  Logan groans in your ear as your walls spasm around his cock, milking him for his orgasm, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised. “This pussy was made for me. So fuckin’ tight wrapped around me.” 

Your cum drips down both of your legs, coating his cock and balls, quickly forming a wet spot on the sheets beneath you. As the waves of your orgasm wash over you, Logan talks you through it, whispering dirty nothings in your ear. He gasps as you pulse around him, desperate for him to spill his load inside you, needing to witness him fall apart.

“Ah, shit—” he rasps, thrusting deeper, the bulbous head of his cock hitting your cervix with delicious force. “Are you going to take my cum like a good girl? Let me fill you up until you’re a messy little thing, hm?”

You shiver at his words, your mouth dropping open in awe as you close your eyes, completely lost in the sensation, nodding eagerly. “Please, please.”

Moments later, you feel him unravel against you, and soon his cum starts to shoot deep inside you. 

“Fuck, just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “Such a good baby girl.”

As his thrusts come to a complete stop, he pulls out of you, and you let your body fall limp against the mattress, feeling utterly drained. Soon Logan wraps an arm around you, effortlessly spinning you around to pull you against his chest. He kisses you softly, and you moan at the taste of yourself still on his lips. As he pulls away, he gazes down at you with soft eyes and a charming smile, the warmth of the moment enveloping you both.

“Sorry for ruining your little plan,” Logan teases gently, a playful glint in his eyes.

“No, that’s okay,” you reply quickly, smiling up at him. “I figured I’d give it a try… but I feel like I’m not that great at it.”

He shakes his head, leaning closer. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweet girl. That was so fuckin' hot. In fact, I might want you to try it again.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your eyes brightening at his praise.

He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Maybe next time, I can teach you a thing or two about taking control.”

“Really?” You smile happily, your fingers running through his messy dark hair. 

“Mhm,” he hums, his heart swelling at your excitement.

Biting your lip bashfully, you shrug, looking up at him with a shy smile. “I much prefer having you in control, though.”

“That so?” Logan smirks mischievously, his hands beginning to wander all over your body, reigniting the familiar heat between you.

“Yes, you’re so hot when you’re dominant,” you giggle, leaning up to cover Logan’s face with playful kisses.

“Oh, just when I’m dominant?” he teases, smirking down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Logan, you know what I mean!” you pout, continuing to pepper kisses all over his face. “You’re always hot!”

Logan chuckles, his deep voice vibrating through you as he gently cups your cheeks with both hands, trying to capture your lips. Once he does, he presses a series of quick, light pecks against your mouth, grinning widely. You giggle against him, the sound filling the space between you both as he keeps chasing your lips, clearly enjoying the lighthearted moment.

“I love you so much, baby. You mean everything to me,” Logan murmurs against your lips, his voice low and full of emotion. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling him closer as his warmth surrounds you. 

With a gentle roll, Logan shifts your bodies, laying you down so your back sinks into the softness of the blankets and pillows. His lips never leave yours as you feel yourself getting lost in the kiss, his hands still cradling your face, his thumb brushing tenderly across the skin under your eyes. 

“You’re everything to me too, Lo,” you whisper, your voice soft and full of affection, a smile tugging at your lips. “I love you.”

You’re both basking in each other’s presence, the quiet intimacy between you settling into something warm and peaceful. The earlier rush of passion has given way to a serene calmness, where even the soft rhythm of your breaths seems to sync together. Logan’s fingers trace idle patterns on your skin, and you feel completely at ease, wrapped in his embrace. 

Then, just as you’re lulled into this tranquil moment, you notice a familiar gleam of mischief in Logan’s eyes. His hands slowly slide down to your hips, fingers pressing lightly against your skin in a way that sends a subtle thrill through you. He caresses you slowly, and the soft strokes make your body stir. 

With a playful grin, he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “Another round?” His voice is teasing but full of intent, a promise of what’s to come. You feel the shift in his energy, playful yet laced with the kind of desire that tells you he’s far from finished with you tonight. 

“Logan!” you giggle, giving him a playful push, but he only grins wider. In a swift motion, he pulls you close again, silencing your laughter with a deep, passionate kiss. Your playful giggles soon turn into soft, breathy moans as his hands roam your body, and yours do the same, tracing the familiar lines of his muscles.

The night unfolds in a tangle of kisses and wandering hands, the air between you charged with love and desire. Every touch, every kiss, is a reminder of the bond you share, and the passion between you feels endless. The world fades away, and all that remains is Logan. His touch, his gaze, and the warmth of his presence pull you in, leaving you completely lost in him.

thank you for reading <3 mwah

[hottiesforhockey]

ultimate girl boss ⎜l.hughes

pairings: luke hughes x afab!reader genre: romance ⎜smut ⎜ strangers-to-lovers? ⎜ warnings: mentions of alcohol ⎜oral (f!recieving) ⎜ use of pet names (princes) ⎜ kitchen sex ⎜ one night stand ⎜fingering ⎜ p in v ⎜luke is a bit of a dork ⎜ he falls first and he falls harder ⎜size kink...kinda? ⎜mentions of pain with sex ⎜both luke and the reader love the miscommunication trope ⎜ short and sweet tbh ⎜ synopsis: you know you shouldn't have slept with a player, but it's not like you'd really see him again, right? word count: 7.7k authors note:  this was a top contender in my what to finish next poll so I hope you all enjoy!!

