#i'll be posting the remaining asks today

[laufire]

top five batfam

I must start with Jason even if his inclusion on the batclan is something I have mixed feelings about. I can imagine him (as always, as his pre-reboot version) possibly progressing to a low contact member lmao. He feels he has familial ties per se with Bruce and Dick (messy as they are), and eventually Damian and Duke (who he brother zones hard), and always complex, mixed dynamics with the rest. Anyway, you all know he's my #1 always xD

Cass, because she's one of my favourite DC characters, period. It's interesting because her "inclusion" into the ~family is a lot messier than people who have bought into the whole daughter dad shit with Bruce think lol, but she's THEE bat.

Duke. I have to read more of his comics, but his inclusion (if not necessarily how things evolved) is such a fascinating one. Robin independent from Batman (who even rejects the "Batman and Robin" dichotomy), Robin as a masses movement... A+ idea. And he's just a fun little dude lol.

Steph. As a (former) scapegoat her role in the batclan is really, really interesting (and often infuriating!). And I adore her.

Barbara. I love how much she is a mirror and counterpoint to Bruce in particular, within the "clan". And new earth Barbara is quite literally one of DC's best character, completely against their own choices as it might be.

Funny how, although I like them all (ymmv on who "all" means), I've picked members that feel... somewhat "at odds", on different levels and ways, from the "core" of the Bat(man)fam lol. Which could mean nothing!

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

[misskamelie]

I come from a line of women who had something wrong with them and were very good at cleaning

[nereidprinc3ss]

make me late

in which spencer finds a few minutes to spare with fem!reader in the morning

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence, sub reader, technically dubcon bc he doesn’t ask and she jokingly says stop but it’s not like that I promise, fingering (here we go again), 'slutty' is used to describe an action but not by spencer, spencer slaps r's ass one (1) time, (hot), mild overstimulation a/n: apparently need to post at least one fingering fic per week or i'll fucking die. very short and sweet but as always let me know if you like it, i have a crush on all of you!

You’re used to Spencer’s alarm going off early in the morning—typically you tune it out or sleep right through it. Today, however, it rouses you more than usual. You roll over, blinking your eyes open. 

“Sorry,” Spencer mutters, finally turning it off and leaning over to kiss your head. “Go back to sleep, angel.”

You wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him down again when he tries to get out of bed.

“Don’t go,” you beg into his shirt, slinging a leg over him. His hand slips under your (also his) shirt, rubbing the bare skin of your back.

“I have to. You know that.” 

“I just want you to stay for a little bit,” you insist. 

“No you don’t,” he drawls, voice still gravelly with sleep, “You want to make me late.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say innocently, burying your face further into his shirt as if you could extinguish the heat in your cheeks. 

His hand drops from your back to reach under your thigh, pushing your underwear to the side. You gasp when his fingers make contact with your soaked core, involuntarily pressing your hips closer. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Stop it! That’s not fair!” You squeal, attempting to wriggle away once you regain your senses. But the bastard wraps his arm around your waist like a vice, forcing you to stay in place as he sinks a finger into you with no preamble. Instead of satisfying him with a vocal response, you keep your face hidden in the crook of his shoulder and remain obstinately silent. When he begins to slowly pump his finger, you’re forced to bite the fabric of his shirt to shut yourself up. 

“If you’re not enjoying yourself, I’ll stop,” he says plainly, but obviously he knows that’s the last thing you want. His ring finger joins the other and your mouth falls open, a tiny, choked breath against his skin. “Do you want me to stop?”

Don’t give in, you say to yourself. Wait. What are you not giving in to? Fuck, that feels good. You hum quietly—an excellent display of self-control considering the noises you’re actively holding back. 

“Are we already getting whiny?”

“‘m not whining,” you bite. 

“You’re always whining.” There’s nothing to do but prove him right when he begins massaging that spot inside you with a practiced stroke of his fingers—the one that makes you arch your back further and spread your legs a little wider—makes you oh-so compliant and all together, a bit slutty. But Spencer has told you that by definition, you’re not a slut if it’s just him who you lose all self-respect around. “My pretty girl feels so good, huh?”

You agree with a mindless mumble, forgetting that you were ever going to try and fight the pleasure. 

“It feels so good.”

“I can tell, baby. Listen to the mess you're making.”

Soft, wet sounds emanate from where you’re probably dripping around his fingers. A moan is muffled by his shoulder as your own fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt and sink into the flesh of his waist—though you doubt he minds. 

“Please don’t stop, please please please—" It’s quiet, almost demure as you plead. 

“You’re so sweet when you get like this,” Spencer coos. “I wish you were always so well-behaved.”

No, he doesn’t. Both of you know he loves fucking the attitude out of you, and at times, back into you. But you’re not in any place to correct him right now, as his fingers slip in and out of you so quickly, exactly where you want to be touched. 

“Oh, right—right there, that’s—oh, god,” you squeak. 

Your face is still nuzzled in his shirt, your voice is still so delicate and weak with sleep, rising in pitch with your pleasure until it breaks. 

“Right here? This is where you need it?”

“Yes,” you practically cry, “I’m gonna come, Spence—” your hips rock back and forth to meet each stroke of his fingers inside you, vision going white with with pleasure. 

“Yeah? My pretty girl is gonna come all over my fingers?”

“Mhm!” You speed up the motion of your hips. He chuckles, which might offend you if you were in your right mind, but it’s early, and you’re tired, and your soul is trying to untether itself from your body. 

“Let me feel it, baby. I wanna feel you coming, can you do that for me?”

A breathy keen rushes from your throat as your orgasm begins to suck you out to sea like a riptide, flooding your lungs and blood and everything with so much easy pleasure you’re barely awake and you don’t care one bit. 

“Uh-huh, good girl,” Spencer murmurs, not letting up with his fingers as you fall through your orgasm. Another choked moan takes you by surprise when his free hand falls with a heavy clap to your ass, before rubbing the stinging flesh. “Let go a little bit longer, baby, I’m right here.”

You’re barely breathing, still seeing stars as he continues to fuck you leisurely with his fingers, more out of pure affection than anything else. Eventually he slips them out, teasing gently over your clit as your stomach tenses. But you let him keep going. You’ll do anything to keep him in bed for a few minutes longer. To that end, you gather enough breath to speak. 

“Can you please fuck me?” 

He hums pityingly, moving his hand from between your legs to lovingly soothe the tender skin he’d slapped just a moment ago. 

“You know I can’t, baby. I shouldn’t have even done this. I really have to get a move on.”

“But you did do this,” you say, eager to point out the fallacies in his argument, “which means you could also have sex with me and we could be really fast and you could just take less time getting ready for work.”

Your chin is now resting on his shoulder as you look up at him with wide, imploring eyes, and he leans down to kiss your nose. 

“The answer is going to stay no, sweet thing. I don’t care how much you beg.”

He’s already gently sliding you off of him and getting out of bed as you pout. A few moments pass, and you can’t think of a good retort as he moves about the room, gathering a towel for his shower and digging through the dresser. 

“You’re mean.”

“Aw, poor baby. You only got to come once. Nobody has ever had a harder life than you.” Spencer dodges the pillow you throw and laughs, coming back to lean over the bed as you glower at him. “I’m sorry I woke you up. If you can’t fall back asleep in the time it takes me to shower, I’ll make you fancy coffee.”

“Fine.”

“And I’ll be extra nice to you when I get home.” He kisses your head and then your lips, and then disappears into the bathroom. 

In a completely predictable turn of events, you’re dead to the world by the time he gets out of the shower. He makes you the fancy coffee anyway, leaving it in a thermos on your nightstand. 

He’s late to work. He can't pretend to be sorry.

[formulawolff]

"my hero" - m.v.

pairing: social worker!reader x max verstappen

word count: idek tbh (i’m posting this on my lunch break hehe)

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, max in bf mode, long distance couple, cursing here and there, mentions of mental health, mentions of mental health disorders, mentions of physical health, yada, yada, yada

a/n: i know i said i was working on requests but this idea would not leave my brain all day. i couldn't stop thinking about it so i had to write it. (it's def a little self-indulgent) i hope y'all enjoy!

"ah! there you are. i can see you now!""

a giggle bubbles up in your throat, your lips forming a wide smile, "hi baby, how are you?"

he shrugs, the image distorted for about a millisecond. he comes into frame once again, slightly pixelated. however, you can make out the sleepy grin plastered across his face, and the twinkle in his eye as he looks into the camera.

max verstappen, three time world driver’s champion, is on facetime with you, donned in nothing but a black cotton tee and his boxers. you can tell from the background that he’s in his motorhome, settled in his room.

his hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up haphazardly. he more than likely just got out of the shower, as the fabric of the tee clung to his toned frame. underneath his eyes were two faint circles, the skin slightly puffy.

yet, here he was, calling you at god knew what hour just to hear the sound of your voice.

"tired. very fucking tired."

"i can imagine so," you nod, typing along at your laptop, "what time is it there?"

he hums, leaning over his phone, "it's about eleven thirty?"

"max!" your eyes widen, "you need to get some sleep. it's qualifying tomorrow!"

"and?" he counters, arching a brow, "i wanted to hear how your day went. from your messages, it seemed like it was quite eventful."

"i'm just wrapping up my notes now," you exhale, your shoulders slumping slightly, "it was a long day."

"i can imagine my baby," he coos, settling underneath the covers, "tell me all about it."

"i can assure you being a case worker is not nearly as riveting as a formula one driver," you snort, shaking your head, "you go first."

"nope," he was not budging, his attention still fixated solely on you, "tell me about your day, and then i'll share about mine. it's only fair."

"well," you wrinkle your nose, glancing over the open document on your laptop screen, "my day started with one of my clients experiencing a small crisis. she was without food so she called me, asking if i could take her to the nearest pantry. while i was with her, another client of mine called asking if i could transport him to his appointment.

i probably could have, but he reached out to me only fifteen minutes before his appointment time. i received my new staffing form today. i have a couple of clients who are in need of housing so i had to make some calls to some local agencies."

"and how did that go?" you can't help but feel heat flourishing into your cheeks at the intrigue laced in his tone, "were you able to make some progress?"

"not really," you inhale sharply, "housing is really difficult to find right now. it's sort of like when your tires are giving out, but you need them to last a few more laps. you have to remain hopeful so that you can keep pushing."

“i like that analogy,” he fights a yawn, but continues regardless, “that’s a good one. i’m going to use that.”

“as long as you credit me,” you muse, clicking your mousepad as you finalize your note, “how was practice today?”

“so-so,” he chirps, “i missed you a lot today. thought about you nearly every second of the practice session. you’re flying out next week, right?”

you nod, shutting your laptop, “yes. i’ll be leaving wednesday evening and catching a late flight. hopefully when i land, there will be this insanely handsome dutch man waiting for me.”

“is that right?” max’s dimples appear, causing your heart to skip a beat, “i’m hoping that my good luck charm arrives safe and sound. i can’t wait to see her.”

“counting down the minutes are we?”

“you have no idea,” carefully, he plucks his phone from his makeshift stand, bringing you closer into the bed with him, “will you stay on till i fall asleep?”

at his request, there’s a tug at your heart. fuck, if only you were with him. then he would have been able to lay on you until he dozed off. his head would have been snuggled into uour collabone, your hands tangled in his hair, playing with it as his chest steadily rose and fell.

if only you were there. if only you were an influencer or a model. if only you could take work with you, dropping everything to fly all over the world. if only you weren’t separated by time zones, where you had to carefully coordinate facetime calls.

if only you weren’t long distance, then maybe you wouldn’t feel like this.

if only.

