#you know i was like 'it might take me a month or whatever to post chapter two'

[the-tarot-witch22]

What are some next blessing coming to you? - Pick a Shinchan

Pile 1/ Pile 2/ Pile 3

My Paid Readings | My insta | My Monthly Goal Post | Paid Reading Feedbacks! | Pac Masterlist!

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me!

Hello everyone ! It's been a while isn't it! So, this is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pac please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Pile 1 :

(The cards I got for you - 6 of wands, ace of pentacles, the fool)

Okay so the very first thing I feel and heard is the very first blessing you winning a competition, or you getting selected in one of the exams, or you pass your exams with good grades, not only that, you might even celebrate and you might be offered to go on a trip, I am seeing this group might go abroad, in upcming years, I also feel if you save money and from somewhere might be a celebration or birthday you will be having lots of funds, so hold on to that, and see what it can actually help you with, I also feel this group is a bit naive, or just innocent a bit, it's also a blessing to be pure, but your guides and messages are saying don't just blindly follow what you see KNOW the intentions, there might be "wolf in sheep clothing", so beware, I also feel you might have a loyal friend who will help you through your tough time, or you could be making a new friend, and whatever situation you are in right now is gonna improve, I am also feeling more emotional health, like your guides gonna gift you with inner strength, I also feel you will be in upcoming months admired by around your classmates/co-workers/boss/ or even parents, I feel people being proud of you, I am also feeling there will be growth in your actions, I am also feeling start with your hobbies, very specific is someone here into boxing? but anyways! I feel you will reap the rewards of your hardwork.

Signs - Taurus/ Capricorn/ LIbra/ Virgo/ Cancer - Sun/ Moon/ Rising

So those, are all the message I have gotten for you guys!

Pile 2

(The cards I got for you - wheel of fortune, 8 of swords, ace of swords and king of cups)

Okay sooo this group its so random but do you guys have fish eyes? Or just look dreamy in general, like libra rising or pisces kind, i swear you guys are blessed with genetics, like very beautiful my pile, I also feel you guys have pale skin? but anyhow! Let's move forward with your reading I feel you guys would be getting a gift perhaps a book? or you buy or bought yourself a book recenly, I said this as a blessing since books are knowledge and truly makes us happy! I also feel your next blessing will shake you to your core, you won't even believe that you guys are getting it, I also feel you guys could buy or thinking to buy a car/house, for the first time for yourself, or even your family, I am seeing you guys could also get a dog/pet, for yourself, very positive shifts I am seeing is manifesting in your life, I also feel that this pile is very anxious, like in general or nervous, that IF you are good enough, I also feel you guys have to panic first even if you are capable of things to do, I think you will get better, and some of you might be working on it, so it's seema good thing, I also feel you will connecting with someone important very soon, and online, it could be your next romantic partner/or soulmate, and some of you are already in the know who are they even energetically, or being with them in "school", I also feel you will activate your throat chakra, and be able to express yourself easily.

Signs - Sagittarius/Libra/Aquaurius/Pisces - Sun/ Moon/ Rising!

Pile 3

(The cards I got for you - judgement, 8 of swords, king of wands, king of swords)

Okay so pile 3! I feel and hear that you're being blessed with confidence, like seriously guys, you guys might be the overthinker type, or just have low self esteem but i see you guys being blessed with more inner power, I also feel, you guys gonna be spiritually awaken and letting go of past traumas, emotional scars you have buried within, so if you guys find yourself being uncofmortable just know it's the last step before you step into your power, I also feel, you feel restrictive but you guys also gonna stand up for what you feel is right for you, so you loves, you deserve that, i mean to feel safe, in your own body and surroundings, I also feel your guides gonna give you a fresh start so it's upto you guys how you will all take it, It might also be you guys will have new startings, like you going out of comfort zone, I am feeling you gonna take more of a authoritive role in your life, you are also being told to use the skills you have to create a hobby, I am also feeling this group will be having a small business of their own very soon, this pile is very spiritual, so I am also seeing heightened intuition or psychic abilities, so try to hone it, accept what you are given and know you are deserving of more, I also feel you will, connect with nature and be in tune with yourself more, I also feel you guys are very sensitive in general, you might also, walk away from someone who doesn't serve you!

Signs - Leo/aries/Capricorn/Libra/Sagittarius - Sun/ Moon/ Rising!

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 53. Let Me Show You

Summary: Post Threshing the Quadrant celebrates the First Years becoming riders. And a new found friendship for Dahlia has Garrick.... concerned.

A/N: I deep dived the potential width of Garrick's shoulders for this. You're welcome. Warnings: 18+. MNDI. Oral (F receiving). Use of pet name. Semi Public Sex.

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links

Just like last year the dining hall is chaos. All the first years who bonded are celebrating, showing off their relics and gushing about how they’d bonded their dragons. And the rest of us are just using it as an excuse to drink. Especially us Squad Leaders who can breath a sigh of relief that Threshing is over and done with. From here on out it was mostly up to them on if they survived or not. But I was still going to do whatever it took. Especially with Squad Battle coming up in the next few months. But with the looming threat of losing Liam so Xaden could protect Violet, I didn’t like my chances.

”Well I can safely say this year he definitely looks like he wants to fuck you and not kill you.” Imogen announces as her and Quinn drop into the seats across from Bodhi and I.

“I think we need to ban any talk of those two and fucking.” Bodhi grumbles before downing the last of his drink.

”Sounds like someone needs to go get some of their own.” She throws back with a smirk. Bodhi just glares at her before standing up to go get another drink, causing the three of us to burst into laughter as he storms off. ”I was only joking, but maybe he actually does need to.”

”He may get lucky tonight, plenty of first years wanting to celebrate and plenty of second and third years drinking.” Quinn adds as she scans the room.

”I don’t think Bodhi is the type for something casual.” I point out as I watch Bodhi go and join Garrick and Xaden on the other side of the room.

Imogen nods in agreeance. “You’re not wrong. Boy couldn’t do a casual hook up even if he tried. Hearts in the right place when it comes to that sort of thing.”

“That or he’s traumitised by you and Garrick.” Quinn adds with a laugh.

”We aren’t that bad.” I say, trying to defend myself. But with the way they both snicker at me I know they don’t believe me.

“Try telling that to Bodhi. Boy is still scarred after asking how you liked your coffee and what came after.” Imogen informs me.

“Well he should be thankful Garrick didn’t choose to act on his idea in my room. Least he was saved from that.” I tell him, immediately regretting as both girls raise their eyebrows at me.

“Ok you can’t drop a comment like that and not elaborate.” Quinn insists as she leans forward, clearly wanting me to tell her where it had happened.

”She isn’t wrong. Now spill girl. We need details.” Imogen demands as she also leans forward on the table.

I barely knew the two girls, only interacting with them here and there. But from the little we had interacted I could tell I was going to get a long with them. Bodhi even telling me I’d love Imogen on multiple occasions, and telling me it was weird I wasn’t her friend yet.

“Garrick might have surprised me in the girls showers.” I rush out before taking a swig of my drink.

”Damn. You missed out Imogen.” Quinn blurts out before looking over at Imogen as if she’s said something she shouldn’t.

”Missed out?” I ask, looking between the two girls.

Imogen smiles so softly, which catches me off guard. Soft is never a word I’d used to describe Imogen. And in the few times we had interacted, I’d never seen this side of her. And I can tell Quinn hasn’t either with how guilty she looks.

”I use to have feelings for Garrick. For a long time.” She tells me, turning her attention to me. “Something I never told him or acted on. And some days I kick myself for not doing it. For not risking it all to see what could have been. And gods did I want to hate you when it started becoming obvious you’d caught his eye even though you two hated each other. But I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t. It was honestly hilarious watching you two interact with each other. But out of anyone I could have lost my chance with him over, I’m glad it was you.”

At first I don’t know how to react to Imogen’s confession. Not sure what to say or do. But it felt oddly like a turning point for us. From what Bodhi had told me, Imogen and I were similar. Both of us keeping our feelings to ourselves unless absolutely necessary. So I know the admission wouldn’t have been easy for her.

“What are you three gossiping about?” Garrick asks as he walks up behind Imogen and Quinn as if summoned by the topic of our conversation.

”Just girl stuff. Nothing of interest to you Tavis.” Imogen says as she smiles at me.

”Girl stuff?” He asks with a raised eyebrow as he looks over at me.

”Yeah girl stuff. Super boring for you.” I tell him as I smile at Imogen.

Garrick’s eyes shift between the two of us, clearly unsure how he should react. “Right. Girl stuff. Anyway, mind if I steal Dahlia away from you two? Or am I not allowed while ‘girl stuff’ is being talked about?”

”She’s all yours.” Imogen tells him as she stands. “Just keep out of the showers. I might not get as traumatised as Bodhi, but I’d like to shower in peace.”

Garrick’s eyes widen as Imogen smirks at him before dragging Quinn away, leaving Garrick and I alone.

”Since when did you two become close enough to gossip about our sex life?” He asks me.

”Since tonight apparently.” I tell him before downing the last of my drink.

”I feel like I should be concerned about this development.” He mutters.

”Why? Don’t want me making friends?” I ask before standing and walking around the table to him.

”Oh I don’t care about you making new friends. I’m scared of you two together.” He tells me as he places a hand on my lower back and leads us out of the dining hall.

“Why would you be scared of that?”

“Because you two would get a long too well.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He comes to a stop just before the doors and looks down at me. “Because it is. You two would be scary together.”

”And that there just makes me want to be friends with her even more.” I tell him with a smirk before pushing open the door and walking towards the dorms.

As the dining hall door closes behind me, Garrick grabs my waist, spinning me around and pinning me to the wall next to it as he looms over me. My heart beating loudly in my chest with how he looks at me.

”You enjoy the thought of me being scared do you?” He grumbles as he steps into me.

“I doubt you are capable of being scared. Nothing phases you.” I point out.

He rolls his eyes at me. “Plenty scares me Dahlia. You being the main one.”

I reach up and trail my hand down the front of his flight jacket, “The things I could do with that information.” I tease.

Garrick’s hand on my waist tightens. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one day.” He mumbles.

”Probably.” I reply as I hook my finger into the waistband of his flight pants before looking up into his blown out hazel eyes. “What are you going to do about it Tavis?”

His eyes darken as he takes the bait. Feeling the way his body stiffens at my words. The way his flight pants start to strain. I expect him to turn and drag me towards the door that leads towards the dorms. But instead he grabs my wrist, leading me towards the Academic Wing of the Quadrant. As soon as we pass through the doors leading into the wing, he pulls me to the side, opening a door to one of the classrooms and pulling me inside. I gasp as he pushes my back into the door, slamming it shut as he pins me to it.

”You want to know what I’ll do about it?” He growls out as his fingers make quick work of the ties on my leather flight pants. I bite my lower lip and nod as he undoes the last tie and lowers to his knees at my feet. “I’m going to show you just how beneficial it is to not give me heart attack.” He removes the first boot, throwing it to the side. “I’m going to show you what you’d miss out on if you gave me a heart attack.” He discards my other boot. “And if you ever did, then I’ll show you what you’d spend the rest of your life craving. What no other man could do to you.”

Garrick pulls down my flight pants and underwear in one swift motion, quickly lifting my legs to help me step out of them. I expect him to drop my leg once he pulls it free of the pants, but he doesn’t. Instead he pulls the leg over his shoulder, grasping it tightly with his hand before his free one grabs the other leg and pulls it over his shoulder. I yelp in surprise as my hands fly out and brace on either side of his neck. Somehow there is still enough room there even with my legs on his shoulders.

”Don’t worry my love I’ve got you.” He says softly before leaning in and claiming me with his mouth.

“F-fuck!” I cry out, my hands tightening on his shoulders as he devours me, the new name doing more to me than I care to admit.

Garrick had used his mouth on me before, plenty of times. And he was good at it. But something about my legs spread wide on his shoulders as he kneels before me, holding me up against the door was without a doubt the hottest thing he could have done.

I throw my head back against the door as his mouth devours me. Lips latching around my clit as he sucks on the bundle of nerves. I gasp out when I feel his fingers push inside me, curling to hit the spot he knows will have me gasping and moaning even more for him. Again and again he curls his fingers, one of my hands reaching up and grasping onto his dark curls, my body shaking and quivering already.

”That’s it..” He praises as his mouth releases me, looking up and watching me with his blown out eyes. “Come apart on my mouth and fingers knowing no one else could ever make you feel this good.”

I try to fire back a retort but he adds another fingers and dives back in, and all I manage is a strangled cry as I throw my head back, back arching off the door as I feel the familiar feeling of my orgasm forming. And I swear I feel the smug bastard smirk against me, completely aware of what he’s doing to me while trying to prove his damn point as he brings me closer and closer to my orgasm.

I cry out as he curls his fingers and leaves them there, causing me to tip closer to the edge. “That’s is my love.” He coos before starting back up, his fingers pumping in and out with purpose.

And as he latches back onto my clit, I topple over the edge. Garrick’s name falling from my lips as I arch off the door again, my body shaking as I ride out my orgasm while Garrick continues. Finally when my body gives out and slumps forward, barely catching myself on his shoulders does Garrick stop. He gently places me legs back down on the ground lowering me into his lap as he sits on the ground.

”Still plan on giving me that heart attack?” He mumbles into my hair as he holds me against him.

”Maybe I’ll reconsider.” I pant out as I feel his body shake with laughter.

@imtoanonymousforyouimtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus @ohlookitsasinglepoeceofpopcorn @emoravenwolf @imheretobeinvisible @pvrkacciosan @fuckingsimp4azriel

[penguinlife]

Monday Blog (19 May 2025)

I am trying to work, but I am being distracted by a very persistent thought.

Luke is very much like Colin. Colin has a bit of self-doubt. No purpose in life. A little lost at times. Feeling he is not good enough. Trying to please everyone. He tries to fit in. Tries to be what everyone expects him to be instead of being who he is.

Now, what if Luke is struggling with the same issues. The more I think about this self-destructive behaviour. The more I see Colin in Luke.

You know how, in some people's presence, you are inspired to be the best parts of you. I think Nicola brings out that in him. When he is around her, he seems more confident. More chivalrous. More patient and more kind.

I keep thinking about the pap pics where he picked his nose and then the fan pic the following day. He looked frail, sick, and not the Luke we have come to love. It was a massive shock to the system. Instead of everyone being concerned about him, they had very harsh words for him.

