#btw any excess will likely be going to

[revocalized]

Hi, I started this fundraiser, Support REVo and Partner in Tough Times, on GoFundMe and it would mean a lot to me if you’d be able to share or donate to it.

[carnivalls]

good morning. thinking again of juve and her dog

[cherrysnax]

i don’t think I’ve gone outside in weeks.. but like. every day is an excessive heat warning or a bad air quality warning… what am I supposed to do 😭😭

[sweetlemontart]

call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M]

summary ⇾ to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.

PAIRING // yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRE // explicit smut, established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut, sub!reader, jeonghan tries to be angry hard!dom but is actually a soft!dom cause he's too in love with mc, not much plot tbh mostly just smut

WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex and fingering (f receiving), degradation, choking, hair pulling, some spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial(?) ig, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol

WORD COUNT // 8.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE // me casually coming back on here and posting after almost 2 years of radio silence (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ btw this is my very first svt fic hehe i started liking them like a month ago? watching going svt is the only thing keeping me sane during my second year of uni :') i love jeonghan and all his manipulating mind games & cheating ways, it's the most attractive thing to me !! might drop a wonwoo fic soon too bcs he's a cutie and his wip is coming along nicely. hope u guys have been doing good hehe do like and reblog if u enjoy reading this, song rec is blue foundation - eyes on fire (skeler remix)

masterlist link

Jeonghan isn't a particularly placid man. He's not excessively ill-tempered per se, but he is remarkably patient when it comes to you. You know how he is when he's angry, and you can't recall a single time when you've been on the receiving end of his wrath. 

When something ticks him off, his eyes will darken and the heated stare he gives is shrouded beneath his lashes. When he is truly livid, he'll usually walk away from the situation, and there'll be no room for anyone to say something they'll end up regretting later on. 

It's incredible, really, that he possesses the ability to bottle his anger up when it involves you. Anger is an emotion that can rarely be suppressed, but Jeonghan does it with remarkable ease. 

On any other day, perhaps you'd appreciate his effort to control his anger, but not tonight. You've made a serious mistake, one that goes against the one thing Jeonghan had explicitly stated from the start of your relationship—keeping secrets is a recipe for a failed relationship, so if you have something important to say, just say it. Jeonghan is a great boyfriend. He gives you the freedom and privacy to do things you want to do, but this particular boundary was crystal clear, and you just crossed it.

It was your fault, really. You had broken up with Choi Seungcheol only a year prior to dating Jeonghan. The break-up had been a mutual agreement, and there were no hard feelings involved. Over time, you gradually drifted apart and had minimal to no contact until... well, two weeks ago. 

It had been at a dinner party hosted by one of your acquaintances, someone who just happened to be Seungcheol's cousin. Jeonghan hadn't been able to accompany you, so you hadn't been able to introduce him to Seungcheol. Meeting Seungcheol again after more than a year hadn't been awkward. It was like meeting up with an old friend. 

Tonight, however, the universe seems like it's conspiring against you. You had been preparing dinner when you heard a notification chime on your phone. You had haphazardly tossed your phone onto the living room couch before cooking, and your boyfriend just happened to be doing his Lego in the living room, so you called out to him to check the notification. 

There was shuffling in the living room as he stood. When he strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he held your phone in one hand, eyes fixed on the screen. "Who's Choi Seungcheol and why is he asking to catch up over lunch?"

Fuck. 

To be fair, you really weren't expecting Seungcheol to contact you after the dinner party. You had gone without contacting each other for more than a year, so what changed now? You had told him that you found someone new, so he definitely knew there was no possibility of rekindling your relationship. He was most likely trying to be friendly, but you understand why it would seem questionable to Jeonghan. 

Contrary to what you expected, Jeonghan hadn't gotten angry at you. He simply listened to your explanation and nodded. He became quiet, a glazed look in his eyes that you couldn't interpret. Then, he sets your phone down on the kitchen counter and hummed. Oh, he was annoyed, that much was obvious. 

"Okay, well, I trust you. Just... don't do it again," Jeonghan spoke with a slight frown, then walked out of the kitchen as though you hadn't just violated the one, single rule that you had both agreed to abide by. 

Perhaps you've gone stupid, because as your boyfriend walked out of the kitchen, you found yourself trailing close behind him. A tinge of irritation slowly bubbled up in your chest as you watched him casually plop down onto the floor to continue doing the Lego set he had been doing since earlier. 

"Is that it?" you asked him. 

Jeonghan momentarily diverted his attention from his Lego to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"

"You just... you're not even getting angry at me?"

"Um, am I supposed to be angry at you?"

You were taken aback by his response because it suddenly occurred to you just how silly you sounded. Did you really want him to get angry at you?

"Yes?"

Jeonghan nodded wordlessly, seemingly mulling over something in his head. 

"I made a mistake, you should be mad at me."

There was a pregnant pause before he chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about it. If anything, it sounded a little... sinister. "You want me to get mad at you, baby? Want me to show you how I'm really feeling?"

You swallowed. Suddenly, you felt small under the weight of his unyielding stare. You shouldn't have nodded, shouldn't have ever said anything about it at all, because now, Jeonghan has you on the bed, doing the one thing you had practically begged him to do—take his anger out on you. 

"G-God, please..." You're not sure what it is you're begging for. It's hard to think straight when Jeonghan is between your legs, lapping at your dripping cunt with his tongue. He had warned you not to touch him, but after several attempts of burying your fingers into his silky hair, he decided to take matters into his own hand, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to your heaving chest. 

Your fingers continuously curl and uncurl against your chest, desperately trying to grab at something to ground yourself. The pleasure coursing through you makes your head spin, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton as you continue to chant your boyfriend's name. 

Jeonghan hums against you, mouth suckling at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your jaw drops open at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as you let a moan slip past your lips. He repeats the cycle a few more times—kissing, sucking, licking—until you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach. 

To your disappointment, Jeonghan withdraws his mouth from you but is quick to replace it with his fingers. He's familiar with your body by now, knowing what gives you the most pleasure and which spots to press to have you coming undone in minutes. 

He's rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb, middle and ring fingers ghosting over your hole, not dipping in, only lingering there to serve as a reminder of the control he has over you. "Keep your hands there," he says, squeezing at your wrists once as a warning. Then he lets go of your hands and settles his palm on the inside of your thigh, spreading you open further. 

"Jeonghan..." you whimper, legs beginning to shake as the telltale sign of your climax begins to show. 

"I need you to cum on my fingers once before you can have my cock," he says, voice coming out huskier than normal. 

Straining your neck, you peer down at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes, only to feel a rush of heat in your stomach when you see that he's already looking at you. In the dim light of your bedside lamp, you can just make out his blown-out pupils, almost obscured beneath the strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His lips curl up into a wicked smirk, and your focus shifts from his eyes to the way his mouth glistens with your wetness. It feels so shameful, but the sight only makes you drip even more. 

"My angel wants me to be angry at her, right?" he asks you, pressing down harder on your clit, which makes you yelp with surprise, head dropping back onto your pillow. 

"Don't stop, please, I'm cumming... F-Fuck!" It's all you manage to say as you begin to writhe under Jeonghan's hold.

He clicks his teeth in disapproval when you shift your hands from your chest to your sides, fingers tightly grabbing at the bedsheet, twisting at it recklessly. He lets it slide, however, knowing you're trying your best not to touch him like he knows you so desperately want to. 

His ring finger dips into your hole just slightly, and the stretch isn't much, but it makes you keen anyway, breath catching in your throat as he plunges it deeper and deeper until it reaches his knuckle. He doesn't move it after that, keeping it buried there as he continues to play with your clit. 

"I've barely even started and you're already like this," he says in a mocking tone, teasingly biting down at your plush thigh. "Go ahead and cum for me, then. Show me how much you want my cock, baby..."

Your body caves to his words. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum with a loud moan that you don't even attempt to hide. Without warning, Jeonghan promptly replaces his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking hard, prolonging the pleasure. He doesn't mind the way your whole body is trembling or the way your thighs try to snap shut. 

"H-Hannie, fuck... fuck..."

The way you're mumbling out incoherent words only makes the blood rush down to his cock. He's painfully hard in his pants, wanting nothing more than to sink himself right into your tight pussy. It's getting increasingly difficult to think with his head than his dick. His self-restraint is starting to fray at the edge. 

"That's it, baby..." he mumbles, removing his ring finger from inside you, grinning when your hole tries to suck the digit back in. 

With his index and middle finger, Jeonghan spreads your pussy lips apart, ignoring your whine of protest as he continues to stare at your soaked cunt. It's humiliating to be so exposed and vulnerable like this, but why do you enjoy it so much? 

Jeonghan snickers, warm breath hitting your bare pussy. "Baby, I wish you could see yourself right now. Your cute pussy is clenching around nothing."

With a sheepish whine, you splay your hands over your face, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Hannie..." you grumble, hoping he would show you some compassion and stop teasing. But of course, Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't just stop there. You should know better by now that there is no one in the world more cunning and sly than your boyfriend. 

Jeonghan pushes himself up into a sitting position, sighing when he sees the way you've covered your face. He doesn't like it when you hide from him but surprisingly doesn't say anything about it. 

When you feel him shift on the bed, your curiosity gets the best of you. Peering cautiously through the gaps of your fingers, you're left dumbfounded at the sight of your boyfriend tugging his shirt over his head. The wisps of his dark hair that had been snagged by the shirt are left askew, and the view would be endearing if it wasn't for the devious look in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Then he stands, and for a second, you're afraid he might leave you there. It wouldn't be unlike Jeonghan to suddenly leave. He's unpredictable, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone. This time, however, all he does is stand by the end of the bed, eyes roaming over your exposed figure as if trying to determine the next course of action that will deliver the most favourable outcome for him. Damn him and his mind games.

With slow movement, you press your legs together, concealing your most intimate part from your boyfriend. He shakes his head in disapproval, but you make no move to rectify your mistake. It's impossible not to hide from him when he's looking down at you as though he wants to devour you inch by inch—like a lion ogling at a wounded deer. 

Very slowly, he begins to undo the string of his sweatpants. It aggravates you to see how composed he is, movements unhurried as if he doesn't see just how much you need him. Surely he notices how your eyes rove over his bare torso, committing to memory every little detail about his body even if you've seen it myriad times before. He's not particularly muscular; he's more lean than anything, elegant, and refined in all the right places. It only makes the waiting feel even more agonising. 

"Don't tease, Hannie, please," you plead, your pulse quickening when he finally steps out of his pants. 

"Don't tease? Aw, princess, you were the one getting all friendly with your ex, and now you want me to treat you like a good girl who hasn't been whoring around behind my back?" His tone is condescending, sending a surge of electricity up your spine.  

You're suddenly reminded of what landed you in the current predicament in the first place. You want to explain and justify yourself, but you're rendered speechless when Jeonghan sweeps a hand down over his torso, eventually wrapping around his hard cock. He tugs once, twice, hissing slightly at the much-needed contact, smearing pre-cum all over the tip and shaft, the ring on his pinky glinting in the low light. 

Sitting upright, you're about to speak and deny his previous statement, but the words die down in your throat when he suddenly climbs onto the bed, slowly crawling closer to you.

You squeak in surprise when he grabs at one of your legs, tugging you down just slightly so that your face is parallel to his. Then, he settles himself between your legs, cock pressed against your stomach. He has you right where he wants you. 

Jeonghan captures your lips in a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours. You sigh into his mouth, tasting the remnants of your wetness on his tongue and lips. It's a pleasant mix of bitter and sweet, a combination that makes you feel dazed despite the fact that he hasn't done anything to you yet. 

Jeonghan sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, relishing the way you mewl. He starts pressing wet kisses onto your jaw, trailing down to your neck and collarbone. "You smell so good, pretty," he mumbles against your skin, licking at your sternum. 

Reaching a hand down, you grab at his hard cock, wanting nothing more than for him to slip himself inside. You're sure you're dripping down onto the bedsheet by now. Jeonghan, however, has other plans. You only get to pump him twice before he slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist to the bed. "Don't act like such an impatient whore..."

Your whine of protest trails out into a moan when Jeonghan suddenly wraps his mouth around your nipple. His mouth is hot against the sensitive bud, and the light grazes of his teeth against it makes you arch your back. 

Jeonghan's eyes suddenly meet yours, hooded with lust. He's suckling so noisily, hips grinding into yours. It's so obscene—the way he's looking at you, the sounds he's making, the way his balls press down on your clit whenever he grinds into you. Feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensory, you turn your head to the side, burying your face into your pillow as you huff out a shaky breath. 

You should've known Jeonghan wouldn't be too pleased with this. He withdraws his mouth from your chest with a lewd pop. His hand leaves your wrist in favour of grabbing at your chin. His grip is harsh, but not enough to hurt. With a sharp yank, he forces you to face forward, where you have no other choice than to meet his eyes. 

He clicks his tongue disappointedly, and your eyes flick down to his lips, red and puffy from sucking. This doesn't help your case at all, because Jeonghan immediately starts vigorously shaking your face left and right, compelling you to look back into his eyes. Your head feels dizzy, but you don't miss the look in his eyes. There's irritation swirling in them now, imbued with desire and the hunger to ravage your body until you're left a broken, muddled mess. It makes you shudder, legs squeezing tight on each side of his hips. 

"You know better than to hide from me, right?" His thumb caresses the skin of your jaw. The touch is so soft, a stark contrast to the way he's glaring down at you. When you take a little too long to answer, Jeonghan taps at your cheek a few times, hard enough for you to feel the sting. 