“hey,” max’s voice is merely a whisper, “are you okay?”

your lower lip trembles, tears welling up, threatening to spill over. there’s a choking sound, as you attempt to suppress a sob.

yet, it was too late. they were streaming down your cheeks now, your hands instinctively shielding your face.

“baby,” max murmurs, “what’s going on?”

“this shit sucks,” you shake your head, the words strained, “i hate that i’m not with you right now. i hate that we’re long distance. i hate that i have to stay here and—“

“but your clients need you,” his tone is delicate, “you’re the one person they can count on when everything else is going to shit. they need you like i need you. i can tell you had a long day baby, but i’m here. i’m here for you, no matter what.”

“i-i love you,” you manage to sputter out, wiping your cheeks, “i love you, max.”

“and i love you more than you’ll ever know,” in the frame, a pillow is held against his chest, “i’m even cuddling this pillow right now pretending that it’s you.”

“i can’t believe you fell in love with some plain girl from the states,” you sigh, resting your head against the couch cushion, “out of everyone in the world, you happened to fall in love with me.”

“you’re not just any girl from the states,” for a moment, you’re shocked at the firmness in his tone, “you’re my girl. it takes someone special to do what you do. you’re my hero baby. i aspire to be as strong as you.”

“i love you,” the corners of your lips curl into a quaint smile, “am i really your hero?”

“of course,” it doesn’t even take him a second to respond, “like i said, you’re the strongest person i know. you inspire me.”

“i can’t wait to see you,” you murmur, taking note of the way his eyes were drooping, “i’ll stay on till you sleep, my love. it seems like you need it.”

“hey,” one eye opens, barely a slit, “i know this shit sucks right now, but we’ll make it. okay? one day you’ll get to come home to me and tell me all about your day rather than calling. it’ll be worth it. i promise.”

“i hope so. i love you, maxie. sleep well, my love. i’ll be there before you know it.”

“try to have a good evening,” you could barely make out the statement, as he was beginning to doze off, “just end the call when i’m asleep. i’ll message you in the morning.”

“i’ll be here,” opening your laptop, you prop it against the screen, “goodnight, maxie.”

“night, night, baby.”

as sleep takes a hold of the dutch driver, you remain on the call, opening youtube. cautiously, you click on one of your favorite videos. it’s a montage of all of max’s wins, starting from the 2016 spanish grand prix.

the video begins to play, the volume carefully adjusted so that it doesn’t wake him.

as your gaze shifts to your phone once again, you can’t help but hear his words ringing in your ears.

one day this would all be worth it.

and one day, max verstappen would be able to be with his hero.

every single day for the rest of his life.

[pin-k-ink]

breaking point // hinata shoyo

tw ⇢ possessive!hinata, groping, obsessive behavior, semi-public fingering, cunnilingus, mating press, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentioned masturbation, rough sex, squirting, fingering

wc ⇢ 4.4k

a/n: not proofread

"And here we have the star of today's match, Hinata Shoyo!"

Your bright voice immediately commanded Hinata's attention, shattering his previous conversation into irrelevance. As his eyes landed on you, he felt the breath still in his lungs.

'Good god, she's beautiful.'

The thought blossomed before he could stop it. You looked so perfectly poised and professional with your microphone raised, camera ready. But all Hinata could focus on was the elegant line of your jaw, the flushed hue across your cheeks, and the way your lips seemed to glisten invitingly.

Swallowing hard, he wrestled to regain his composure as you launched into the standard post-game questions about his performance. Hinata responded automatically while his gaze drifted lower, hungrily taking in the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage exposed by your blouse's neckline.

Get it together! He gave himself a mental shake, panic rising at his inability to tear his eyes away from your body. This was just a damn interview - he'd done hundreds, for god's sake! So why was he reacting like a hormonal teenager catching his first glimpse of undressed skin?

Maybe it was the way your skirt caressed the gentle swell of your hips as you shifted...or the soft, floral scent of your perfume that seemed to wrap around his senses in the most maddening way...

Inhaling deeply, Hinata dragged his wandering focus back to your lovely face, only to feel his attention immediately ensnared by your lips. They looked so incredibly soft and inviting as you spoke, he could barely track the meaning of your questions.

Without realizing it, Hinata found himself slowly drifting closer, drawn to you by some inexplicable gravitational pull. By the time your brows knit in confusion at his distracted responses, he was near enough to see the slight iridescent shimmer of your lip gloss...near enough to catch the lightest whisper of your shampoo's fragrance...

Fuck, get a grip! Hinata cursed inwardly, finally registering the wildly inappropriate hunger blazing through him like a fever. This was meant to be a professional interview, not his own personal peepshow!

And yet, he found himself utterly powerless to pull away from your enticing presence. His gaze flicked down to the gentle swell of your chest again as you inhaled, and he swore he could detect the barest hint of cleavage peeking from beneath the fabric.

"Is...everything alright, Hinata-san?" you asked with a small frown, no doubt perplexed by the dark look of unveiled yearning that had overcome his features.

Hinata's tongue instinctively swiped across his suddenly dry lips as his eyes locked on yours once more. Every fiber of his being screamed to close what little distance remained between your bodies and capture those perfect lips with his own. To satiate this maddening, inexplicable thirst you had instantly awakened within him.

But somehow, some small shred of self-restraint stopped the words from spilling out.

"Perfect," he husked instead, the gravelly timbre of his voice dripping with the undisguised want smoldering in his eyes. "Everything is...perfect."

After that first unsettling interview, you found yourself assigned to cover Hinata with increasing frequency. His star power was rapidly rising, and your segments with him always drew impressive views and engagement.

But each time you sat down with him, the charged tension seemed to ratchet higher.

During one post-game interview, Hinata casually rested his hand over yours on the microphone, his calloused fingers stroking your skin as he leaned in close to answer.

"That last set was a real nail-biter," he murmured, his intense gaze never leaving your face. "I love keeping the crowd on the edge of their seats, never knowing what I'll do next..."

You had to fight down a shiver at the double meaning layered beneath his words. Hinata's eyes sparked with mischief, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

Another time, as you wrapped up a courtside interview, Hinata unexpectedly pulled you into a quick hug. The gesture would look friendly and spontaneous to any onlookers...

But as he drew you against his chest, you felt his hand dip low to squeeze your ass, lightning-quick but unmistakable. Your gasp was muffled against his shoulder before he released you with a cheeky grin.

"Thanks for the great interview," he chirped brightly, as if he hadn't just groped you in front of thousands. "Always a pleasure!"

Then there was the interview after his Sports Illustrated cover was announced. Hinata kept you close as you spoke, his arm slung casually across your shoulders in a gesture that skirted the line of professionalism.

"It's such an honor," he said earnestly. "I couldn't have done it without the support of my biggest fans."

At that, his hand drifted down to toy with the ends of your hair, twirling the strands around his fingers in an unmistakably possessive gesture. To any viewers, it would look like an absent fidget.

But the heat in Hinata's gaze as it locked with yours made it clear - he was staking a subtle claim, right there on live television. You had to fight to keep your composure, even as your skin tingled beneath his touch.

As the months passed, Hinata grew bolder and bolder in his flirtations, always toeing the line while maintaining plausible deniability. Lingering touches, weighted words, heated stares that felt almost tangible in their intensity...

It was a dangerous game you were playing, trapped under the watchful eyes of the cameras. And part of you wondered how far Hinata would push before the tension finally snapped.

After a grueling five-set match, you found yourself waiting outside the locker room to snag a final quote from Hinata. The hallway was deserted, the rest of the press having already dispersed to make their deadlines.

You leaned against the wall, reviewing your notes, when the door suddenly swung open. Hinata emerged, his hair damp from the shower and his gym bag slung over one shoulder. He stopped short when he spotted you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Well, well," he murmured, sauntering closer. "If it isn't my favorite reporter. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You straightened, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped at his proximity. "Just hoping to get a quick quote about that final spike. It was a pretty spectacular finish."

Hinata hummed, stepping fully into your personal space until your back hit the wall. "Is that so?" he mused, bracing a hand beside your head. "And here I thought maybe you just wanted to get me alone."

Your breath caught at the blatant suggestion, your eyes widening. "I...no, that's not-"

"Not what?" Hinata interrupted, his voice dropping to a low rasp. "Not incredibly tempting? Because I've got to say..."

His free hand came up to toy with the press badge dangling from your neck, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin above your collar.

"...the thought of getting you all to myself, away from the cameras? It's been driving me crazy for months."

You swallowed hard, your head swimming with his intoxicating nearness. This close, you could see the flecks of gold in his warm brown eyes, could count each individual eyelash framing his heated gaze.

"Hinata-san," you managed weakly, "we can't. I'm supposed to be interviewing you."

His lips quirked up in a wicked grin. "Then interview me," he purred, ducking his head until his mouth hovered a hair's breadth from your own. "Ask me how badly I've wanted to taste your lips. Ask me how many times I've imagined peeling that prim little skirt off you and finding out what you're wearing underneath. Ask me how often I've had to jerk off in the shower, thinking about your mouth on my cock..."

A shaky exhale escaped you, and Hinata's eyes darkened with triumph. He knew he had you cornered, in every sense of the word. His body caged you in, his breath fanning across your parted lips in a maddening caress.

"You have no idea," he rasped, his nose brushing yours in a ghosting almost-touch, "how crazy you make me. How hard it's been to keep my hands to myself every time we're together."

To punctuate his point, his hand released your badge to trail slowly down your arm, calluses catching on your sleek skin and igniting sparks in their wake. Your breathing grew ragged as his fingers skimmed across your hip, circling to the small of your back.

Then he was hauling you flush against him, the hard planes of his body searing into your softer curves. A needy sound caught in your throat at the feel of him, firm and unyielding, against your frame.

"Hinata-san," you gasped, but whatever protest you'd intended died on your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes blazing with raw hunger.

"Tell me you want me," he commanded roughly, his voice gravelly with desire. "Tell me I'm not the only one losing my mind with how badly I need you."

You trembled in his hold, your heart hammering against your ribs as his words seemed to brand themselves into your skin. Every nerve ending felt electrified, raw and oversensitized where his body pressed against your own.

But even as your very soul cried out to give in, to surrender to the magnetic pull of him, your rational mind clung to the tattered shreds of reason.

"Hinata, we...we can't," you managed, your voice thin and thready to your own ears. "This is...it's not right."

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the taut skin, but he didn't release you. If anything, his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh possessively.

"Not right?" he echoed, a humorless laugh escaping him. "God, if you only knew how many nights I've laid awake, fantasizing about all the 'not right' things I want to do to you..."

His head dipped, his nose skimming along the column of your throat in a barely-there touch that had you shivering. You swore you could feel the heat of his lips hovering just above your racing pulse.

"I could take you right here," he rasped against your skin, his breath searing you like a brand. "Against this wall, until you're shaking and begging for me. Would you like that?"

A broken whimper escaped your lips, and you felt them curve in a wicked smile. "Yeah, you would," he purred darkly. "I bet you'd fall apart so sweetly on my cock, squeezing me like a vice as you come..."

Your head thumped back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut as his filthy words painted vivid pictures in your mind. It would be so easy to give in, to let him strip you bare and take you apart until you forgot your own name.

But the tattered remnants of your professionalism, already strained to the breaking point, wouldn't allow it.

"I can't," you whispered brokenly, hands fisting in his shirt as if to hold him at bay...or pull him closer, you weren't even sure anymore. "We can't do this, Hinata-san. Not...not like this."

For a long, endless moment, he remained motionless against you. You could practically hear the war raging within him, the primal need to claim you battling against the yoke of propriety.

Then, with a low, frustrated growl, he released you, stepping back just enough to sever the contact between your bodies. The sudden absence of his searing heat left you feeling bereft, unmoored, but you didn't dare reach for him again.