He has recovered lately. Seen the inside of a gym. But it brings me to the day of the BAFTAs. It might be an unpopular opinion, but I don't like the photo shoot he did that day. He looked mad, sinister, and uncomfortable. I didn't like what he did at the British Vogue/Netflix preBAFTA party either. If it was to show an edgier Luke, I think they missed the mark. We have seen cheeky, leading man Luke before. This was not it. It reminded me so much of Colin in the beginning of S3 and the brothel scenes. In Pen's own words how Colin has lost his way.

"...I simply wanted the Colin back that I loved, not the stoic man you returned as, acting like you care for no one and need nothing. It's you: kind feeling, occasionally excitable, good-hearted man I love..."

Then we get to red carpet at the BAFTAs. He does one interview. Sprint down the carpet for one fan photo. Someone that was set up beforehand, it seems, because a few people asked him for his autograph, but he declined. It looked like he said he was in a rush. But the distance he went for that one fan photo just to rush past others seemed odd. The presence of A in that purple out of season dress was cringy. She never looks good. My biggest issue is the dumbfounded smile she has plastered on her face. Nothing grinds my gears more than when a woman presents as dumb. We have come so far that when a woman proudly embraces dumb bimbo. It's probably why she stood out like a sore thumb. She wasn't supposed to be there. No substance or talent to fall back on.

Someone mentioned that A had to wipe his face down. I looked for the clip but couldn't find anything. Please post a link to the video in the comments or DM me. I can't even spot any sweat. So I wanted what she was wiping off.

It looked like he went down to help Nic and her sister to their seats. I wouldn't expect anything less from Luke. He looked fine when they were seated. Especially during the little Lukola crumbs we got.

Sometimes, I think I see things through a wishful lens. But when I go back to give it a more objective look. I still come to the same conclusions.

Later, we get the odd parking lot kissing show post Party. This is all very odd. Even if Shondaland/Netflix is behind this PR mess. Something else is going on with Luke.

I read someone elses comment on IG that said he met an 18yo model on Raya and hooked up with her in 2023. Sure, all legal. But super sleezy. I hope this was just a rumour. Things like this come back to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

I feel like Luke has reached a very important crossroads in his life and career. He can continue with (whatever it is) the connecting to A. Destroy, the good guy image Bridgerton/crew/costars helped develop for him. Or he can detangle from this mess. Take a public break. Get a new PR team. Work on getting some good projects/brand deals. And just be the good nice guy. The thing for me is that he needs to revamp and erase the last few months. I keep checking if he has removed that horrible open eyed pic from his carousel yet. Keep hoping he has come to his senses. Decided to choose himself and his own career. But it is still there. How long is the contractual obligation to keep the pic up, I wonder?

You know how the CW used to make the same mistake with all their shows. When they did press for their 2nd season, they always described it at, edgier or darker. It never worked for them. It is never an improvement. I can't see that being seen as that would be appealing to a casting director. Having a good stable foundation of being dependable, versatile, likeable, and promotable is a better strategy.

In conclusion. I am a Luke stan. Wish the best for him. But he is making it really hard with this mess from last week. My aunt always says, "I might always love you, but I don't particularly like you at the moment. You are making it really hard."

Nicola and Jake's mess at the BAFTA party and pink carpet at Cannes was just as bad. Luckily, Jake is in Australia, and Nicola has been able to recover from the mess somewhat. Taking her sister and friends to the BAFTAs was the best decision ever. If she pops off to Australia to join Jake for her holiday, I am done.

Just a quick note on Luke not being recognised for his brilliant performance in Bridgerton. It is very rare for male actors to be recognised for playing a vulnerable, heartbroken, and yearning character. They do for being angry. Apparently that is the only emotion that counts. It is a problem in society. It has nothing to do with Nicola or that he was snubbed. I agree that we need to change that.

[lore-grandma]

I’m bored so I’m going to just like make some headcannons as to what it’s like to live in the mansion.

I genuinely like to believe the mansion is an entity, and like if any renovations need to be made the house just kinda creates it. Thats likely how they got electricity, I think something that would be kinda funny was if the house doesn’t quite understand how something works. Like a new room gets added but it lacks roof or something and some poor rookie has to figure how to build a roof because “it’s your room man if you want it to be specific way then you either have to teach the house or yourself.” The house has totally just decided it’s going to break appliances and like it’s plumbing. Like yeah sure slendy could scold it, but you’re essentially scolding a bratty child.

I think overall slender feels neutral about all of his proxies and whatever we could possibly call the other creepypastas that aren’t exactly stated to be his workers. I think he sees them as just kinda part of life. He truly is a boss, doesn’t care about your person enough to give you more than 3 sick days but cares enough you to make sure you have those 3 days, or I guess heal you with his Eldridge magic. Honestly he just sees them as a resource that’ll need to be replaced eventually. I do think that is why he kidnaps kids sometimes is so that way he just has potential followers. Like the current cast of people he has is probably the longest surviving group he’s had.

I’m now just realizing that the only reason why slender even needs followers or to murder people is for food. Idk why I expected some deep emotional backstory behind it.

Sally honestly just kinda appeared in the mansion, slender didn’t even do anything. One day she appeared and everyone just accepted it.

I made a post about how all medias and electronics are cursed in the mansion, which is how you get BEN and sonic.exe. But I can’t tell if it’s just all coincidence or if slender is just kinda like “oh so they want a computer huh? Well I’ll give them a computer. *pulls out the drowned computer that holds Ben* here you go assholes.” The paintings might be cursed too. Maybe the mansion is a child that died in the house and now holds the power of construction.

I think smile dog is also a situation where the creeps begged to get a pet, and slender just kinda appeared with smile. Anyways everyone had nightmares for a good 2 months before smile just kinda realized that these people are fucking insane and won’t kill them selves no matter what mental damage he tries to inflict. And let me tell you it’s a lot. It started with his og speal, then he went for the insecurities, then family life, then he started just giving them weird fucking dreams. And then as a Hail Mary he tried to make their dreams if they were living a happy normal life. It didn’t work. He did get a lot of pets.

There’s a graveyard somewhere, slender hasn’t had any dead proxies lately so no one is sure if it’s just people associated with the mansion, just a random graveyard, or where slender bary his favorites. Though it seems too large for people who are rather rare.

Slender doesn’t quite understand human basic needs. Like if the proxies want air conditioning they’d either have to take it up with the house, or like sleep outside. Oh you’re dying because it’s so hot and you’re cooking alive? Well I feel just fine. Anyways I do think like when it comes to food, the creeps are pretty independent. Honestly probably like what I’d imagine a frat house to be like. Or like living with 10 roommates in a 2 bedroom apartment.

The whole house is probably grimy and kinda barely held together. Remember the house doesn’t understand how buildings work, like it’s not going to quite understand how to preserve it self, what it does know is how to move a room around. Also you think slender sleeps let alone in there? Please the mansion is more like shed full of tools. I do think if slender does sleep, it’s probably the cleanest room in the house. Because slender isn’t picking up your shit, the murders aren’t picking up their shit, and the house hasn’t figured out how to be a house.

In conclusion slender is a dad with a permissive parenting style to the point of neglect, the house is held together by a mysterious force and none of its building materials. The creeps are… well they’re just kinda there. Really the only thing you can say about a living house filled with murders and an Eldridge being or 2.

[volivolition]

prepping for my Bonus Days. i love tutorial agent lmao

[thethingything]

our current dilema is that the pain from our wisdom tooth keeps getting so bad we have to take pain meds (like it keeps hitting an 8/10 for several hours at a time. we can't not take pain meds) but the only pain meds that touch it have a warning on them saying not to take them for more than 3 days in a row, and we have at least another month of dealing with this, so I don't really know what to do.

the warning is because they're opioids and can cause addiction but I don't actually know how bad the risk is because everything seems to treat it like opioids are the worst thing ever and should be avoided at all costs and you'll get addicted if you so much as glance at them.

either way, my options are to either keep taking them and just accept that risk, or deal with being in so much pain I can't function. even with taking the pain meds I can tell we're a lot more irritable and short tempered and probably just insufferable to be around honestly and I hate the fact that pain causes this, but once again we've got to deal with this for over a month and we've also got to deal with the anxiety over what the treatment for it is going to actually involve.

I've had to deal with medical trauma stuff I didn't even know about until like yesterday when Lucy suggested it might be part of why I feel so shit, and I've had multiple panic attacks per day and constantly feel way more anxious than usual and I get the feeling we're just gonnaa have to put up with this for the next month and I don't know how the fuck I'm meant to cope with any of this

[yintous]

꒰ 🍯 ꒱ ─── 𝓢WEETER THAN HONEY! ㆍ₊⊹

gn! reader ; embarrassing things the batboys did when they had a crush on you.

notes. might be a little ooc since i got carried away and this is satire 🙏 [masterlist]

DICK GRAYSON

changes his pfps to whatever you called cute

for example, you called an orange cat cute, his profile picture in every account you have him added on is a picture of an orange cat. they’re all different pictures of orange cats, too

depending on his mood, he might even post something about orange cats 😭😭😭

he MIGHT say the “without me?” phrase once in awhile whenever you say you have to go somewhere or whenever you have to run an errand…

once tried to be nonchalant and mysterious so he could get your attention but he crumbled the moment you smiled at him; he didn’t bother hiding it either!! he FOLDED as quick as light

posted a thirst trap with your favorite song and deleted it when you haven’t viewed the post in five seconds

JASON TODD

screenshotted your text and sent it to YOU instead of roy in a panic

tried to gaslight himself into thinking that he didn’t have a crush on you when it was blatantly obvious to EVERYONE

tried teasing you once by taking your phone and saying “you’re too short” and he immediately failed because you managed to retrieve your phone in seconds

one time, you turned around to look at him and he was already staring at you with a thousand-yard stare (he was zoned out)

he takes an hour or two to reply whenever you send a risky text not because he wants to leave you on read, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to reply

TIM DRAKE

somehow found your spotify playlist and started bragging about listening to your favorite artists to EVERYONE so said people could spread that he had a similar music taste to you 💔

but if you actually ask him about the artists, he’d lowkey just freeze and say “yeah..” while nodding with a small smile on his face

probably stalked your social media following and who was following your account, analyzed every single account and has been praying to whatever entity that was listening to him that you wouldn’t end up with any of the people you were following/or the people that were following you

left you on read for a good five hours because he accidentally fell asleep while texting you and it felt like hell was waiting for him the moment the realization kicked in

DUKE THOMAS

learned a whole new language for you when he wasn’t even sure you spoke it in the first place (thankfully, you did)

he also learned almost ALL of your interests such as the shows you match, the genre of movies you like, the music you listen to, etc. just so you could talk about it together

started manifesting every night while he thought about what the two of you would be like as a couple

it turned into a habit that he couldn’t get rid of no matter what and he can’t sleep without doing it

bought a bunch of puzzle boxes so you could solve it together (after three months, half of them still aren’t finished)

wrote poetry about you in the woods and felt like shakespeare

© yintous do not copy, repost, plagiarize, or feed any of my work into ai.

[miyaz6ki]

hi!!! i hope ur doing well>< can u do kinich with a shy s/o but get reaaally freaky in bed?

art creds: @ sumi_noth on x

warnings: p in v sex, anal penetration, afab!reader (no specified gender), consent king kinich, freaky ass reader, handcuff usage, blindfold usage, dirty talk kind of, but mostly praise, oral(?, eating you out),

he didn't expect your interests to be... different from your actions, or at least in public. your shy grasps on his arm if ever you were anxious, or the habit of standing in front of you to intimidate

or the flushed expression that danced across your cheeks when he complimented you. it could be the arm that grasped your waist when he knew you were uncomfortable.

well, whatever it was, it was cute in its own way.

but looking at you and comparing to then—are you really the same person...? maybe you have a secret twin!

"n- nngh! kin— pleasef- I wan' it s'bad!" you whined, feeling him strike your insides for the umpteenth time. he really didn't mind but he could see how shaky your legs were.

"y'sure? you're trembling, baby." "mmn, need more, please?"

he simply tilted his head, you looked tired. he doesn't care too much about himself since his stamina sustains for very long. but yours didn't.

he swore this little thing of yours lasted a week each month. always telling him how bad you needed him with those pleading eyes. he couldn't say no, that'd be mean!

"whatever you want, sweetheart."

he'd give you the world if possible, but he cares for your safety, so he does end up not going through with your feralness in bed. no matter how cute your whining and begging might be- he doesn't want to take advantage of the fact that you want all of him more than just seven rounds.

one time you asked him to cuff you to the bed, and he asked more than just five times. you.. want him to use his elemental skill to tie you to the bed post? is that really safe?

well, he wouldn't complain too much, pulling on the vine line like a leash if he just decided on cuffing them behind you, or grasping your hair while you take him from behind.

as long as you're okay with it ('till he notices you're visibly tired). he learns to know your limits as well, no more how freaky you are. cause he isn't with you for the sake of sex, but for you yourself.

these moments with you were just a bonus. and in which he very much treasured. oh well, back to the blurb of him slamming you from behind.

he likes positions where he sees your face better. the one he usually sees hiding in the strands of your hair, or in the softness of your palms. he promises he doesn't have a corruption kink or whatever but damn he loved the way your expression would distort to something so naughty. fuck, he needed this as much as you did.

the sounds he long sought after for back when you both weren't even together yet, he didn't want to admit- but he did fantasize this. how the lewd mewls would spill like a river from the beauty and softness of your mouth.

he couldn't help but groan right into the shell of your ear. instinctively his mouth moves, to praise you of course.

"doin' s'fuckin well for me sweetheart, just keep taking me in like that yeah?"

you could feel yourself clench at the very end of his sentence. fuck you didn't know praise could feel this good, his movements matched with the quick, lusty grunts he let out.

even when he placed the blindfold onto your pretty head. he missed your pretty eyes, the way they'd look at him with a pleading look. he could barely see how your eyebrows furrowed.

that's alright, he liked how you seemed so vulnerable, not knowing where to place your hands, and you can't predict what he'd do, or where his touch would land next (which was your entrance)

placing his lips onto the soft folds, licking you up and down with tease. hearing you moan and sob, asking him to stop edging and get to the point, but he doesn't really like when you're being a little bratty.