(unedited)

“I want to thank everyone for being here tonight — and want to say I’m sure we’re all excited to kick off our first ever staff and players halloween party.” Your friend says into the mic, everyone letting out cheers in response, “I know we usually have seperate parties but this year we want the staff and players to really get to know each other and what better way to do that then by getting completely hammered with each other.” He says says letting out a soft cheer when the rest of the room stays quiet, the hushed chuckle here and there. “Anyway I hope everyone has fun and please remember an open bar doesn’t mean you can damage property, I’m looking at you Timo.” You clap slowly as your friend climbs down from his spot on the bar table, his cheeks flushed a bright red as he joins you in leaning against the bar. 

“That felt awkward — did it look awkward?” He asks slowly, accepting the beer bottle from the bar tender with a grimace. 

“It did look awkward.” You agree, taking a sip of your lemonade reaching over to pat his hand softly in reassurance, “Dawson everyone loves you because you’re awkward so don’t think too much about it.” Dawson perks up as one of his teammates calls his name, bounding away from the bar his hair fanning out from under his cap.  You’re still smiling to yourself when someone slides into the spot Dawson left open.

“You really sticking to lemonade all night?” a familiar voice says, smooth and amused, cutting through the music and chatter around you. You glance sideways — and there he is. Luke Hughes. In a bright green shirt, overalls, and a little green hat with a giant “L” on it. Luigi. Of course.

You can’t help but laugh. “I don’t know if I’m more surprised you’re dressed as Luigi or that Jack actually agreed to be Mario.”

Luke’s grin is boyish and crooked, the kind of grin that makes trouble look like a good idea. “Trust me, it wasn’t easy. Took a week of convincing and a few beers.”

“And here I thought sibling pressure only worked on younger brothers.”

He leans an elbow on the bar, watching you with a playful glint in his eye. “Oh, it definitely works both ways. Besides, you can’t be Mario without Luigi. We’re a package deal.”

“Cute,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m sure jack’s girlfriend thinks the same.” You tease, both of you glancing over at the tall blonde dressed as Princess Peach, the girl sticking close to her boyfriend’s side as he mingles with his teammates. “You didn’t want to stick with you ‘package deal’?” 

Luke smirks, tapping a finger against the bar. “Jack likes to wander off — probably challenging someone to a drinking game.”

“Sounds about right.” You pause, letting your eyes sweep over him. “So, what? You decided to make rounds as everyone’s favourite sidekick?”

His smile widens. “Who says I’m a sidekick?”

You arch a brow. “You are Luigi.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m just here to rescue Princess Peach,” he teases, leaning in a little, you shoot a questioning gaze over to his brothers girlfriend. 

“She does look like she needs saving.” 

He shakes his head with a smile as his voice lowers, playful but laced with something that makes your heart skip. “Or maybe I’m here to make sure someone’s getting to know the players, like Dawson said.”

Your pulse jumps at his proximity, but you keep your cool. “So, I’m the metaphorical Peach in this scenario?”

Luke’s eyes flicker with amusement, lingering on yours for a beat too long. “Would that be so bad?”

You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Hmm. I don’t know. I’ve always been more of a Toad kind of girl.”

He laughs, shaking his head, the sound warm and genuine. “Yeah? I can see that.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Luke raises both hands in mock surrender, still grinning. “Nothing. Just that you’d make a pretty cute Peach, too.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding your smile. “Is this how you plan to win me over? Bad Mario references?”

“Is it working?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you finish your drink, set the glass on the bar, and meet his gaze head-on.

“Maybe.”

His grin sharpens. “Then I guess I’ll keep going.”

You let the word hang between you for a beat, the teasing lilt of your voice lingering in the air. Luke watches you, his grin never quite fading, a flicker of curiosity sparking in his dark eyes. The party buzzes on around you both—music pulsing, laughter spilling from groups of people in costumes, but none of it seems to matter right now.

“So,” he says, tapping his knuckles lightly on the bar, “you planning on heading out early, or are you here for the long haul?” You glance around the room, spotting Dawson across the way engaged in an animated conversation with another teammate. A few more familiar faces pass by, offering smiles and nods, but your attention drifts back to Luke almost immediately.

“Honestly?” You shrug, a casual, playful expression crossing your face. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Luke leans in a little closer, elbows resting on the bar. “What would it take to convince you to stick around?”

You give him a slow, considering look, letting the question settle in your mind before answering. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

He laughs, low and soft, shaking his head. “That’s a dangerous question.”

“Maybe I like danger.”

Luke’s gaze lingers, his smile never wavering. “Alright. What if I promised to make it worth your while?”

You raise an eyebrow, amusement flickering across your face. “Big promises from Luigi.”