"Y-Yes..."

He coos, stroking your stinging cheek. "Mhm, but you're not behaving very well tonight, are you?"

"I've been good, Hannie," you assert, trying to maintain your composed front even though you desperately need him to fill you to the brim. You're aching, and you need his cock to soothe the pain. Noticing his sceptical gaze, you decide to reword your sentence. "I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

Jeonghan is thinking about something, silently plotting something in his head. Fuck, you're screwed now. The intensity of his gaze tells you he's about to do something that's unlikely to be in your favour.

"You want to hide from me that bad, hm?"

You're quick to shake your head. "No, Hannie, I want you to see me."

Jeonghan scowls, pecking your lips once before sitting up on his knees. "On your stomach."

You frown, dread washing over you. He knows how much you loathe that position. "Jeonghan, please, no..."

Jeonghan's face remains impassive. "I won't ask you twice."

"You know I take a long time to cum when I can't see your face," you grumble, feeling your stomach churn, chest tightening. 

"Who said you were cumming tonight?"

The question sends you into a frenzy. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, please..."

When Jeonghan has his mind set on something, no amount of begging or grovelling will sway him. He's glowering at you, and three seconds pass before you relent. Having his cock inside you is better than nothing at all. 

"There you go, baby," he says when you finally shift onto your stomach. He's quick to straddle your thighs. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" 

You say nothing, feeling sulky now that you can't look at your boyfriend's pretty face anymore. "Angh!" you yelp when you feel a spank on your ass. Jeonghan does it a few more times, rubbing the tender skin between each hit. The touch should be soothing, but it only makes your ass burn even more, raw from his smacking.

Gritting your teeth from the tantalizing sting, you bite back an apology, knowing it's probably the last thing Jeonghan wants from you. Saying sorry would only make it worst for you. He's testing you, pushing the boundaries to see how much you can endure before you break and plead for some semblance of his kindness. The longer you hold out, the better. 

You feel him dip his head down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale to breathe in your smell. The fragrance of your perfume and natural scent is exhilarating. He wants to stay there and breathe you in all day, fill his lungs with your sweet scent so that he can still smell you even when you're miles away from him. 

A groan rumbles in his chest, you can feel it on your upper back, can hear it right beside your ear. He starts pressing kisses down your shoulder blade, digging his teeth into the smooth flesh. 

"Keep your head down," he warns you, as though he knows about your urge to turn and look at him. He sits up, his knees on each side of your legs, willowy fingers kneading your hips. 

You whine into your pillow, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Your whole body is trembling, yearning to see him, touch him, tug on the silken strands of his dark hair. God, just the thought of it has slick gushing out of your throbbing hole. 

"I'll be good," you promise him, voice coming out breathy, desperation bleeding through. "Just, please..." you beg, quietly moaning when you feel Jeonghan's hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs just enough for him to comfortably press the tip of his leaking cock onto your cunt. 

You hear him chuckle when your whole body stiffens, anticipating the moment when he'll finally fuck you full. He sighs to himself, looking at the way your pussy is all coated in your wetness, slick gushing out onto his cockhead as he brushes it over your clit. 

"Hmm, but you only behave after you're caught doing something bad, isn't that right?"

You don't answer, unsure whether you should defend yourself or agree with his question. You gasp when you feel him slide in just slightly, stretching you out, tip prodding at your gummy walls just enough to make you feel the agonizing stretch. "More, Hannie," you mutter, practically drooling at the prospect that it would only take a roll of his hips for him to fill you up. 

However, the delicious stretch never comes, and you're left there feeling stupid, panting with only his tip buried inside of you. You whine once, lifting your head to look back at him. Big mistake. You've barely craned your neck before you feel his hand pushing down onto the crown of your head, fingers yanking at your mussed-up hair, shoving the side of your face back into the pillow. 

With a growl, Jeonghan leans down to press his lips against your ear. "What's with you today, princess? You've always been such a good girl for me, but you keep pushing my fucking buttons today. You want me angry, hm? Is that what you want?"

His crude words shouldn't make you feel the way you do, but when he speaks, his hot breath against your ear makes your eyes roll back, pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, desperate to suck more of him in. You respond with a quiet apology, voice quivering from the arousal wracking through your body. You crave him, ache for him like a desert thirsts for rain. "Need you..."

Then, as if he senses your distress, he decides to show you some mercy. Little by little, he slides into you, slipping in easily, aided by the wetness seeping out of your pulsating hole. He ignores the way you call out his name with a shattered gasp, slowly pressing forward until his hips are flush against your ass and his cock is snug in your heat, buried to the hilt. 

You can feel Jeonghan's groan rumbling in his chest, and the noise makes your pussy clamp down on him tighter. You're fisting at the bedsheet, feeling relieved, desperate, and frantic all at the same time. God, why isn't he moving? You want him to fuck you into the bed, want him to ruin you, use you until you can barely remember your name. 

Perhaps this is Jeonghan's way of taking his anger out on you—tormenting you until you're reduced to nothing but a sputtering, drooling wreck. Maybe he wants to see you plead, beg. Or maybe, he wants you to curse him out, chastise him, berate him for putting you through this torture.

Afraid of further repercussions, you decide to patiently wait, clenching your teeth to bite back from begging him to move. Seconds seem to drag on endlessly, and you resort to imagining the sight you'd be met with if you were to turn around. Would you see Jeonghan's face contorted into a mixture of frustration and hunger? Would his eyes be crazed and heated? Maybe he's enjoying the excruciating wait, peering down at you with an amused grin, tongue peeking out to rest against his lower lip just slightly. You're dying to know. 

Then, as if he is satisfied with your unwavering determination to remain still for him, he loosens his hold on your hair, gently brushing the dishevelled strands back. His thumb extends out to stroke at the tendrils of baby hair stuck to your temple, damp with perspiration. "You want me to move, baby?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you have half a mind to consider saying yes, but a nagging feeling tells you it might be a trick question. Jeonghan must've sensed your apprehension because you hear him chuckle. 

Without any warning, he draws his hips back, pulling out until only his tip remains inside before plunging in again. Your jaw slackens into a silent moan. The lack of stimulation has made your body feel so attuned to his, sensitive to every little movement. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, feel his breath on your neck, and the ridges of the veins on his cock against your pussy. 

"It's not a trick question, you know?"

You're quick to nod your head as best as you can. "Please move," you breathe out, feeling like you're on the verge of just turning around and demanding him to fuck you the way you both need it. 

His hand grapples onto the sheets by your head, delivering another thrust into your cunt. His movement is languid, as though he wants to take his time. It's driving you crazy, just how collected he seems compared to you. Your body feels as though it's burning, lit ablaze by his kisses, touches, and every single point of contact between his skin and yours. 

Your eyes zero in on his hand propped up on the bed, right in front of your eyes, honing in on the way the sheets bunch between his fingers and the way his ring sits snug on his pinky. Subconsciously, you reach out for it, fingertips digging into his knuckles, nails pinching into the skin when he thrusts again. The movement is more rushed this time, jostling you up on the bed just a little, which makes you gasp. 

He removes your hand from him, hurriedly pressing your palm into the bed, cradling your hand from behind, his fingers sliding through the spaces of yours to intertwine them. The gesture feels so intimate, and it leaves you feeling disoriented. "Fuck, Hannie, so good..."

Jeonghan chuckles, peppering kisses all over your bare shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake wherever his lips meet your skin. "I've barely even started, baby."

Jeonghan pushes himself up onto his knees, letting go of your hand to place both his hands on your hips. He doesn't miss the way you groan at the loss of his warmth on your back, but he dismisses it. He pushes in once, twice, his gaze fixed on the point where his cock keeps appearing and disappearing into your drenched cunt. 

You barely register it when Jeonghan hauls you up onto your hands and knees, lost in the thought of him, only comprehending the situation when he once again slides into your aching pussy. You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, elbows buckling, almost sending your face flopping back into your pillow. 

Jeonghan doesn't feel the need to take it slow anymore. His thrusts are no longer feeble, and his pace is steady. The sound of skin meeting skin fills his ears, mixed with your broken moans. It sounds like an obscene euphony, a harmony that makes his head feel foggy and hazed.

 "Fuck, pretty, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jeonghan grunts, sneaking a glance down, only for his pace to falter when he sees the way your slick is coating your inner thighs. The view is so lewd, salacious, dirty, and messy. "My messy fucking baby," he mumbles, picking up his speed, eyes fluttering when he feels your walls tightening around him. 

"Jeonghan... Jeonghan..." You're chanting his name like a mantra, eyes pinched close, savouring the feeling of being pumped full. 

"Yeah... that's my name, baby," Jeonghan responds, restrain starting to slip, evident in the way his voice cracks just slightly at the last syllable. "Can you cum like this?"

You promptly shake your head. "N-No." It's not entirely a lie. You hate relying on your imagination like this. You want to be able to touch him, hold him, want to be able to look into his eyes as you let your orgasm crash down on you. You want to see the way his hair frames his pretty face, want to see his flushed cheeks and the sweat gathering at the dips of his collarbones. You want to see him, or you think you'll die on the spot.

"Good. Don't cum, princess." 

"W-What?" you squeak out. 

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh. "I told you before—you're not cumming tonight."

You gulp, stooping down low onto your elbow, too weak to support yourself up on your hands. "I wanna cum, H-Hannie... Please let me..."

Jeonghan only snickers, ramming into you harder, letting out a content sigh when your moans seem to escalate, becoming more wanton and desperate. You're squeezing him so tight, white ring of your milky slick forming a ring at the base of his cock, causing him to groan out loud. He'd like to think that he's in full control, but everything about you is making him feel delirious—your smell, your pussy, your moans. 

Ever the competitive man, Jeonghan feels like he's losing this game. He's supposed to be angry at you, but why does it feel like you have the upper hand? Feeling irked by this sudden revelation, he stretches a hand out, wrapping it around your neck. He hears the surprised gasp you let out when he pulls you upright into his chest. 

Your hands immediately fly up to circle around his wrist, taken aback by the sudden change of positions. His other arm slithers around your waist, keeping you balanced as he continues to fuck you from behind. "Fuck, Hannie, your cock feels so good," you can't help but murmur, arching your hips just slightly so he can reach deeper into you. 

He scoffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the spot underneath your ear, strands of his hair tickling your skin. As he expects, your head lolls the other way, granting him better access to your neck. "Of course it feels good, baby. I've fucked you so many times your pussy is used to me now. Wouldn't be able to take another cock without thinking of mine, would you? Wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't my cock, right?"

His fingers dig into the sides of your neck, constricting just enough for you to gradually feel the drowsiness from the lack of air. It's intoxicating, being able to surrender yourself to another person completely, knowing they have you in the palm of their hand.

You're too preoccupied with the feeling of his hand around your throat to realise his other hand sneaking down to settle between your legs, middle and ring fingers starting to draw gentle circles into your bundle of nerves. It's almost too much—the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way his lips skim over your neck, the chokehold he has on you, the breathy groans he murmurs against your skin. 

"Unghh! F-Fuck, Jeonghan, 'm gonna cum..."

He chuckles, delighted at the turn of events. He doesn't stop the motion of his fingers against your clit and instead presses down harder, making your head roll back onto his shoulder, a throaty moan spilling past your lips into the open air. 

"Oh?" he says in a sardonic tone. "You said you couldn't cum like this. Or were you just lying to me, baby?" His mocking shouldn't have such power over you, but it makes your heart pound with the intensity of a raging storm.

"N-No, it's because you're... your fingers—"

"Hmm, what's with my fingers, angel?" 

The fingers on your clit start moving faster, motions rushed and relentless, bringing you to the verge of your climax quicker than you would ever anticipate. The sudden shift in speed makes you cry out in shock, eyes pinching shut. You're quick to bring a hand down to his wrist, tugging, trying to yank his hand away from between your legs. 

He doesn't relent, slapping your hand away and briefly resuming his assault on your aching bud. "Don't try to stop me now. I thought you wanted to cum."

"You told me not to," you rush out, heat starting to swell in your stomach, ready to burst. 

Jeonghan lets out a chortle. "That's right, baby. Ah, you listen so well..." Stretching his tongue out, he licks a broad path up your neck, stopping right underneath your jaw, where he proceeds to suck the skin. He wants to mark you, claim you. What better way than to bruise your pretty skin, right? To show everyone only a sliver of what goes on between you and him behind closed doors. 

"Oh, god, let me cum, please, please..." You have no other option than to resort to begging. Cumming without his consent would be catastrophic now. Not being able to see his face is punishment already to you, you're terrified of just how far he'd be willing to go to take his anger out on you.

Jeonghan presses the tip of his nose into the plushness of your cheek, humming as though he's weighing his options. "I don't think so, princess," he mumbles, the snap of his hips not once faltering, maintaining its hasty rhythm. "I don't think you deserve to cum."

You don't have much time left. Simple begging won't work now. You're wracking your brain for anything, anything. Forcing him to cum before you would be close to impossible, noting just how composed he seems. He's breathing hard, gravelly groans bubbling up in his chest, but he's nowhere near how wrecked you are.

Through your haze, you suddenly grow aware of the hand still draped over your throat. He's not pressing or squeezing, simply just letting his hand rest there as a means to keep you balanced on your knees as he fucks you open from behind. 