"take what i give you, or i'll leave you like this, 'kay?"

and you couldn't do anything but nod. his cold words sent shivers down your spine, combined with the kitty licks to your clit, the coldness of his ungloved palms that spread your legs apart, squeezing them every now and then.

really loves the way you taste though, loves how addicting it can get. you're the only drug he'd ever take.

once he's done "punishing" you, he goes right back to being the sloppy eater he is. his mouth basically attached itself to your soppy entrance.

doesn't matter if you're cumming or not—he laps everything up like a homeless man who's got food for the first time in forever.

he doesn't know what it is- maybe it's the scent, or is it truly the taste? maybe it could be the way it looks? or maybe how it feels? he doesn't get why he wants your essence so bad, but whatever magic it has he hopes it'll last him lifetimes (or at least last you a good orgasm)

overall is just "whatever you want, my love" and makes sure you get the best out of it! :)

[custardtartsfan]

Jason Todd head canons that have accumulated over time

many thoughts about the boy constantly rattle around my brain and i would like to share them ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) nothing hanky panky ish for i do not like to think about that

general bullshit ᝰ.ᐟ

he doesnt trust modern technology. he has a Motorola razr. no he will not upgrade, stop asking

has VERY messy hand writing. straight chicken scratch. barley legible

smoked during his late teens (post resurrection period, he was going through it). tried quitting in his early twenties, he bought a menthol flavour geek bar but threw it out cause Roy made fun of him

it wasnt even one of the cool ones with a screen. smh

he has a weird nostalgic affection for the thrift

it reminds him of being a kid, in the rare moments that his mother was sober enough to take him somewhere. and it was nice, his mom was conscious, all was well

and he could get whatever he wanted! he wanted a toy? sure bud, its only a dollar. why the hell not?

he recently walked into a Goodwill and damn near burst an artery when he looked at the tag on a pair of pants. it was NOT like this back in his day

his hair is like wavy, like not curly but wavy. however, he has no idea how to really care for it. shits dry is what im saying

i think hes very competitive about stupid shit

not like he gets pissy about mario kart, he will race you to see who can fold their socks the fastest

largest of the batfam. vertically and horizontally. hes a beefy dude. a brick shithouse

i think hes also the kind of dude that needs to know someone very well before he could consider dating them. id even go as far to say hes somewhere on the aro spectrum

i think he has a very high spice tolerance. like youll pry his siracha out of his cold re-dead hands. he LOVES African curry (yes this one is based off me) thats like his perfect kind of spice

back to his hatred of technology, he collects cds to listen to instead of streaming

he has one of those hip disk players with the headphones. Red Hood has been seen with a walkman

also hates tv, but will watch the news willingly. he will sit down and watch Wolf Blitzer of his own accord

romantic (୨୧• ꒳ •)=:♡

remember when i said he has the handwriting of an 18 month old toddler? yea well thats a little unfortunate cause he LOVES leaving notes for his lover. when he has to slip out the window for a job in the middle of the night, he writes a little note - “had to take care of something, be back soon. with bagels. love, Jay :)” but its written so janky his lover is spending the whole time hes gone trying to decipher it

dont tell him that though, he might cry

hes not a talker particularly. words tend to come out wrong in his experience. instead, he likes gifts acts of service to show you he cares

shopping with him and youre eying a particular top for a while? guess what’s mysteriously appeared in your laundry basket

lowq doesn’t have motion though..soo it might have been Bruce card. but honestly? money is money who gaf

what he occasionally lacks in funds he makes up for in willingness to let you do whatever you want to him

he will waddle after you in sephora, freaking out the occasional employee cause holy FUCK who invited the punisher, letting you swatch whatever you want on his hand

if you’re concerned about the milk in the fridge being yuck, give it to him to taste. he’ll let you know

there is no mountain to high, no dubious forgotten leftover too unhappy looking

cannot cook for SHIT. but he loves to eat

he will mention wanting food and stare at you longingly until you go to the kitchen

hes not gonna be playing fortnite while you’re cooking though, he can chop stuff. you may not want him within 50 feet of a place where food is prepared but he will offer

bless his heart

runs hot like a furnace. probably because hes a large meaty boy

he will grumble like a pensioner when you tuck yourself into his chest at night when its cold, but we both know damn well hes gonna be giggling and kicking his steel toed boots when he tells Roy about it later

he had pretty mixed, strewing negative opinions, about his little white tuft of hair at the front. hes tried cutting it, it grew back the same. he bought box dye, it doesnt take. so hes stuck with it. and he cant say hes happy about it

until you came along, all full of love and life, telling him you loved it. you though it framed his face perfectly and suited him great. you and your fancy affection fuck you

(he was cheesing for hours)

okay lets get sad now

hes got BADD anxiety about hurting you without meaning to. its a reasonable concern, hes a big dude. and these hands dont do a lot of cradling as a rule, more beating heads in

he needs to be reassured, but would rather roll around in broken glass then swim in lemonade than let that be known. hes more of a stare at you until you sooth him

he likes to be kissed and cuddled and cared for. so what? hes only incredibly ashamed. it doesnt matter how many times you re iterate that he has no reason to be, hes a stubborn bitch

thats all ive got! i hope you enjoyed reading my real time jason todd related word association. most of these were typed in a fury on the mobile web app on the subway so..if the formatting is yucky thats up to god (-.-;)y-~~~

[jinkicake]

Spring Is In The Air~

Something happens to them when the seasons change. 

Itto, Tighnari, Yae Miko, Zhongli x Reader

A/N: I wrote this like two months ago and never posted it... I’ve always wanted to try writing something like this so here is my pathetic attempt! It’s corny BUT, smutty!!! :-)