“I deliver on my promises.” He pauses, his voice dropping slightly, a teasing edge in his tone. “Especially when it comes to rescuing princesses.”

The playful banter between you feels like a dance, each word carefully chosen, each glance lingering just a fraction too long. There’s a buzz in the air—a tension that neither of you seems in a rush to break.

“Alright, Luigi,” you say, setting your empty glass down on the bar. “Convince me.” Luke doesn’t take long to whisk you to the dance floor, the lanky man awkwardly moving his limbs along yours, the smile lighting up his face convincing others to join in, the dance floor filling up quickly. 

Luke’s hands stay linked with yours as he spins you around, twisting your bodies totally off beat, “White girl dancing is my favourite.” He yells over the music, his movements mimicking the slow, seductive sways of a sorority girl. 

“I can tell.” You laugh, your eye catching Dawson’s over the crowd as he pumps his eyebrows in knowing, your shoulders shrugging as you lose yourself back in the feeling of Luke’s god awful dancing. 

It’s two hours before you pull yourself away from the crowd, Luke following behind you like a lost puppy as you reach the bar, skulling the glass of water the bartender offers you. “So, have I convinced you to stay?” Luke smiles, leaning against the counter as he accepts his own glass of water. 

“I suppose.” You smile, placing your empty glass back on the table as you rifle through your purse for your keys. You glance up at Luke his face dropping as you watches you gather your stuff, your witch hat sitting on the bar as you check you have all your belongings. 

“I guess my convincing wasn’t good enough.” He sighs, trying to keep a light smile on his face so you can’t see the disappointment in his eyes. Luke was having fun, finally being able to seperate himself from his brother, he thought you were having fun too - the pretty girl from the head offices finally letting loose all because cause of the borderline frat boy dressed as Luigi. 

But clearly he was wrong. 

“I guess I’ll see you around.” He says, watching as you tilt your head, your brows furrowing as you chew on your bottom lip. 

“Wow, didn’t know you wanted to get rid of me so quickly.” You tease, reaching up for the collar of his costume pulling him down until his ear is level with your mouth, “I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me.” You whisper, Luke’s spine straightening quickly, his eyes locking with yours in surprise. “Guess I know where you stand now, Luigi.” You sigh dramatically, making the move to turn and walk out when his hand latches to your wrist. 

“Wait…Wait…” He stutters, his brows still pinched in confusion, “You want me to come home with you?” 

You quirk a brow, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Why else would I ask? To play Mario Kart?" Luke looks momentarily stunned, his hand tightening slightly around your wrist before he catches himself and lets go, running a hand through his messy hair beneath the green cap. He swallows hard, the playful confidence from earlier faltering just a little, replaced by something more raw, more unsure.

Maybe he wasn’t wrong after all. 

“I—I didn’t think…” He trails off, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your mouth and back again, as if trying to gauge if you're serious or just messing with him.

You lean in again, your voice soft but unmistakably deliberate. "What, you didn’t think I’d actually be interested?" His lips part slightly, but no words come out. The party noise seems to fade into the background — the music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses all muffling under the pounding of your heart in your ears.

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been watching me tonight,” you say, your voice low but steady, your eyes locked on his.

“And I’m not blind, Luke. You’ve been flirting since the second you walked over here in that ridiculous costume.”

His cheeks flush a deep pink, but that boyish, crooked grin of his creeps back onto his face. “Maybe I have.”

“And maybe I don’t want the night to end just yet,” you say, your fingers brushing against his arm, trailing down until your hand rests lightly on his wrist again. The tension is thick now — electric and undeniable. Luke steps in closer, closing the space between you. His voice drops to a low murmur, just for you. 

“If I say yes, I’m not just coming over for coffee.”

You bite back a grin, eyes flickering to his lips before meeting his gaze again. “Good. I don’t even have coffee at home.” That does it — the playful edge in his grin gives way to something hungrier, more intense. His hand finds your hip, fingers pressing lightly through the fabric of your dress. 

“I’ve never liked coffee anyway.” The air between you hums with anticipation, both of you lingering in that charged moment, knowing exactly what’s coming but savouring the tension for just a little longer.

“Come on, Luigi,” you whisper, stepping back and tugging him toward the door. “Time to see if you really deliver on your promises.” Luke follows without hesitation, his hand still wrapped around yours, the warmth of his palm grounding you both in the moment. As you weave through the crowd, you catch Dawson’s wide-eyed expression from across the room. He mouths what the fuck? at you, but you just flash him a grin over your shoulder. Outside, the cool night air hits your skin, but you barely notice. Luke’s presence next to you, the way his fingers tighten around yours, the way his arm brushes against yours as you walk to your car — it’s all-consuming.

“So,” he says after a beat, voice lighter now but still laced with that playful tension. “Does this mean I’m officially more than just a sidekick?”

You glance up at him as you unlock your car, the smirk on your lips teasing but your gaze soft. “Depends.”

“On what?”

You step in closer, your body nearly pressed against his. “On how well you play the hero.”