"This isn't over," he bit out, his tone dark with promise as his heated gaze raked over you. "Sooner or later, I'm going to have you. And when I do..."

He leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth from your ear. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You'll be mine, completely and utterly. Don't ever doubt that."

With those words searing into your very bones, he grabbed your jaw in a rough grip, capturing your lips in a hard, bruising kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, claiming, conquering, and you were powerless to stop the whimper of need that fell from your lips.

Then he was gone. Turning on his heel and stalking away, leaving you weak-kneed and trembling in his wake. As you watched his broad shoulders disappear around the corner, one thing crystallized in your mind with startling certainty.

Hinata Shoyo was a man who worked hard to get what he wanted. And god help you, he wanted you.

The studio lights bore down on you as you sat beside Hinata, the camera crew adjusting the final settings before your joint interview. It was a big opportunity, a chance to discuss his recent accomplishments with a major sports network.

But all you could focus on was the heat of Hinata's thigh pressed against your own beneath the news desk.

"Thirty seconds!" the producer called out. You straightened your notes with hands that trembled imperceptibly, hyperaware of Hinata's solid presence mere inches away.

As the crew did their final checks, you felt a feather-light touch against your knee. Your breath hitched, gaze flying to Hinata's face, but he was staring straight ahead with an expression of perfect nonchalance.

Then his hand slid higher, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You barely suppressed a gasp, your entire body going rigid as he began to trace idle patterns against your flesh.

"Ten seconds!"

Hinata's touch grew bolder, his palm flattening against your thigh as it crept upward at a maddeningly slow pace. When his fingertips brushed the hem of your skirt, toying with the edge in a teasing caress, you thought you might combust on the spot.

"5, 4, 3, 2..."

You pasted on a bright smile as the camera light flashed red, signaling you were live. But even as you launched into your practiced introduction, you could feel Hinata's hand continuing its torturous exploration beneath the desk.

His fingers danced along the edge of your skirt, occasionally dipping just beneath the fabric to graze the lace edge of your panties. Each touch sent sparks of heat crackling through your veins, your focus splintering as you strained to maintain your composure.

Beside you, Hinata answered the questions smoothly, flashing his signature megawatt smile at the camera. But the hand on your thigh never ceased its maddening ministrations, slipping higher and higher until he was tracing the crease where your thigh met your hip.

You clenched your teeth as a shudder tried to rip through you, your hands white-knuckled. God, how were you supposed to concentrate with him touching you like this, live on national television?

But Hinata seemed utterly unaffected, bantering easily with the hosts even as his fingers crept to the apex of your thighs. When he boldly cupped your clothed pussy, barely stifling a groan at the damp heat he found there, you nearly bit through your lip trying to hold back a whimper.

"...wouldn't you agree?" the other host suddenly asked, turning to you with an expectant smile. Your heart lurched into your throat as you scrambled to recall what the question had even been.

"I...yes, absolutely," you managed, hoping your voice didn't sound as strained as it felt. "Hinata has certainly been a driving force behind the team's success this season."

Hinata's fingers pressed harder against your clit, the sudden friction nearly buckling your spine, and you had to disguise your choked gasp as a cough. Somehow, you maintained the semblance of poise, nodding as the host turned his attention back to the ace.

But beneath the table, the fingers between your thighs were a maddening pressure. He traced along the edge of your panties, then dipped below the lace to slide a thick digit along your folds.

"Shit," you breathed, barely above a whisper. You hoped the sound wouldn't pick up on camera.

Hinata smirked at you from the corner of his eye, clearly enjoying watching you come apart at his hand. With an agonizingly slow motion, he circled your entrance, spreading your slick wetness as you struggled not to squirm in your seat.

"Well, I couldn't do it without the support of my fans," Hinata interjected smoothly, shooting you a sly wink. "Especially my biggest fan right here."

You felt your cheeks flood with heat at the blatant innuendo, praying the camera would attribute your blush to the flattery. If only they knew just what Hinata was doing to you beneath the professional veneer...

The interview wrapped up shortly after, much to your relief. You maintained your smile as the hosts signed off, barely suppressing a shudder when Hinata gave your sensitive flesh a final, teasing squeeze before withdrawing his hand.

The second the camera light flicked off, you were shooting to your feet, your breath coming in shallow pants. Hinata rose more slowly, a knowing smirk playing about his lips as his dark eyes dragged over your disheveled form.

Heart pounding, you hurried into the dressing room, desperate to compose yourself after Hinata's bold touches during the interview. Your skin felt electrified, every nerve ending buzzing with barely suppressed need.

You braced your hands against the vanity, trying to slow your breathing. But then the click of the lock sounded behind you, and your pulse jumped into overdrive.

"You didn't think I was done with you, did you?" Hinata's voice was a low, dark rasp that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

You met his gaze in the mirror, your breath hitching at the raw, undisguised hunger burning in his eyes. He stalked towards you with predatory intent, his movements fluid and purposeful.

"Hinata," you managed weakly, your voice thin and thready. "We can't...not here..."

But he was already crowding into your space, his chest pressing against your back as his hands settled on your hips, firm and possessive.

"I can't wait anymore," he rasped, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. "I've held back for so long, but god, the way you respond to my touch..." His nose skimmed the column of your throat, making you shudder. "I need to feel you come apart for me."

Your eyes fluttered shut, a broken whimper escaping your lips. Every logical reason you shouldn't allow this, every professional boundary, seemed to evaporate like mist under the searing heat of his desire.

"Please," you whispered, the single word dripping with longing.

Hinata's hands tightened on your hips, a low groan rumbling through his chest. "Fuck, the things you do to me..."

Then his mouth was on your neck, your jaw, claiming each inch of skin with bruising intensity. One hand slid up your body to palm your breast through your blouse, calluses scraping your sensitive nipple and making you arch with a gasp.

"I'm going to take you apart," Hinata bit out against your skin, his voice tight with barely restrained need. "Gonna make you cum so hard you forget everything but my name."

Your head fell back against his shoulder, a moan spilling from your lips. You knew there would be no coming back from this, no way to pretend it never happened. But as Hinata turned you in his arms, his mouth slanting over yours in a searing kiss, you found you didn't care.

All you wanted was him.

Hinata hoisted you onto the vanity, his palms blazing a trail up the bare skin of your thighs as his tongue delved deeper. Your hands fisted in his hair, tugging hard enough to earn a groan of approval, and a wave of dizzying power flooded your senses.

He yanked your panties down your legs with such urgency, you swore you heard the lace tear. But before you could process, his hands were urging your thighs apart and his fingers were slipping through your soaked folds.

"So wet," he groaned, his fingers sinking into your heat and eliciting a sharp cry. "Is this all for me, baby?"

You whimpered a strangled affirmation, grinding desperately against his hand as he curled his fingers inside you. Your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, struggling to find purchase against the hard planes of muscle as he pumped his digits in a torturous rhythm.

"Shoyo," you whined, the plea falling from your lips without a second thought.

He growled, his eyes flashing dangerously at the use of his first name. His thumb flicked over your clit, drawing a strangled gasp from your throat, and you writhed beneath his touch.

"Say it again," he ordered, his free hand snaking up to fist in your hair and drag your gaze to his. The molten fire of his stare set your very soul alight.

"Please," you begged, no longer caring how wanton and desperate you sounded. "Shoyo, please!"

Hinata's teeth flashed in a wicked grin. Then his fingers were gone, and before you could mourn their absence, his head was dipping between your thighs.

The first swipe of his tongue had your spine bowing, a cry ripping from your throat. His grip on your hips was almost bruising as he feasted on your cunt, his tongue and lips and teeth working you into a frenzy. Your thighs clenched around his head, the heels of your stilettos digging into his broad shoulders. Pleasure crashed over you like waves, threatening to drown you, and still you couldn't get enough.

"Fuck, I could eat this sweet little pussy all day," Hinata groaned, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge. "So fucking good."

His tongue speared into your core, and you shattered. The climax tore through you with the force of a freight train, your entire body convulsing with the intensity of it.

Your vision whited out, and for a moment, the only thing tethering you to earth was Hinata's hands. His tongue continued to work you through your orgasm, wringing every last drop of pleasure until you were shaking with overstimulation.

When the world finally came back into focus, you blinked blearily down at him. A fresh wave of heat washed through you as you took in the sight of him, lips glistening and pupils blown wide with desire.

"So pretty," he husked, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth in a gesture that should not have been so damn attractive.

But then he was hauling you closer to the edge of the vanity, and suddenly you were acutely aware of the hard length straining against the zipper of his dress pants. Your fingers itched to free him, to feel his bare cock heavy and thick in your hand.

Before you could act on the impulse, Hinata was shoving his pants down, his dick bobbing proudly against his stomach. You felt a fresh wave of wetness flood your core at the sight, anticipation and hunger thrumming in your veins.

"Tell me what you want," he rasped, the head of his cock teasing through your folds. You keened, your hips jerking up as you struggled to find the words.

"You," you managed, the desperation in your voice clear even to your own ears. "Shoyo, please..."

A groan ripped from his chest, the sound so feral, so animalistic, it should have frightened you. But instead, it sparked a fire low in your belly, a primal need to feel him buried deep inside you.

You kicked your heels off right as his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide and pinning them back against your chest. He notched the thick head of his cock against your dripping cunt, and then he was plunging into you.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, your hands scrambling for purchase against the vanity. God, the stretch was nearly overwhelming, but you were too far gone to care. Your walls clenched around him, your hips rising to meet his frantic thrusts.

"So tight," he bit out, his pace punishing as he pounded into you. "Shit, I'm not gonna last, baby. You feel too fucking good."

A sob fell from your lips, the pleasure bordering on painful as he drilled into you. The vanity slammed into the wall with each rough thrust, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about the racket. Not when you were so close to falling apart, his cock filling you so completely.

One hand left your thigh to rub furiously at your clit, the additional stimulation sending stars bursting behind your eyelids. Your cries grew louder, more urgent, and you distantly registered the possibility of someone overhearing. But the thought was gone as quickly as it appeared, lost in the haze of pleasure.

"Look at me," Hinata demanded, his voice rough with command. Your eyes snapped to his, and you nearly came on the spot at the unbridled hunger blazing in his dark gaze.

"You're mine," he rasped, the hand on your hip moving to squeeze your jaw. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"Yours," you gasped, the words a choked sob. "All yours, Shoyo!"

Hinata released your chin, his fingers returning to toy with your clit as he pounded into you. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, the pressure building in your core until you were sure it would snap.

"Cum for me," he growled, his gaze locked with yours. "Wanna feel you fall apart around my cock."

Then his thumb and forefinger pinched your clit, and you shattered. White-hot pleasure ripped through your body, the shockwave sending aftershocks cascading through your limbs. Your walls clenched around him, the spasms almost violent as you squirted around his length.

"Holy fuck," Hinata groaned, his rhythm faltering as his own climax crested. He managed a handful of wild thrusts, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you, coating your walls with his release.

He collapsed forward, bracing his forearms against the vanity. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, both of you gasping for air as you slowly drifted back down from the high.

Despite the fact that the vanity was now sticky with your combined releases, Hinata made no move to extricate himself from you. Instead, he nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses to your flushed skin. His cock was surprisinglystill hard, the weight of him a grounding presence within you.

"Baby," he said after a moment, his lips quirking up in a smile against your collarbone, "think maybe I can convince you to leave work early today?"

A laugh bubbled up your throat, the joyful sound bright in the quiet room. "Why? So we can go home and continue this?"

"Mm, something like that," Hinata hummed, his grin widening. "And then you can help me celebrate my new Sports Illustrated cover by posing for me, naked, while I fuck you against every surface in my apartment."