WC - 2,224

NSFWWWW // SMUTTYYY

~~~

ITTO

Itto is not subtle. Try as he might, the poor oni cannot learn the art of subtlety. His reactions always give him away to you within seconds. 

His struggle can currently be seen in the way he braces himself against the counter but still attempts to stand up straight to play it off. 

“Hey,” He sounds breathless, almost as if it is hard for him to breathe. You know he’s going to break any moment now, you can see it as his chest begins to rapidly rise and fall. His breathing quickens and all you can do is stare at his expanding chest. “I need you.”

Itto breaks every spring and putting him back together is your favorite part.

“Fuck me, fuck me!” Itto groans loudly and the sounds, one after another, fly off of the walls. He’s absolutely losing himself as you bounce on his lap, up and down while your thighs pound against his own. The pace is fast, quick, and your knees are not able to handle it alone. It’s entirely him, Itto uses the strength in his muscular arms to toss you around on his lap. His tongue hangs out of his mouth, eyes squeezed together shut all while both of your hands are wrapped around his throat. “Yes, yes, yes,” It’s almost pathetic, the way he is singing your praise and grinds down onto the mattress. He can’t get enough of the feeling, of it all. 

Itto is loud in everything that he does and he never shies away from expressing his desires. 

“I’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” He sounds entirely desperate, almost as if he is about to break into tears. You squeeze your thighs together and watch his every reaction as you clamp around him. His reaction is almost imminent. Itto’s hands on your waist squeeze you tightly as his bare nails dig into your skin as he cums with a drawn-out groan. The oni chases his high without stopping, still wildly thrusting up into you just as before. His pace then grows slower, impossibly slow as he slams into you a handful of times. There’s something final about this but, you know better. 

This is just the beginning. It takes hours to satisfy Itto, especially during the spring. 

You don’t even have the chance to catch your breath before you feel him twitching inside of you again, now hard as ever. His fast recovery is almost as quick as his reflexes. Itto pulls you off of him within a flash before mounting you from behind. 

“I’m sorry, just one more, one more, okay?” You can hear how his voice shakes in your ear but, you don’t have the chance to reply as he effortlessly slides back into you. In this position, you can hear everything, every puff of air that escapes his lips and every whimper that falls. Itto cries into your ear, tongue lapping at the surface as he moves his hips at a quick pace. “You’re fucking me so good,” 

You can almost feel him in your fucking stomach as you clamp around him but, his brutal strides feel so good. Each thrust against your bottom sends you flying and you end up face-first in the duvet. Itto keeps you still with a firm hand on your hip but, you can imagine how broken his expression must be as he groans above you. 

“One more time, one more time,”

((It’s never just one time with him.))

TIGHNARI

“(Y/N), please,” 

Hearing the forest ranger beg is something you are not used to. Tighnari never begs or yearns for your touch and attention. If he wants something, he takes it with little hesitation. 

Except when the seasons begin to change. 

When the air grows colder, something primal shifts in Tighnari. You can see it in the way his eyes soften into pools of need and how he becomes much more sensitive to the slightest touch. If you even think about touching his fingers, over his gloves, he will drop whatever is in his hands. 

Tighnari becomes reactive all over. 

“It’s happening again.” He murmurs into your ear as he presses up against your side. His tail wraps around your thigh, squeezing over and over again as he ruts into your leg. “I need you.” When Tighnari gets like this, you know it’s best to just let him take. 

“You poor thing,” Your voice is full of sympathy, perhaps a bit condescending, and it makes the forest ranger whimper. His ears flatten against the top of his head as his eyes squeeze shut in concentration. Your quiet sighs and hums only make him more delirious, Tighnari burrows his face into the crook of your neck and simply inhales. His breathing gets heavier as his messy thrusts become erratic. If he had not been holding onto you so tightly, you’re sure you would have fallen to the floor by now. 

He cums with a gasp, one that sucks the air from his lungs, and he tries to hide it by biting on your shoulder. Tighnari grits his teeth against your skin as little whimpers leave his lips, his tail rapidly thumping against your leg. His weight becomes too much and you both sink to the floor under his passion. 

That first orgasm meant nothing to him, it’s merely a warm-up. 

Tighnari can’t even bring himself to guide you to your shared bedroom, he takes you on the floor. 

He can’t help the way that he spreads your thighs and licks, running his tongue along your slit. The poor man devours it all, spitting and lapping up at whatever he can reach. His harsh sucks make you shiver and squirm but, you can’t move under the tight grip he has on your waist. 

“Ah,” Whatever Tighnari planned to say is muffled by your cunt as he shoves his tongue inside of you. He thrusts the muscle as far as he can go, ears flattened in concentration while his nose grinds against your clit. It’s as if he has become utterly consumed by you, everything about you because all he can focus on is getting his tongue in you as deep as possible. 

But then, he suddenly pulls himself off of you as if it hurts to touch you.

In the blink of an eye, Tighnari is above you, staring down while his legs get situated between your own. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but, I need it,” His breathing has become erratic, eyes almost feral as he begins to heavily salivate. With his primal urges brought to the surface, you know you won’t be able to leave this position and similar ones for a few days. “I have to- I have to fuck you.” 

YAE MIKO

With the amount of time you’ve spent beside Yae Miko, you know her exceptionally well. 

You know when something begins to shift within her, almost as if it is in the air. It’s seen in the way the other shrine maidens keep their distance and in the way Miko’s fingers dance along your skin as she grabs you at any possible opportunity. She makes sure that she’s touching your bare skin, her pink nails nearly breaking it as she stands behind you. 

“I require your assistance, pet,” Her breathy voice always confirms it for you and is the tell-tale sign of when her primal urges begin to show. She drags you by your wrist to a lone room, one decorated exceptionally well with everything you could need to last for weeks. Your lover’s touch grows lighter.

“You know what I need from you.” Yae Miko stares down at you as if she is truly looking down on you, her eyes hold little interest but you know better. You can see how her finger is nearly starting to tremble and how her lips have begun to part. “Come here,” She doesn’t even have to lift a finger for you to stand in front of her, within her grasp. 

Her lips are on you without another second to spare. Immediately, it’s all tongue. She parts your lips with tight squeezes of your sides before her hands move to paw at your breasts. While letting her tongue run over your own, shoving the muscle as far down your throat as she can, she towers above you. Her moans are low and entirely full of pleasure. 

You have a belief that her urges bring out something in you, something similar because you can’t help but want to be used by her every season. 

With heavy hands, Miko pushes you to the ground forcefully on your back. She slowly lowers to her knees, watching you carefully as you pathetically stare up at her. Your lips are still part and slightly swollen because of her previous ministrations. It makes her heart stop as desire stirs in the pit of her stomach. 

She spreads your legs with her slim hands and hooks one of your thighs over her own. Your underwear is discarded in seconds by her nails and her shorts are magically on another side of the room. 

Yae Miko’s lips turn slightly upwards, almost in a mischievous grin as she presses your leg to your chest and sits on top of you. She’s hot, the touch of her skin nearly makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. An immediate roll of her hips makes you moan loudly, the feeling of her sopping cunt against your own renders you speechless. 

“How funny,” She coos but, struggles to hide back her own shakey exhales. Desire takes the forefront of her brain and all she can think about is satisfying the demanding urge in the pit of her stomach. Over and over, she presses her clit against your own and rubs at the sensitive area while roughly thrusting her hips. This is only the beginning, you’re too aware of it. 

With the way Miko is squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipple, you can’t help but anticipate the rest of her plans with you. 

ZHONGLI

After spending lifetimes with Zhongli, you still end up winded when the seasons change. 

Your husband is a dutiful man and always gives you a fair warning, a notice before something ever happens with his body. However, sometimes a warning is not nearly enough. 

It’s been days since his insides have turned into a molten heat and Zhongli has not been shy about tackling this issue with you. You’re always so good to him, let him do whatever he desires just to satisfy the annoying urges. 

Day after day, he can’t help but grow stronger about his affections. He’s a selfish man and he desperately needs more. 

“Oh, you’re-” The words can’t even leave his lips as his head tilts back, a loud moan leaves his lips. Zhongli grits his teeth painfully, grinding them down as his hand tightens in your hair. He’s not being careful and neither are you. You continue to choke on him, around him, as your spit coats his entire cock. The cool sensation makes your husband’s thighs twitch as he grunts at the feeling spreading between his legs. 

You feel incredibly lucky that his primal form has yet to take over, perhaps it won’t even show this time around. It would be nearly impossible to satisfy him with another appendage hanging between his thighs. But, the thought still makes you moan wantingly. 

“My love-” Zhongli finds it hard to speak, his balls painfully tight and it only gets worse when he sees your hand hidden between your thighs. He focuses on your fingers moving against your clit and his eyes nearly turn into slits as he focuses on the image. The realization that this brings you as much pleasure as it does him causes a guttural groan to leave his chest. “Come here,”

His voice changes, it becomes much deeper, much more commanding. Zhongli doesn’t wait for you, he roughly pulls you up to your feet before pulling you into his lap. The way he manhandles you, forcing you to sit back on his face makes your entire being light up with need. 

“Morax!” You screech as your hands press into his abdomen, his tongue doesn’t waste a second now that you’re on him. The archon presses his tongue into your cunt, thrusting in and out before running the muscle over your clit. The stimulation makes it hard to focus but, you still reach for his heavy cock. 

You grip him tightly and lick at his slit, tongue digging into the area as you hum at the taste. Zhongli’s grip on your thighs becomes stronger and he fights back with his sharp nails digging into your skin. Had you been any more focused, you would have thought he had grown claws.

Your cunt pulses around his tongue and all Zhongli can do is continue to shove the muscle inside of you. He doesn’t shy away from rubbing against your walls, no, he has his own agenda. It’s almost sick how he coaxes you to gush around him, all so he can swallow it greedily to satisfy some gut-clenching demand. 

But, he can’t help it, he also can’t help how his skin begins to turn and scales spread across his arms. He can’t help but connect with his primal side when you satisfy the very deepest desires that he has. 

[hobi-side]

might just blow it

— pairing: jung hoseok x f!reader

— playlist: danger - txt, smoke sprite - rm, fuxxin' love - OoOo, 24 hours - jimmy brown, steel - 365 feat dana kim

— summary: Revenge is a dish best served hot, and Hoseok might have pushed your buttons, but he’ll soon learn just what happens when the tables turn. Spoiler: You might be the one getting a lesson but it's fun to play with fire.

— word count: 8.1k (like 5k of this is probably filth y’all)

— warnings: pwp, established relationship, unprotected sex, hobi is kinda a possesive man, f! masturbation, degradation, bratty reader, little breath play, hoseok has a filthy mouth and idk what else, they were possesed by a sex demon in this piece

— note: this is entirely inspired by the craze of what the hope on the stage tour has been giving us for the past months and more specifically THIS whatever the hell was going on with this man that night i have been thinking about it for over a month and this piece of extremely self indulgent horny craze was born. this is my first ever post here, hope you enjoy it! english isn't my first language! please let me know what you think

The second he steps on stage, he wrecks you.

It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen him perform—he always leaves you breathless. Ruthless. A storm in human form. The second the lights hit him, the crowd erupts, and suddenly, you're nothing but need in a sea of screams.

You’re not backstage tonight. You’re in the VIP section—closer to him, somehow further from him. The Hope on Tour shirt clings to your body, damp with sweat, your ARMY bomb held in a death grip. No one around you knows the truth. No one knows that the man they’re screaming for—aching for—is yours. You think of those TikToks, smug and stupid: They don’t know I’m his girlfriend. But you do. You know it in the way your body thrums just watching him. You know it in the ache pooling low in your belly. You know it in the fact that you’ve kept him a secret, selfishly, fiercely. Because he’s not a fantasy. He’s real. And he’s yours.

And tonight, he’s out for blood.

You can’t take your eyes off him. Every move is designed to destroy. He dances like he’s fucking the beat into the floor. He raps like he wants to bite. And every time he gets near your section, it’s like he’s looking straight through the noise—straight at you.

Then he smiles.

Not just any smile. That one. The one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. The one that makes your knees buckle.

And then—forty minutes in—it happens.

Hangsang.

Your pulse spikes. You love this song. At least, you did. Right up until he decides to ruin your life with it.

He makes his way to your section. Slow. Measured. A predator in perfect control.

And then?

He fucking does it.

A casual gesture, at first. One he could get away with. Until he doesn’t. Until his gaze locks on yours like a sniper scope, until he bites his lip and drags his fingers across it like he's testing your patience on purpose.

And then—God help you—he slips those fingers into his mouth. Slow. Deep. Tongue flicking against the tips like he’s tasting you instead.

Your stomach drops. Your thighs clench. You swear you see a thread of spit glisten in the lights.

And then—

Oh, no.

His hand lifts. Fingers curl into the air, sin made physical. A motion you know intimately, one he’s used on you in the dark, against the wall, under the sheets. One that never fails to make you unravel.

Two seconds. That’s all it takes.

The crowd loses its mind—screams, gasps, cries of disbelief. You can already see the fancams being clipped, slowed down, dissected frame by frame.

And he’s still watching you.

Smirking.

Like he knows you’re already soaked through your panties. Like he knows exactly how you’ll fall apart the second he gets you alone. And fuck—he does.

Because Hoseok isn’t just a performer. He’s a menace. A devil in glitter and sweat.

And you know—know—what’s coming later. The teasing. The cocky little tilt of his head. The filthy whisper, hot against your skin:

Couldn’t handle that, baby? You looked so pretty about to cry.

You hate him for it.

But not nearly as much as you love him for it.

When the show ends, and he gives his closing speech, the switch flips. Suddenly he’s not the sin-dripping demon who just mimed fucking the air with his fingers.

He’s just Hoseok.

Hair damp with sweat, eyes glassy with emotion. His voice cracks as he thanks the crowd, thanks the fans, thanks you—without saying it. You see it in the way he clutches his chest, the way he breathes like every second is a gift.

You look at him and feel your heart stretch to bursting.

Your boyfriend is a paradox. Pure chaos. Pure light. He destroys and he heals. And somehow, impossibly, he’s yours.

Backstage is a blur of movement and sound, but your senses are locked on him. Jung Hoseok, still glistening with sweat, flushed from the high of performing, is leaning against a table, chugging water like he didn't just ruin lives for two hours straight. The towel draped around his shoulders does little to distract from the sharp cut of his jaw, the soaked-through shirt clinging to his chest, the glint in his eyes when he spots you.

He doesn’t say anything at first.

Just watches you approach with that look—the one he saves for private moments. The one that says he knows. Knows exactly what he did out there.

You stop in front of him, arms crossed. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Hoseok raises a brow. “Me? What did I do?”

You scoff. “Don’t play innocent. That thing during ‘Hangsang’? You really went with that move?”

He shrugs, a smug tilt to his mouth. “Felt right in the moment.”

“In the moment?” You glare. “You looked me dead in the eye while doing it.”

“Ah,” he says, tapping his fingers against the bottle, voice lowering, “so you admit you were watching me.”

You roll your eyes. “You were practically fucking the air.”

His smile sharpens. “Was I?”

He pushes off the table, stepping in close. Too close. Heat radiates from him like a furnace, and his voice drops to a murmur just for you. “You didn’t like it?”

“I liked it too much, and you know it.”

He hums. “Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” you hiss, pulse spiking, “is that now I can’t think straight and you’re standing here like you didn’t just mouthfuck your own fingers and ruin my entire nervous system.”

He lets out a soft laugh, biting down on his lip like he’s trying not to lose it. His eyes flick down, catching the way your chest rises with each breath. When they return to yours, they’re darker. Hungrier.

“I was just giving a little performance,” he says. “You looked like you needed the reminder.”

You narrow your eyes. “Of what?”

He leans in, lips nearly grazing your ear. “What happens when I actually put my mouth on you.”

Your breath catches—right as a voice cuts through the hallway.

“Hyung! You’ve got five minutes ‘til the send-off!”

You both freeze. Hoseok pulls back with a tight breath, jaw clenching as he throws a nod over his shoulder. “Got it!”

Then his eyes settle back on you. “We’re not done.”