Luke leans down, his face inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m pretty sure I can pull it off.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” It’s all the invitation he needs. His hands cup your face as he closes the gap, his lips finding  yours with a mix of urgency and sweetness that leaves you breathless. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing — just the two of you, completely lost in each other.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless, his forehead resting against yours.

“Better than Mario Kart?” he whispers, his voice rough and a little unsteady.

You laugh softly, fingers curling into the fabric of his overalls to keep him close. “Much better.”

Luke grins, his eyes dark with desire but softened by something more genuine beneath it all. “Good. Because I’m not done rescuing you yet.”

You press one more lingering kiss to his lips before stepping back and opening the car door. “Then let’s get out of here, hero.” As he climbs into the passenger seat, pulling the ridiculous green hat off and tossing it into the backseat with a chuckle, you can’t help but think that maybe — just maybe — this Halloween party wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Luke settles into the passenger seat, stretching his long legs out with a playful groan. His hair is a mess from the hat, sticking up in every direction, and he looks ridiculously good like that — a little wild, a little disheveled. You catch him watching you as you adjust the rearview mirror, his grin lopsided and lazy, the kind of smile that makes your pulse race.

“You’ve got that look on your face again,” you say, glancing at him as you start the car.

“What look?”

“That ‘what the fuck is happening’ look.”

Luke laughs, low and warm, running a hand through his hair to smooth it down. “I can’t believe this is happening, to be fair.” His voice low as he adds, “The ultimate girl boss is inviting me home — maybe I will have to thank Dawson for the party idea.”

"Don't call me that." you say as you roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the butterflies in your stomach. As you pull out of the parking lot, the conversation flows easily. Luke teases you about your driving — “Are you always this aggressive behind the wheel, or is this just a Halloween thing?” — and you fire back with playful jabs about his costume. The sexual tension from the party hasn’t faded; if anything, it’s simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to boil over.

When you reach your apartment, Luke follows you up the stairs, his fingers brushing yours as you unlock the door. The quiet click of the door shutting behind you seems to amplify the tension in the air.

“So, this is it?” he says, glancing around your cozy living room. He looks a little out of place in the Luigi costume, but there’s something endearing about it — like he doesn’t care how ridiculous he looks.

“This is it,” you say, kicking off your shoes and setting your keys on the counter. “Make yourself at home.” Luke takes his time wandering through the space, his fingers trailing over the back of your couch, his gaze flicking to the framed photos on the wall. When he turns back to you, there’s a softness in his expression, but his eyes are still dark with something more.

“You weren’t kidding about the no coffee thing,” he says, peering into the kitchen.

“Told you.”

He steps closer, his footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor. “So, what do you have?”

You lean against the counter, tilting your head. “Depends. What are you in the mood for?”

Luke’s lips twitch into a grin as he closes the distance between you. “I think you already know.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as he stops in front of you, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. His hands find the counter on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he says softly, his voice low and rough. “I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or if you were actually interested.”

Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, your breath catching. “What do you think?”

Luke’s gaze drops to your mouth, lingering for a beat before meeting your eyes again. “I think I’m done guessing.”

His lips are on yours before you can respond, the kiss slow and deliberate, like he’s savouring the taste of you. His hands move to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you let yourself melt into him, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss deepens, your bodies pressed together, and you lose yourself in the feeling of his hands exploring your back, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck. Every touch, every kiss, feels like a spark igniting something inside you.

“Luke…” His name slips from your lips in a breathless whisper, and he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. “I hope to god you know how to take a corset off.” Luke’s soft laugh captures your breath as his hands spin your around till you face the counter. 

“One thing about hockey players is we’re good with laces.” He says quietly, making quick work of undoing the ribbon on the back of your corset, letting the faux leather fall off your body once the laces are loose enough, your dress sitting over your frame loosely as Luke’s hands run up your sides. 

“Do you want me to show you something else that hockey players are good at?” Luke asks softly, his lips skimming just under your ear as you nod. Luke moving your quickly as he spins you back around the face him, leaning forwards to capture your lips in a quick kiss before dropping to his knees in front of you, his hands pulling the fabric over your dress up to your waist, motion for you to grip it with your own hands. 

“I need you to stay still for me, Princess.” He coos, his fingers linking in the waistband of your panties before dragging them down your legs, his hands slowly reaching up to rub against the soft skin of your thighs, the plush flesh tensing under his touch. He leans forwards swiping a tentative lick against you, his eyes turned up to yours, watching you as your eyes fall closed, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress for dear life. Happy with your reaction he delves forwards, his tongue pressing flat against you as his nose bumps against your swelling clit. His hands trail softly up the backs of your thighs, over your ass until they sit comfortably on your hips. 

You whimper as he pulls your cunt firmer against his face, his head moving as his tongue circles around your clit, teasing before he sucks the bud into his mouth. “Fuck.” You curse, your back curving against the counter until your resting on your elbows, your head thrown back.. You can feel Lukes’s crooked grin against you as one of his hand drops to lift your thigh, draping the limb over his shoulder opening you up further for him. Luke’s movements become quicker, more feverish as his tongue dips inside you for just a moment before licking back up to your clit. 