Sheer desperation makes you reach both hands up to claw at the hand on your neck. You're clinging onto the last threads of your rationality, knowing if Jeonghan puts even the slightest amount of pressure on his grip, all your sanity will go out the window, and you'd be hurled face-first into your much-awaited orgasm. You're playing with fire, you know it, but you only have one chance. 

"Unghh, f-fuck, please, choke me... I've been a bad girl, H-Hannie, choke me as punishment, and let me cum..."

You feel his mouth stretch into a grin against your cheek. Your walls are clenching around him so tight, pulsing, so hot and tight. He knows he has won. It's this notion of winning that has him thinking about giving in, but one look at your face has him reeling back his words. The furrow of your eyebrows, your slack jaw, your scarlet cheeks... it makes him feel sadistic. You wanted him to be angry at you anyway, what boyfriend would he be if he didn't give you any reason to make him angry? 

Then, Jeonghan watches. He tightens the hand around your neck, and continues his assault on your clit with the other, all while he continues to ram his dick into you again and again. You start to babble out incoherent words, and that's when he finally strikes. 

"Don't cum."

Those are the two simple words that send you dissolving into a whirl of pleasure and euphoria. Your ears feel like they're ringing as pure, white heat consumes you whole, moaning out your boyfriend's name repeatedly as you go rigid in his embrace. It's like shockwaves, rippling through you so forcibly you have no choice but to succumb to the raging tides, riding it out until you can fully apprehend the situation again. 

Gradually, you begin to notice the way Jeonghan holds you tight to him, how both his hands wrap around your waist to keep your body pressed to his, how his hips have stilled, hard cock still sheathed in your throbbing heat. He's pressing soft kisses onto your shoulder, coaxing you down from your high. 

Jeonghan lets your tired figure collapse onto the bed before sitting back and propping himself up on his heels. The sight is so endearing to him—you, still huffing breathlessly, hushed whines slipping past your lips at every exhale, so spent after only one orgasm. Jeonghan feels like it's so perverse of him to reach a hand down to stroke at his still-hard cock, touching himself to the sight of your curled figure. From this angle, he can see the mess between your thighs, remnants of your juices and his pre-cum smeared all over your puffy pussy lips. Oh, he definitely isn't done with you just yet. 

He hears you mumble his name groggily. Jeonghan's not sure whether you're calling out to him or just saying meaningless things in your post-orgasm haze. He doesn't waste time thinking, though, immediately swooping down to cage you between his arms, kissing along your hairline. "Tired already?"

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at your boyfriend who hovers above you with a smirk that makes your heart skip a beat. Fuck, you're really in for it. 

He coos at you, but it sounds sarcastic. "I told you to hold it, didn't I?"

You puff out a breath, shifting onto your back, obediently parting your legs so Jeonghan can slot himself in between them. "But your fingers—"

"Good girls don't talk back, do they, pretty?"

"N-No..."

He nods, eyes wandering downward, not trying to hide the way they zero in on your breasts. "No, they don't... But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asks, lowering himself to blow cool air onto your nipple, earning a choked gasp from you. Without any warning, he latches his mouth onto the skin at the top of your breast, sucking earnestly, not letting up until he's finally satisfied with the reddening of the skin there. He always loved to see the reddish hue of your hickeys turn into delicate shades of blue and purple as they heal. 

"I can be your good girl..."

"No, no, baby, you're a lying whore who doesn't do as they're told."

"Hannie, I asked you so many times—"

Jeonghan doesn't give you a chance to object, immediately slanting his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue past your spit-coated lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, letting his tongue tangle with yours lasciviously. He feels you sigh against his mouth, hands coming up to curl around the nape of his neck. 

Reaching a hand down, he positions his cock over your entrance, plunging himself into your sopping pussy without any notice. It's easy to sink back into you—you're still sopping wet and stretched open from before.

Shocked, you break away from the kiss to let out a sharp cry, nails digging into his shoulders, threatening to break the skin there. "God, J-Jeonghan!"

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, quickly finding a rhythm that makes you arch your chest, pebbled nipples brushing against his front. You finally have the chance to look at him, really look at him. Fuck, you wouldn't trade this sight for anything else. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever had the privilege of seeing. 

He notices your lovestruck eyes, cock twitching inside you as he pounds into you. He thinks you're so pretty, all splayed out underneath him, so pliant, letting him do whatever he pleases with you. Your hair fans out over the pillow under your head, thin tendrils of it clinging onto your dewy temple and neck. He understands why you love to see his face so much whenever you fuck—he thinks he could cum earlier than anticipated if you keep looking at him with that infatuated gaze.

"Fuck, baby..." he curses, and it's the first time you've seen him lose his composure. "Fuck, you're such a pretty little thing..."

Your body sings at the compliment, shuddering, legs pressing into his sides, wanting to close shut but unable to. You're light-headed, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but this feels too good to stop. With quivering hands, you slip your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling carelessly. He's growing his hair out, so the length falls just shy of his shoulders, some strands curling over his neck like delicate tendrils of silk. 

Jeonghan's low groan pulls you out of your dazed thoughts. "Hannie..."

"Mhm, am I fucking you good, gorgeous? No one else can fuck you like I can, hm?"

You rake your nails across the nape of his neck, whimpering when he shifts just a little, hitching one of your legs up and hooking it around his slender waist. He thrusts a few more times, and his cock brushes against a spot that has you jolting, mewling as he grazes it repeatedly. 

"Oh? Right there?" Jeonghan noses at your cheekbone, listening to your gasps and whimpers, feeling his abdomen tighten at the obscene sounds you let out. 

"R-Right there..."

"That's it... You think Seungcheol can get you like this?"

At the mention of your ex's name, you whine loudly. A part of you hadn't expected Jeonghan to remember the earlier incident, but you should've known better. It seems stupid to think Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't remember an incident that occurred only an hour ago. 

"H-Hannie..."

"Hm, you gonna meet him for lunch? Gonna let him try to win you over? Gonna let him have what's mine?"

You shake your head, on the verge of sobbing, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "Wouldn't do that," you rasp. "I'm yours, Hannie..."

Jeonghan doesn't seem very convinced. "Yeah? You're mine?" he mutters against the apple of your cheek. His voice is low, any traces of anger or annoyance concealed. "You wanna say you're mine, with his contact still saved in your phone, baby? Don't be silly."

Your heel digs into Jeonghan's lower back, anchoring him to you as he continues to drill into you. "But I am yours—"

"Are you?"

"Y-Yes, always yours..." A hard thrust has you gasping, tears trickling down your temple, getting caught in your hair. 

Jeonghan's pace stutters, distracted by the way you blink up at him through your damp lashes. Tears gather at your lash line, and he can't help but want more. It's a sick thought, but Jeonghan doesn't care much. How could he care when he's balls deep inside of you, feeling like he's about to explode from the way your heat wraps around him so well? He wants to see you cry for him, sob, snivel, all because you can't get enough of his cock. He wants you to cum so hard you see stars and forget about everything but him, him, him. Choi Seungcheol will be the last thing on your mind. 

When Jeonghan lowers himself down onto his elbow, he seals his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently. It's a bruising kiss, teeth digging into lips, tongue rolling together in an alluring dance. After some time, Jeonghan reluctantly pulls back, taking a much-needed breath. He groans at the sight of your lips, all plump and damp with a mixture of his and your spit. "Fuck, baby... you're mine, aren't you?" 

 "Y-Yes, yes!" you babble, vision blurring as more tears fill your eyes. 

"You're gonna let me fill you up? Have your pussy dripping my cum for days so you don't forget who you belong to. You like the sound of that?"

"God, yes, yes..." 

Your thighs are starting to shake, Jeonghan can feel it on his hips. He brings his lips over yours again, not kissing you, just barely letting it brush over yours. He can feel every hot breath you release against his mouth. "Say his name, baby."

"Unghh... Hannie—" 

He snickers. "I said his name, not mine," he says darkly, pecking your lips once. 

You're confused and so goddamn frustrated. You're teetering on the precipice of your orgasm, and he wants to play mind games with you now? "No," you whine, shaking your head. 

"No? Why are you so scared?"

"F-Fuck, please!"

"I won't get mad at you for saying it, princess." His voice has dropped down an octave. It feels like it's seeping into your brain, turning it into mush. 

"C-Can't..." you murmur, drool gathering in your mouth the more Jeonghan splits you open. 

"You can't? Why? Scared you might cum if you say his name? Scared you'll think of him when you cum?"

Your eyes grow wide in alarm. "N-No! I wouldn't do that, oh god, f-fuck..."

"Then say it or you're not cumming," he threatens, grinding harder into you, angling his pelvis just slightly so that it brushes against your clit every time he thrusts in. He watches your eyes roll back, pleasure fogging up your brain. He feels your juices coat his pelvis, splashing over his lower abdomen. Whenever his cock dips in and out, the wet sounds resound throughout the room, and it makes him hiss. "Say it," he repeats, knowing he won't last much longer. 

You frantically shake your head, moans coming out stuttered. "N-No, please don't, I can't...Hannie—"

Jeonghan notes the way you're starting to sound distant. "Say it or I'm leaving you here to cum by yourself."

Your eyes meet his—frazzled, panicked, dazed. "Please, I can't!"

"You wanted me mad, right? This is it, princess. Show some gratitude and say his fucking name."

You're trying hard to read him, to possibly decipher his intentions, but it's so hard when you feel like you're on the verge of passing out from the onslaught of pleasure. You reach one hand down to rake at the skin of his lower back, earning a throaty groan from him, a sound that makes your skin prickle. Your other hand settles on his face, cupping his jaw softly, as if begging him. 

Your eyes roam over his face, taking in his exquisite beauty that always leaves you short of breath. His tousled hair hangs over his forehead, dangling in front of his eyes, dark like pools of obsidian, drawing you into their depth. There's a radiant flush that colours his cheeks, drawing your attention to the contour of his cheekbones and jaw, dusted lightly with sweat, highlighting the sharp features. Then his lips—so inviting and soft, parting with each breath. 

Jeonghan feels almost flattered under the weight of your affectionate stare. He briefly closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, trying to pull himself together. He tries to push everything out of his mind—your delicious sounds, your intoxicating scent, your warm cunt around his cock. It's your sweet, quiet whine that pulls him out of his reverie. When he locks eyes with you again, he knows there's nothing he can do to delay his impending climax—not when you're looking up at him so tenderly, eyes fixated on him like a moth drawn to a mesmerizing flame.

"I c-cant... Don't make me say his name, p-please..."

Jeonghan swallows hard, one hand curving at the nape of your neck. With his grip he tilts your head up, letting your lips caress his. "Say my name, then. Say my name when you cum. Look at me and show me who you belong to..." 

You cum with a shout of Jeonghan's name, your whole body shaking at the sudden explosion. You squirm in your boyfriend's hold, toes curling over the back of his thighs as the pleasure ravages your whole body, surging through every nerve and every cell. It's numbing and so overwhelming at the same time, every inch of your skin humming with electricity, and every vein feeling like they've been set ablaze. For a moment, nothing else in the world matters except you and Jeonghan, entwined in each other as you lose yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure. 

"Fuck, fuck, should I fill you up, baby?" Jeonghan's voice quivers just slightly. 

The question sends another flood of ecstasy through you, cunt fluttering around his cock a second time. "Yes, yes—"

Your voice is like a siren's call to him, beckoning him, tempting him. Jeonghan is only a man, and he's not immune to a force as powerful as you. He sinks his teeth into your neck as he finally empties himself inside you with a drawn-out groan. Your tight cunt is pulsing so tightly around him, milking him, forcing every drop of cum to spill into you and coat your walls. A rather high-pitched whine escapes his lips as he slumps into you, hips flushed to yours, aching balls slick with the mixture of your release and his. 

You're panting heavily as you wrap your arms around Jeonghan, blinking up at the ceiling blearily, feeling filled to the brim with his cum still in you. Despite having the urge to clean yourself up and get rid of the stickiness between your legs, you lie there for another minute, feeling so content with Jeonghan's weight atop yours and his lips on your neck. Being with him is pure bliss. 

"Jeonghan," you say softly after some time, not wanting to ruin the peace and quiet.

He hums, rolling over to the side to lie on his back, letting his softening cock slip out of you. He pulls you into him with one arm, allowing you to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets out a pleased sigh, one hand grazing over your bare back, fingertips gliding down the dip of your spine. 

Placing a palm on his chest, you rest your chin on the back of your hand, gazing up at him tiredly. He seems to glow so prettily, eyes fluttered shut and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, you gather your resolve, knowing that you still have something to clarify with him.

Without thinking too much, you mumble Jeonghan's name again and smile when his eyes flutter open to peer down at you drowsily. His free hand comes up to brush back the hair from your eyes. 

"I'm sorry for not letting you know," you mutter, the weight of your guilt just now settling in your heart. If you don't apologise now, the feeling might devour you whole. "I should've told you..."

The hand on your back ceases moving, palm splaying on your upper back, warm against your skin. "Baby, I wasn't really—you know—angry about it. I was a little stumped, sure, but... I trust you. I always trust you."

You shake your head, pulling yourself up slightly to look at him better. "You deserve to be angry. Jeonghan, you should be so angry at me. I should've told you as soon as I got home from that dinner party."

Jeonghan chuckles, much to your dismay. "Okay, then why didn't you?"

"I just... didn't think it was important. I felt like it wasn't anything worth telling you. It's not a good excuse, I know."

"Is Seungcheol important to you?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, unable to fully grasp what you just heard. "What! No, of course not!"