“Oh, I know.”

The energy between you crackles. Neither of you moves as a stylist swoops in to blot the sweat on his forehead, mumbling something about lighting. You barely hear it. Hoseok’s hand brushes your waist as he steps around you, not-so-accidentally dragging fingertips along your side before pulling away completely.

The send-off is a blur, fan signs and waves and cameras flashing. You follow at a distance, trying to keep yourself together, but it’s impossible. Every time he glances back, every time he smiles too wide or bites down on that lip, you feel it unraveling again.

And then you’re in the car.

The doors shut.

Silence.

He’s beside you, legs spread wide, chest still rising and falling too fast. The windows are tinted, the divider up. Just the two of you now.

You glance at him. He’s staring out the window like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just press you to the edge of combustion and walk away.

But his knee bumps yours.

Once.

Twice.

Then stays there.

He turns slowly, lips twitching. “I’m going live in ten.”

You nod, voice tight. “Mm. You better hurry. You look like someone who needs a little help calming down.”

He chuckles, deep and wrecked. “Baby, you’re the reason I’m like this.”

And you sit there, burning, limbs aching, the space between you electric and unbearable.

Neither of you touches.

Not yet.

But god—you both want to.

The hotel room is quiet when you walk in. Clean, modern, luxurious—but it barely registers.

Hoseok heads straight for the desk setup by the window, pulling out his phone and propping it up on a mini tripod. His makeup is barely touched up, hair still messy in that post-show, too-good-to-be-legal way. He mutters something about checking the Wi-Fi, tapping through settings with a frown.

You trail in slower, pretending to be unaffected, but you’re boiling.

And you want payback.

“You starting the live now?” you ask, voice light.

He glances back at you. “In a minute. Why?”

You shrug, toeing off your shoes. “Just wondering how long I have to behave.”

That gets his attention. His head tilts, a knowing smile twitching at his lips. “Don't start something you can't finish, baby.”

“Who says I won’t?”

He shakes his head, amused, and turns back to his phone, hitting the “go live” button before you can say more. The app lights up, comments immediately flooding in as the view count climbs.

“Hey guys,” he says, voice warm, tired but happy. “Just got back from the show. You guys were crazy tonight…”

You sit on the edge of the bed, watching him talk. He’s glowing—soaked in adrenaline and affection, eyes scanning the screen like he’s genuinely soaking up every word. You almost feel bad.

Almost.

You stand, slow and quiet, padding over to where he sits.

He notices. Barely. A flick of his eyes toward you, then back to the camera.

And then you straddle his lap.

He freezes.

It’s subtle—no one on the live can see—but you feel it. The sharp inhale. The tension in his thighs. The way his hands hover, unsure whether to push you off or pull you closer.

You drape your arms loosely around his shoulders, mouth close, almost right beside his ear. “Smile for the fans, Hobi.”

He shifts in the chair, clearly trying to look casual, but you’re sitting right on him—weight pressing into his hips. He clears his throat, waves at the screen.

“Yeah, so I’ll talk about the setlist in a sec,” he says, voice a pitch higher than before. “I just, uh…”

You roll your hips.

Slow. Torturous.

His breath catches audibly.

You suppress a grin.

His eyes dart to the screen, then to you. “Baby,” he warns, lips barely moving.

“Hmm?” You bat your lashes, kissing the shell of his ear.

“Stop.”

“Make me.”

His jaw clenches. The comments keep flying—fans asking why he’s blushing, if the room’s too warm, why he’s suddenly looking down every few seconds.

He tries to power through. Tries to focus. He starts talking about his favorite moment during “Just Dance,” but his voice keeps stuttering. His hands grip the edge of the chair so hard his knuckles go white.

You grind down again. Barely.

He mutters something in Korean under his breath.

Then he’s done.

“I—I’ll talk to you guys later,” he says, too fast. “I need to—rest. Yeah.”

He ends the live with a stiff wave, slamming his phone down the second the stream cuts.

Silence.

You lean in, innocent. “Everything okay, Hobi?”

He looks at you. And he snaps.

In one motion, he lifts you, flips you onto the bed, and crawls on top of you with a growl in his throat and murder in his eyes—sweet, delicious murder.

“You think that was funny?”

You grin, breathless already. “A little.”

He leans in, mouth brushing yours. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“I don't think so.”

He hovers over you, hands planted on either side of your head, breathing hard.

His eyes are wild—half disbelief, half dark amusement—and all of it aimed directly at you.

“You think this is a game?” he murmurs, low and dangerous.

You blink up at him, face the picture of innocence. “Didn’t you start it, Mr. ‘Let Me Finger the Air Like a Pornstar in Front of Thousands’?”

His nostrils flare. “That was performance. This—” he gestures between your bodies, hips brushing yours with almost-zero restraint, “—this is personal.”

“And?” you whisper, one hand sliding up the back of his neck, threading into his hair. “You gonna punish me or talk me to death?”

That does it.

He jerks back like your touch burns. Stands. Paces.

You watch from the bed, smug, legs still slightly spread from where he left you.

He’s trying to get it together. Chest rising and falling, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, jaw flexing like he’s biting back a thousand curses. He drags both hands down his face, then breathes out a laugh that sounds half-wrecked.

“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head.

You sit up slowly. Swing your legs over the side of the bed, take your sweet time walking up behind him. You press your chest against his back, let your fingers drift just under the waistband of his pants. Just a taste.

“Tell me to stop,” you murmur.

He doesn’t.

“Tell me you didn’t love every second of it.”

Still nothing.

You pull back just enough to tease, but he catches your wrist before you can fully retreat. Spins around, pulling you against him in a hard, unyielding grip.

“You want to play games?” he growls. “Fine. We’ll play.”

His hands drop to your hips, fingers digging in. He leans down, lips brushing yours—so close, but not touching.

“But you don’t get to win.”

Then—again—he lets go.

Backs away. Grabs a water bottle from the table and drinks like it’ll douse the fire in him. It won’t.

“You’re not gonna touch me?” you ask, head tilted just enough to be a challenge. Your pulse is thrumming in your neck, fast and furious, and he can see it—feels it.

Hoseok takes a slow sip from his water bottle, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, licking the last drop from his bottom lip, he smirks. “You’re not ready.”

Your brows lift, mocking. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he murmurs, voice low, cocky. “You’re not ready for what I’d do to you if I actually started touching you.”

You scoff, but the heat that coils in your belly betrays you instantly. Your thighs press together on instinct. God, you hate how right he might be.

But now—it’s about pride. About holding your ground. About not letting him win just because he knows exactly what buttons to press.

You cross your arms, eyes gleaming. “Coward.”

He tilts his head, tongue poking into his cheek as he smiles. Dangerous. Ferocious. “Keep talking, baby,” he warns, rising from the edge of the bed. “You’ll be flat on your back before you can blink.”

You raise a brow. “Big words for someone who rage-quit a livestream because he got hard on camera.”

He lunges.

You shriek, laughing, twisting, but he’s too quick. In a second, he’s got you pinned under him again, his hands bracketing your shoulders, his knee sliding between your legs like he owns the space there.

The smile on his face is feral—unchained. “You think you're funny, huh?” he growls, breath ghosting over your lips. “You think I won’t wreck you right now for that little stunt?”

You grin, wicked and bright. “Mmm, you like it nasty, babe?” you purr, fingers dancing up the line of his jaw. “Should’ve thought better before acting up on stage. That little finger trick?” You click your tongue. “You started it.”

He growls again—deep, from his chest, like you’ve touched something raw.

You lean up, give him a light kiss on the cheek. A tease. Nothing more. Then you start to wriggle out from under him. “I’m gonna go clean up. Make myself comfortable.”

You say it like a threat. And it is.

But the second you try to move, his arms tighten, locking you in place.

“Oh, hell no,” he says, voice rough. “You don’t get to kiss me like that and walk away all smug, acting like you didn’t just hijack my entire f—” he swallows hard, eyes dragging over your body like he’s trying to rein it all back in. “You’re not going anywhere until I say so.”

You laugh again, but it’s breathless this time—your own composure slipping. His body is hot, solid, and there, and every move he makes only pushes you deeper into the mattress.

Still, you raise your chin. “You can’t keep me here forever, Hobi.”

He dips down, lips brushing your jaw, your neck, that spot behind your ear that makes your knees go weak—even when you’re lying down.

“Baby,” he whispers, voice like velvet over a razor’s edge. “You think I’m the one losing control right now?”

Your stomach flips.

“Go on,” he adds, letting up just enough for you to slide out from under him. “Run off. Get comfortable. But when I’m done being nice—” his gaze drops, slow and hot—“you’ll be the one begging to stay in bed.”

And he flops back on the mattress, watching you walk away with hooded eyes and a smirk that promises vengeance.

You shut the bathroom door behind you, but not all the way.

Just enough for him to hear everything. Just enough for him to wonder if you left it ajar on purpose.

You flick on the light and catch your reflection in the mirror—cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bitten, pupils blown wide. You look wrecked already and he hasn’t even touched you properly. It’s power. It’s delicious.

And you’re going to make him feel every second of it.

You peel off your shirt with slow, deliberate movements, knowing he can hear the whisper of fabric, the creak of the floorboards, the soft clink of your necklace hitting the counter. You don’t say a word. Let his mind fill in the gaps.

You hear him shift in the bed. Restless.

Then the tap runs. You rinse your face, run your hands through your hair. Still quiet. Still calculated.

Then, when the silence gets too loud, you hum.

Soft and lazy. Just loud enough for it to carry.

“Hmmm,” you sigh to yourself, like you're very pleased with how things are going. Then: “This lingerie might be too much.”

You hear him curse.

You smile. God, you’re having so much fun.

And you keep going. “Or not enough.”

“Baby,” his voice comes through the door, already strained. “Don’t fuck with me right now.”

“Who’s fucking with you?” you chirp sweetly. “I’m just getting comfortable”

You pause. Let it sit. Let him stew in it.

Then, in a voice soaked in sugar: “You good out there?”

The bed creaks again. Louder this time. You imagine him pacing, or palming himself over those sweatpants he threw on in a rush, maybe thinking about how it felt when you sat in his lap before, shifting just so, how your scent’s probably still on his fingers. Still on his skin.

You press your thighs together and try to stay composed.

This is revenge. Sweet, slow-burning revenge. And you’re winning.

“If you want,” you murmur, voice light and laced with mischief, “I could show you what I picked out…”

Silence.

Then—bang.

A sharp thud against the wall. You can’t tell if it’s his fist or the dresser or his skull, but whatever it is, it sounds violent.

You bite back a smile, high on the power. Teasing him like this is too easy.

“Get out here,” he snarls. “Now.”

You scoff, amused. “You didn’t even say please.”

There’s no pause this time.

“I don’t fucking care. I’m tired.” His voice is raw—loud, dark, and fraying at the edges. You open the door fully and find him in the doorway already, like he couldn’t wait. His pupils are blown, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, one arm extended just far enough to touch the inside of your wrist.

His fingers curl around it.

Not rough, but firm. Insistent.

“You are coming with me,” he says, like it’s law. Like it’s a fact already written.

You stand there in his shirt and the smallest pair of shorts you packed—fabric clinging to your skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. He sees everything. The curve of your ass, the hint of lace at your hips, the smooth slope of your thighs still flushed from the game you started.

He swallows, jaw ticking.

“I was just making myself comfortable,” you say sweetly, and his grip tightens, thumb brushing the pulse at your wrist like it drives him mad.

“You’ve got five seconds,” he says, voice low and shaking. “Before I stop playing nice.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You think this is nice?”

He steps closer.

You don’t move.

Now he’s right there—barely an inch between you. The heat off his skin is blistering. His other hand rises to cup your jaw, not quite touching, just hovering, like even that would be giving in too soon.

His eyes flick to your lips, your legs, the way your shirt rides up when you breathe.

“You look like a fucking dream,” he mutters. “A dream that’s trying to kill me.”

You smile, saccharine and smug. “Then maybe you should’ve thought twice before acting up on stage.”

You lean in—just a whisper of your lips against his cheek—and give him a kiss. Barely there. Just enough to ignite.

Then you turn like you’re about to leave again, heading back toward the bed or the bathroom or anywhere that isn’t him.

But his grip doesn’t let go.

He tugs. Not hard—but with purpose.

You stumble right into him, chest against his, thigh brushing the outline of his cock straining against the sweats he rushed to put on after the livestream.

He breathes hard through his nose, like he’s fighting for control.

You whisper against his neck, “You don’t look that tired to me.”

That’s it.

That’s the spark.

He doesn’t lunge, not yet—but his whole body tightens, like a predator held back by a thread. You can feel his fingers flexing against your waist, twitching like they’re seconds from dragging you down onto the floor.

But he won’t. Not until you beg.

God, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love this. What you had. What you were.

He was always all over you, and so were you—two magnets locked in a pull too strong to fight, too wild to tame. Every breath, every look, every fucking brush of skin felt like it was dipped in gasoline. And now?

Now it’s fire.

He walks you backward with slow, deliberate steps until the back of your knees hit the bed. You fall onto it with a soft gasp, and he’s right there, standing between your legs, looking down at you like he’s starving and you’re the feast he’s been denied for way too long.

“Still wanna play?” he asks, voice like gravel, hands clenched at his sides like it’s taking every ounce of self-control not to touch you.

You drag your gaze down his body—his flexing forearms, the twitch in his jaw, the tent in his sweats that looks painful. You smirk. “Are you gonna make me beg, Hoseok?”

His name on your lips does something to him. His eyes darken, and this time when he leans in, it’s not careful. It’s reckless.

He grabs your thighs and yanks you to the edge of the bed so fast you yelp, hands catching on his shoulders. Then his mouth is on your neck—hot and open and claiming—and your whole body arches off the mattress.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he growls against your skin. “With that mouth. With that attitude. With those fucking shorts—”

“You like the shorts?” you pant, tugging on his hair until he groans.

“I hate the shorts,” he snarls, licking down to your collarbone, tongue filthy. “I hate that you wore them when you knew I’d see. I hate that you knew exactly what you were doing.”

You gasp as he nips at your chest through the fabric of your shirt, his hands sliding up under it, rough and eager, palms mapping your ribs like he’s trying to remember what you feel like under pressure.

“I always know what I’m doing,” you whisper.

“Then you knew I wouldn’t last.” He pulls back just long enough to strip the shirt off your body, fast and clumsy, like it offended him just by existing. His eyes rake over you—half-naked, flushed, breathing heavy, legs spread for him—and he snaps.

In a heartbeat, he’s crawling over you, hips grinding into yours, his mouth everywhere—your jaw, your throat, your chest—until you’re gasping his name, your hands clawing at his back, your thighs locking around his waist like he’s the only thing tethering you to earth.

“You wanna beg now, baby?” he huffs against your lips, breathless.

You roll your hips against him and watch his whole body jolt.

“You’re gonna beg first,” you whisper. “For making me wait.”

And just like that, you flip him—straddle him. His back hits the mattress with a thud, and he looks up at you like he’s already ruined.

You settle your weight on his lap and smile down at him, wicked and wild.

“Let’s see who really breaks first.”

He doesn’t answer with words.

His hands shoot up to grip your waist, knuckles white, muscles flexing like restraint is no longer an option—and maybe it never was. Not when it comes to you. Not when you’re sitting on top of him like this, all flushed and smug and soaked in sweat and attitude.

You grind down once—slow and hard—and he chokes.

“Oh, fuck—” His hips buck up into yours, involuntary, brutal, and you ride it, gasping as your core drags against the thick length straining beneath those damn sweatpants.

That’s it. That’s the snap.

One second, the air between you is strung tight with tension, and the next, he’s moving—sitting up fast, eyes wild, grabbing you like he’s been holding back for hours and just broke. One arm hooks around your back, the other fists in your hair, yanking you into him, crashing his mouth against yours again like he’s starving for it.

It’s not a kiss. It’s a collision.

Tongues clash, teeth graze, breaths tangle. It's messy and urgent, raw with need. He groans deep in his chest like the taste of you is dragging him under, like he's unraveling at the seams just from this, just from you, and you moan right back, clutching at him like he’s your last tether to the world.

“You feel what you do to me?” he growls, voice thick with hunger, biting down on your bottom lip before dragging it into his mouth and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “You’ve been fucking dripping all night.”

“So touch me,” you pant, grinding against him without shame, chasing friction, chasing anything. “Make me feel it.”

And he does. God, does he.

You’re flipped without warning again, like you weigh nothing in his hands. The room blurs for a heartbeat and then your back hits the bed, his weight caging you in, devouring every inch of you with his eyes. He rips your shorts down like they personally offended him, tossing them aside without a glance.