“Are fingers allowed, princess?” He questions softly, as he pulls his face away from your cunt much to your dismay, his eyes teasing as you nod quickly, your lip trapped between your teeth as he slides one finger between your folds, gathering any juices he could before slowly pushing the single digit inside of you. 

“God, I can feel how desperate you are.” He coos as you clench around his single finger, a loud branch snapping outside of the shed making you jump, his finger sliding out of you slightly before sliding back in to the third knuckle, Luke chuckling as he presses a kiss against the thigh hanging over his shoulder. “Surprised?” He questions. 

You barely getting a chance to respond, as he sucks your clit sharply releasing it with a grin as you let out a low whine as he presses his thumb harshly against your clit, his fingers calling at just the right time, your cunt clenching so forcefully he lets out a surprised laugh. He pauses his movements for a moment, watching the way you pant as you come down from your orgasm, whispering his name. 

“Jesus, Luke.”

“Don’t praise me yet.” He whispers as he slides your leg off his shoulder, slowly rising to his full height as he towers over you, pushing you further against the counter, “I’m not finished with you.” Luke spins you for the third time of the night, your hands bracing against the counter as you pant, Luke snatching your dress from your hands as he pulls it up and over your head, your breasts falling free as he presses you against the cold kitchen counter. 

“You’re stunning.” He murmurs as his hands make quick work of unbuttoning his overalls, letting them fall to the ground as he steps out of them, your breaths coming faster as you feel his body pressing against yours. His hands slide over your waist, tracing the curve of your hips, before gripping firmly. He’s warm, solid, and the intensity in his gaze when you glance back at him is enough to set your skin ablaze.

Luke leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, voice husky and teasing. “You sure you’re ready for this, Princess?”

You nod, pushing back against him slightly, your body arching into his touch. “I wouldn’t have invited you here if I wasn’t.”

He groans softly, his hands steadying you as he presses a line of kisses along your shoulder and down your back, his lips trailing fire over your skin. His movements are purposeful but unhurried, each touch and kiss designed to build the anticipation thrumming between you. When you feel the tip of his arousal teasing against your entrance, your breath hitches, and he pauses, his fingers tightening on your hips.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your skin.

You turn your head slightly, meeting his eyes over your shoulder. “I’ll let you know.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushes into you, both of you gasping at the sensation. He fills you completely, stretching you in a way that’s almost overwhelming but impossibly good. Your eyes squeeze shut as you let out a harsh breath, Luke pausing once he’s fully seated, giving you a moment to adjust, his hand smoothing over your lower back in silent reassurance.

“You okay?” He asks softly, his lips pressing gently to your neck as he waits for you to relax, your pussy squeezing him as you nod your head slowly, letting it drop against the counter. 

“I just need a second.” You hiss, “It always hurts at first.” You add, focusing on your breathing and relaxing your pelvis as Luke tilts his head in confusion, his hands still rubbing against you tenderly. 

“Do you want me to pull out?” He asks carefully, unsure how to help as you adjust a little more, a relieved sigh leaving you as you glance over your shoulder to smile at him. 

“You can move.” You assure him. Luke nods slowly, his movements careful as he puts out and pushes back in, the pain shifting deep in the pit of your stomach as you let out a soft moan. 

“You feel…” he starts, his voice thick with restraint. “Perfect.” You can barely respond, your mind hazy with the pleasure coursing through you. When he starts moving, it’s slow and steady, each thrust measured and deliberate. He watches your reactions closely, the way your body responds to him, the soft sounds that escape your lips.

“Luke,” you whisper, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter for support as he quickens his pace. His name on your lips seems to spur him on, his rhythm becoming more urgent, his grip on your hips firm but not painful. The tension between you builds with every movement, the sensation almost too much to bear. He leans forward, his chest engulfing you as he presses against your back as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you upright. The new angle has you crying out, your head falling back against his shoulder as he buries his face in your neck, his lips and teeth teasing your skin.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of awe and desire. “You’re incredible.”

The praise only heightens the sensations coursing through you, your body trembling as you feel yourself nearing the edge. He seems to sense it, his movements becoming even more focused, his free hand sliding down to where your bodies are joined to circle your sensitive clit.

“Come for me,” he urges, his voice low and rough. “I want to feel you.” It’s all you need. The coil of pleasure tightens and then snaps, waves of bliss crashing over you as you cry out his name, your body tightening around him. He follows shortly after, his pace faltering as he lets out a low groan, his grip on you tightening as he finds his release.

For a moment, neither of you moves, your breaths mingling as you both come down from the high. Luke presses a kiss to your shoulder, his touch suddenly gentle as he leans against you. Luke places one more kiss to your shoulder, before standing up, your body seeming to melt further into the counter as he pulls out - your body cringing as it tries to adjust to the feeling. You take a few more breaths as you listen to Luke pull off the condom and walk across the room to place it in the bin. 