"Then what's there to apologise about?" Jeonghan says with a snicker. "Did you kiss him at the party? Did he try to make any move on you? Did he seem interested in you?"

"No to all of those. I... I told him I already found someone else," you admit in a quiet voice. 

When Jeonghan smiles at you, it looks somewhat smug. "That's my girl... Besides, it wasn't his face that you were sitting on when you got back home from that party, was it?"

Appalled by Jeonghan's words, you bring your palm down on his chest, smacking him. "You're disgusting, Yoon Jeonghan."

He only laughs, eyes crinkling as he pulls you even closer. "Don't act like you don't love it."

You say nothing, only bringing your head down to rest it on his chest again. His heartbeat is strong against your ear, and his skin feels warm under your cheek. 

"So..." Jeonghan begins. "Round two in the shower?"

He doesn't have to ask twice—you're already off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom. 

© sweetlemontart — all rights reserved.

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 

“Please, stop apologizing.” 

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 

Says Spencer Reid? 

“...sorry?” 

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 

He swallows and nods. 

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 

But you're not crying because he was nice.  

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 

“I meant every word.” 

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 

“Had?” 

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 

“Yeah. You know what changed?” 

“What’s that?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 

More silence. 

“But you don’t believe it.” 

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 

“What?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 

“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 

Your heart drops as you study his face.  

No. 

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 

“What are you doing? Don’t--” 

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 

With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 

“You... you like me?” 

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 

“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 

“No, but—” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 

“I do.” 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 

------------------------------------------ 

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 

“Spencer?” 

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 

“What does pulchritude mean?” 

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And so you let it float away. 

[flicklikesstuff]

Idk if anyone else has noticed this but no one brought it up so…..

Remember how Viv said that Husk refuses to embrace his demon form and thus, doesn’t use his wings often for flight?

And yeah, we never see Husk fly at all prior to Ep 8. In Ep 3, we see him sneak away from the battle exercise, despite the fact that if Vaggie really did throw him, he could’ve easily just flown and skipped it. But he didn’t. And at least we know why.

(Hence, I just have this headcanon that Husk just secretly never knew how to properly fly ever since he first arrived.

Because he felt like he didn’t need to. He had his powers and can handle himself. He used to be a powerful Overlord. And even now, he’s currently under Alastor’s ‘protection.’ Basically, just never really found a reason to learn it, couldn’t be bothered, and simply just because….He doesn’t wanna.)

But then the threat of the extermination came and everything he grew to care about was at risk. And what does he do?

He flies.

For the hotel. For his friends.

He even went to see if his bf Angel’s alright. What a sweetie :))

Since Husk presumably doesn’t do flying a lot usually, it makes sense his back would hurt so much from the excessive strain his wings had to do all of a sudden. He’s not used to this much of flying. Heck, even his poor wings completely drooped to the floor!

He literally gave his back out for his friends- :((

This is going to delve a little bit into headcanon territory from this point onwards. You don’t have to read down if you’re not interested. ⬇️

……..

So Personal Headcanon:

I like to think that in Ep 7, while Vaggie is away with Carmilla and Charlie with Alastor, the other 4 were up to their own shenanigans off screen.

I honestly thought their friendship didn’t get to develop as much as I wanted it to. Especially the interactions with Sir Pentious and Niffty weren’t a lot. The series just established them as close friends and expects us to just take it as word but didn’t really show it much. Maybe Pentious’ death would hit harder if we actually saw him get closer to the others rather than being made fun of all the time.

Anyways, back to the HC, these 4 bonded some more while boarding the place. (Awww, all without being told by Charlie).

And since they knew they’re going to be up against FLYING angels, Angel commented that Husk’s wings can be put to good use for once, rather than just being displayed.

Husk was insecure and got defensive at first, eventually sheepishly admitting he doesn’t know how to use them. Slightly opening up how he hates his current form. While Angel and Pentious were confused at first, they both didn’t make fun of it any further. (Because yay! Development! Charlie would be proud.)

Husk warms up a little and claims that “Fine, he’ll try for the hotel’s sake but this is a one time thing…blah blah blah.”

Cue Pentious using and teaching his ‘expertise’ on flight from his machines. Angel smirking every time a clueless Pentious discusses the forces of “Lift, Drag, Weight and…ahem. Thrust.” Meanwhile, Husk attempts to ignore Angel but fails to resist smirking back at times. (Because I know Huskerdust fans love collecting crumbs) And later on, Niffty insisting she wants to be the one to push Husk off the balcony for practice.

Which, she does. On Angel’s count of 3. But she pushes him before Angel could even begin counting. Pentious debating and suggesting whether it’s better for the trial to do it ON 3, BEFORE 3, or start from 1. Regardless, Niffty messes each trial up. And Husk is just regretting everything in this nightmare his 3 friends call “training.” This is just one of their many shenanigans btw.

Eventually though, Husk did get the hang of it….somewhat. He could glide, take off and hover. But couldn’t really stay up long or fly high because his muscles and stamina for flight are terrible since he doesn’t do it often. Thus, why Husk stays very close to the ground during the final battle and only flies short distances. But the 4 considered it good enough.

(Angel made a joke on the “lack of stamina,” and got thrown in the face by a bottle. But yeah, all of them had some fun to a degree and became more emotionally bonded. All before Charlie and Vaggie came back with backup. Woohoo!

Hopefully they won’t see a particular snake die in front of their eyes-)

If any of y’all want to make a fic of this concept, be my guest. The only condition is that you share me the link :))

[caturnmoon]

Astrological placements that stand out to me in a chart🕵️⚡️

🔎Any placements and heavy aspects on the angular house of the wheel ie. the 1st, 4th, 7th, & 10th houses. These areas of your chart highlight major points and peaks of your life; YOU and how you physically come off to the world (1st), your family life and childhood upbringing, also your maternal lineage (4th). Your relationships in all matters; platonic, romantic, and business. How you interact with your outside world and subjects (7th). Your public image, career, legacies, how the public sees you, and also paternal legacy/lineage (10th).

🔎Yea, sextiles and trines are sexy and all but an excess of them if not balanced with some tension aspects (squares, oppositions) can be indicative of inertia and laziness. It’s giving silver spoon fed vibes. Lol like you don’t have to work that hard for things most of the time since you don’t have those adversities and lessons to learn through squares and oppositions.

🔎On the other note, if I see a T-square or two in a chart, this tells me I have met a person who knows a thing or two about adversity and setbacks in life. The nature of these squares create tension and need to be learned in order to achieve the harmonic energy of that aspect, planet, house, etc. Big potential for growth and wisdom!

🔎If you asked me to name off my favorite zodiac sign in general I’d automatically blurt out Taurus. Perhaps I’m partial as a Scorpio and it’s my opposite sister sign and they just balance me out. Lol But I love their loyalty, ability to stay grounded no matter what’s going on around them, and sensuality to appreciate the good things in life. 85% of my small circle of best friends are Taurus people. Yall have a soft spot in my heart for real. 🫶🏼

🔎I also look at your ascendant and its ruling house. This tells me a lot more about your potential occupation, and overall theme in this life time. Like where you personally spend the most time. In and out of the public eye. This also shows me another lens to your personality. Like yea perhaps you’re a sag rising, which is normally pretty extroverted on its own, but if it’s ruling house is the 12th then this can point to a more extroverted “behind the scenes” kind of person who needs solitude to recharge.

🔎Degrees of the house are also important too! I like to look to them to give me a more personalized view of what your themes are in that house.

🔎Your dominant planets in your chart can also highlight your overall energy as well. Kind of like your big three, these planets play a very prominent role in who you are as a person and what they have to teach you in correlation to your chart. You can find your dominant planets by populating your natal chart through Astro-seek btw!

Until next time! 👽🖖🏼

[bucketslutz]

Don't Be Late (Logan Howlett/Fem mutant reader)

Chapter 1

(A/N): btw this takes place in an alternate universe where the x men as a team don't really exist, but the members and mutants obviously still do. readers powers are similar to atom eve from invincible, if you haven't seen that show i highly recommend it, but if not, you don't really need to know any of that to understand readers powers, they'll be explained in more detail later on.

Summary: You've spent your entire academic career trying to hide who you really are, your goal to end up working in a small museum or archive and live the rest of your life going unnoticed. The first day of grad school you meet someone that sparks something deep inside you that you never thought existed. Your history professor, Logan, makes you feel things you've never felt from someone before. Will you keep hiding your feelings, or will you get too close and risk him knowing who you really are?

Warnings: 18+!! explicit sexual content, minors DNI!! pls!!! oral (fem recieving), logan being a munch lowk, oral on the couch, teasing, dirty talking, cursing, logan being an asshole professor, no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3,208

You anxiously rub your forehead as you struggle to find parking on campus, circling and circling the lot. Finally, someone pulls out and you turn in aggressively, someone in front of you flips you off, probably eyeing the same spot. You’re late. Very late. You have an American Civil War class, it’s an advanced level, with a professor whose name you cannot remember for the life of you. You’ve been preoccupied this summer, and time escaped you before you got the chance to research his credentials. It’s your first day of grad school and you’re late. A long commute, a new college, and shitty parking. You hope to god the professor doesn’t care or notice when you slip in late, as you carry a specific kind of disdain for drawing attention to yourself.

You were 13 when you first noticed something was wrong, walking home alone from school when a stranger tried to pin you down and do god knows what to you, until your eyes glowed a deep fuchsia and you threw him across the alley with a strength you didn’t even know you had. Your veins began glowing the same pink color and pulsating, scaring you shitless. You ran to the woods behind your house, avoiding your family for fear of harming them. With enough practice over the years, you’ve learned to control your abilities. Your eyes only glowing occasionally when you’re especially frustrated or angry. Sometimes even when you’re…taking care of some sexual urges. While you don’t know what causes these powers, you do know the general population’s feelings about mutants enough to understand that no one can know what you are. You don’t keep boyfriends for longer than 3 months, you don’t let friends become closer than you need them to be, and you don’t tell anyone what you are. You just want a normal life.

Your forehead is slick with sweat by the time you arrive at the history building, your breath heavy and labored, not from how fast you were walking to the building, but from anxiety, which is also the source of the excessive sweat on your brow. You cannot recall this courses class size, and you damn yourself for forgetting to check; not knowing if you can slip into the large class quietly or if everyone will be able to see you come in. This isn’t undergrad where people stumble in hungover with 10 minutes left of class, this is a graduate program where people go on to become masters in their fields of study. And you’re going to look like a fool in front of everyone. You approach the door to the classroom and can see through the window that it is, in fact, a small class. Fuck. There are maybe 15 people in there total. You hold your breath as you attempt to quietly push the door open, but it fails you with a loud, obnoxious creak. Every head snaps towards you, including the teacher, and you offer a meek smile to your classmates and turn your head towards the professor to issue a brief apology. You swallow hard when your eyes land on him. his tall frame is leaning against the white board, a little scary looking with muscles that bulge against his crossed arms, peaking out from under his rolled up sleeves. You’re surprised they’re visible even through his plaid button-up. His hair is fluffy, dark, as well as his beard…or actually, you should say mutton-chops, as that would be a more accurate descriptor. He glares at you, and you swear you’ve held his gaze for hours, but realistically it’s only been no more than a few seconds.

“Sorry,” you offer timidly.

The professor nods lightly, his jaw tense, and waves you off as he continues addressing the class. You attempt to quietly maneuver to an empty seat in the back, trying your hardest to not trip over your classmate’s bags and chairs. You feel like it takes forever to get to your seat, hoping no one pays too much attention to how clumsily you scoot past the chairs and over obstacles. You try and settle as quietly as possible, unzipping your shoulder bag and retrieving a pen to take notes. He’s still going over the syllabus, thank god.

“The only homework you’ll have is an essay, every week—every Friday—you have an essay due. Then every 3 weeks you’ll have an exam,” he instructs, rather nonchalantly. “And while I don’t give a shit if you waste your money and don’t come to class,” his eyes suddenly are fixed onto you, you swallow a lump of anxiety lodged in your throat as he continues, “The school cares a helluva lot more so, if you don’t mark your name down on the attendance sheet, you forget, you’re late, or whatever the hell, you’ll be absent. I’m not going back in and fixing shit.”

Noted. He turns his gaze back to the rest of the class and continues talking about the curriculum for the rest of the semester. you try to keep your head down as you scribble notes into your notebook, trying to look busy, when in reality you want to kick yourself in the face. You left your apartment too late, you didn’t anticipate the amount of traffic on the interstate, and you conveniently forgot how terrible parking is on college campuses. You look up to see the professor checking his wristwatch with a furrowed brow, like he’s considering something.

“Alright, that’s all i’ve got today, get out,” he commands, his gravelly voice showing slight indignation.

There’s a general look of confusion around the room at his abrupt dismissal with 45 minutes left of class. As people begin to shove their belongings in bags, you quickly get the memo as you collect your notebook and pen in your hands and stand up, ready to depart from this nightmare as soon as possible. But you’re the last in your row, shoved into a corner. the line of people in front of you have their chairs pushed back to the wall as they slowly collect themselves. It takes an obnoxiously long time for you to get out from behind the the long row of desks, even longer to leave the class as everyone shoves their way past you and out the door. Finally, you find an opening, but before your foot can even reach the threshold, there’s a strong grip on your arm. You turn your head to meet the gaze of your professor. Your heart skips a beat as he maintains eye contact briefly, before he hands you a piece of paper and lets go of your arm.