Then he sees the soaked spot on your panties and something snaps behind his eyes.

A low, guttural growl vibrates through his chest. “Fuck.”

He runs a finger right over it—barely there, just a tease—and you gasp, hips bucking up into the touch. He smirks, dark and dangerous, before shoving the fabric aside and diving in like a man possessed.

No hesitation. No mercy.

Two fingers slam into you, deep and fast, and your back arches off the bed as a cry tears from your throat.

“Already so fucking tight,” he mutters, forehead dropping to your shoulder, his eyes fixed on the way your body clenches around him. He curls his fingers just right and thrusts again, harder this time, deeper, and your legs start to shake.

“You were waiting for this, weren’t you?”

You can’t speak. You can barely breathe. All you can do is nod helplessly, whimpering, your nails digging into his arm as your other hand twists in the sheets like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

He doesn’t stop. He won’t stop.

Each thrust is punishing, each curl devastating, each drag of his fingers designed to destroy you. Your whole body is shaking, every muscle drawn tight, the edge so close it feels like you could fall over it with a single breath.

“Hoseok—fuck, I—”

“Not yet.”

He rips his fingers away, and you scream in frustration, hips bucking into nothing, walls fluttering around the absence like you’ve been ripped open and left begging.

“I said—”

But the words vanish from your mouth because suddenly—God—his mouth is right there.

No warning. No buildup. Just heat and tongue and wicked, wicked lips wrapping around your clit like a death sentence.

He moans into you, arms locking around your thighs to hold you in place while he ruins you with his mouth.

“You—fuck, I—”

He glances up, lips glistening, eyes gleaming with sin. He smirks like he knows. Like he planned this.

And then he says, low and lethal, “Don’t come until I say so.”

Like it’s a challenge. Like he wants to see you fall apart trying not to.

And oh, you will.

Oh, you unleash.

It’s not graceful. It’s not sweet. It’s carnal.

You shatter—loud, writhing, wrecked. A cry bursts from your throat, raw and ragged, echoing off the walls like a confession. Your voice breaks into a hoarse moan, half his name, half a curse, and entirely surrender.

And he watches—fuck, he watches like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

That wicked smile curves across his lips, dark and triumphant. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up. His mouth is right there, relentless, greedy, like he’s trying to consume every last tremor from your body. His tongue flicks, circles, presses, and it’s too much—too much heat, too much pleasure, too much him.

Then his hand slides up—slow, smooth, terrifying in how in control he still is—and wraps lightly around your throat.

Not tight. Just enough.

Just enough to make your breath hitch. Just enough to make you feel it—that loss of air, that vulnerability, that heady spike of something deeper.

His lips drag down, kissing the inside of your thigh with reverence, then right back up, mouth sealing over your clit like he’s praying with his tongue.

“Look at you,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough, reverent. “So fucking perfect when you come.”

Your body jerks beneath him, aftershocks ripping through you, legs trembling like you’ve run miles. You can barely keep your eyes open, but you see the way he’s looking at you—like you’re something holy and ruined all at once.

“Could watch you fall apart like that forever,” he growls, licking a long, slow stripe through your slick. “Could live between your thighs and never need another damn thing.”

You whimper, mind fogged and limbs useless, but he’s not done.

He shifts up, kissing your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone, while his hand keeps its gentle pressure at your throat. Not to hurt. Just to hold. Just to remind you: he’s the one doing this.

“You think that was it?” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours as he grinds his hips down, the hard line of him pressing against you. “I haven’t even started.”

Even in the haze—numb, trembling, boneless from the high—you move.

You fight for it.

Still shaking, still gasping, you claw your way onto him like instinct, like something primal and desperate has taken hold. There's no grace, no finesse—just raw need, coursing through you like lightning. You straddle him, hips grinding down, rutting shamelessly against the thick heat straining beneath his clothes.

You’re a mess. A beautiful, wrecked mess.

Mouth parted, chest heaving, hair clinging to your sweat-slicked skin. You can barely breathe, barely think, but all your body knows is him.

“Please…” you gasp, voice breaking on a moan as you roll your hips again. “Please, baby… fuck… want ya—want ya so bad.”

The words come out slurred with lust, almost incomprehensible, like you're drunk on him. And maybe you are.

He watches you like he’s in a trance, hands gripping your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. His jaw is tight, his eyes dark—burning. Like he’s holding on to every last shred of control and losing.

“Look at you,” he breathes, voice wrecked with arousal. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“I do,” you whimper, grinding down harder, chasing friction, chasing everything. “Want your cock, baby—need it. Need you in me.”

That’s what shatters him.

He flips you again—ruthless, fast. Your back hits the bed and he’s already there, caging you in with his body, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself.

You both moan when he ruts against your core, right there, the heat of him dragging over the slick fabric.

“God, you’re filthy,” he groans “You’re gonna take every inch. Gonna feel me for days.”

You spread your legs wider, shameless and soaked, begging with your body.

“So take me,” you cry, voice breaking as your nails drag down his back, leaving red lines in their wake. “Fuck me.”

God, you love this man.

Love how filthy you both are—how raw, how real. How there’s nothing between you but heat and skin and the kind of need that burns straight through the bones.

He groans at your words, at the way your body arches into his, shameless and pleading. His cock is right there, so close, the head dragging through your slick, teasing your entrance with maddening slowness.

You whine, desperate, hips lifting to chase him, to take him, but he holds steady—just to watch you fall apart a little more. Just to feel your hunger for him.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, voice low, reverent, dangerous. “Can’t even wait a second, can you?”

You shake your head, lips parted, breath catching. “I need you,” you gasp. “Please, just—just fuck me already.”

And then—blissful mercy—he gives in.

He pushes in slow, the thick head of his cock breaching you, stretching you open inch by inch. Your mouth falls open, a broken moan spilling out as your eyes flutter shut.

Then he bottoms out in one smooth, deep thrust, burying himself inside you to the hilt.

Your world ends.

Your eyes roll back, your entire body going limp beneath him, mouth slack, breath stolen. You feel everything—the stretch, the pressure, the way he fits like he was made for you.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, forehead pressing against yours, barely holding himself back. “You feel unreal. So tight, so fucking wet for me.”

You can’t even respond. Just whimper, legs wrapping around his waist like instinct, like you never want him to leave.

He pulls out slow, just enough to feel the drag, then thrusts back in with a snap of his hips that knocks the air from your lungs.

You gasp, moan, claw at his back again. “Yes, yes—just like that—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t.

He pounds into you with a rhythm that’s all hunger and devotion, head buried in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

And all you can think—through the pleasure, the gasps, the sting of nails and the slap of skin—is how much you fucking love this.

How much you fucking love him.

The thing about Hoseok is… he’s an artist, yeah. But first? He’s a dancer.

And those goddamn hips know exactly what they’re doing.

You know better than anyone.

You’ve felt it—in the way he moves against you, inside you, like his body was choreographed to yours. Every roll of his hips is a masterstroke, every thrust precise, powerful, devastating. He hits that spot again and again, like he mapped it out, like he studied it, like he's spent hours—years—perfecting the rhythm that makes you scream his name.

And you do.

You chant it, breathless and wrecked, nails digging into his back like he’s the only thing tethering you to this earth.

“Hoseok—fuck, right there, baby, right there—”

He groans into your neck, hips grinding deeper, slower for a second, just to make you feel the drag of him inside you. Just to show you who’s in control.

“You feel me?” he growls, teeth dragging over the curve of your throat, his voice a rasp in your ear. “That’s it, baby. Take it. Take all of me.”

And you do.

You take everything. Every inch, every thrust, every filthy word he feeds into your skin like sin-soaked poetry. Your body matches his like instinct, like choreography written in lust and obsession. This is more than sex—it’s a rhythm, a performance, a fucking ritual.

“You’re my filthy princess,” he pants, hips snapping against yours, the sound obscene, slick, perfect. “You know why I did that shit on stage, babe?”

You blink through the haze, barely able to speak, to breathe.

He leans closer, lips brushing your ear, thrusts never faltering, never softening. “I did it ‘cause I was thinking of you.”

Your heart stutters. Your pussy clenches around him.

His voice darkens, sweet with venom. “Thought about you the night before that concert… pressed up against the wall, legs shaking, those pretty little moans spilling out while I had my fingers inside you. Remember that?”

You nod frantically, mind flashing with the memory—his hand, your helplessness, the way you came with your mouth against his shoulder to muffle the scream.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about the way you begged,” he grins, feral, breath hitching as your walls flutter around him. “‘Oh baby,’” he mocks you in a breathy whimper, falsetto, sinful. “‘I’m your filthy fucking bitch…’”

Your whole body seizes. Shame and heat twist together like a fuse sparking to life.

He laughs—low and wicked, full of pride. “And all I could think was: that’s mine. That girl up front, lookin’ all sweet, all put-together?”

His hips drive harder, deeper—he’s pounding into you now, chasing the sound of your cries, the clench of your cunt.

“She’s the same one who gets on her knees like a whore for me.”

You whimper, head thrown back, nails clawing at his shoulders.

“That’s you, baby,” he says, voice all gravel and affection, eyes blazing. “My pretty girl, my nasty little thing. The one who smiles for the cameras, then bends over the second I lock the door.”

Your entire body is trembling. You don’t know if it’s the pace or the filth or the way he’s looking at you like he’s obsessed—but you're close, again, helpless to stop it.

“You gonna come for me again?” he asks, cocky and tender all at once. “Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze the fuck out of me?”

“Y-Yeah—fuck, Hoseok—”

“Come,” he growls, voice raw, deep, commanding. “Come for me, my beautiful princess—my filthy fucking whore.”

That’s it. That’s the snap.

You shatter.

Your entire body goes taut, every muscle pulling tight before releasing in one violent, uncontrollable wave. Your legs shake around him, trembling so hard it’s like your bones have melted. Your mouth opens on a scream, but it barely makes it out—just a broken, choked moan that dies in your throat as your vision whites out.

You cling to him, hands clawing at his back like you need something—anything—to anchor you. But he’s not slowing down. If anything, he’s driving it deeper, dragging your orgasm out until it borders on unbearable.

And then—your body gives.

A gush of wetness spills between you, soaking his cock, the sheets, your thighs. You gasp, humiliated and feral all at once, trying to pull away—but he growls low, hands gripping your hips, holding you there.

“Oh fuck,” he hisses, staring down where your bodies are joined. “That’s it, baby. Look at that. Look at the mess you just made for me.”

You’re still twitching, body jerking with aftershocks, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity. But Hoseok—he looks like a man possessed.

“Goddamn, you’re perfect,” he breathes, dragging his cock out just enough to watch more of your release drip out, then sliding right back in with a groan. “So wet, so ruined, so fucking mine.”

You whimper beneath him, wrecked and pliant, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t… I—I already…”

“You can,” he growls, eyes blazing as he locks gazes with you. “And you will. I’m not done with you yet.”

He kisses you then—deep and claiming, like he’s sealing something between you with tongue and teeth and breath.

And all you can do is moan into it, broken and breathless, because despite everything— You want it. You want him.

You’re still trembling, your body a live wire of oversensitivity and bliss, when he starts moving again—slow at first, but no less intense. Like he’s savoring the afterglow, dragging it out, making you feel every inch of him, every pulse and push and stretch.

“You’re unreal,” Hoseok mutters against your mouth, voice thick with awe and hunger. “You came so hard for me. Fuck, baby… you squirted for me.”

Your cheeks burn, your lips part to apologize, but he cuts you off with another deep thrust that makes your back arch, a whimper catching in your throat.

“Don’t even try,” he growls, pinning your hips down. “That was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

He’s drunk on you now—high on the mess, the heat, the way your body is still fluttering around him. He dips his head to kiss down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, dragging his tongue along your skin as if trying to taste the orgasm still clinging to you.

And you… you’re floating.

You can’t even form words. Just sounds. Moans and gasps and breathy little pleas as he rocks into you, deeper now, slower, rolling his hips with maddening precision.

“Still so tight,” he whispers, voice ragged. “You feel that? The way your pussy’s still trying to milk me?”

You nod weakly, eyes glassy, mouth open on a silent gasp when he hits that spot again, perfectly, like he knows.

“Fuck, I love you like this,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “All soft. Fucked-out. Shaking. You’re so fucking pretty when you come.”

His hand slips down between you, fingers rubbing lazy circles on your clit, and your whole body jolts.

“N-No—too much—”

“I know, baby,” he coos, still fucking you through it. “I know. Just one more. One more for me, yeah?”

You sob his name, overwhelmed, but you don’t tell him no. Because you don’t want it to stop. Not yet. Not when it feels like this. Not when his body is still moving against yours like a symphony only you get to hear.

You lock your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, holding him there. And he groans—low, guttural, broken.

“Oh fuck—fuck, baby—”

He’s close. You can feel it.

The rhythm starts to slip, his thrusts getting rougher, faster. The weight of him, the sound of your soaked skin meeting his, the filthy praise falling from his lips—it’s all building again, dizzying, consuming.

And right before the fall, right when everything goes blinding and hot—he looks at you. Really looks at you.

And he says it.

“Come with me.”

And you do.

Together.

Hard, loud, beautiful.

The high fades like smoke—slow, warm, lingering—but the after? The after is where it all settles. Where the heat gives way to something softer, deeper, realer.

You’re both breathless, tangled together in a mess of limbs and sweat and slick, bodies still twitching from the aftershocks. Hoseok collapses gently onto you, careful not to crush you, just enough to feel your heartbeat slam against his.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Just the sound of your breathing, still uneven and shaky. The way his hand finds yours, fingers lacing like it’s instinct.

Then, a laugh. Small, hoarse. Yours.

He lifts his head slightly, his forehead still resting on yours, brows furrowed in amused concern. “What?”

You grin, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He laughs too, deep and wrecked, kissing your forehead like he’s proud of that. “You weren’t supposed to. That was kinda the point.”

You try to nudge him with your knee, but it twitches uselessly and flops against the mattress. That just makes him laugh harder.

“I broke you,” he teases, clearly delighted with himself. “My poor baby.”

He kisses you again, this time slower, sweeter. Like a thank-you. Like a promise. Like he means it.

Then he starts pulling away to grab something—a towel, maybe—but you clutch at him with a tiny, panicked sound. “No—don’t go.”

He freezes. Looks down at you. And something in his face melts.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says gently, crawling right back over you, arms wrapping around your waist to roll you both onto your sides. “Not now. Not ever.”

You bury your face in his neck, letting your body relax completely into him. His scent, his warmth, the thrum of his pulse under your fingertips—it’s all enough to lull you into the sweetest kind of daze.

His thumb strokes your hip lazily. “You really are my filthy little princess, huh?”

You mumble something incoherent against his throat.

He chuckles. “What was that?”

“I said,” you sigh, half-asleep already, “your filthy queen, actually.”

He grins like you’ve just given him the world. “Damn right.”

Then he kisses your shoulder, one hand trailing up your spine, the other pulling the sheets around both of you.

"I love you, babe"

And just like that—you’re safe. Wrecked. Loved. Held.

The morning comes slow, gentle, a hazy stretch of sunlight spilling through half-closed blinds, casting soft lines across tangled sheets and bare limbs.

You wake first—barely. Just enough to feel the stiffness in your muscles, the warm ache between your thighs, and the delicious weight of an arm slung over your waist. Hoseok’s chest is pressed to your back, his breath soft and warm against your shoulder, one leg tucked between yours like he couldn’t bear to be any farther away, even in sleep.

You hum quietly, nuzzling into the pillow with a sleepy smile. Everything smells like him—sweat, skin, sex, and that faint hint of his cologne that somehow survived the chaos of last night.

You don't want to move. Ever.

But a groggy groan rumbles behind you.

“Fuck.”

You shift slightly. “What time is it?”

There’s a pause. Then another groan, this one full of regret. “Eight-thirty.”

You blink. “…AM?”

He flops onto his back dramatically, arm flung over his eyes like he’s auditioning for a tragedy. “I have to be at soundcheck in three hours. My body feels like it got run over by a truck.”