Luke leans against the counter, his hands gripping the edge as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His overalls hang low on his hips, his green shirt untucked and rumpled. He hasn’t said much since pulling away, and now the silence between you feels heavy, like a weight pressing against your chest.

You finish slipping your dress back over your head, your fingers fidgeting with the hem as you glance his way. He’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable but not indifferent. You can tell there’s something he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Instead, he clears his throat and straightens up, his hands disappearing into his pockets.

"I should probably get going," he says softly, his voice careful, like he’s testing the words out loud.

The tightness in your chest sharpens. You knew this moment was coming—the logical end to what just happened—but it still hits you harder than you expected. You hesitate, watching as he takes a small step toward the door.

"Wait," you blurt out, your voice louder than you intended. He stops immediately, turning to face you, his brow furrowing.

"Yeah?" he asks, and you can hear the note of uncertainty in his voice.

Your heart pounds as you scramble to find the right words, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that has nothing to do with your now-rumpled dress. "You don’t… you don’t have to go," you say quickly, stumbling over the words. "I mean, it’s late, and…"

Luke’s eyes widen slightly, and you can see something flicker across his face—relief? Hope? He blinks, and his lips part like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. You push on, needing to fill the silence.

"You could stay," you continue, your cheeks flushing. "If you want to. I mean, it’s just… it’s late, and I drove you here anyway—“

"I’d like that," he interrupts, his voice soft but firm.

You stop mid-ramble, staring at him. "You would?"

Luke nods, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He takes a step closer, his hands still buried in his pockets. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I didn’t really want to leave, anyway."

The admission makes your stomach flip, and you glance down, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Okay," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "You can stay."

He watches you for a moment longer, his gaze warm and steady, before he nods again. "Thanks," he says simply, but there’s a weight behind the word that makes your chest tighten in a different way.

You gesture toward the bedroom, your throat dry as you try to keep your voice casual. "Uh, the bed’s big enough… if you’re okay with sharing." Luke’s eyebrows lift slightly, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve made things weird. But then he smiles—soft and genuine—and the tension in your chest eases.

"I’m okay with that," he says, his voice light but sincere.

You nod, turning toward the bedroom. "Okay. I’ll just… get things sorted."

As you step into the room, Luke follows, his footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor. You pull back the covers, smoothing them out as if that will somehow make you feel less nervous. When you glance over your shoulder, he’s standing by the doorway, hesitating.

"You sure?" he asks, his voice quieter now.

You meet his gaze and manage a small smile. "Yeah," you say softly. "I’m sure." That seems to be all the reassurance he needs. He steps inside, pulling off his overalls completely and leaving them in a heap on the floor. His green shirt is next to go, his unsurprisingly toned chest making you swallow heavily,  only left in his boxers now, and somehow, the casualness of it makes you feel less self-conscious.

You both climb into the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. For a few moments, neither of you speaks, lying side by side with a cautious amount of space between you. But then, slowly, Luke shifts closer, his arm brushing yours.

"Thanks for asking me to stay," he murmurs, his voice so low it’s almost a whisper. You turn your head to look at him, your face so close to his that you can see the faint freckles scattered across his nose. 

"I didn’t really want you to leave," you admit quietly.

His lips curve into a soft smile, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing yours under the blanket. "Good," he says, his voice warm. "Because I really didn’t want to."

The two of you end up tangled in each other throughout the night, Lukes arm draped over your waist as he drags you across the mattress to press against him, his face tucked into your neck as your relax into the warmth of his chest. 

When you wake up the warmth is gone, the mattress is empty and a small post it note sits on the pillow besides you. 

‘I had fun last night, had to leave early for practice, sorry.’ 

The cold sheets isn’t a surprise as you throw the note across the room, Luke doing exactly you expected the hot shot hockey player to do. 

+

+

“I can’t believe we have to do another company get together.” You huff as you readjust your hair in it’s ponytail for the tenth time, Dawson bouncing besides you in excitement. “And a hike? Who do they think we are? Athletes?” You continue your frown deepening as you watch the tall, curly haired hockey player interact with one of your colleagues a few metres away, his smile lighting up the group around him. 

“Well some of us are athletes.” Dawson teases as he bumps his shoulder into yours, his gaze following yours, a mischievous grin breaking out across his face. “It’s been three months since the halloween party, I think we’re overdue for an outing.” Dawson starts slowly, your gaze flicking over to him, the small cogs in your brain turning as you feel the panic begin to set in. 

“Dawson, don’t you dare.” But he’s already gone, stepping up onto a big rock as he calls attention to himself. 

“I thought it might be good for each of us players to pair up with one of our lovely office workers to really get the full effect of the company bonding.” He suggests, your heart dropping to your stomach as everyone quickly agrees, already spreading themselves out as each player finds someone to team up with, your boss quickly snatching Dawson off his rock as you watch the curly haired man’s blue-green eyes meet yours. 

“Thank me later.” Dawson coos as he starts up the mountain, his arm linked with your boss’s as they ramble as they walk. 