[syluslnd]

Hi dear, I wanted to ask you to make a post about how silus sucks the reader's nipples and cannot tear himself away from her breasts.

sylus sucking on your nipples

Sylus's eyes narrow in on you the moment he notices your outfit—a tank top, no bra, the fabric clinging to your skin. His smirk is immediate, sharp, as he steps closer, one eyebrow raised. "Kitten" he purrs, his voice dripping with teasing amusement "were you planning on going out like this or is this just for me?"

Before you can answer, his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it higher.

You shiver as the cool air hits your skin and Sylus chuckles darkly, his fingers grazing along your ribs. "No bra, huh?" he muses, his teasing tone making your cheeks burn. "You must really want my attention, sweetie. Are you that needy today?"

His other hand suddenly grabs your wrist, pulling you closer to him. In one swift motion, you're in his lap, your back pressed against his chest as he easily pins your arms behind you with just one hand. His grip is firm but he's toying with you-making it clear you couldn't escape even if you tried. "Such a good little thing" he murmurs in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Walking around, all exposed, just begging for me to notice."

You squirm but his hold only tightens and he leans in,his lips brushing the side of your neck. "Admit it, kitten. You didn't wear a bra because you wanted this" he teases, his free hand tracing the bare skin just under the fabric of your shirt. "You like it when I take control, don't you? So easy to tease, so desperate to please."

His fingers glide teasingly over your chest, never quite touching where you want, as he smirks. "I can feel you trembling, sweetie.You're lucky l'm feeling generous today.Maybe I'll give you exactly what you're begging for-if you ask nicely."

Sylus watches you, the corners of his lips curling up as you struggle to get the words out. He can see it all over your face-the desire, the hesitation-but you're too shy to admit what you want. He leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, "Come on kitten, don't be shy. I know exactly what you want."

When you still can't bring yourself to say it, he chuckles softly, almost pitying. "Sweetie, I'm not that cruel" he says with a sly smile.

"Let me help you." With his free hand, he lets his fingers drift under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your chest before finally brushing against your nipples. The sensation sends an immediate spark through you, your breath catching as he flicks them lightly between his fingers.

Your body reacts instinctively, hips bucking as a jolt of pleasure shoots through you.

Sylus's grin widens at your reaction, his grip still firm around your wrists, holding you completely still while his fingers tease you, drawing out more soft moans. "Look at you, so sensitive" he whispers, his voice dripping with amusement. "I barely touched you and you're already squirming in my lap."

He continues his slow, torturous teasing, his fingers circling your nipples, giving just enough pressure to make you ache for more.

"You couldn't even say it" he muses "but your body's telling me everything I need to know. Go ahead, kitten, show me how much you like it."

His grip on your wrists remains steady, keeping you pinned against him, your movements limited to desperate, small bucks of your hips as his teasing hand keeps playing with your chest. Sylus leans down, his lips brushing your neck as he murmurs,

"Good girl. I'll make sure you feel everything."With a swift, fluid motion, Sylus shifts his weight, effortlessly flipping you onto your back. The sudden move leaves you breathless as you land against the sofa cushions. Before you can even process it, Sylus is on top of you, his body pressed against yours, pinning your wrists together above your head with one strong hand. Your tank top is pulled up, leaving your breasts fully exposed, vulnerable beneath his gaze.

His eyes lock onto yours, dark and full of amusement, the kind that makes your stomach flip. You can't avoid the intensity of his stare and his lips curl into a wicked grin.

"There we go" he murmurs, his voice dripping with that teasing tone you've grown so accustomed to. "Now l've got you exactly where I want you-can't hide from me anymore, kitten."

His free hand glides down your side, fingers dancing over your skin as he takes in the sight of you laid out beneath him. "So beautiful" he purrs, eyes lingering on your chest. "Look at you, all exposed, just waiting for me to play."

Your heart races as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. He knows exactly what he's doing-his teasing words, the weight of his body pinning you down, the way his hand grips your wrists, keeping you helpless beneath him. "I wonder" he whispers "how much more you can take before you start begging."

Then, without warning, his tongue flicks out, making contact with your nipple. The sensation sends a shockwave through your body, your back arching instinctively as a soft gasp escapes your lips. Sylus grins against your skin, clearly enjoying how quickly you react to him. His tongue continues its slow, deliberate teasing, circling your nipple, sucking gently before flicking it with precision.

"Mm, so sensitive" he teases, his voice vibrating against your chest. "I can feel every little twitch, kitten. I bet you're loving this, aren't you?" His mouth alternates between soft licks and firm sucks and he watches your reactions closely, knowing exactly how to work your body.

His teeth graze your nipple just enough to make you gasp and he smirks, shifting his weight to pin you down even more. "I could play with you like this all day” he murmurs, dragging his tongue across your skin, never giving you a moment to catch your breath.

"You're going to be such a good little thing for me, aren't you?"

Your body trembles beneath Sylus, the teasing flicks of his tongue and the gentle pressure of his mouth driving you closer to the edge. As much as you want to let go, there's a shy hesitance that keeps you from fully surrendering. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans threatening to spill out, your face flushed with both arousal and embarrassment.

Sylus notices immediately. His eyes darken with amusement, his grin widening as he watches you try to suppress your sounds.

He pauses, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips hovering dangerously close to your chest. "Oh, sweetie” he purrs, his voice low and laced with warning. "You're trying to be quiet?"

He tilts his head, his gaze locking onto yours, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes. "I don't think so, kitten. You better let me hear every single sound you make. If you don't..." His fingers trail down your side teasingly, making your skin tingle as he smirks. "I'll just have to make it worse for you."

Before you can even process the threat, he leans down again, his mouth latching onto your nipple with a sudden firmness. His teeth gently graze the sensitive peak, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. Your body arches instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips despite your attempts to hold it back.

"There it is" Sylus murmurs, the vibration of his voice sending a wave of heat through you. "Much better." He nibbles gently on your nipple, sucking it between his teeth just enough to make you squirm beneath him, the teasing bite balancing on the edge of pleasure and pain. "See? Doesn't it feel so much better when you let loose?"

You can't help it now-your moans are coming out more freely, your body responding to every flick of his tongue and every gentle bite. He hums approvingly, clearly satisfied with how quickly you're unraveling beneath him.

"Good girl” he whispers, switching to the other nipple, giving it the same slow, torturous attention. His hand, still pinning your wrists above your head, tightens slightly reminding you that you're completely at his mercy. "Don't try to hold back anymore” he warns, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin again. "I want to hear exactly how much you're enjoying this or I'll make sure it lasts all night."

With that, he bites down just a little harder, his tongue soothing the spot right after, leaving you no choice but to moan louder, your body shaking as his teasing becomes more intense.

[theres-a-body-here]

Imagine: A Minotaur boyfriend who comforts you after a bad day at work

Based on this post

Work was brutal, especially during the holidays. It didn't help that everyone seemed to be in a bad mood. Your co-workers were exhausted and the costumers seemed to have short fuses.

Once you got home, you dropped your stuff, slumped into the couch, and began to cry.

As you held your face in your hands, trying to contain the tears shedding from your eyes, you heard and felt the heavy footsteps of your Minotaur boyfriend approaching towards you. You didn't realize he was home.

His deep and gentle voice resonates within the room, asking with concern, "Baby, what's wrong?" Suddenly, a massive yet surprisingly tender hand grips your shoulder. You felt the cushion dip as he sat down next to you, sliding you closer to him.

Your voice cracks as you lift your heads out of your hands. "Work was so..." you try to explain the situation but get interrupted by the sheer closeness of your boyfriend. Inches apart, his warm breath tickles your face, and those fluffy ears of his twitch ever so slightly, displaying an expression of genuine concern.

You kinda just blank out for a moment.

Gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, your mind comes back to reality, allowing you to pour out your heartache about the terrible day you experienced. "My day started off really good, but then it went south fast," you say, the pain still evident in your voice.

Recalling every detail, from the irritating customers to the lack of support from colleagues, your boyfriend remains attentive throughout, nodding occasionally to show understanding.

Once the last word leaves your lips, your boyfriend wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace.

Without any warning, your boyfriend scoops you up into his arms, carrying you swiftly towards the bedroom. Startled by the sudden action, you release a tiny gasp which is met with his deep, reassuring laughter.

"Wait, I need to cook dinner!" you attempt to resist, but his affectionate peck on your cheek silences your concerns. "Don't worry, babe, I'll order us some takeout instead," he promises, his cool, moist nose pressing against your skin.

Carrying you into your shared bedroom, he places you carefully beneath the sheets before joining you in bed. Enveloping you within his furry arms, he whispers in his deep voice, "You deserve a nice cuddling session after today."

Snuggling deeper into his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his body, you hear him snort playfully before his rough tongue grazes across the crown of your head.

"Thank you," you whisper. "I love you."

"Anything for you, babe," he replies tenderly, squeezing you a bit tighter. "And I love you too."

[novaursa]

What about one where the small folk of winterfell and the people of the castle make friendly, suggestive gossip from giggly women and knowing men about cregan and targ!reader. Their lord and lady are close with one another and it is often talked about and seen that they frequent the bed chamber (if yk what I mean 👀)

the folk of Winterfell feel at ease knowing their lord and lady seem to be in love, similar to the honeymoon period and young love.

You don’t have to use this quote i came up with, but it inspired me to ask for this idea “I’m sure our new lady will provide both Winterfell and our Lord with many Stark children. They are certainly not opposed to practicing their duty”

— 🐠

Winterfell's Warmth

- Summary: Cregan takes you to be his wife, a fire to his ice. And it's not long until smallfolk notice just how much Lord Stark is devoted to his Targaryen bride. 

- Paring: targ!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: This entire scene is from the perspective of the smallfolk.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

- A/N: This is the last request that I'll be posting today.

Winterfell bustles with the hum of daily life, as it always does—iron clanging in the forges, boots scuffing over the ancient stones, and the soft murmurs of the smallfolk as they go about their duties. But today, there's a special kind of lightness in the air, a sense of warmth despite the looming chill that clings to the North. The hearths burn brighter, and even the winds seem to whisper with a mischievous grin.

The reason for this subtle shift? You, Y/N, the new Lady of Winterfell, and your lord husband, Cregan Stark. Since your arrival, the inhabitants of the castle have grown accustomed to your frequent disappearances with their lord—disappearances that always lead back to your shared bedchamber. The smallfolk know, of course, as do the courtiers. They know very well what goes on behind those thick stone walls, and the knowledge brings them no small amount of amusement. 

In the courtyard, a group of washerwomen gossip while scrubbing linens in the cold, frothy water of a trough. Their fingers are red from the chill, but their spirits remain high.

“Have you heard?” one of them, a round-faced woman named Ellyn, leans in, lowering her voice despite the fact that no one important is nearby. “Our lady was seen entering the lord’s chambers again this morning, not long after the first bell rang.”

A younger girl, barely past sixteen, giggles and covers her mouth. “She didn’t leave until just before the midday meal yesterday, either!”

Another woman, older and seasoned from years of service, cocks an eyebrow but smiles knowingly. “Winterfell hasn’t been this alive since…well, since Lord Cregan’s own parents. I’d wager the bedchambers have seen more use in the past fortnight than in the last decade combined.”

The women burst into laughter, their voices carrying through the open courtyard. Ellyn smirks, leaning in even closer. “I’m sure our new lady will provide both Winterfell and our Lord with many Stark children. They are certainly not opposed to practicing their duty.”

The young girl flushes a little but can’t help but join in the giggling. "It's true, isn't it? They’ve only been married a moon’s turn, and yet I’ve never seen a man so... devoted to his wife."

“Well,” the older woman says with a playful shrug, “the Starks may be wolves, but it seems our Lord’s heart is well and truly claimed by a dragon.”