“Find your name, mark it,” he directs, causing you to scramble for the pen in your hands as you scan the paper for your name.

You try and offer a polite smile to the professor, but he remains stoic and unamused, making you feel even more uncomfortable. Once you find your name, you ungracefully set the paper against your flimsy notebook for structure, and scrawl a shaky check mark next to your name. You offer the paper back to him.

“Here, thank you, um, professor…” you trail off awkwardly, forgetting that you never actually checked what his name was. He takes the attendance sheet from you.

“Logan,” he answers.

“Ah, thank you professor Logan—”

“No,” he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, “just Logan.”

“Logan, right. thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, his tone far from indicating the typical politeness of the statement, and rather literally cautioning you to never bring up this act of kindness again. And with that you turn to leave the class, unsure of why this gruff, sturdy, serious professor bended his own personal rules just for you. But no matter with that, you at least know you’ll never be late to his damn class again.

***

You pull into the driveway of your house with a sigh. It's late, the time you prefer to get home, so you can fully relax and use your powers in peace. Despite living in the middle of nowhere, you still fear someone will mistakenly pull into your driveway and catch you flying into your second story window or creating an apple from nothing. The lack of sound, except that of the chirping crickets and cicadas, puts you at ease. You release the tension in your shoulders and float off of the ground, propelling yourself to the patio on the second story of your house. You unlock the door with a flick of your wrist, the fuchsia energy encasing the doorknob and letting you into your bedroom, you then toss your things down onto the floor. An exhausted groan escapes your lips as you face plant onto your cool, soft bed. Not even coming up for air when you fling your arm up and slam the door shut with a pink, crystalline whoosh. You turn over to face the ceiling, your eyes fluttering shut within the comfort of your bed. Longing to get out of your stuffy jeans and bra, you trail your hands over your body and watch as your clothes dissipate into a pink flash while you manifest some boxer shorts and a loose t-shirt. Finally comfortable, you slide under the covers, wanting to sleep off one of the most stressful days you've had in a while. A morning full of classes, then 5 hours interning at the museum, before finally finishing off your day at the convenience store down the road working a 6 hour shift. While you can create most anything you want with your powers, you cannot create the full nights sleep that you most desperately need right now. 

As you drift, you think about how embarrassing of a morning you had. Stumbling into class like a fawn learning how to walk, Logan directly looking at you when speaking about attendance, Logan shoving the attendance sheet in your face so you mark yourself as present, Logan's strong arms and the way they looked with his sleeves rolled up. Logan's fluffy, dark hair and--No. Shut up. Don't think about that, he's your professor for god's sake. And, more importantly, an asshole. No amount of muscle or sheer sexiness will distract from that fact. You repeat this fact to yourself as you doze off, not wanting to give in to immature thoughts of attraction. Despite falling asleep to the negation of that attraction, your subconscious drifts somewhere you know you shouldn't physically go.

You're in Logan's office, your ass perched on the edge of his desk. Logan's back is to you, locking his door and drawing the blinds. He turns to you, his stance almost primal and animal-like, like he can't wait for the chance to devour you. The thought of that causes your arousal to swirl deep in your stomach. Logan saunters towards you, bearing his lower teeth like a predator ready to take their prey. Your breath hitches in anticipation as he gets closer, causing you to spread your legs, hoping the clear view of what lies beneath your skirt will draw him in closer. It seemingly works as he closes the distance between you two, his waist now flush against your lower stomach. Tingles shoot down your spine at the sudden contact, blood rushing down to your pussy. He pants as he brings his hands to your waist and strokes up and down the sides of your body, then achingly slow up your neck, then finally stopping at your chin. One hand creeps to the nape of your neck where he lays his palm flat while the other pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating that he's close to having his way with you. He holds you there for a beat, his face so tantalizingly close to yours that you can feel his breath against your skin. You whine gently when his lips teasingly graze your own. The fingers pinching your chin adjust slightly to grip your jaw instead, allowing him better control to tilt your head up towards him. His other hand, at the nape of your neck, travels upward allowing his fingers to gently rake through your hair until he roughly takes a fistful and tugs. A soft moan escapes your throat and you try to satiate the throbbing pressure between your legs by rubbing your thighs together. An amused huff leaves Logan's lips as he looks down at your squirming figure beneath him.

"You gonna be good for me, princess?" he asks in a low, gruff tone as the hand on your chin trails down the side of your neck before landing on your breast. He massages the flesh fervently, finding it harder to hide his own desperate arousal and need from you. You moan into his touch and arch your back into him, your pussy searching for more friction that Logan is expertly avoiding giving you by not allowing his pelvis to meet yours.

"Logan," you gasp.

"C'mon, baby," his voice soothes, like smooth velvet, "tell me you want it."

"I want it," you whisper, desperately seeking any sort of release.

"Good girl."

And with that, Logan removes the hand on your breast so he can aggressively hook an arm under your ass and easily hoist you up with one fell swoop. Your legs wrap around his waist and your arms around his neck, reveling the feel of his palm that covers your asscheek. With a growl Logan spins you around and throws you onto the couch in the corner of his office, barely allowing you a second to recover when he crawls on top of you and captures your lips with his own desperately. The kiss is aggressive and needy, tongues dancing together ungracefully, teeth clashing, hasty lip bites between kisses. His hips grind against yours roughly, causing you to hook both your feet around his ass to keep him there for as long as you can, desperately seeking more friction. His hands alternate with each other between grasping your breasts to gripping your face passionately. Without breaking the kiss, he hooks his arms under you and drives you further up the couch so your upper back lays against the armrest. You whine when his lips leave yours, but it's quickly replaced with a moan as his lips travel down your neck, chest, the stomach he exposes by lifting the hem of your shirt, biting the fabric at the waistband of your skirt. You squirm underneath him, anticipating what's gonna happen next as his face nestles between your legs. He licks, bites, sucks, and kisses the skin of your inner thighs, causing you to gasp with each harsh move of his mouth, before promptly melting into a moan when he alleviates his biting or sucking with a kiss or flick of his tongue. Your clit is throbbing, your pussy aching for him to get closer to your center. So he does. His tongue dances along the edge of your panties, not dipping much further into the fabric, his head alternating between each of your lips. You whine desperately as Logan's mouth hovers above your core, his hot breath teasing you further. He looks up at you and into your eyes as his mouth latches onto your thinly clothed pussy, causing you to squirm and moan underneath him, the already damp fabric from your arousal, getting further soaked from Logan's saliva.

"Logan," you whine fervently. "Please."

His mouth leaves your pussy, just barely hovering above it now.

"I gotta make you want it, princess, it's no fun unless you're begging for me to taste you," he breathed against your pussy, his voice low and syrupy. He quickly resumes the hold his mouth had on your pussy, making your back arch off the couch with a moan.

"Okay, I'm officially begging, please, Logan, please," you whimper, not sure how much longer you're able to take his teasing.

"Atta girl," he rasps against your pussy. Like nothing, his fingers hook around the fabric of your panties and he rips it off of you with an experienced strength, leaving your pussy now exposed to Logan, and your torn lace panties on the floor.

"So wet for me, huh?" Logan teases through a cocky smile. You squirm more underneath him, causing his hands to move to your hips to hold them down. Logan stares hungrily at your cunt, removing one hand from your hip and bringing it to your pussy lips to rub it tantalizingly slow with his fingers. Flicking his eyes up to meet yours, he finally brings his tongue to your folds and licks up to your clit. You moan throatily and bring your hands to his hair to give it a tug of appreciation. He groans enthusiastically into your pussy, eating at it like your core is the forbidden fruit dripping in molten pleasure. He's animalistic in his movements and noises, lapping at your clit with groans and grunts in pleasure, almost growling even. He brings his fingers to your core, tracing the hole before shoving two digits inside of you. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them with each push inside. The noises are lewd and wet with each drive of his fingers. Your moans grow more desperate and needy as you climb towards your climax, the death grip you have on his hair growing stronger and stronger. The hand holding your hip down crawls up to your breast, grasping desperately at your flesh, hastily circling your nipples with his thumb. Your breaths quicken, your eyes flutter shut as he continues the steady onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and fingers. 

"Logan, I'm so close, don't stop...please..." you trail off, beginning to lose yourself in your pleasure. Logan responds with needy moans against your clit and the continuous pumping of his fingers in and out of you. His grip on your breast loosens to grasp your side, slinking down to your waist, definitely leaving a mark with how rough he grabs at you. As his lips and tongue continue lapping you up, you can feel your arousal swirling in your stomach more and more. Your moans grow louder, your hips begin bucking. Logan groans into you, desperate to feel your release around his fingers. White hot pressure forms around your clit as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm, you look down at Logan and lock eyes with him just as you feel yourself dropping off.

The feeling of hot pink fire pricking your eyeballs jerks you awake, mid-orgasm, your eyes glow a pulsating fuchsia. You pant heavily, your orgasm ending unceremoniously against your fingertips. Leaving you disappointed. You huff in annoyance, wishing you could plunge yourself back into the wet dream that ended in a rather mediocre way. No, wait, that was your professor. You shouldn't be feeling, or thinking, this way at all. You feel disappointed in yourself for having such lewd thoughts about another person, especially a person of authority. You catch your breath, turn your head to face the clock on your nightstand and gasp when you see the time.

"Shit, shit, shit," you curse, hastily throwing yourself out of bed. "Please don't be late today."

(A/N): and that's that!! i hope people enjoy! this concept popped into my head earlier today so i've spent my sunday working on this, if people are interested to see where this goes, please leave a kudos or comment!!! TYYY🫶🏻🙈 i also posted this onto my ao3 here if you would like to view it there and keep up with it there as well!

[petermorwood]

Potato Crisps / Chips on Tasting History

So we've just watched Max's latest...

...and I was grinning a bit because I posted about Dr Kitchiner's 1817 (non-US, definitely non-Saratoga) crisps / chips recipe a month ago.

That image was from an American edition of his book; I've found a pic from the original - NB that these slices are floured before frying.

For reference, here's a two-penny piece from about 1797; the coin would still be current 20 years later:

...and here's how thick the potatoes should be sliced. That's 4mm, which is 2mm less than "a quarter of an inch" (6.25mm).

The slices will get even thinner as their moisture evaporates during frying, and, given the nature of recipes, potatoes cooked this way are probably even older than 1817 and Kitchiner's is just the first appearance found so far in print.

*****

The first recipe for "Game Chips" (an accompaniment to grouse, pheasant etc.) appeared, per the Wikipedia link, in a 1903 book published by famous chef Auguste Escoffier (1846-1935):

"Chip potatoes - these are potatoes cut into thin slices; this is usually done with a special plane. (A mandoline.) They are put in cold water for 10 minutes; then drained, dried in a cloth and fried until very crunchy. They are served hot or cold and generally accompany game roasted in the English style."

However, per Escoffier's Wikipedia page, much of his work was based on that of Anton Carême (1783-1833), whose dates are squarely coincident with Dr Kitchiner's Potato Slices.

Given the amount of cookery to-and-fro between England and France after the Napoleonic wars were over, it's impossible to say who first came up with the idea of potato crisps.

The French loved dainties - "un petit quelquechose", a little something - which the English pronounced and dismissed as "kickshaws", something over-fussy yet insubstantial. Yet those same English also loved roasting things with their appropriate accompaniments.

(I'm writing this just over a week after Christmas, and have been well reminded that the phrase "Roast (turkey / goose / beef) With All The Trimmings" is still in common 21st-century use.)

If those roasted things were game birds, only those above a certain level in society would be eating them, so it's not unreasonable to assume a rich-person game bird would attract fussy, time-consuming rich-person trimmings like, okay, Game Chips.

One thing's for sure, Potato Crisps - and Game Chips too, so hard luck, Escoffier - are almost certainly older than even Tasting History could prove.

*****

BTW, they also existed at a time when "English Food Was Bland" is more fake history.

Sauces put out on the table in fancy bottles had fancy labels ("bottle tickets") showing what was in them, and the contents were often far from bland.

Quin sauce was anchovy-based, hot and pungent.

Harvey's was a spicy sauce similar to Worcestershire, ketchup was probably mushroom and also spicy; the other two need no elaboration.

AFAIK the two crescent-shaped ones in the next pics are deliberate imitations of an officer's rank-gorget.

Finally a generic Not-Bland label that would go on any number of modern bottles (antique silver, yours for £250)...

*****

And after all of the above, I could do Very Bad Things to a packet of Tayto Cheese 'n' Onion. A packet?

Why stop at a packet when A Pack takes less time to say?

After all, It Is Written that:

"Reading One Book Is Like Eating One Potato Crisp Chip."

And also that Nothing Exceeds Like Excess...

[disneyprincemuke]

to forget you * cl16

you avoided alcohol to forget the likes of charles, but he coped by drowning himself in the very same thing that reminded him of you

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: mention of alcohol, borderline alcoholism

notes: omGgGg i loVED THIS!! i can’t wait to post the last part hehe it’s gonna be greAt!! my ask is open for requests, btw, so please go ahead! <3

(i quit drinking) // (to forget you) // (you called)

charles nurses the glass of scotch on the table, elbow propped up on the kitchen island with his shoulders slumped. he’s wiping off the droplets of condensation on the side to keep his thoughts minimal.