“I’m going to kill that man in his slee— oh hey Luke.” 

“Hey, I um… noticed you didn’t have a partner?” He says, well questions, his brows pinched tight as he studies your body, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, you gaze anywhere but on him. Luke motions for you to start following the rest of your colleagues up the trail before quickly matching your pace, walking besides you easily with his long legs. 

The cool spring air brushes against your skin as you step onto the trail, the sound of chatter and boots hitting the dirt path filling the air. The company hike was supposed to be a casual event, a chance to mingle with colleagues, relax, and get away from the office for a few hours. But, as usual, it feels a little more complicated than it should be.

You glance around the small group you’ve been assigned to — everyone seems in high spirits, laughing and chatting, but you can’t help but feel a sense of discomfort. You’ve been quiet, your mind occupied with thoughts that don’t seem to want to let go.

The trail twists up ahead, and you can feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you. When you glance to the side, you see Luke walking beside you, looking every bit the confident, carefree guy he usually is. But today, there's something different about him. He’s watching you with an expression that seems to mix curiosity and confusion. It’s the kind of look you know too well — the one that tells you he’s trying to figure something out, trying to read you, but doesn’t quite know where to start.

You quickly avert your eyes, focusing on the path ahead, pretending to be absorbed in the beauty of the trail. The last thing you want right now is to deal with whatever this... thing is between you two. Whatever it was that happened the night of the Halloween party, whatever moment was shared between you, has left a lingering tension in the air. It’s subtle but undeniable, and the last few months have been filled with an awkward distance you’re both trying (and failing) to navigate.

Luke seems to notice your change in demeanour right away. You can feel the shift in the atmosphere, the way his presence suddenly feels more pronounced. He slows his pace just slightly, a move that draws you out of your own head, and when you glance at him, he’s giving you that familiar, crooked smile.

"So," he says casually, his hands resting loosely in the pockets of his jacket. "You’ve been awfully quiet today. Everything okay?"

You shrug, your eyes ahead as you force your voice to sound casual, "Yeah, just... tired, I guess."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "Because you’re usually pretty chatty on these things." The gentle teasing in his voice stings more than it should, but you keep your expression neutral, refusing to let him see the way his words unsettle you. 

"Guess I’m just not feeling it today,” you reply with a half-smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

You know he doesn’t buy it — Luke’s not an idiot. He’s seen you in better moods, and knows enough about you from all of his desperate attempts at reconnecting with you through Dawson, that he knows enough to notice the shift in your behaviour toward him. 

Ever since that night, things have been... different. After everything that happened between you two, it felt like one of you was always pulling back, unsure of how to move forward. For you, the uncertainty of the night, the chemistry, and the suddenness of it all left you second-guessing yourself. You never really figured out where you stood with him after that.

Luke takes a deep breath, then breaks the silence with another question, his voice more carefully measured this time, "Is this because of... what happened, that night?"

Your heart skips a beat. You stop in your tracks, suddenly feeling like the ground beneath you has shifted. You don’t want to face this. Not here, not now. But you can’t deny that Luke’s words have hit a nerve, and the air between you both grows thick with unspoken tension.

"Don’t..." you begin, but your voice falters before you can finish. You feel exposed, like a part of you that you’ve kept hidden is being laid bare for him to see.

Luke notices the shift instantly. He takes a half step toward you, a small frown pulling at the edges of his mouth. "I didn’t mean to make things weird," he says quietly, his voice softening in that way it does when he’s being sincere. "I just... don’t get it. You’ve been acting different lately, and I’m not sure why. After that night, it felt like... like something happened, and I guess I’ve just been waiting for you to say something."

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of his words settle on your chest. 

He’s right. 

Things have been different. But you’re not sure how to explain it to him, not when everything you’re feeling seems to clash with what’s happening in your head.

"You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?" His words aren’t accusatory, just observant, and it makes something inside you twist painfully.

You nod, the truth hanging between you both in that awkward silence. You don’t know how to explain the mix of emotions swirling inside you. Part of you wants to laugh it off, pretend it’s nothing, but the other part of you feels the sting of being too close to him and too unsure of where to stand.

Luke takes a step closer, and you can feel the weight of his presence, his eyes not leaving yours. "I didn’t think I’d made you uncomfortable," he says quietly, the tone of his voice softer than usual. "I thought... maybe you had fun. I thought we had fun."

The way he says it, so uncertain, so vulnerable, makes your heart ache. "We did," you reply, barely above a whisper. “You could’ve woken me up before you left, you know?” The words are out of your mouth before you can shove them back in, Luke pausing, his stop forcing you to stop walking as well. 

His mouth drops open as he shoots you a dumbfounded look, “Are you kidding me?” He lets out a shocked laugh before adding, “You didn’t even bother to call me - it’s been three months and you’re holding a grudge because I had to leave early but don’t see anything wrong with you just blatantly ignoring my phone number?” 

“Call you?” Your body almost recoils in shock as you look up at him in confusion. “How was I supposed to call you?” 