Across the courtyard, a pair of stable boys are equally enthralled with the ongoing rumors. One of them, tall and lanky, leans against the stall door, shaking his head.

"I swear by the old gods, I’ve never seen Lord Stark smile so much," the boy says, eyes wide with the incredulity of it all. "He used to be all serious, always about duty, honor, the needs of Winterfell. But now? Every time I see him, he’s got that daft look on his face, like he’s already back in the Lady’s arms."

The other stable boy, shorter and stockier, chuckles. "Aye, I noticed that too. You'd think a man so cold in demeanor wouldn’t be so… warm in his private affairs." He glances around, as if Lord Cregan himself might be lurking behind a pillar. "But gods, can you blame him? Our lady is like a flame. She’s got the blood of dragons in her veins, and it’s like he can’t resist her."

The tall boy laughs loudly. "Well, Winterfell is colder than the South, and a bit of fire in his bed can’t hurt, can it?"

Their laughter echoes through the stables, joining the chorus of quiet gossip that fills the castle.

In the kitchens, the cooks are no less entertained. An older man, grizzled and stern-faced, chops onions with a practiced hand. "It's a good thing they’re so taken with each other," he grumbles to a nearby scullery maid. "Winterfell needs strong heirs, and soon. Better they start early."

The maid, a cheerful woman with flushed cheeks from the heat of the ovens, snickers. "Aye, I doubt that'll be a problem. They’re always together, locked away for hours. If they keep at it, we’ll have a new little Stark running about before winter comes."

"I’ve heard they’re inseparable," another cook chimes in, stirring a pot of stew. "Lord Cregan hardly lets her out of his sight. It’s almost sweet, really."

"Sweet?" the old man scoffs, though there’s no real bite in his voice. "It’s practical, is what it is. They’re doing their duty, ensuring the Stark line continues. But," he adds with a chuckle, "it doesn’t hurt that they seem to enjoy it so much."

The scullery maid laughs. "Oh, they more than enjoy it! I was passing by their chamber the other night, and, well…" She lets the sentence hang, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let’s just say, they were not quiet."

The group erupts into laughter, and even the old man can’t suppress a grin.

And so it goes throughout Winterfell. From the servants who clean your chambers to the guards posted outside the great hall, everyone in the castle is aware of the affection that flows so freely between you and Cregan. Even in the great hall during the evening feasts, there are stolen glances and soft touches between you, enough for the smallfolk to notice.

At one such feast, a group of bannermen seated at a lower table murmur amongst themselves, casting knowing looks up at the high table where you sit beside your husband. Lord Cregan’s hand rests casually on your thigh beneath the table, his thumb tracing circles through the fabric of your gown. You lean toward him, whispering something that makes him laugh softly—a sound rare enough in these halls that it turns heads.

One of the bannermen, a grizzled old warrior with silver streaking his beard, nudges the man beside him. "See how he looks at her? Like she’s the only thing in the world that matters."

The younger man nods. "Aye, I’ve noticed. Seems our Lord is well and truly smitten."

"Better that than cold and distant, I say," the older man replies. "Winterfell’s seen enough hardship. It’s good for the people to know their Lord is happy. And with the lady he’s taken to bed, I’d say we’ll be seeing Stark children sooner rather than later."

The younger man grins. "Aye, and they’re certainly not opposed to practicing their duty."

As laughter ripples through the hall, you catch Cregan’s gaze, and in that moment, the world seems to fade away. His eyes, as grey as the Northern skies, are filled with a warmth reserved only for you. And though you are surrounded by the murmurs and laughter of your people, all you feel is the pull of his love, binding you to him as surely as the ancient stones of Winterfell bind the North.

The smallfolk can whisper all they like. Let them. Winterfell is at ease, and your love for Cregan is as fierce and unyielding as the North itself.

[yuurivoice]

Ah yes, the decaying corpse of Twitter strikes once again, but wait! Could it be that the user base is finally so sick of the goofball loser chode at the helm that we've decided to well and truly yeet?

Sorta, for me at least. I've long grown tired of Twitter's rapid decline into what I can only call a whirlpool of toxicity that feeds engagement to the worst people. The negative post turned dunking retweet loop is not really my thing, given that it all seems to boil down to dick wagging and self congratulatory circle jerks.

It's just not a platform I enjoy using at this point. It has been my go to for information and news more than anything, and frankly, I can just go get it elsewhere.

Tumblr, ironically, has withstood the test of time. I began my journey here, and I'm going to invest more time into using it as more than a glorified ask box. How much effort I want to put into it remains to be seen, but I'll probably do more posting and promo here on the blog because SURPRISE tags work. They've always worked. They're fantastic. People can find my shit. There are years old posts still thriving today, because tags.

I am also over on BlueSky! I have high hopes for the platform as it seems to really skew towards everything I prefer in terms of user base, interactions, engagement, etc! I think now is a really good time to try it out and give it a spin as new users are piling in and it has a lot of promise.

Like, actually. I know a lot of us have done the new platform song and dance for years. But Musk and his new best friend seem to have radically alienated a huge portion of users and the line in the sand has been drawn.

So, follow me here!

[thedensworld]

Sweet Macaroons | C.Sc

Pairing: Gangster!Seungcheol x Baker!Reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Words Count: ±600

Summary: Seungcheol was far from pleased when a food critic posted a negative review that started to impact your sales. He couldn't stand to see you upset.

In the midst of a picturesque five months, Seungcheol, with an air of exclusivity, tenderly asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything seemed to move in slow motion around you, as if the universe itself was savoring the moment. His crew, astounded, couldn't fathom that a humble bakery owner just down the block from their bar had captured their boss's heart. He had transformed into something they never imagined: a unabashedly cheesy boy. Even Jeonghan, Seungcheol's right-hand man, remained baffled by the depth of his friend's infatuation with you. He couldn't quite grasp what had caused Seungcheol to fall so hard until he witnessed how Seungcheol would gladly stop the world at your command.

As an example of Seungcheol's devotion, he had gone as far as hiring a bodyguard to watch over you and ensure your safety. Seungcheol, ever mysterious about his business, would simply say, "I do business in Seoul and Busan," which, in its own way, was true. He owned nearly a hundred bars and nightclubs, not to mention his own association—a realm of details you didn't need to delve into.

Your bodyguard, Jun, who currently disguised as a barista in your bakery, would dutifully relay every detail to Seungcheol. This included mundane activities like your trips to the grocery store, visits from friends at the bakery, or even encounters with rude customers. Despite being in the know about your daily affairs through Jun, Seungcheol cherished hearing you recount your day, especially when it involved a customer that cussed on you. He'd teasingly inquire, "Should I track him down and make him pay?" A promise he would have swiftly fulfilled if you had not said, "No, you don't have to. I'll give him a piece mind when I'm a billionaire."

At times, Seungcheol really wants to say, "Marry me, and you can cuss him back in an instant." He was acutely aware of the influence he held.

However, he received an extremely irritating message from Jun, stating that a popular food critic had left a scathing review on their social media, claiming to have found a fly and cockroach legs in your sweets. This review had a detrimental impact on your sales and the overall image of the bakery, as people began leaving unpleasant comments on your social media platforms.

"Jeonghan, do you know this person?" Seungcheol inquired, displaying a video of the food critic.

Jeonghan confirmed, "Yeah, they're a very influential food critic."

Seungcheol nodded thoughtfully and hummed, "Do you know how to contact them?" he pressed further.

"I think we just need to get in touch with their management. They'll provide you with the pricing for their content," Jeonghan explained, prompting another question from Seungcheol.

"Then we can have them review our food however we want?" Jeonghan nodded, "Why? Are you thinking about having them promote our new foodbar?" he inquired.

Seungcheol shook his head, simultaneously signaling to Jeonghan that he wanted to be dropped off at your bakery.

Jun had informed Seungcheol that you had closed the bakery early today due to the lack of customers following the internet sensation. When Seungcheol arrived, only Jun was present in the bakery. He mentioned that you had gone to the convenience store for a few minutes. As Seungcheol patiently waited at one of the tables, you returned with a plastic bag in hand. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't immediately notice him. Instead, you went straight to Jun, telling him he could go home. Jun subtly gestured towards Seungcheol, indicating that he was waiting for you.

"Hi..." Your voice, though soft as always, carries a subtle shade of sadness. Seungcheol swears he can hear it, a touch of blue in your tone.

He smiles, approaching you and subtly signaling for Jun to leave the shop.

"Are you okay? I saw it online," Seungcheol asks gently once Jun has vanished from view.

You smile back at him, but tears well up in your eyes, trickling down your cheeks. You turn away, hiding your face from him as you wipe away the tears. Seungcheol's heart aches at the sight, a feeling he's never experienced before, like someone's squeezing his heart, causing a deep ache.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmurs softly, turning you to face him and pulling you into an embrace. He can feel the tightness in his chest intensify when he hears you sob.

This is the first time he's seen you cry in the five months you've been dating. He swears he'd never want to be the cause of your tears, let alone someone else.

"It's okay, baby. Bad things happen sometimes. It's not your fault," he reassures you as you try to explain how diligently you maintain your bakery's hygiene and ensure the freshness of ingredients. There's no way the accusations the food critic made could be true.

Seungcheol noticed the contents of the plastic bag you had been holding earlier: cleaning soap and equipment. His heart breaks once again, this time tinged with anger.

"Let's go home and rest, okay? I'll hire someone to clean the shop. I don't want to see you laboring with a heavy heart like this," he insists.

Seungcheol calls Jeonghan and swiftly arranges for his people to clean your shop. He drives you home, ensuring you have a proper dinner before settling down for some much-needed rest. Once you're peacefully asleep, he quietly slips away, reaching out to Jun and Jeonghan.

"Get them for me before midnight. Alive," he instructs.

Seungcheol doesn't concern himself with the specifics of how they carried out his request. But when his people successfully bring them to his office, he finally confronts the face that caused his girl to cry.

"What's your name?" Seungcheol asks, rising from his seat and approaching them.

"Who put you up to this?" Seungcheol presents their damning post about your bakery to their face. Poor soul, Seungcheol thinks. This food critic probably never imagined they'd be dragged in by a gangster and subjected to an interrogation like this.

Once Seungcheol acquires the name, he signals his people to reveal the extent of their capabilities. Images of their family and significant other are displayed, and they immediately plead for an apology, expressing regret for their actions.

"You should've thought about that before you posted that garbage," Seungcheol states, fixing them with a steely gaze.

"Upload a clarification video about your previous review. Go to that bakery tomorrow and apologize to the owner. Post both of those things before lunch if you want to spare them," Seungcheol directs, referring to the individuals in the photos as he delivers his unwavering ultimatum.

*

"It was a very wrong act of me to accept the offer to give a bad review to another bakery. I deeply apologize to the owner and my followers for doing such a wrong thing."

Seungcheol smiled at you as you showed him the video from the same account that had claimed they found a cockroach leg on your macaroon.

"See! I knew that my bakery and kitchen have passed the hygiene standards," you said, placing your phone down. There was a visible pout on your face, prompting Seungcheol to let out a chuckle.

"You're too cute," Seungcheol teased, pinching your cheek. He was relieved to see no trace of tears like the previous night.

You gently pulled his hand from your cheek as you stood up to restock the macaroon stall, which was nearly empty. Seungcheol couldn't help but smile as he watched you, his girl, his love, engrossed in the work you adored.

"Before you go, want a macaroon and your favorite latte?" you offered. He swore he would nod to anything you said.

"Here! I've packed some for your staff as well," you added, handing him boxes filled with sweets and a bundle of coffees for Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

He wouldn't let anyone steal your smile, even if he had to stop the world.