“you’re drinking awfully slow tonight,” pierre teases across the island, raising an eyebrow cautiously at his friend. “something wrong?”

charles looks up, meeting his eyes. he tilts his head and narrows his eyes down. is it really that obvious? “what do you mean?”

pierre’s eyes trail down to the glass. it’s just as full as it was 20 minutes ago when he poured it for charles. charles follows his gaze and internally sighs.

of course, it’s odd that he’s only taking sips of his drink. ever since you both came to the conclusion of your split, he’s been drinking his nights away. excessively.

though, it wasn’t even a drastic change from his routine. he is always drinking; be it with his friends or team. the reason he’s drowning himself in alcohol has changed drastically over the past few weeks. he’s no longer drinking for the fun of it.

he’s drinking to forget you — the way he would watch your back rise and fall every morning, how your bare back felt against his chest, how you would sit up with the blankets loosely draped over your body when he comes in with coffee.

he’s desperately trying to forget the sound of your voice in the morning and the way your lips felt against his skin. nothing he does seems to be enough.

about a week after, in the middle of drinks with carlos, he had imagined you with other guys. making you bubble up in your contagious laughter, the skin by your eyes crinkling when you smile and how your nose scrunches up when you speak.

he threw up right after that.

realistically, he can’t handle the thought of you with someone else. he doesn’t even want to think about the possibility that you never liked him as much as you said you did.

how can something filled with so much passion and fire just burn out so quick?

he falls asleep every night with your name on his tongue, muttering about how much he misses you. his sober self isn’t aware but half the grid is aware of the break up from all his drunken whispers with himself when he thinks nobody is listening.

everybody doesn’t bring it up, simply because he doesn’t.

he wakes up in the morning, hands patting the empty side of the bed searching for your presence. in the middle of the night, he pulls the blankets tighter over his body as if you were there wrestling him for it.

“is something wrong? you never turn scotch down,” pierre laughs, pointing at this drink knowingly. but the worried stint in his eye almost makes charles roll his eyes. it’s the same damn thing he sees from everyone else who has a slight idea of the break up. “you’re not well?”

charles shakes his head. he licks his lips and bit down on his bottom lip. he’s not sure why he doesn’t feel the need to drink either.

the alcohol didn’t make missing you any easier. if anything, it’s made it all the more harder. with every sip, he just found himself missing you more, fingertips dancing above his screen as he ponders if you’d pick up if he called.

there was something about the hollow and yearning feeling in his chest that he strangely likes. maybe it’s the karma for jumping person to person.

sure, charles leclerc is known for moving on faster than the average person. however, there was something different about the pain moving away from a 5 month relationship.

he still has the hairtie you’d unknowingly left on his bathroom sink. in a hangover once, he dragged his feet across his apartment and caught sight of it unexpectedly.

he broke down in a crying and sputtering mess before he passed out by the edge of the bed. he woke up muttering your name again.

“is it the breakup?”

charles looks up again, almost appalled at the assumption. pierre is right, of course, but is it not such an outrageous guess out of nowhere?

he can’t possibly push pierre away as well while he’s in this break up blue. his sadness is so strong and it’s not like he is quiet about it. he’s heard that it’s started to get dangerously contagious with alcohol in the mix.

charles notices the fewer invitations he’s gotten to grab drinks. which is why he’s not particularly surprised, or offended, that max had left him out of the house party he’s throwing over the summer break.

so he just shrugs. he’s not sure he’s ever going to be ready to admit that he truly felt for you despite the alcohol defining most of your relationship’s highs. “i think so.”

pierre just nods. he shoots charles a hesitant look, before turning back to the stove.

charles sighs audibly again, shoulders slumping even more. he looks at his phone sitting on the edge of the counter. it doesn’t light up like he expects it. it doesn’t even buzz.

fine, he thinks, i’ll drink.

just as charles lifts the glass from the counter, his phone lights up and start buzzing in the corner of his eye. he blinks once, making sure it’s not his delusions playing with him.

he hasn’t drank all that much, right?

“are you going to pick up the phone?” pierre asks, hand on his hip, glaring at charles from across the counter. he has a spatula in his hand, pointed directly at him.

charles now knows he shouldn’t have picked up his phone and looked at the caller id first. he should have just answered without hesitation.

with your picture taking up his entire screen with your name, he completely freezes. he’s staring down at it, still blinking to make sure it’s not one of his cruel dreams haunting him once more.

he takes a deep breath, sliding his finger across the screen. “hello?”

“oh, you picked up.”

[shanksbaby]

Hello can you do admirals with a s/o who can't get mad, not exactly like kuzan cuz he could still have disagreements, but I mean you could throw a brick at them and they would just get it treated, and then be like don't do that again or sum-

btw love the writing keep it up👍

the request are closed but since i like this prompt so much, i decided to write anyway, thank you for the kind words!

Admirals with a difficult to anger S\0

Borsalino

you two are very similar. In fact, no one has ever seen Kizaru angry, or actually feel any negative emotion, he always wears the same smirk. And even though he sometimes seems sadistic in dealing with the pirates he doesn't show anger like Sakazuki.

literally the most peaceful couple in the world

joking aside, I feel like colliding with Kizaru or Kizaru colliding with you are very rare events. It's more likely that Kizaru gets mad at you for something, although as soon as he sees your little face looking at him with that calm look he forgets all his anger.

but these events are rare, you never get angry and Kizaru is too lazy to start an argument with you, among other things with a person who has never raised his voice with anyone.

and even when he gets angry with you, the yellow monkey can at most show a face of frustration, but he will never raise his voice at you (in reality he has never done this with anyone), if the topic involves him excessively he may change tone of voice (he doesn't raise it but simply stops dragging the words)

Sakazuki

I think you are one of the few, if not the only person to calm his anger. But in the beginning it wasn't always like this… the first time he got pissed at you and saw you looking at him with that innocent look while asking him to please stop because he was attracting attention, he thought you were teasing him.

then he started to understand that you couldn't get angry, he doesn't know how you do it, especially when the world is full of idiots and incompetents.

at first he looked at you as if you were an alien, sometimes he tried to force you to get angry, for example by shouting at you for silly things at work, but nothing seemed to trigger your anger so he gave up feeling defeated. You are one of the few people who managed to surprise him.

when you see him get angry you always try to calm him down (also because you are worried about his physical well-being). Sometimes you succeed, other times you just end up making the situation worse. But you never get angry with him, so much so that the marines think you are some kind of divine gift.

Kuzan

as Jinbei said, Aokiji is a man who rarely shows his passion. Generally he never gets angry either, he is much more laid back (similar to Borsalino). So arguments with him are very rare, also because he really doesn't have the energy to argue, especially with you.

he was surprised when after a guy spilled a drink on you only for you to refuse him and you just looked at him and told him he shouldn't have done that…I mean, he got mad about you and you, on the other hand, didn't Did you show the slightest sign of anger?

so, just like Sakazuki, he tried to whet your anger, through for example jokes like throwing you in the pool or ruin your food, but nothing. All you did was ask him to never do that again because you didn't like these pranks.

the rare times he gets angry with you and raises his voice (we know that in fact he can be loud sometimes), he immediately feels guilty when he looks into your eyes. You are too cute to be mad. Then she immediately apologizes and tries to make up for what he has done through gifts or bringing you coffee.

I am sorry if it's short but sadly i am in session + i have to go at the university for the laboratories

[xcherryerim]

Double The Fall, Triple The Pleasure

- Billy x Gn!reader x Derek -

“Merrier the more, triple fun that way. Twister on the floor, what do you say?” — 3 by Britney Spears

word count: 3.6k

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18 ONLY

Warning: Threesome (this is a love corner with the reader, not a love triangle. I AM NOT shipping Josh characters together) | sexual tension | Penetration | Giving and receiving oral sex (no genitals specified for the reader) | Choking kink | Masturbation | Handjobs | Praise and degradation | Porn with plot | light mentions of vaping, alcohol and gambling addiction. | Reader is submissive btw | Derek is a possessive jealous fuck (but also a needy loser)

Summary: As you work your shift as a casino host Derek Danforth, the son of the co-owner, decides to begin a round of baccarat with a stranger named Billy. Somehow you end up participating in the game and emerge victorious, causing the two players to owe you financial compensation but, they end up repaying you in another way.

(if you want to go directly to the smut section look for the “✦ “ symbol.)

There are two distinct types of gamblers. The rich make hasty decisions with their money, while the desperate lot implore and pray to the machines and chips, hoping for a miraculous windfall of riches. 

As a casino host, your responsibility is to ensure that the patrons become loyal to the establishment; however, as a bystander, when a person who isn’t a part of the one percent plays, it’s impossible to hold back the feeling of regret. While you acknowledge you are fulfilling your obligation, you know it is easy to become engulfed by obsessing gambling, and you don’t wish that on anyone. 

However, you do not care if the rich pour their monetary possessions into the abyss, and you maintained that sentiment toward Derek Danforth, the son of one of the casino’s co-owners.

He wasn’t a regular at the establishment and gambled a little, but occasionally brought his friends to indulge in excessive drinking, and smoking while toying with machines. However, now he was by himself, which was unusual. 

“Mr. Danforth, it is a pleasure to have you back. Would you like your usual?” you inquired. “Huh?” A confused response erupted from his lips, his body lurching forward with a wobbly movement. The apparent intoxication exhibited by him appeared on the edge of his consciousness as he scanned the area once more.

“Yeah, and I want a table,” he uttered the request, with minimal confusion.

“Certainly. Would the others in your group be joining us this time?”

Derek shook his head, his body appearing unsteady as he did so. “No, just me.” 

“Oh, how so?” you questioned, your tone of voice maintaining professionalism as it did during work.

“Just bored,” he responded with a shrug, unbothered by the circumstances, even as you detected a hint of inebriation.

“Oh, indeed, a casino is the ideal way to take away boredom,” you remarked with a feigned professional tone, although the sarcasm in your words was all too obvious.

“Why don’t you join me for a round?” he inquired as he seated himself at the velvety green table, awaiting your response.

“I’m here to ensure everyone’s enjoyment and prevent any illegal behavior,” you replied, concealing your hostility and disdain for a facade of civility.

“I am not a participant, but a spectator, Mr. Danforth,” you concluded, using a firm tone with a mild undertone of mockery.

“You don’t seem to have much enjoyment yourself,” Derek said as he inhaled from the vape he held, the vapor surrounding you before dissipating into the atmosphere.

“I’ve said it once, and I’ll repeat it. Drop that professional speech style. We’re around the same age, so why do you still feel the need to communicate with me like this?” he stated, sounding frustrated with continuing your formal conduct.

“If I speak like I do, I will get fired for unprofessionalism.” You retorted as you prepared the negroni and handed it over to him.

“I won’t allow that to happen,” he replied, taking in a generous sip from the glass before continuing his words. “You’re too hot to lose.”

You felt uncertain about whether to offer a genuine response to his flirtation or simply scoff at it, and you began to silently pray that he would not launch into another lecture about cryptocurrency, which had become an irksome topic of conversation during your prior interactions. 

“Thank you, Mr. Danforth. It means a lot.” You spoke, avoiding direct visual contact to avoid any implications or insinuations. While you acknowledge that he is a physically attractive man, the irritation he can induce within you is bigger than your attraction for him, or at least that is what you try to tell yourself.

“I’m assuming a solo round?” You mentioned shifting the subject. 

“Not quite...” he replied, his gaze examining the environment until he managed to pinpoint the individual of interest, a man around his same height, adorned with dark-toned hair and a jean jacket, giving an out-of-place demeanor compared to the ambiance of this prestigious gambling establishment, thus providing a vulnerable and susceptible target.

Derek walked with confidence as he had already won the game. “Hello, I’m Derek, Derek Danforth,” he proclaimed, displaying his self-assured attitude and firm grip as he shook hands with the stranger, showcasing his superiority complex.

“Billy, and yeah, I will join you.” The individual stated this with assertiveness, grasping tightly onto his gold necklace, an item he viewed as his lucky charm.

In your inner thoughts, you were fervently hoping that the gentleman with the cowboy-esque appearance would end up victorious and leave the premises swiftly and promptly. You were aware that the significant bets Derek had made in the past were so large that they could obliterate the finances of a person with the speed of light. 

“Billy would join me for a game,” Derek proclaimed as he settled into his designated seat.

“Billy, we’re delighted to have you here with us,” you uttered, the corners of your mouth rising into a pitiful smile, yet the individual seemed to have construed your gesture as a sign of flirtatious intent as he provided a subtle wink in response.

A palpable aura of awkwardness permeated the atmosphere between you and Derek, his displeasure at the sight of another man attempting to flirt with you becoming evident despite every attempt to mask his emotions on the matter. Regardless of the discomfort of the situation, it was undeniable that you experienced a certain degree of gratification and joy as you had the attention of both men.

“So, shall we begin?” you spoke, skillfully shuffling the deck with precision, as well as showcasing a few unique tricks you had acquired throughout your time spent working at the casino. You felt their eyes taking in every choreographed performance, their minds filled with various ideas and fantasies of what else someone with such masterful hands might also possess the aptitude for.

 As the game began, your eyes were filled with anxiousness as you carefully followed the steps and maneuvers that had taken place in the game of Baccarat. The interior sound of your mind urges Billy to take all the appropriate actions to win, but unfortunately, he falls short in his efforts.

Derek chuckled in mockery. “Maybe next round you can win.” 

Billy groaned in annoyance at Derek’s comment, his attention quickly turning towards you. “Why don’t you play with us?” Billy asked.