You snort, rolling onto your side to face him. His hair’s a mess, lips puffy, eyes still half-closed and pouting like a grumpy cat.

“Wonder why that is,” you tease, trailing your fingers over the fresh nail marks on his chest.

He squints at you from under his arm. “You did this. You and your pretty little ‘Please, baby, fuck me so good’ voice.”

You fake a gasp. “I never—”

He mimics you, pitch high and breathy, “‘Oh Hobi, I’m your filthy fuckin’ bitch—’”

You throw a pillow at his face. He catches it with one hand and groans again, flopping back down.

“…I deserve that,” he mumbles. Then, with sudden, dramatic anguish: “God, I’m so tired. My legs are jello. I have choreo in nine hours.”

You try not to laugh, but it bubbles out anyway. “You broke me last night. This is just karma.”

“I’m never going that hard the night before a show again,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes.

You kiss his cheek gently. “Liar.”

He sighs, lips curling into a crooked little smile. “Yeah. I’m totally gonna do it again.”

You both lie there for another few moments, the calm creeping back in, the kind that only comes with mornings like this. The silence is soft. Easy. Safe.

Then he cracks one eye open again, already plotting. “Okay. Hear me out. If I nap in the car and stretch in the dressing room, I might survive tonight.”

You grin. “I’ll be in the front row. Screaming my head off. Still limping.”

He smirks, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Bet.”

note: girl, i wrote this in like 3 hours instead of my actual thesis hshshs hope you guys liked it <3

[yup-no-way]

Astro Observations pt. 3

Hi there! So here comes another astro observations post. But before I have to rant. Man…uni is kicking me in the butt (average engineering student). Like wdym I have a month till my finals and I have a research paper, 3 projects, 2 lab reports, 2 Tests and one lab exam due. And I have to start studying for my finals as well. ߹ ᯅ ߹

These observations are based on my personal experiences so don’t take it as full facts. These placements can also be influenced by other things in someone’s chart like degrees, houses and aspects. Also if u have any suggestions for what content you’d like to see feel free to let me know. English is not my first language lads so don’t drag me for grammatical errors. xoxo

Venus trine Ascended aspect: how does it feel to be life’s favourite . Like these people just have it like that. They are genuinely beautiful people and while that can manifest as conventional attractive, from my personal experience, their beauty is very unique , depending on other aspects in their chart. But whatever style of beauty they have, they embody it fully and they turn eyes wherever they go. Also these are the type of people who’s beauty is influenced by how they feel about themselves so if you practice self love and acceptance then that’s when you radiate the most.

Pluto 10h: huuuuge issues with authority figures. Mostly these people fall into 2 categories. First one, they always feel suppressed but push back therefore getting into arguments with those authority figures. Second one, they feel suppressed but don’t say anything, they prefer to lay low and not confront those issues. Overall for each case it’s a heavy placement and causes heavy friction in your life. These people also almost 100% have (or had) a lot of arguments with their parents. BUT, if you channel this energy by learning how to play the cards you’ve been dealt and manipulate situations without coming so upfront then this placement is so powerful, especially in regards to career. CEO energy. These people rlly would much rather work for themselves. I could go on hours talking ab Pluto, but I’ll leave it for another post because this planet is so interesting and people need to learn how to harness its energy better.

Lilith Gemini: worst nightmare for these people? Being perceived as dumb. They will rather be called ugly, weird etc. than being called stupid. And the best part? They aren’t stupid at all. Their most cunning aspect? Their intelligence. For some, they might’ve actually been perceived as slow when younger but worked hard just to not be associated with that imagine anymore.

4th house in Gemini: for a lot of these people, their home never felt that welcoming when young. This placement indicated a home/environment where growing intellectually/academically was very important (more important than their emotional state). Geminis 4th house experienced a lot of shame regarding their grades in their home/school or faced immense pressure to be “the first in class”. Also, this placement can be harder to navigate because due to the lack of support they might’ve felt in their environment. I wanna give you guys a big hug, seriously. You are more than your academics. Lots of love to yous xoxo

Venus trine Pluto: these people are magnetic. They are also mostly perceived way differently than they are (kinda sad tbh). So many people with this placement are hard to approach, even if they are genuinely nice people, at least once in their life, someone told them they look intimidating. This placement might not get hit on as much because of it. People tend to have fantasies regarding this collective, specifically in the house of your Pluto. For example if you have a Pluto in the 2nd house, they might fantasise about you taking them out for a shopping spree or them taking you out and spoiling you. If you have Pluto 10th house, then maybe they are very attracted to your work persona and might fantasise about some forbidden work love. You get the point. This placement is very intense but it can attract unhealthy relationships. You need to learn your toxic pattern and make sure you do not repeat it.

I hope you guys enjoyed this as well! I will be diversifying my content soon, I just had some more placements I wanted to talk about before I start smth new. Also I don’t have that many observations today since I have been focused on writing another Astro blog that is coming soon (I am so exited). Before my next astro observations post I’ll need to gather more info (aka psychoanalyse all my friends and the people around me)

Till next time xoxo

[missarchive]

motel six

spencer reid

cw; spencer reid x fem!reader, spencer gets caught jacking off, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, softdom!reader, sub!spencer, one bed troupe, oral (m. receiving), aftercare, unprotected p in v, spencer’s a little desperate and awkward (what’s new)

an; HIII ALLL!!! This is based on an ask I received earlier this month, but I have had a few similar ones so I finally made a fic for them. The truth is that I have been seeing a beautiful woman and she is taking up most of my time. BUT- I managed to sneak this one in. I will start posting more consistently again now that my writer’s block has finally disappeared. As always, please leave some feedback if you liked it (if you didn’t just know you’re stepping on my hopes and dreams). Love and miss u guys xoxo

wc; around 3k

Your stomach twists. A long day chasing leads and poring over case files has already left you drained, and now you have to share a room with someone? You glance around at your teammates, who are pairing off with little hesitation. Morgan claims a room with Rossi. Hotch and JJ take another. Emily and Garcia get the third. That leaves…

You turn your head just as Spencer Reid—resident genius, profiler extraordinaire, and your usual case partner—adjusts the strap of his bag with an unmistakable grimace. His hazel eyes dart to yours before flicking away, his jaw tightening.

Of course.

"Looks like it's you and me, Reid," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he nods stiffly and brushes past you toward the room number scribbled on the keycard sleeve. Your stomach sinks further, but you push down the unease and follow.

The room is as underwhelming as expected: beige walls, scratchy-looking blankets, and a single queen bed shoved against one side. A rickety wooden chair sits near the window, but otherwise, the space is cramped.

Spencer stops in the doorway, his whole body tensing. "You take the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair."

You frown. "Reid, that thing looks like it’ll collapse if you breathe on it too hard. We can just—"

"I said I’ll sleep in the chair," he snaps, dropping his go-bag by the door.

The sharpness in his voice catches you off guard. Spencer is always a little awkward, sometimes distant, but rarely outright rude. You watch as he rubs his temple, his jaw clenched so tightly you wonder if he might crack a tooth. He looks… angry. At you?

"Okay," you say slowly. "Did I do something?"

"No," he bites out. "Just drop it."

You exhale sharply, irritation flaring. "Spencer, we’re both exhausted. If something’s wrong, you can just—"

"Just leave it alone, Y/N."

His words are clipped, final. You stare at him for a moment, searching his face for an answer, but he won’t meet your gaze. The room suddenly feels suffocating.

Fine. If he wants to be an ass, let him.

"I’m going outside," you mutter, grabbing your jacket. "Maybe by the time I get back, you’ll have figured out how to use your words like an adult."

You don’t wait for a response before stepping out into the cool night air.

The motel parking lot is nearly empty, save for the team's vehicles and a couple of semi-trucks parked along the far end. You breathe in the crisp air, letting it wash away some of the frustration bubbling inside you.

Spencer’s behavior isn’t just annoying—it stings. You thought the two of you were friends. Sure, he can be awkward and distant, but he’s never been outright cruel before. Whatever is bothering him, he clearly doesn’t want to share it with you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as the cold seeps through your thin jacket. After a few minutes, your irritation starts to wane, replaced by exhaustion. You don’t have the energy to stay mad, and honestly, all you want is to collapse into bed and sleep for at least twelve hours.

With a sigh, you make your way back toward the room. The hallway is silent, the only sound your footsteps against the aging carpet. You reach for the door handle but freeze as a muffled noise seeps through the thin walls.

A low, breathy moan.

Your heart stutters.

You strain to listen, barely breathing as another quiet sound follows—one you recognize immediately.

A strangled gasp, unmistakably Spencer’s.

Heat rushes to your face as your brain supplies every possible explanation, each one more embarrassing than the last. You should walk away. You should turn around and pretend you never heard anything. But your hand stays frozen on the doorknob, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Another moan drifts through the door, this one louder. You swallow against the sudden lump in your throat.

"Fuck," Spencer gasps. "O-oh god— please."

His voice is low, rough. Desperate.

You grip the doorknob tighter, debating for what feels like an eternity. Should you walk away? Or—

You ease the door open, pressing your hand against it as if to stop yourself from charging forward. Spencer’s back is to you, his head thrown back as he works himself over, his hand moving in rapid strokes.

You can’t help it—you step further into the room, drinking in the sight of him.

He’s sprawled on the bed, shirtless and pale in the moonlight filtering through the blinds. His arm muscles are tense, sweat dripping down the side of his face. The blanket is thrown back, revealing his naked lower half: his long legs, his perfect hands—

His cock, thick and wet between his fingers.

You feel a rush of arousal at the sight, your blood pulsing hot. This is so wrong. So inappropriate. He’s your teammate, for god’s sake, and yet—

And yet, you can’t bring yourself to walk away.

Spencer's hips jerk upwards, his body shuddering with pleasure. "Y/N," he gasps again, his head falling back against the pillow. His eyelids flutter shut, his brows drawn together.

"Y/N, fuck, please—" His hand moves faster, stroking himself with a rough desperation that makes your breath hitch. You can’t look away as he thrusts against his grip, his hips writhing, his spine arched.

"Ah- fuck," he gasps, his body tensing, his fist tightening around himself. His mouth falls open, his eyes squeezing shut as he comes with a strangled moan.

You press your hand over your mouth, holding back a whimper of your own as you watch him.

Spencer sags against the mattress, his chest heaving. He's so fucking beautiful, and—

And you’re still standing here, watching him.

Your eyes dart to his face, and your stomach plummets as he turns his head.

He opens his eyes, and you meet his gaze across the room.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

Then you both leap into action.

He scrambles upright, fumbling for the blanket to cover himself. You jump backward, tripping over the threshold and landing hard on your ass.

"Shit," you hiss, wincing at the pain that shoots up your tailbone. "Shit. I—fuck, I’m sorry. I should—"

"Y/N," Spencer says in a strangled voice. "I—I thought you were gone. I didn’t know you were—"

He trails off, looking anywhere but at you. You struggle to your feet, smoothing your clothes down self-consciously. This is awkward as hell.

"I thought you were asleep," you admit, wincing. "I didn’t mean to—"

Spencer draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. He looks so fucking embarrassed, and you can't blame him.

You should say something. Apologize. You should put him at ease—

But the sight of him still has your pulse hammering.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down your racing thoughts. "I’m sorry, Spencer. I really am. I don’t mean—this is just—"

He raises his head, his eyes searching your face. "What were you doing, standing there?" he asks softly.

You swallow against the lump in your throat. "I don’t know," you whisper. "It was wrong, what I did. I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have watched you. I’m sorry."

Spencer lowers his gaze, his face still flushed. "What if I wanted you to?" he mumbles.

Your heart jumps. "What?"

"I wanted you to watch me," he says louder, his eyes darting up to meet yours. "I’ve been wanting you to for weeks, ever since you asked me to take over the case files."

"What?" you repeat stupidly.

Spencer shifts, his cheeks flushing a deep red. "I started—I started thinking about you. Fantasizing about you. You touching me, kissing me— everything."

Oh.

You stare at him, trying to process. "Reid," you say softly. "I—"

"Don’t apologize," he says quickly. "It’s not your fault, I just—I wanted you. So fucking bad. I thought that sleeping next to you would be—"

"What?" you prompt gently.

He exhales sharply. "That it would be uncomfortable," he says in a rough whisper. "That it would drive me crazy. That maybe you’d—maybe you’d feel it too."

His gaze flicks up to yours again, full of hope.

Your heart races. "Is that what you want?" you ask, stepping forward.

Spencer's breath hitches, his fingers tightening around his knees. "Yes," he rasps. "Oh fuck, yes. If you—Y/N, I’ll do anything you want. Just—just don’t leave me alone again. Please."

His words send a surge of pleasure through your veins. The sight of him, desperate and pleading, is almost too much to bear.

"Spencer," you whisper, taking another step forward. "Come here."

He scrambles to his feet, rushing toward you. You meet him halfway, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. He melts against you, pressing his face into the curve of your neck with a sigh.

"I can’t believe you saw that," he murmurs into your skin.

"I can’t believe I did either," you admit with a chuckle. "But I’m glad I did."

Spencer raises his head, his hazel eyes searching yours. "You are?"

You nod, smiling softly. "Yes."

His face flushes. "Do—do you want to watch me again?"

You smile wider. "Maybe later," you tease. "Right now, I think it’s my turn."

Spencer's eyes widen as you press him backwards, onto the bed. "I thought you were tired," he murmurs, his voice already thickening with arousal.

"I am," you agree, smiling. "But this is more important." You drop your jacket onto the floor, pulling off your shirt and jeans in quick motions. Spencer's eyes dart down to take in the sight of your naked body, and you flush at his hungry gaze.

He groans, throwing his head back against the pillow as you climb on top of him.

It takes a lot to shock Spencer Reid. But you're definitely up for the challenge. The look on his face is priceless as you take his cock in your mouth, not wasting any more time. His hips buck against the mattress, his hands threading into your hair.

"Fuck," he gasps. "Oh my god. Y/N."

He tangles his fingers in your hair, urging you on as you work him over. He's so responsive, moaning and gasping and whining—fuck, it's a beautiful sound.

You work him deeper, taking

Spencer moans loudly as you take him deeper, his thighs trembling. "Y/N, oh fuck, I—fuck—"

You press one hand against his hip, holding him steady as you swirl your tongue over the underside of his cock. Spencer bucks against your grip, his fingers tightening in your hair. He's still so sensitive from his previous release, but he's still getting harder—thicker—by the second.

You run your tongue along the underside of his cock, teasing the spot behind the head.

"Oh fuck," Spencer gasps, his voice broken. "Y/N, please—please don’t stop. I’m going to— ah."

You press your other hand against his stomach, feeling the muscles contract. His whole body is straining upwards, his back arched and his eyes squeezed shut.

You take him all the way in, swallowing around his length as you work your lips over his shaft. Spencer comes with a cry, his hips jerking as he empties down your throat. You swallow every drop, holding his gaze as you slowly pull back.

"Touch," he rasps, his fingers searching for your own.

You swallow against the ache in your throat and smile up at him, lacing your fingers with his. "How are you feeling?" you ask, running your thumb over his hand, keeping your voice soft as to not disturb the air.

Spencer sighs, though not out of exhaustion, you assume he’s still taking everything in as you see his head rolling against the pillow. "It’s never felt like that before."

You grin. "Glad I could help."

He shifts, reaching for his discarded pants on the floor. "We should—we should clean up," he mumbles, his eyes darting to yours. He flushes when he sees your expression, and his face turns even redder as you realize what he’s doing.

"Reid," you laugh. "Are you really reaching for tissues right now?"

His ears turn bright red. "Well, what—what else am I supposed to do?"

You shift, straddling his hips as you lean down. "How about we do something else," you murmur. You kiss his jawline, working your way down his neck.

"Like what?" he asks in a breathy voice.

"Like this," you reply. You shift, taking his cock inside you. Spencer's breath hitches, and he groans at the feel of you surrounding him. You clasp his shoulders as you begin to move, his hands falling to your hips. He gasps with each thrust, his eyes falling shut as his head lolls back against the pillow.

"Y/N," he whimpers, his fingers digging into your skin. “I don’t know if I can-."