[jadeacereigen]

Why I see Reigen as asexual

This is a very self-indulgent post, but it's his birthday today and I wanted to compile all the things about Reigen that make me see him as a fellow ace.

Please don't take this list too seriously! None of these are This Is Canon signs and some of them are just jokes. Also, it's pretty hard to find evidence of asexuality barring a character explicitly saying "hey i never feel sexual attraction" so bear with ne here.

1. That Scene With Dimple

Yeah, we all know the scene.

"But does love always have to come with sexual desires?" -Reigen Arataka

This is what almost asexual person asks at some point. It's just such an asexual quote. Society often conflates the two things as inherently hand-in-hand, but that's not true for everyone!

2. He never shows attraction to anyone

Now of course, the story is not primarily focused on him, and he's usually with Mob so he probably wouldn't be flirting in front of him. But there aren't even MOMENTS of him showing a smidge of attraction to other people, even when we see his life without Mob's presence. It really stands out in comparison to other goofy mentor figures in manga/anime who are commonly portrayed as hopeless flirts.

3. He's never been in a relationship before

When asked about his past romantic experiences in the official fanbook, he pretends he's had plenty of passionate romances and then describes a scene from Titanic before saying "Marriage is one of the countless types of lifestyles you can choose. It's best if everyone does whatever they want." So basically, despite being 29 years old at the time of the fanbook, he has had no significant romantic experiences and doesn't see himself getting married. (Even if he might be interested, as I'll explain in the next point.)

This is not exclusive to asexuality of course but it's a very common sentiment for ace people imo

4. He doesn't think he can be in a relationship

In Confession Arc, he has no idea how to ask someone out and has to cheat while giving advice to Mob. He also tells Serizawa afterward that if anyone saw him for who he really was, they'd turn him down right away.

But then, at least in the manga, he says that he hopes he can be in a relationship where he and his partner "can exist without distorting each other". So I think he does want to be in a relationship, he's just way too insecure about himself for many, many reasons.

I like to think one of these reasons is because he is asexual. It's a struggle for allo aces to find someone whose sexual preferences are compatible with ours, and yet it remains important to maintain our boundaries (aka not distort ourselves).

5. His anime outfit has ace flag colors

I mean. Gray, white, pink purple...

6. His reaction to a porn virus

Look at the face of this poor asexual man who spent an entire night trying and failing to get rid of a porn virus...

7. He is asexual

He is just asexual hope this helps (:

[russellsppttemplates]

Carrying it all on your shoulders (Daniel Ricciardo)

Juggling two kids without Daniel proved to be harder than you thought

Note: english is not my first language. I don't get requests for Daniel that often, and dad!Daniel is very fun and cute to write!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader's self-doubt and low self esteem associated with motherhood and parenting, exhaustion, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Y/N, are you sure you want to do it? I'll do it no problem", your colleague assured you, "even one of the interns can do it, Y/N! Seriously, go home earlier!", she offered.

"I can do it", you added, crossing over the task you had completed on your post it note and writing two more down, "Sophia just started her ballet class and Alice's nursery had a pantomime today so they're keeping the kids for a little longer", you winked at her, gathering the documents and getting ready to complete the task.

Lately, this was your routine. Drop the girls at school and nursery, head up to work, pick the girls up and drive home before homework, playtime, dinner time and then the bedtime routine. When Daniel was still home, it was usually him doing the school and nursery runs so it wasn't like it added a lot to your routine, but it requires more juggling than you initially thought.

By the time you finished the tasks, you were the only one left, shutting down your laptop and closing all of the doors once you had your belongings all packed into your bag, finally calling it a day and heading to your car.

Picking a very sleepy Alice from nursery and then a pouty Sophia from her ballet class, you tried your best to not bother the youngest one, "how was your class today, princess?", you wondered once you stopped at a red light, turning around slightly so you could look at your daughter's face.

"It was okay", she stated, remaining unusually quiet all the way back home as she looked outside the window.

"I'm going to put Alice down for a little nap and then I'll go and help you with your homework, okay?", you said to Sophia as she set her backpack down near her desk, "I don't have any today", she said, closing the door behind her as you walked to Alice's room, laying her down on the mattress and kissing the top of her head, feeling it warmer than usual.

"Oh, babygirl", you cooed, grabbing the thermometer from the medicine cubby and putting it on her ear, silently hoping it was just you.

A minute later, the result showed she was beggining to develop a fever. Sighing, you stored the thermometer in its box and got the medicine from your bathroom, grabbing the syringe to put it in her mouth when you managed to waker her up without a big fuss.

"I know you don't want this, baby", you cooed as Alice stirred in her sleep, big brown eyes looking up at you with tears welling up on them, "take this for mummy, okay?", you pleaded, "you'll feel better, my love", you said, holding her on your arms so she could fall asleep again.

The tiredness came over you pretty quickly, making you sit on the rocking chair, closing your eyes for a little bit and taking a deep breath. Because she was your second child, you didn't feel like the first time Sophia got sick. While in the first time, you ran around like a headless chicken, ready to bring her to the emergency room and messaging her pediatrician until both your parents' and Daniel's parents assured you and your husband you were doing just fine. So far, she didn't seem to bothered by it, just sleep, so you allowed yourself the moment to rest with her, rubbing her back and showering her with kisses and a good cuddle.

"Mummy?", Sophia asked, knocking on the door of her sister's room to announce she was coming in, "what are we having for dinner?", she asked, taking in the sight of you and her sister.

"Oh", you noted, not having given it much thought until that moment, "we can have spaghetti bolognese, I'll just have to boil some pasta - I think we still have some of those heart shapes pastas daddy brought home the other day -, or we could have some chicken nuggets and rice if you prefer that", you offered, thinking of the meal plan meals you had in the fridge as you didn't feel like cooking everything from scratch tonight.

"The spaghetti bolognese is fine", she whispered, coming closer to you and kissing her sister's hand, "is Alice sick?", she questioned.

"She has a bit of a fever, it's probably something she picked up from in nursery, you used to get these every now and again, too", you explained, brushing the curls away from her eyes, "she'll be fine though. Are you feeling okay, beautiful girl?", you checked with her, wanting to be prepared in case both kids came down with this bug.

"I feel fine", she assured you, kissing your cheek before she saw you get up and grabbing the sling, wrapping her sister against you, "do you want to help me with the pasta then?", you smiled, stretching your hand so she could grab it and you both could head to the kitchen.

"I'll set the plates", Sophias offered, making you kiss the top of her head as a thank you and going back to stirring the pasta while the sauce warmed up in another pot.

You ate the food in a quieter environment that usual, and while the reasonable voice in your head told you that it was due to the fact that everyone was a little tired, the snarky and mean one made you feel guilty.

As you washed up the pots and plates from dinner while Sophia spent some time watching cartoons on TV, your mind took you to the mom guilt feelings, rewinding back to all of the times in the last two weeks where you didn't spend time with either of them separately, all of the times where you had to rush to get out of the house all in one piece and all of the things you weren't doing well.

"Soph", you called, "I'm going upstairs to put Alice down, is there anything I can do for you before I go?", you wondered.

"Can I have your phone so I speak to daddy, please?", she asked, "he hasn't called today", she reasoned, "take it from my pocket, bub", you said, tuning your back to her slightly so she could retrieve the device from the denim material, "call me if you need anything, okay?", you checked with her, "okay, mummy! Night night, Alice, I love you", she waved at her sister who blew her a sloppy kiss.

Sitting down on the sofa, Sophia pressed Daniel's contact, smiling at the love heart on the contact despite having seen it many times before, "hey!", Daniel said, a little surprised to see the little girl's face instead of yours.

"Hi daddy!", she smiled, "mummy is putting Alice to sleep so I thought I'd talk to you for a bit", she said, "I have something to tell you".

"Oh, okay, tell me then", Daniel concerned, sensing that what your daughter wanted to tell him was something troubling her.

"I'm confused", she began, "do you remember that book you and mummy read to me and Alice? The one with the monster who is now doctor?", she tried as Daniel nodded.

Anna Llenas was one of your favourite authors for kids' stories and you always read them to your family. The way they spoke about their emotions and how to deal with them became a great tool to get them to talk openly about how they felt and Sophia seemed to be getting it.

"Yes, baby, what about it?", Daniel asked.

"I feel confused, because today I didn't really want to go to the ballet practice but I did it anyway", she said, "so I was really quiet and my friends noticed it, the teacher, too. And mummy, I think she's upset with me, too", she admitted.

"Well, do you remember what the turtle nurse did in the book?", Daniel questioned, "she had her first aid box full of things that make her heart feell warm and good", Sophia mumbled, "go and get it then, princess", Daniel urged.

Sophia pulled the box from under the sofa. The premise of the activity on the book as simple: the kids had to make a box full of things that helped them regulate their emotions and feelings when they felt confused, sad or anxious. While Alice was still too little to make one, Sophia loved the arts and crafts aspect of it and spent the whole afternoon with Daniel making her perfect first aid kit.

"Do you remember what we do with the bee drawing?", Daniel guided, "we take a big breath in, and then a big breath out", he exemplified, doing it three more times with her before speaking up again, "do you feel better?".

"I do, daddy", she said, fishing out something out of the box, "this is the pillow we made with mummy, she sewed it with my favourite soft fabrics", she smiled at the memory, rubbing it on her cheek, "and a picture of us, look!", she showed Daniel the frame with the picture of the first race Alice attended, the four of you in front of the motorhome with big smiles.

"That's right baby, we can also dance it out a little if you want", Daniel offered but she shook her head, showing him the empty bottle of medicine, "this is the 'No medicine', right?", she checked with him. The bottle was of course empty, but the idea was there.

"That's right! Sometimes we have to say no when we don't want to do some things", Daniel advised, remembering the story well enough without having the actual book in front of him, "to adults, we have to be more careful because there are things that we can't run from, but for your ballet classes, for example, you can say you don't want to go if you don't want to, sweetie", he told her earnestly.

"Okay daddy", she whispered, taking another deep breath with her finger following the wavy bee line on the drawing.

"Promise you'll tell me or mummy whenever that happens?", he asked, "I promise, daddy", she smiled, seeming calmer and happier now.

"That's great, Soph. I'm very proud of you for telling me that", he complimented, "Can I ask you about mummy, princess? Is she still upstairs?", he checked with her, not wanting her to think he didn't care about her anymore.

"Yes, daddy", Sophia smiled before pouting, "she's a little tired, and yesterday I think she was crying. I know I wasn't supposed to be up, but I forgot Snuggles by the door", she explained, mentioning her stuffed teddy that she loved to sleep with, "and when I went to pick it up, I heard mummy sniffling, she was doing it quietly but I heard it still", she told him.

Your daughter confirmed his suspicions. Before he left, you spoke about how you were going to handle two kids and your job, and while at the time it seemed good, the practical side of the conversation looked to be otherwise. He called everyday and he noticed you looking more tired each day, but he justified it on the adjustment. Eventually, there would be a day that you finally adapted to the routine, but that was wishful thinking.

"Soph, are you still on the phone with daddy?", you called from the corridor, loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough that it wouldn't disturb Alice in the sleep you worked so hard in getting her to.

"Hey, gorgeous", Daniel said as you appeared on the screen as Sophia handed you your phone back, "I'm going to get ready for bed, mummy, I'll wait for you when you can read my bedtime story", she smiled, kissing you cheek and saying goodbye to Daniel.

"How was your day?", he asked, "busy busy, but it's over now. Things are going at full speed. Sophia was a bit quieter when she arrived, but she seemed better - no need to rub it in that she's a daddy's girl -, and Alice has caught the bug that has been going around", you shrugged your shoulders, "her temperature is slowly cooling down, and other than that, she's fine", you sighed, "and yours?".