“I don’t,” you started to say, but Derek interrupted your response by uttering, “Do as I say and play.” 

The harsh look delivered by the wealthy individual in question prompted a sense of apprehension and caution within you, but you were compelled to oblige the order. 

Despite never playing, you were sure that you had a chance of winning, as you had taken the time to observe numerous matches, making you able to identify and comprehend the various mistakes and errors that tended to occur, as well as what appeared to be successful. However, the extreme bets that Derek was making and Billy’s persistent attempts to one-up them caused you a moderate degree of concern, but you tried to maintain a state of composure. 

✦

When the game came to a close, seeing both men so sure of your failure just for you to end up winning at the end was ecstatic. Now you understand why people loved gambling in the first place. Your smirk quickly fades as you let go of the cards as if holding them down would make you more intoxicated with the high these activities had to offer. 

Derek grunted, a sound oozing with a subtle tinge of frustration as he pulled out his lousy Gucci wallet. “Is cash fine or a check?” He asked slightly annoyed. Billy, on the other hand, looked at the table, his eyes darting back and forward.

“I don’t; I don’t have that type of money.” He stuttered as he looked at you. 

“Mmh,” You leaned closer. “Maybe you could pay in another way.” You teased playfully, indicating your intent to pursue a physical means of compensation. 

 “And suddenly I have no money either. How sad.” Derek said, hiding his wallet, hoping to provide you with a similar recompense as the one you sought from Billy. 

“The expression goes: save a horse, ride a cowboy, not: save a Ferrari, ride a rich man.” You chuckled in response. 

“But wouldn’t both be great to ride?” Derek replied, his expression exuding self-assurance as he took a swig from his beverage.

You quickly looked at Billy, who didn’t seem to mind the offer. You,  on the other hand, were skeptical, but how many people win a game and have the opportunity to be fucked by two attractive guys?

“Alright!” you exhale, a hint of satisfaction coloring your voice as you reach into your pocket and retrieve the keys entrusted to you by the establishment. With a decisive click, you lock the door to the cleaning supply room behind you, effectively sealing off the space from prying eyes. 

When you turned in their direction, you felt their hands roaming against your body. Their fingers traveled the contours of your figure, triggering sensations that surged down the length of your spine, evoking chills and shivers. Billy pulls your head, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue dancing with yours in a sensual duet. His hands slide beneath your shirt, exploring the warmth of your bare skin, while Derek’s lips trail down your neck, nibbling as he leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

Derek’s hands work swiftly to unfasten the buttons of your uniform, revealing more of your body with every movement. He does this with a sense of urgency as if he cannot get enough of touching you. The sound of fabric rustling fills the air, accompanied by soft moans escaping your lips as their touches become more intimate and bold. 

With Billy’s assistance, you manage to wriggle out of your dress pants, your legs quivering with anticipation as they continue to explore every inch of your exposed skin. Derek moves lower, his lips brushing against your belly button before trailing further south, stopping briefly at the waistband of your underwear. He looks up at you, seeking permission with his eyes alone. You nod, unable to resist the intense desire that is building within you. 

With renewed determination, Derek hooks his thumbs under the elastic band and slides them downward. His eyes widen in surprise at what he sees—you’re dripping and ready for him. Without waiting for confirmation, he leans forward, planting a series of open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. Then, his tongue starts to trace slow circles around your sensitive flesh. His actions send waves of euphoria coursing through your body, making you squirm in delight. 

While Derek worships your body, making sure to not leave any part of you without licks and sucks, Billy takes matters into his own hands quite literally. He expertly undoes his belt, wrapping it around your neck and tightening it just enough to heighten your senses without cutting off your airway entirely, adding an edge of danger to this already erotic encounter.

Billy then proceeds to remove his red boxers, revealing his rigid erection pulsating with need. It jumps slightly at the sudden exposure, eager to be touched. He grasps your hand and places it around his twitching cock, guiding your movements as he leans in for a brief, passionate kiss.

“Get your money’s worth,” he whispers against your lips, his smirk widening as he watches you. 

With urgency, you begin to tease the head of Billy’s cock with your thumb, tracing its ridges and veins as if mapping out every inch. Your other hand teases Billy’s shaft rhythmically, setting a pace that pleases both of you. The room fills with the sounds of your whimpers and his groans, a testament to the intense fulfillment coursing through your bodies.

At the same time, Derek’s hunger grows as he feasts on the throbbing between your legs, his skilled tongue and lips working together to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. His light whimpers echo throughout the small space, punctuating the air with his insatiable craving.

“You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught,” Derek warns, concerned about someone hearing their explicit activities. With a swift motion, he yanks the belt tied around your neck, causing you to cry out in surprise and pain. 

Your breath catches in your throat as the sudden pressure cuts off your oxygen flow. When he releases the hold, you gasp heavily.

“You liked that, huh?” he asks with a sinister smirk, reading your flushed cheeks and labored breathing. 

“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.” His words carry an underlying threat as if claiming ownership over you. Without waiting for a verbal response, he stands up, towering over you menacingly.

Derek reaches out, grabbing your chin forcefully, tilting your head back so your eyes meet his. “Because you fucking belong to me, remember that.” 

Despite the fear and uncertainty swirling within you, there’s also a strange thrill running through you at his possessiveness, causing you to let out a whine. 

Your weak sound made Derek smirk in amusement. His teeth were barely visible. Then, he resumes to his past attitude. 

“I’m tired of you bitching and moaning.” Derek said, “Get on your knees.” His command is firm, leaving no room for negotiation. You obey without question, kneeling before him and Billy. Their cocks are mere inches from your face, and the lines between reality and fantasy blur even further.

Their presence looms large over you; their virility and masculinity are intoxicating in this dimly lit room. Your mouth waters at the sight of their hardened members, yearning to taste them and to please them in any way possible. 

Both men watch you intently, their eyes filled with expectation and fascination. You can practically see the thought process playing out in their minds: who will you serve first? Who will you satisfy last? 

With a deep, shaky inhale, you lean forward, your lips brushing softly against the tip of Billy’s erect member. Your tongue darts out to taste the salty droplets of pre-cum glistening on its surface, savoring the flavor while your hand wraps firmly around Derek’s shaft, moving up and down with increasing speed, this motion is both a show of submission and a subtle act of rebellion, aiming to push him closer to the edge. 

Derek’s moans increase in volume, his hips bucking involuntarily in response to your aggressive stroke as his eyes roll back. The pain of overstimulation mingles with satisfaction, creating a complex mix of emotions that only adds to the overall experience.

Meanwhile, Billy’s gaze is a mix of awe and hunger, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The contrast between your two lovers couldn’t be more apparent—one nearing orgasm, the other waiting with bated panting for his chance. But Billy isn’t content with waiting; he wants to join in the action too.

Suddenly, he grabs the collar around your neck, tugging it firmly and forcing your mouth wide open to accept his entire length. You struggle to accommodate Billy’s girth, your throat adjusting to the invasion as best it can. Saliva drips from your chin, coating your neck and body as you fight to keep up with his demands.

“You know, for such a professional-looking host, you’re taking it like a fucking slut.” 

You want to answer back at Billy’s words but, the sensation of being mouthful by his engorged member is overwhelming, but you refuse to give up. Determined to please both men, you focus on taking him deeper, and your efforts are rewarded by his low growls of approval. Meanwhile, Derek watches with a mix of jealousy and admiration, pulsating in anticipation as your strokes become sloppier on him. 

“Touch yourself,” Billy commands. Without hesitation, you use your free left hand to explore your own body, mirroring the sensations he experiences.

Your eyes lock with his, reflecting your admiration for this astounding man standing before you, dominating and directing your every move.

Your fingers caress your sensitive skin, discovering the wetness left by Derek’s earlier attentions. You moan around Billy’s shaft, the sensation intensifying as you stroke yourself in sync with your mouth’s movements. 

Billy’s eyes darken with desire, his grip on your ‘collar’ tightening slightly. “That’s it,” he encourages, spurring you on.

“Swallow every fucking drop,” he orders, his words sending a shiver down your spine. Sweat glistens on your brow, and your gasps come in ragged as you redouble your efforts, eager to satisfy him and prove your loyalty while you pleasure yourself and bob your head on Billy’s dick.

Derek watches hungrily, his length pulsating in your hand, as he impatiently awaits his turn. His grip on your hair tightens, demanding your attention. “Please!” he begs, his voice tinted with desperation. “Give it to me!”

Your eyes lock with Derek’s, and with a nod, you move towards him, ready to grant his wish. He quickly guides your mouth towards his member, and you eagerly obey, wrapping your lips around his dick, feeling him twitch in excitement at the first touch of your warm, wet mouth. His scent fills your nostrils, mingling with the musk of sex and sweat, creating an intoxicating blend.

 “Fuck, you’re better than I imagined.” Derek cries out.

Billy watches the exchange as he searches for a condom among the scattered clothing on the floor. Once it’s located, he rolls it onto his shaft, preparing himself for what’s to come. 

Moving behind you, he gently fingers your entrance, seeking silent consent. You pause momentarily, breaking contact with Derek’s length long enough to respond to Billy with a yes. As soon as your sentence ends, Derek responds by thrusting harder, face-fucking you relentlessly. 

Your eyes water and tears stream down your face as his pace increases. In the meantime, Billy positions himself at your entrance. With a single confident thrust, he enters you, filling you up. 

As he begins to thrust in and out of you, matching Derek’s pulls on your head, you lose track of time and space. All that exists is the combined sensation of two cocks inside you, stretching and filling you. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, grunts, and moans drowning the room, creating a primal symphony of desire and satisfaction. 

Your hands grasp Derek’s thighs, your nails digging into them as your body aches. Sweat trickles down your forehead, staining your face, and you don’t care. Nothing matters but the sense of belonging to these two men. 

Derek hisses at the sudden attack from your nails before he speaks. “I know I’m big, but you can take more than that,” Derek growls, forcing more of him into your mouth, attacking your throat mercilessly, while Billy picks up the pace, pounding into you faster and harder. 

His thrusts became more erratic, his hips slamming against your ass with reckless abandon. You cry out, your voice hoarse from the constant stimulation, feeling your body tense up, preparing for your orgasm.

Just as you think you can’t handle it anymore, Billy pulls out suddenly, leaving you panting and empty. Before you can recover, he spits on your entrance, lubricating it again. Then, with one swift motion, he re-enters you, filling you up once more. His size stretches you wider than ever, causing you to scream in both agony and gratification. 

“I love the sounds you make when I'm destroying you," Billy mumbles as he slaps your ass a few times before he speaks again. “So much better than the last person I was with.” 

Derek, sensing your imminent climax, speeds up his pace even more. His thrusts become faster and harder, hitting your uvula. His movements are deliberate, designed to send you spiraling over the edge. Billy, aware of the approaching orgasm, matches Derek’s intensity. Together, they push you to your limits, each thrust bringing you closer to the peak.

The combination of their movements is too much to bear. Your body convulses, shaking uncontrollably as you near the edge. You cry out incoherently, your voice a mix of pleas and curses. Finally, it happens. A wave of pure bliss washes over you, starting from your core and radiating outward. Your muscles clenched around Billy’s cock, which came undone, Derek following right after as you swallowed him entirely. 

For a moment, all three of you remain frozen in time, basking in the afterglow of your shared orgasm. Sweat covers your body, mixing with the evidence of your passions and dedication.

Then, Derek proceeds to pick you up, ensuring you’re okay and still able to walk, as Billy quickly goes to dress up again. 

“Wanna do aftercare?” Derek asks. This is different; this isn’t the usual Derek you’re accustomed to, but there’s something special about him at this moment.

“I’d love to,” you reply, unable to resist his newfound vulnerability. For a brief moment, you both stare at Billy, unsure whether to include the stranger in this intimate moment. But he speaks up, breaking the silence.

“I’m fine; I need to go anyway.” And with that, Billy abandons the room, leaving the two of you alone together.

Now it’s just the two of you, stripped bare emotionally and physically. You look at each other, unsure of how to proceed. Should you clean up? Talk about what happened. Or simply cuddle and rest in each other’s arms? 

“That was weird,” Derek says, slightly confused by Billy’s sudden departure but dismissing it. He’s glad that the two of you are alone now. 

“Get dressed up. We’ll go back to my place, and...” As Derek reaches for his pants, they feel unusually light. You exchange a confused glance, picking up your clothes and finding them similarly lacking.

Realization dawns on you both—your wallets are gone. It seems Billy took advantage of the situation to steal from you when you guys thought he was looking for a condom earlier on. You share a look of disbelief. 

“Fucking Billy,” you mutter.

Hope you guys liked it, it’s my first time writing this sort of thing but I wanted to write something special for having 100+ followers 🫶🏻 Thank you so much for reading my stuff! (If you only want to see my smut writing consider following my side blog @xxxcherryerim where I reblog my work!)

tags: @freak-accident419 (hand in marriage, NOW /j) @joshhutchersonsgf @joshfutturman @jhutchismyl0verb0y @lile6969 @savvyotakuqueen

[twisted-king]

Hi! Hello! I was wondering if you wrote any platonic hecs in twst? If you do, can you write gn!mc always finding a away to mention/talk about her home world? Maybe add a little bit of homesickness for angst👀.

Platonic hcs with the first years pls:>

Btw I really love you writing style!♡

AAAA oh my gosh thank you so much! I have no idea what im really doing aha...

Absolutely!!! here's a key:

Epel Ace Deuce Sebek Jack You

First year friend group + Reader who talks about home

They love you

they REALLY do

But this is excessive.