Luke looks equally as confused now, his hands perched on his hips as the two of you just stare at each other. “Did you not look on the back of the sticky note?” He asks softly, his face relaxing in understanding as everything seems to click into place. 

You blink at him, still unsure of what he's talking about. “Back of the note?” you echo, your voice unsure, as if you’re not quite processing what he’s saying. You’re trying to piece things together, but it's all so disorienting. This whole conversation feels like a game of telephone gone wrong, and you’ve missed the message completely.

Luke's face softens as if a realisation is dawning on him, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips as he steps a little closer. “Yeah, you know,” he says, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket, “the sticky note I left you the morning after Halloween.” He watches your reaction closely, his eyes flicking from your face to your stiffened posture, noting the way you're not quite meeting his gaze. "I thought it would be pretty obvious..."

You shake your head slowly, heart sinking in your chest. This doesn’t make sense. “I… I didn’t even notice anything on the back.”

Luke tilts his head, eyebrows knitting together as though he's trying to process your words. “Are you serious?” he asks, though not unkindly. He sounds almost amused, but it’s the kind of amusement that’s mixed with a touch of disbelief. You blink, a wave of realisation hitting you, but it doesn’t make things clearer—if anything, it only makes them more confusing. The night of the Halloween party, everything had been a blur after… after what happened between you and Luke. You'd woken up alone, with no trace of him. The only thing you had found was that stupid post it note on your pillow. You’d glanced at it, but in your haze of confusion and disappointment, you had dismissed it as just a random note, trying to rid himself of the guilt of walking out after your night together. You never once thought it would have his number on it.

“I thought you were gone,” you murmur, still not fully understanding. “You just… disappeared. After that night.”Luke’s face softens, his expression shifting from confusion to something quieter, more patient. 

“I didn’t disappear, I just—” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You were sleeping, and most people don’t want to wake up at five in the morning, and I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to see me again after everything. So I thought… I thought the note would be enough. I thought you’d get it.”

You feel the blood rush to your face, the weight of misunderstanding suddenly crashing down on you. That note. All these months, you had been carrying the confusion, the anger, the hurt of what you assumed was his rejection. All this time, you’d believed that he had left without a word, leaving you to overthink every moment, to wonder what went wrong, why it all felt so unfinished. But it wasn’t rejection. It was a miscommunication, a simple mistake in the way you both had handled things.

“I never saw it,” you say quietly, the words almost feeling foreign in your mouth. “I thought… I thought you just left. You had got what you wanted and left.” Luke exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair, a small, sheepish laugh escaping him. 

"Well, now I feel like an idiot." He glances down, clearly embarrassed at how the situation has unfolded, and you see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way he’s trying to navigate this, just like you.

“I mean, I should’ve told you,” he continues, his voice softening. “I should’ve woken you up, but I didn’t want to make things awkward if you weren’t interested. I didn’t want to push it if that wasn’t what you wanted.” The words settle between you both, and you feel the air shift, the distance that has been between you for months beginning to dissipate, just a little. The weight in your chest lightens as you finally start to understand what happened, what you both had been too afraid to face, too unsure to talk about.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the apology slipping from your lips before you can stop it. “I should’ve paid more attention.”

Luke shrugs, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “No need to apologise. It’s just... both of us being kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?” His smile widens, but it’s not the same playful, confident grin you’re used to seeing. It’s more real, more raw. “I thought you were just avoiding me for some reason, and here you were thinking I ghosted you.”

You let out a small laugh, though it’s mixed with a breath of relief. “I guess we were both just avoiding the obvious.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees, his voice easing with the tension. He takes a small step closer, his eyes locking with yours as he lowers his hands from his pockets. “So, now what?”

The question hangs in the air, and you find yourself looking up at him, the distance between you shrinking with every word you say. You take a deep breath, suddenly realising how much this conversation, how much this moment, has been long overdue. The walls you’ve both built around each other are crumbling, slowly but surely.

“Well,” you begin, trying to gather your thoughts as you look at Luke. He’s standing so close now, and despite the lingering awkwardness, there’s something about him that feels more approachable, more open. "I think... maybe we need to stop assuming things about each other. Because, honestly, I had no idea what you were thinking. And you had no idea what I was thinking. So maybe we should just start from scratch."

Luke’s face lights up, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he nods, his eyes bright with a hint of mischief. "I like that idea. Starting from scratch sounds good to me." For the first time in months, you feel a sense of relief flood your chest, the tension between you two breaking apart. . 

“Yeah,” you reply, returning his smile. “How about we start by you giving me your number?”

Luke laughs, the sound light and easy now. “Sure, let’s take our time. But don’t go ghosting me.”

“No more ghosting,” you agree, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you start walking again, side by side.

As you continue up the trail, the tension that once felt so heavy now seems almost silly. What had felt like an insurmountable distance between you two has suddenly shrunk, and you can’t help but wonder how different things might’ve been if you’d both just taken a moment to talk. But for now, you’re content with where you are — a little wiser, a little closer, and finally ready to leave the past behind.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~