Daniel told you about his meetings, not wanting to pester you too much as he could sense the tiredness you felt, "I'll let you go rest, though. Have a good night, gorgeous", he blew you a kiss before your face disappeared.

Opening his laptop, he looked for a flight that would make him arrive just in time for school pick up, "I can't stay for the rest of the week", Daniel said to the members of the team on the meeting room, "Y/N and the girls need me back home, so if that's okay with you, we'll do these remotely", he half stated, looking for any signs of discontentment or disagreement.

As soon as he got the green light, he couldn't wait to finish that sponsorship content meeting, filming everything he needed to as quickly as possible before bidding goodbye to everyone, going back to the hotel room and pack everything up so he could go to the airport. A long flight away from his wife and kids and all would be well.

Alice didn't sleep all that well, and in turn neither did you, so you called in to work to let them know that you would be working from home as best as you could since your little girl was staying home for the day. Sophia seemed well that morning when you dropped her off at school, soothing your heart from the worries that had plagued you.

"It's me and you, baby girl", you said, kissing the top of her head as she slept on the sling, her fist grasping the fabric of your cardigan as you walked around the house, hoping to really settle her when you heard a car outside.

"Why does that look like daddy?", you mumbled out loud as if Alice could give you her opinion, focusing on the man walking up to the front door and giving you enough time to open it.

"Before you say anything, I had to do it and I won't go back", Daniel raised his hands once he set his luggage inside, closing the door behind him and kissing the top of your head and then Alice's as you stood there surprised.

"Danny, we didn't- I-", you tried, and as if your mouth wouldn't let you lie, the words didn't seem to come out of you.

"I came as soon as I could, and I should've come sooner", he said, "I want to be here for you as much as I can and I need to make sure my girls are okay - all three of them", he looked at you, "Soph told me she heard you crying", he stated as he got you to sit on the sofa in the living room.

"Another point for the greatest mother of the year award", you chastised yourself, taking a deep breath to level out your emotions.

"No, none of that", Daniel offered sternly, "you have been juggling everything on your own and it's harder that we originally thought it would be. I'm sorry it took me so long to come", he apoligised, hands undoing the sling so he could get Alice to rest against his chest instead.

"It's been a lot - and frankly, I haven't been very good at delegating at work", you chuckled, smiling at the delicious sight of a sleeping child on Daniel's chest.

"You also need the 'No medicine' Soph has in her box", he giggled despite the seriousness of the conversation, "I can see that you haven't slept all that much, so why don't you go and have a good sleep?", he suggested, "we'll talk a little bit more about this afterwards, but you need to rest first", he said, "I'll go and pick up Sophia, so you just stay here and take care of yourself, okay?", he said, tapping your butt playfully to get you to get up and head to your bedroom.

While you caught up on sleep, Daniel tidied the house as much as he could before picking up Sophia, who excitedly ran up to her father when she saw him and his sister on the parking lot, "Is mummy with you, too?", she wondered, "no, mummy is resting at home. We are going to get some food for dinner so we can all have a cosy night in, how does that sound?", he questioned, earning cheers from her and her sister who qas thankfully feeling much better, giggling in delight as she clapped her hands.

"Who's that? That's mummy, isn't she looking pretty today, Alice? Yes, she is!", Daniel said as you walked into the kitchen, Sophia's notebook open on the table as she wrote on it, "she didn't want to leave the kitchen and I wanted to make pancakes for their snacks, so we found a middle ground", your husband justified himself.

"It's okay", you smiled, kissing everyone's cheeks and tapping Alice's nose, "well, I'm glad you're feeling better, little miss", you said.

"Also, I'm in charge of dinner. I spoke to the people on your team - I'm their boss' husband so I sort of have some power too", he joked, "and they're going to delegate the work these next few days so you can stay home to rest and just work a teeny tiny little bit. I also plan on doing the school pick ups and cooking", he smiled, proud of his plans.

"I'm okay to help, too, Daniel, really", you tried, "no need for that, like I said! I'm going to take charge of the next few days, there's no reason why I can't and it's going to be great", he giggled, "we're in this together, darling, and there's no way you're carrying this all on your shoulders".

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 7 (late)

SUMMARY: Jake had always been confident, the calm in any storm, but lately, the weight of an upcoming mission had cast a shadow over him. No matter what you tried, his mind remained distant, locked on the challenges ahead. Desperate to help him unwind, you took a bold step, sinking to your knees before him, offering a moment of release from the pressures weighing him down. As his eyes finally met yours, dark with both surprise and need, you knew you had his full attention. In that moment, the tension between you shattered, and what followed was a much-needed escape for both of you.

PROMPT: "You look so pretty on your knees."

KINK: Face Fucking

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT. (Male Receiving Oral)

WORD COUNT: 768

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am aware that I am getting this posted very late. I am so sorry for that! There was a family emergency I was taking care of most of today which didn't leave me any time to write or get anything posted. Hopefully, it's worth the wait!

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 @saucy-sassy-sparkly I  @alipap3 I @dudinhastuff I  @lunatygerqueen   I  @hookslove1592 I @glenpowellluver

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! (I currently have one for Glen Powell & His Characters, One for Bradley/Rooster now, and then a third for WWE/Wrestling. I also can create one for Bucky & other MCU characters if there's interest for more of those characters!)

Jake had been distant for days, his usual lighthearted demeanor weighed down by the upcoming mission. You’d seen him stressed before, but this felt different. He was quieter, less playful, and constantly lost in thought. You hated seeing him like this—so consumed by his duty that it seemed to block out everything else.

Tonight, you were determined to change that, even if just for a few minutes. He was sitting on the edge of your shared bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring blankly at the floor. You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Jake,” you whispered softly, your lips brushing against his skin.

He hummed, acknowledging you but not fully engaged.

You tried again, this time letting your hands wander down his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch.  “You need to take a break. You’ve been thinking about that mission all day.”

“I can’t,” he muttered, his voice tight, as if his thoughts were an anchor pulling him down. “There’s too much riding on this one.”

You understood. His job demanded perfection, and the stakes were always high. But you also knew he needed to get out of his own head for a bit—to relax, even if just for a moment.

You kissed him again, this time more insistently, running your fingers through his hair as you tried to coax him out of his trance.

But it wasn’t enough. His mind was miles away, focused on the mission that was still days off. You pulled back slightly, frustration and concern warring within you. You couldn’t stand to see him like this, so you decided to take a different approach.

Slowly, you sank to your knees in front of him, your hands moving to his belt. His eyes flicked to yours, momentarily surprised by your shift in position.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, his brows furrowing in curiosity.

“Helping you relax,” you said simply, your voice soft but determined as you undid his belt and tugged it free.

You could feel his hesitation as he watched you work the button and zipper on his pants, but he didn’t stop you. Instead, he let out a shaky breath, his body already responding to the promise of your touch.

As you pulled his pants down just enough to free him, you glanced up, and his gaze was locked on you, desire flickering in his eyes.

“You look so pretty on your knees,” he murmured, the compliment causing a rush of heat to flood your cheeks.

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling his length pulse in your palm. Then you leaned in and took him into your mouth, Jake’s hand immediately finding your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he exhaled a deep, shaky breath. His hips twitched slightly, and you could feel the tension in his body begin to ease.

It didn’t take long before his hand tightened its grip in your hair, holding you in place as his hips began to move on their own. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, the stress of the past few days melting away with each thrust. You could feel the weight of his worries lifting, even if only temporarily, as he lost himself in the sensation of your mouth.

“God,” he groaned, his voice rough, his body finally giving in to the release he so desperately needed. You could sense the shift in him, the way his focus turned completely to you, to the pleasure you were giving him, and it sent a rush of satisfaction through you.

Finally, his movements stilled, and he released a low, guttural groan as he came, his body shuddering as the tension drained from him. He stayed there for a moment, his hand still gently tangled in your hair, his breath uneven as he came down from the high.

When he finally opened his eyes and looked down at you, there was something softer in his expression—a quiet gratitude, perhaps, or a deep sense of relief. He gently pulled you back up to him, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, appreciative kiss.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice warm and genuine. He pulled you into his lap, cradling you close as if he didn’t want to let go. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

You smiled softly, resting your head against his chest. “You need to take care of yourself too, Jake. Not just the mission.”

He sighed, his arms tightening around you. “I know,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “And now it’s time to take care of you.”

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Written in the Stars [Teaser]

Pairing: military strategist!Mingi x royal physician!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Summary: Mingi had spent countless years searching for the angel who saved his life when he was on the verge of death. He believed god was on his side when she finally reappeared before him, but she was now so near yet so far, so unobtainable. No longer just a young medical trainee, she had become an esteemed royal physician—a woman working within the palace walls. And what did that mean? It meant she now belonged to His Majesty.

A/N: Credits to @sundaybossanova for contributing the main idea of Mingi's spinoff. I might have changed most of the proposed plot, but the MC's identity as a physician and how the two first meet remains Sunny's idea.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 1

"Ooh, guess who's here again," your colleague remarked, nodding toward the entrance of the royal medical hall where a certain tall, handsome military strategist strode in for what felt like the thousandth time this week. You sighed, refusing to look up from your book. "Please tell me it's not him."

She gulped, watching him approach. "Hate to break it to you, but it is your not-so-secret admirer, General Officer Song."

"Good afternoon, ladies. I, uh… I'm here today because—" his familiar deep voice rang out as he paused at a respectful distance.

Clearing your throat, you finally closed your book and turned to face him with a courteous smile, finishing his sentence for him, "Good afternoon to you too, Officer Song. Let me guess, you're here because you got hurt during training again?"

Instead of the usual sheepish nod, he shook his head and nervously fiddled with his fingers. "No, actually… I came to ask if… i-if you would like to accompany me to the royal banquet celebrating Joseon's unity with Ruhon tonight, Royal Physician Ahn?"

You froze at his question, and your colleague mirrored your reaction. The two of you exchanged bewildered glances, trying to process the fact that this fool was openly pursuing you, a woman working in the palace, someone who belonged to the King.

Does he realise what he's doing?

You're probably wondering why I'm posting this on a Wednesday (depending on where you are) but it's a public holiday here today in Malaysia, so surprise!! It's finally Princess Mingi's turn! The way y'all thought his spinoff would be the first and here he is HAHA

In case you're confused and are not sure what I mean by MC belonging to the King, please read ✨this✨

As always, I'll do my best to get the first part out as soon as I can! Let me know your thoughts on the concept! <3

Tag list (1/9):

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[itwasntimethatdidit40]

You look like a fun place to sit.

Gif credits

Pairing: Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader

Words count: 2667

Rating: + 18, MDNI

Summary: You decide to enjoy a night at the movies, your neighbor Frankie ruins it all. Or maybe not?

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, fluff, sort of romcom vibes (?), smut, enemies to lovers, age unspecified but they are both full grown adults, Frankie is annoying but also cute and lovely and fucking gorgeous, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, other than that no other description of her is given, fingering (f receiving), sexual acts in public places (again? Again. I'm not even particularly interested in doing that irl I don't know what to say to you, please forgive me), pet names (honey, baby, princess), arguing, kissing, no use of Spanish because I terribly suck at it and I don't want to butcher another language LOL. If by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

It’s my first Frankie ff and I’m so incredibly nervous to post it you all! I really hope it doesn’t sucks because I had so much fun writing it today in one sitting ‘cause I’m just an impulsive impatient mess. (Leo sun and Aries moon, what do you expect from me if not chaos? I had nothing a few hours ago, I even skipped WIP Wednesday and btw thanks for the tag @almostempty 🩷)

Title comes from a gif of Karen Walker from Will and Grace that I saw last night, it made me laugh a lot and this thing was born LOL

As usual, English is not my first language so please be gentle, no beta and no proofreading, it’s tiny and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry 💀 Thanks to anyone who will read this!