"Back at the farm we used to drink hot cider after a long day out in the snow, actually one time we-" "Heh.. like how my mom and I used to..." "Used to what?" "Oh its nothing... Just a tradition. We'd get together every Tuesday and go for bubble tea" "Oh..."

Epel understands feeling far from home, and he wants to try and relate with you but he doesn't know about half the stuff you're saying.

"hahah I got a higher score than you this time. Mayeb you shoulda studied a bit harder like lil ol me~" "Shut up Ace! It's a difference of like... two points!" "Two more points than you!" "oh you-" "My friends and I used to compare scores all the time, she always asked for help studying but.. haha she always got better grades than me."

They feel SO awkward when this happens

Deuce almost feels like he's showing off in some kind of way. He wants to be an honor student AND a good friend to you, so he's trying to creatre new memories with you, he's just having some trouble.

"Hey! I uh- I learned out to make one of Trey's tart! The one from the unbirthday party you liked so much?" "Oh thank you Deuce! It's kind of funny actually-" oh no,,, "My sibling and I used to bake for each other to say sorry."

Ace on the other hand is curious, but he kind of wishes you could be with the group sometimes.

"And then Lucius was like-- On top of Deuce- get this- while he was STILL sleeping" "No way..!" "Seriously?" "Hah- how pathetic, I NEVER fall asleep in Trein's... admittedly dull, lessons." "I used to have a dog, he could sleep anywhere"

And suddenly, it's quiet again...

Jack tries to keep your mind off things

He takes you out on relatively silent runs, he invites you to track meets, you can join or just watch him and Deuce! You've been looking a little down recently so, this makes sens to Jack, Deuce enjoys having you watch him run too, his friends give him extra motivation to beat his last personal best!

But... now you're crying?

Ohnowhatdoido.jpeg

Ace, Epel, and Sebek are on their way too, they wanted to do something nice for you and suprise you and -oh no...

They drop everything.

Your friends rush toward you, maybe you're hurt? you like... NEVER cry around them.

And suprisingly, Sebek can get you through the worst of it

"You're sad. and far from home. and that is hard. Especially for a pu ny huma-" "Sebek!!" "Right, uh... But we are here with you now. And we care for you."

"You're our best friend, I don't think anyone would be 'round here if it weren't for you."

"I don't feel as alone, riding solo just... wasnt it."

"'Sides, class isnt nearly as fun without you in it?"

"We really care about you, Prefect. You're our friend."

They gather around you, peacefully letting you cry after they let you know how muhc you mean to them.

"I just... I miss home so much..!"

[seafoamreadings]

week of august 25th, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: mercury going direct at last in leo in just a few days here will likely be fun for you and i don't even mean that sarcastically. something that got put on hold in the last few weeks gets new traction. by the end of the week uranus stations retrograde, though, so with that most likely in your second house, avoid excessive spending or burning through resources you aren't totally sure about.

taurus: while you can expect some (likely not unpleasant) surprises this week you can also expect them to be fickle or to have unseen strings attached. it's not a bad idea to accept or pursue them if you like them, but don't get too wrapped up in it all. things are fleeting. it's not an easy energy for a steady and stalwart taurean to grasp but, frankly, you're not supposed to grasp it.

gemini: the big news of the week for you is the end of your ruling planet's retrograde. things do not return to normal or comfortable just yet, due to the shadow period that follows, but this is the end of the actual retrograde phase and especially from the end of the week, things should start to get easier and less snafus ensue.

cancerians: this week may well bring new life into any stale or stagnant relationships or friendship situations. mercury stations direct in your second house also. take stock of what resources you have and what is lacking, and use what you have (or don't use what you don't have!) accordingly.

leo: unexpected opportunities arise this week. they may be quite startling and weird but if you feel drawn to them and it's within your means at all, you should take them, especially towards the beginning of this week. by the end of the week, uranus retrograde may have them a little bit less fruitful, or perhaps simply more difficult, but you can trust your best judgment even then. too much input from others is not advised.

virgo: the importance of ceres to your sign should not be understated. this week she goes direct in capricorn just as uranus goes retrograde in taurus. while they don't perfect the grand trine it's truly well-connected earth vibes for you. even inconveniences turn out to work in your favor. nourish yourself carefully and lovingly.

libra: venus coming home to your sign should help provide some comfort if times have been trying and even if they haven't, it's auspicious for you. meanwhile, uranian activity continues so be very careful who you share your resources (money, time, energy?) with.

scorpio: take care of your personal needs first of course, but then as much as you are able to, be in your local community and neighborhood. clean up a little trash, do a little volunteer work, help a neighbor out, etc. with the current activity this is the auspicious way to keep things going as smooth as possible. at minimum, it makes you look good, but best if you do it from the heart and not for status alone. this can help you cope with any relationship drama, btw.

sagittarius: venus into libra can have you in soap opera mode, turning friends into lovers and vice versa left and right. meanwhile mercury direct again in leo fires up your thirst for the truth, philosophically and spiritually. there's no reason you can't lean into both vibes.

capricorn: ceres goes direct in your sign this week and, believe it or not, one of the first events of *next* week is the retrograding ingress of pluto back into the extremes of your sign for the last time in any of our lifetimes. let ceres vibes help you nurture yourself as you prefer for any final demolitions caused by the king of the underworld.

aquarius: the air of churning and muckraking is still afoot. but at least some of it is in a pleasant manner thanks to venus. generally the muddiness of such upheaval is not so pleasant, but sometimes it does turn up trinkets from the bottom of the sea.

pisces: friends may come and go but your inner world is forever. without getting lost in the dream state, pay attention to it and respect and honor it. your dream life is just as real as your waking life. of course, you don't need to hear it from me, you're the expert. but in a time in a world where people are inclined to be blind to the magic around them, don't lose your contact with it too and don't let them convince you it's frivolous.

[yuzuyoon]

Lily, as someone with knowledge of singing and vocal technique, I'm hoping you can answer something I've been thinking about since I watched the mini-doc about the creation of Muse.

When Jimin and his crew go back into the bedroom--it's almost midnight, at this point--Jimin says, with some uncertainty, I believe--that the key they've chosen is "quite high." Two keys ahead of the original! Later, the guitarist asks him if he's going to sing it higher and then nods approvingly..."that's art."

But is it really better to sing in such a high key? Would it not have sounded as good in a slightly lower key? Is it the reason for the auto-tune so many people are complaining about?

I thought about this while listening to Be Mine. There's that one line that seems excessively high--so high I feel like it might attract any dogs in the vicinity. Do you think it needs to be/should be that high?

Btw, whatever the key, Be Mine is one of those songs that is deceptively difficult to sing, isn't it? People aren't talking enough about Jimin's vocal prowess here.

i want you to listen to two things. first, listen to the original version of dynamite. then listen to this version:

now tell me which one sounds more like a bts song. the original dynamite was a song in quite a high pitch, and many people agree that the version in a lower pitch sounds more like a bts song.

this concept applies to all songs. some songs sound better at a higher tone, some songs sound better at lower tones. im sure when considering the pitch of who, jimin took two things into consideration:

1) is he capable of singing it live (and we have seen yes he can)

2) what sounds best vocally and instrumentally

im pretty confident jimin chose the right key because of one main reason: it fits perfectly into jimin's vocal sweet spot

we all have vocal sweet spots when we sing and they're not all coherent. for example, i'm really comfortable in my lower-mid range and my high range, but i struggle when it comes to mid-high range. jimin's sweet spot seems to be that very high falsetto/mix that he does in the who prechorus

who is a challenging song to sing, but jimin chose it because he knows his voice and he knows what sounds good. i believe, had he chosen one of the lower pitches, we wouldn't have gotten that resonant note. (jimin also seems to be so proud and confident of his vocals now after taking those lessons and he's been showing it off a lot. a challenging key would the perfect opportunity to show off something he's proud of)

because i love making videos to try to explain things, here's one of who in different keys so you can get a feel for why jimin chose to have to song be that pitch:

im pretty confident the original pitch sounds the best.

now for be mine: yes the prechorus for this song is also absurdly high. like absurdly. the real test on if that was the right key choice for this song is if jimin can sing live (fingers crossed the bonus clip has be mine in it). based on the who performances, i am so confident he can

and yes, be mine is challenging to sing because youre reaching a spot where its hard to even use a falsetto to reach those notes. jimin and i have similar high key ranges and its so incredibly difficult for me to get to those notes and make it sound nice. jimin really saw people ranking him at no. 4 for vocal capabilities in bts and decided to come for his rightful no. 2 spot as a lead vocalist. all the kudos to him, that is a power move if i ever saw one

[itsblasttothepast]

Hey I know this is random af but I just recently found your deep-dive lore of Checo as his fan, if you don't mind me asking is there any deeper relationship between Lewis and Checo as driver since they never really become teammate to begin with? As new checo fans I feel like I missed a lot of his lore

Oh anon, you have no idea what you've done. You opened the door to a rambling from ages ago, so fasten your seatbelt, because it will be a wild ride my friend, as I'm getting into this mode:

Checo and Lewis' story started with the first podium of my adorable Mexican: Malaysia 2012. He was P2, Fernando Alonso won, and Lewis was P3.

Look how happy my boy was, so excited for his first podium, next to the big honcho (Alonso back then). As Checo was just starting in F1, honestly I didn't know much about Lewis before that moment, but he always looked reserved and aloof, too cool for this bunch (nothing against Lewis, I like him, but he gives me that vibe even now).

In the press room, we all noticed Lewis looking at Checo like this, it was like 'what is this guy even doing here, with a SAUBER?' (Sauber was a middle-low table team).

We thought then that we would hate Lewis forever and ever for giving the evil eye to our boy, but to our surprise, they seemed to get along just fine... even more than just fine, if you get my drift.

They always seemed to gossip in the interviews and press conferences, and to be honest, they were fairly touchy feely to each other.

But the year I feel they were the closest, and I can't say if they had something bigger than a friendship because of course we cannot know that, but they were close for sure, maybe good friends, was 2015... oh, 2015...

They shared a few podiums, and they were so smiley and touchy, like in Russia:

Or... the thing that BROKE US back then (and still, honestly), México 2015 Grand Prix... a video of Lewis being a DJ in a club, with Checo next to him.... I'll let the pictures speak for themselves, alrighty?

Happy and relaxed (and Checo was drunk as a skunk. Lewis apparently doesn't drink, or he does not drink excessively, that's why he made a non-alcoholic tequila, a sacrilege for me, as mexican) (also, I must admit that Checo parties hard, making him super idiotic and sleazy. I mean, I love the man, but he has his flaws). Anyways, here's the video if you want to check it out:

Sorry anon, I didn't find it on youtube.

So, naturally, all the fangirls (I'm a girl, BTW, too old for this DTS croud) were making crazy stories about a bromance-romance, that increased because we remembered this tweet:

Roscoe is Lewis' pet, so adorable and famous like his dad. He jumped into Checo's car, and Checo took this picture and tagged Lewis. Something usual between them, tagging each other with things. So as other fans had pointed out, not only Roscoe knew Checo and his car, but felt comfortable enough to jump into it and chill there.

Also, in a team dynamic with Max, Checo remembered the tweet and clarified that Roscoe doesn't travel that far when Max suggested the picture was taken in Australia, and also knows that Roscoe is vegetarian.

This was the moment when we felt like this:

We thought they were going to be the BFF of the F1, they seemed to be chillin' outside the grid and they seemed closer... but then... brocedes happened.

Nico Rosberg and Lewis Hamilton were besties, we all know that (therefore the ship/frienship name). When they became teammates at Mercedes... oh boy, things got ugly. I believe that their friendship being in decline was something that influenced the closeness between Checo and Lewis, but that's just my opinion.

2016 was the year that decided everything. Lewis focused all his energy in beating Britney (sorry, I had to use that nickname at least once, I know Nico hated it, but I couldn't resist), and his friendship/whatever else was going on with Checo faded away.

Nico won the championship (but honestly, it was brutal, it destroyed their friendship), and he retired, and Lewis seemed to regain balance and focus again. But it was never the same with Checo, and if we hoped for something to revive, 2021 ended those dreams, when Checo was brought to RedBull to help Max win the championship, and that meant blocking Lewis path as long as he could. I don't want to enter to the whole 'Lewis was robbed' discussion, but it was a riot.

Additionally, on a side note, Checo also had a good relationship with Nico Rosberg, so it was like he was in the middle of their breakup.

Still, they seem friendly nowadays, Checo keeps making small talk with Lewis, and honestly, and I clarify, IN MY OPINION, Lewis always looks very fond of Checo, and he smiles differently with him. Again, in my delusional opinion.

Like for example:

So, in conclussion anon, even when they WERE close back then, now they seem friendly and fine with each other. When they get together in the interviews, they always gossip and smile, and Canada 2024 gave us little Chewis crumbs (this was the ship name, until Charles Leclerc joined the party and now is also the name of the Charles/Lewis pairing).

Phewww, sorry anon, I know you didn't expected this rambling, but I hope you made it this far and I could answer your question.

And I'm glad to see more Checo fans around here, I was feeling like this all the time.

Oh, and please, pleaseeeee, consider this my take on things, my opinion and fangirl delusions, if you don't agree and you think I'm crazy, that's fair, but no need to be nasty about it or call me names.

Who wants me to ramble about Checo/Nico next? O Checo/Esteban? Ohhh, that would be wild!