“Excuse me, you should stand up, that’s my seat” 

Frankie turns, looking at you with a surprised expression “I don’t think so, you’re wrong” he replies. 

Ugh, your neighbor.

Frankie lives two houses away from you. Last winter you had a fight at a neighborhood meeting because you pointed out that he keeps forgetting to put the recycling bins back in, and he told you to mind your own business and called you an hysterical witch.

A stupid fight that ended up with you not saying hello to each other and various other arguments about your flashy Christmas lights or his overgrown yard. You and Frankie fight constantly, about everything. And now he's here.

You glare at him “I’m not wrong at all, look” and you wave your ticket under his nose “P10, see? It’s my seat and you’re rude”. 

A grin spreads across his face “listen, honey, I don’t know where you got this ticket, you probably made it yourself, I bought it a moment ago and it’s the same seat” 

He takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to you, remaining comfortably seated with a large popcorn box. 

You look at the ticket, him again, the ticket again “how the hell is that possible?! I booked it on their website a week ago” 

He sneers “I told you! It must be a system error, I don’t know, I’m not getting up from here”

You are furious. The theater is filling up and you absolutely don’t want to leave, you have been waiting for this movie for months and you have inspected the theater map choosing a seat that would guarantee you the very best view.

“I bought it first, so I have more right to be here than you do,” you say firmly and Frankie laughs. 

“Where are we, elementary school? Listen, honey, go buy yourself another ticket and leave me alone.” He replies crunching on popcorn.

The way he calls you “honey” irritates you deeply, it sounds like an insult.

“I’m not going anywhere, YOU get the fuck out of here” you hiss. 

“No” he simply replies and then he turns back at the screen pretending you’re not there. 

“Truly a gentleman, as usual. I have no words.” you roll your eyes and search for an usher to ask for help. No one is there. 

The movie starts in 5 minutes and you don’t want to miss anything you paid for. If you went to the box office right now to complain it would take forever to get back in. 

“Fuck” you exclaim and sit down next to him huffing. You are sure that someone will make you get up very early and it pisses you off.

Frankie continues to nibble on his popcorn and looks at you with an extremely amused expression, it seems like the show has become you.

“Why do you care so much about this movie anyway?” he asks you. “Does any of your relatives happen to be in it?“ 

You’re fuming. 

His teasing tone, his vaguely Spanish accent, his smirk, the sound of him chewing, everything bothers you.

“No. Shut the fuck up” you tell him with a death stare. 

You won’t tell him that your favorite actor stars in it, that you have every photo from the set of this movie saved on your phone, that you’ve read every article about it, and that you couldn’t wait to enjoy it on the first day of screening.

You can already hear his raucous laughter. No, you would never tell Frankie anything like that.

“You're not one of that guy's crazy fans, are you?” 

“What guy?” you ask him, pretending not to know what he's talking about. “Gladiator is one of my favorite movies, that's all. I just wanted to watch the sequel in peace. Someone is stopping me, though” 

“That guy, I bet you like him, what’s his name? Paul Pascal?” he stares at you searching for every little involuntary movement on your face that might give you away. 

“Oh for God’s sake, what are you doing here anyway? Do you even know what you're about to see? They are Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, two different people, you uncultered swine.” You yell. This guy is impossible.

“Yeah, whatever, so which one do you fancy?”

“Fucking nobody” you lie “I just want to watch a movie after a horrible week at work, okay?” You try to play on his guilt. If he has one, you think.

“Well, I've had a rough week too, okay?” he shrugs without stopping to give you that annoying little smile. “And it's not my fault that this theater is having problems with its computer system.”

You glance at him, wondering if he's telling the truth, it's impossible to guess from his face.

People keep sitting in the front rows and you start hoping that luck will be on your side and that no one will make you get up.

“Okay, look, now we're going to watch this movie and then we'll go our separate ways, please don't bother me anymore"

“As you wish, princess” he replies ironically.

You don't even answer him, you're too busy checking that no other people come in.

Finally the opening credits start to roll and the doors close with a dull thud.

You made it, despite this unbearable guy, you feel victorious.

You begin to relax in your chair and you don't know why you turn to look at him, lingering on his face for the first time in months.

His eyes are fixed on the screen. In the dim light you observe his raven curly hair tucked under his baseball cap, his dark eyes, the line of his prominent nose, his scruffy beard, his mustache, just above a pair of lips that seem made for kissing.

Really, truly, gorgeous.

You're so busy arguing with him all the time that you never realized how handsome he is.

He's wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you can’t help but admire the way the fabrics hug his body so deliciously. 

He’s just your type, built up in all the right ways, you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him until the last second. Then the movie starts and you look away.

He’s still your number one enemy, what the hell were you thinking?

When Pedro first appears, you shift in your seat, crossing your legs.

“FUCK” you scream internally “here we go”

Unbelievably stunning in his armor, you’re basically drooling. 

You try to stay as composed as possible but Frankie is next to you and notices.

He comes closer to you and whispers in your ear “So it was all about this guy… the fuss before” You feel one of his large hand brushing your arm that is resting on the armchair and you try with all your strength to remain still even if he causes a storm inside you and especially in your panties. 

“Shut. Up.” You hiss, without moving your gaze. You feel his breath on your skin and it’s intoxicating. 

He chuckles “Yeah, that was I was thinking” and throws another popcorn into his mouth.

Your cheeks burn and you're thankful you're in the cinema, in the dark.

“What’s so special about this guy?” Frankie approaches again “is his penis platinum by any chance? All my female colleagues at work are crazy about him”

You turn to look at him with the desire to slap him “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” 

“Okay, okay, I was just asking”

You hate people talking at the movies. You wonder if you could have a more annoying guy than Frankie next to you. Probably. 

Hotter? Probably not.

This dude hits on your last nerve but he makes you horny at the same time. 

Terrible combination. 

Frankie settles back into his seat and resumes watching the film.

You can't help but look at him from time to time and your desire grows. even if you're offended that he didn't even offer you his popcorn. Rude. 

His mouth pouted and his eyebrows furrowed as he seems all focused on the movie makes you want to cup his face and kiss him.

You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm and his breath on your neck.

Concentrate, you tell yourself, it's the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate. Fuck. You want him so bad. This revelation drives you crazier than Pedro half naked on screen.

At a particularly bloody scene you involuntarily turn around and hide your face on his shoulder.

You feel his arm around you “hey, it’s okay. I’ll tell you when it’s over” and he holds you tight the whole time.

He smells clean and fresh, like citrus and sage with a light hint of cigarette that you assume he smoked right before entering. 

Your mind goes fuzzy and your pulse races at an impossibly high rate. 

“You can look now” and it takes you a few seconds too long to register his words. 

“Th-Thanks” you mutter, shifting back to your place. 

Halfway through the movie the lights come back on and Frankie bursts out laughing looking at you. “What?” you ask him with wide eyes “what is it that makes you laugh so much?”

“Your face” he grins “it's clearly painted on it how much you want that guy. He turns you on, huh?”

You roll your eyes “Oh my God! Can't you go sit somewhere else? Two rows down, look how many free seats there are”

“I like it better here” 

You cuss, there’s no way to get rid of him.

He has something magnetic that destabilizes you, your eyes fall involuntarily on his neck, slide along his broad chest and stop at the crotch of his pants. From the way he sits you can clearly see that he is quite big.

“What are you looking at?” he asks you amusedly. 

You immediately look up. “Nothing” 

“Nothing my ass. Did you like what you saw?” 

Fuck. He noticed. You're done for. You hate to make him understand that after all, yes, you like what you saw. He seems pleased, proud, you would so much like to wipe that little smile off his face. As much as you struggle to admit it to yourself, you like him.

“Well, maybe…after all, you look like a fun place to sit” 

You can't believe you actually said that.

Frankie's response is not long in coming, his eyes immediately darken and his smile twists in a mischievous way.

The lights go out again and you feel him tug gently on your arm “come here, pretty”

He sits you down on his lap and as the movie starts again he whispers “was that what you wanted the whole time? Were you offended that I didn’t invite you?” you can clearly feel his smile spread across your skin just before he places his lips on your neck.

You would like to say something back but his closeness makes you confused and excited.

He sucks your skin like he's hungry and you moan in the dark "shh baby you gotta stay quiet while I give you what you want”

You don't know how but you find the strength to reply, "God, you're so arrogant.”

He tightens his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him, now you are practically sitting on his cock. You feel it pressing against your ass, trapped in his pants.

A rush of pleasure wets your pussy and you bite your lips to hold back another moan, you hear his hoarse voice in your ear “Maybe. You like it though” You hate to admit that he is right. 

The heat of his body envelops you pleasantly, he raises a hand to one of your breasts and squeezes it over your shirt. You like his hands. They are big, expert and eager to touch you, they make your head spin. 

You completely forgot about the movie, which seemed impossible to you, if they had told you you would have laughed in their face. In no universe would you have expected this.

“God” you whine “oh my God” His hand slides under your shirt and reveals your breast pulling down your bra, it is still covered but now you can feel his skin against yours. His fingers gently grasp one of your nipples, pulling and twisting it.

“Open your eyes, baby. Watch the movie like a good girl” his voice sounds authoritative, it irritates you and another rush of pleasure floods you at the same time.

“It’s not that easy” you mutter between your teeth as you feel his other hand dangerously approaching the hem of your skirt. He slowly goes up, as you try to hold back and make sure no one notices what he’s doing to you. Luckily, everyone seems enthralled by the film.

At this moment you don't even know why you started arguing so fiercely, if you had known before you would have tried to smooth things over a long time ago.

His fingers reach your panties, you feel them barely touching you and you already feel yourself burning with anticipation.

They move under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, grazing at your outer lips and then dipping inside you “Fuck, you’re soaking” 

He moves them up and down between your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.

You feel his heavy breathing on your neck, his tongue running over your skin and his teeth nibbling on you.

“Fuck, Frankie” you cry 

“Eyes to the movie”

You want to turn around and straddle him but there isn't enough room and Frankie holds you firmly anyway.

He applies pressure on your clit just right, starting to move two of his thick fingers in circle over it, the motion of his hand is partially hidden by the fabric of your skirt and your moans die in your throat one after the other. Frankie is rubbing away your sanity, you feel possessed and delirious under his touch.

Your last shred of control is torn by his fingers entering inside you, claiming your cunt as his, curling and scratching at your spongy spot.

Your eyes are still fixed on the screen but your vision is totally blurred, you see nothing, you understand nothing, you only feel Frankie pumping incessantly inside you while continuing to rub your clit with his thumb.

You feel the soft reverberation of his voice behind you, close to your ear “good girl, you're taking me so well”

The subtle Spanish accent in his voice now seems to you the most erotic sound in the world, sweet, melodious, addictive.

He takes you to the edge, you throw your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes so everything goes black and you only feel him, until even biting your lips doesn't help anymore. He covers your mouth with his hand as you explode in a devastating orgasm, you moan against his skin, between his thick fingers that have just left your breast and you already miss them, feeling full and satiated by him.

He uncovers your mouth and kisses your neck, pressing his hand to your hip to keep you from slipping off his lap as your body trembles against his.

“Shit” you mutter “Frankie…oh my god”

“Do you think we can stop arguing all the time now?” He playfully says as he nuzzles at your hair.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked, you know, I’m just like that” you reply, grinning and turning around to finally fix your eyes on his. 

“I noticed it”

You take off his cap laughing and put it on backwards and before he starts to protest you kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth, tasting butter and salt on his tongue.

“Take me home”

“The movie isn't over yet,” Frankie observes, and you reply, “that means you'll have to take me to see it again and you’ll pay”

“Fine to me, princess”