You ride him harder, sliding up and down his cock. “Yes you can, baby. I know you can give me one more,” Spencer's hips rock upwards to meet you, his breath coming in broken gasps.

His fingers tighten around your hips, holding you close as he thrusts upwards.

You’re both panting and gasping now as you chase the peak. You're so close. So fucking close.

"Please—" Spencer groans. "Y/N. I'm—fuck, I'm coming."

You feel him spasm inside you, his fingers tightening almost painfully around your hips. You groan, your movements slowing as you ride him through his orgasm. Spencer's eyes are closed, his mouth open as he gasps for air. His body trembles beneath you, and you feel a surge of satisfaction as you reach yours, too.

You slump forward, catching yourself on his shoulders as you press your forehead against his. He opens his eyes and smiles at you, a warm expression that makes your chest ache.

"Hi," he murmurs softly.

"Hi Spencer." You smile back.

You both lay there for a moment, enjoying the weight of each other’s bodies. Finally, you roll off him, stretching out next to him on the creaky motel bed.

You reach for him, pulling him into your arms as you smile. He nestles against you, his arm snaking around your waist as he presses his face against your chest.

You wrap your arm around him, whispering soft praise into his hair as you stroke his skin gently. He relaxes further, his body growing heavy with sleep.

The mattress is uncomfortable, the sheets too thin. But somehow, you feel more at ease than you have in weeks.

Spencer Reid is a brilliant man. But he’s also really fucking good at other things too. And you’re excited to find out what else he’s good at.

You smile to yourself, your chest warm with affection.

"Goodnight, Reid," you whisper into his hair.

He hums a soft reply, his breathing already slowing. You wrap your arm tighter around him, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift off into sleep. Tomorrow, the case will continue, and so will your job. But right now, you have Spencer in your arms.

And that’s more than enough. You smile again, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you as you drift off to sleep. This room might not be perfect. But it’s home for the moment, and that’s all you need. You drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of Spencer's heartbeat against your chest.

[ekybrini]

Alienated | Will Smith

request: Hii can I please request a fic with Will Smith? Maybe with a plus size / curvy reader? Like a hurt / comfort fic with lots of angst then lots of fluff? Thank you!

— ⟡ summary | After overhearing hurtful comments you start pulls away from Will, feeling insecure. Will’s confused by your silence, not knowing what went wrong, while you struggles with your feelings and the doubts creeping in.

— ⟡ warnings | rude comment relating to ones body figure (not said but implied)

— ⟡ word count | 3.6k

— ⟡ gabs note | hiii!!! im sorry to the person who requested this almost a month ago!! after spring break some of my teachers decided that some students don't have a life outside of school and gave us possibly twice the work we got 1st semester. also these next to months are going to be BUSY with my ap classes and ap test that are coming up!! so if anyone request something I won't be able to get to write it soon, but I will when I have time!!! also my inbox is glitching which isn't allowing me to see everyones request until a week later so it may take a while for me to see it.

The music thrums softly through the upscale restaurant, glasses clinking, conversation flowing easily between players, staff, and their plus ones. It’s supposed to be a celebration, a night out with the team, no pressure, just good food and laughter.

You’re here with Will, of course, lingering at the edge of the room while he’s caught up in conversation with a few teammates. He looks so at ease, laughing, effortlessly slotting himself into the dynamic of a team that has quickly become his second family. You’re happy for him, proud, even.

But the longer you stand there, the more out of place you feel.

You’re scrolling through your phone, interested in whatever mindless feed is in front of you, when the words drift over from somewhere nearby. Soft enough that they probably think no one is listening but loud enough to cut right through you.

"I mean, Wills is an NHL player now. You’d think he’d be with someone, y’know…"

"Yeah, like, I’m just saying, he could have anyone he wants. And he’s with her?"

A laugh. One of them laughs.

Your fingers tighten around your phone.

You don’t recognize the voices. That almost makes it worse faceless, nameless strangers who don’t know you, don’t know Will, don’t know anything about your relationship. And yet, their words still sting.

You force yourself to breathe, staring down at the screen like you didn’t just hear every syllable. It doesn’t matter. Who cares what they think? But the words cling to you, wrapping around your ribs, constricting until your chest feels tight.

You knew people might think this way. You’re not the type of girl they expect an NHL player to be with. You don’t fit into that glossy, effortless mold the one that looks good in Instagram posts and fits neatly into the public eye.

But Will doesn’t care about things like that. Right?

You chance a glance across the room. He’s still laughing with his teammates, unaware, completely unbothered. He hasn’t looked for you in a while. Hasn’t checked in.

The thought slithers in before you can stop it. Has he ever thought the same thing?

The noise of the restaurant suddenly feels overwhelming, pressing in on you from all sides. You need air.

Your hands shake as you fire off a quick text to Will. “Hey, not feeling great. Heading home. Love you.”

You don’t wait for a response. You slip out quietly, out of sight before anyone can stop you.

The night air is sharp against your skin as you step out of the restaurant, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that will keep the words from sinking in any deeper. You walk quickly, head down, weaving through the crowded streets, desperate to get away.

You don’t even realize how fast you're walking until you reach your car, hands fumbling with the keys. Your breath stutters as you slide into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind you. Silence. Blessed, suffocating silence.

And then it all crashes down.

Your fingers dig into the steering wheel, knuckles white as you try to keep yourself together. But the words keep playing in your head, over and over, like a song you can't turn off. He could have anyone he wants. And he’s with her?

You swallow hard. It’s stupid to be this upset. It’s so stupid. They don’t know you. They don’t know him.

But still.

Your mind drifts back to every little moment that suddenly feels like proof that they’re right. Hasn’t it been months since Will posted a picture of you? At the start of the season, he’d proudly introduced you to everyone, arms slung around you, never caring who was watching. But lately, it’s different. He never hides you, but he doesn’t show you off either. He talks about hockey, the team, his new life in the NHL, but when it comes to you it’s quieter.

Your stomach churns as you unlock your phone. No text back yet. You check your notifications again, just to be sure. Nothing.

He’s busy. You tell yourself that, over and over. He’s with the team. He’ll probably see your message soon and call.

Except, part of you wonders if he even noticed you were gone.

The drive home is a blur. You don’t remember changing lanes, don’t remember stopping at red lights. It’s all muscle memory, your body moving on autopilot while your mind replays the night in excruciating detail.

Every moment twists inside you like a knife. The way those voices had laughed, casual and cruel. The way you’d felt smaller, invisible, like you didn’t belong there. The way Will hadn’t noticed you leaving.

You shake your head, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

Stop it. Stop overthinking. He loves you. You know that.

But doubt lingers, coiled in your chest, making it hard to breathe.

By the time you pull into your driveway your hands are trembling. You cut the engine staring blankly at the dashboard, willing yourself to get out. For a long moment you just sit there, the quiet pressing in on you the weight of the night sinking deeper into your bones.

Your phone buzzes.

Your heart jumps as you glance at the screen. A message from Will.

“Hey, you okay? Just saw your text. Sorry I didn’t notice earlier.”

You swallow, something thick and heavy settling in your throat.

Sorry I didn’t notice earlier.

It shouldn’t hurt. He’s busy. He’s out with the team. Of course, he didn’t notice right away.

But all it does is confirm the awful thought you haven’t been able to shake.

He hadn’t noticed.

Not when you left the restaurant. Not when you didn’t send a follow up text. Not when you weren’t by his side for the rest of the night.

And if he didn’t notice that, how long before he stops noticing you?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard hesitating. The urge to just type yeah I’m fine is strong. To pretend everything is normal. To bury this feeling before it can spill over into something you can’t take back.

But you can’t bring yourself to do it.

Instead you lock your phone and step out of the car heading inside without another word.

You toss your keys onto the counter, take off your shoes and sink onto the couch pulling a throw blanket over yourself even though you’re not cold. You should shower, should change, should do something to shake this feeling off.

But instead you curl in on yourself staring at the darkened screen of your phone willing to sleep.

The blanket wrapped around you offers little comfort. It's not warm enough but not heavy enough, not enough but it’s all you have. The quiet hum of the refrigerator fills the silence but it only makes the emptiness louder.

You roll onto your side pulling your knees to your chest as you stare blankly at the arm of the couch. You still haven’t answered Will’s message. He’s texted again.

“Wanna call me? I just got home. I can come over if you’re not feeling good.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

The worst part is, you want him to come over. You want him to hold you, want his voice to drown out the thoughts that have been running wild since the restaurant. But something inside you pulls back, whispering don’t let him see you like this.

Because if you tell him how much those words hurt, the way he didn’t notice you leave, the growing silence between you, what if he agrees with them? What if he says the one thing you're barely holding together against?

What if he doesn't even realize something’s wrong?

So you leave his texts on read.

And you lie there your fingers trembling over your screen wondering if it would be better to lie and say you’re sick. Or tired. Or just need space.

Instead, you say nothing.

The minutes pass slowly. Your phone buzzes once more before finally falling quiet, the screen dim.

It feels like giving up. Like choosing the silence. But it also feels like protection. Like if you just keep it all inside, you can manage the pain on your own without letting him confirm your worst fear. that maybe he is ashamed. That maybe, deep down he’s been slowly letting go without saying it out loud.

You bury your face into the pillow and let the tears slip out silently, each one hot against your cheek, each one dragging a new weight down with it.

You’ve never felt so small.

You must fall asleep at some point, but it doesn’t feel like rest.

When your eyes flutter open it’s still dark outside the sky outside the window a murky shade of gray. You’re still curled on the couch, blanket twisted around you, head aching and throat tight. The room is freezing now but you can’t bring yourself to move.

You blink up at the ceiling for a while, heart heavy in your chest like a stone that refuses to settle.

Your phone lies face down on the floor beside you. Part of you hopes there’s a good morning text from Will waiting for something gentle, something normal, something to tell you you’re overthinking all of this.

But when you flip it over and see the screen the hope fizzles.

“Hope you’re okay. I’m worried about you.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

No call. No follow up. No joke to make you smile.

You want to scream at yourself for being disappointed. He did text. He’s checking in. It’s kind. It’s more than what most people would do. So why does it still feel like not enough?

You stare at the messages, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. You even type out a few things 

Sorry, just tired. 

Delete.

It’s nothing 

Delete.

I’m fine.

Delete.

Can’t talk right now.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

you toss the phone aside and push yourself upright. Your limbs feel heavy as you shuffle to the kitchen, half heartedly starting the coffee maker even though you know you won’t drink it.

You catch your reflection in the microwave door, eyes puffy, hair a mess, mouth drawn tight and quickly look away.

All morning, the world moves around you like you’re watching it through thick glass. You answer texts from friends with one word replies. You scroll through social media numbly, skipping past every glimpse of Will’s life photos from the restaurant, comments tagging his name, short clips of the team laughing over drinks. He looks happy. Carefree.

You didn’t even cross his mind, did you?

The ache sharpens again.

And when your phone rings around noon his name flashing across the screen you freeze. Your stomach flips, and your fingers twitch with the instinct to answer.

But instead, you watch it ring out.

You’re not ready. Not when you don’t know what you’ll say. Not when the pain still feels too raw to hide.

Because if he hears your voice, if he asks you what’s wrong, you're afraid everything you’ve been trying to swallow will come spilling out in a mess you can't clean up.

So you do what you’ve been doing best lately.

You stay quiet.

And Will just keeps texting you.

The pings on your phone are the only signs that the world outside your apartment hasn’t stopped spinning. You read every message the second it comes in your breath catching every time his name lights up the screen. But you never reply. You don’t even type anything this time.

You can’t.

Not when everything feels so tangled. Not when you’re still trying to figure out if this ache in your chest that's been building and building.  

Your mind replays the night at the restaurant in a loop every look, every word, every laugh that didn’t quite reach your ears. The conversation you overheard keeps echoing in the quiet spaces of your home, loud in the places where it hurts the most.

It’s not his fault. You know that. He didn’t say those things. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t join in. But he also didn’t notice you slip away. He didn’t chase after you.

And that's the part you can’t ignore.

So you leave his texts unopened now. Not out of anger, but out of fear. Because answering means feeling, and feeling means you’ll have to say something. And once you say it, it’s real.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on the floor watching clips of the recent sharks game. Time slips by in moments that blur together quiet tears, unanswered texts, the sound of your own heartbeat thudding painfully in your chest. The apartment is cold. Or maybe you just feel cold. It’s hard to tell.

Your phone buzzes again.

You don’t check it. You can’t. You already know who it is. And you already know you don’t have the strength to lie.

You wish you could say something. Anything. But how do you even explain it? That some careless strangers at a dinner lit a match you’ve been holding too close to your chest for years? That their words didn’t start the fire, but they sure as hell helped it spread?

You hated how easily it got to you. Hated how quickly you’d turned inward. Hated even more that Will had no idea.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d been laughing with his teammates, being his usual goofy self. He hadn’t even heard it. But the silence that followed? The way he didn’t notice you leave? It stuck to your ribs like shame.

You hear a knock.

You freeze. For a second, you think you imagined it. Then another one comes, louder this time, familiar even in rhythm. Your heart stutters.

Will.

Panic floods your body before you can stand. You’re still in the oversized t shirt you threw on this morning, hair a mess, eyes probably red and puffy. You didn’t think he’d come. You thought he’d give up.

Part of you wanted him to.

But most of you didn’t. Most of you just didn’t know how to let him in without unraveling.

Another knock. Then his voice, soft through the door: “y/n? It’s me. Can you open the door?”

Your hands tremble as you unlock it, the click louder than you expected. When the door swings open, he’s standing there with that boyish face that always makes you feel safe. But now his brow is furrowed, his eyes scanning you in quiet concern.

“Hey,” he says gently.

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. Your throat feels tight. He steps forward, slow, like he doesn’t want to startle you. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was getting scared.”

You look down. “You shouldn’t have come.”

His expression softens hurt flickering across his face. “You haven’t answered me in two days. You missed the game. You’ve never…” He pauses, exhaling hard. “I didn’t know what was going on. You just disappeared on me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, eyes burning. “I just couldn't.”

“Couldn’t what?”

You shake your head trying to keep it together. But the pressure in your chest tightens and suddenly it’s all too much. You press your lips together trying not to cry but your eyes betray you. Tears slip out before you can wipe them away.

Will steps inside and shuts the door behind him without a word. Then he’s there in front of you, hands on your arms, not trying to fix anything, just being there.

“Talk to me,” he says softly. “Please.”

You close your eyes. You don’t want to do this. But you also don’t want to keep hurting alone. So you let yourself whisper the words you’ve been choking on since that night.

“I heard them,” you murmur, voice barely audible. “At the restaurant. A couple girls...they were talking about me. About how someone like you shouldn’t be with someone like me.”

Will blinks. “What?”

You laugh bitterly through the tears. “They said you could have anyone you want. And they couldn’t believe you were with me. And I know it’s stupid, I know it shouldn’t matter, but it felt like they were just saying out loud the thing I’ve been afraid of since we got together.”

He stares at you like he’s trying to understand a language he’s never heard before. Like none of this makes sense to him because it doesn’t.

You keep going, because now that the words are out they won’t stop.

“You haven’t posted about me in months. You barely introduce me as your girlfriend to your teammates. You act like I’m just there sometimes. And maybe you don’t mean to. But it’s hard not to wonder if you’re ashamed of me.”

Will’s mouth opens but no words come out. His hands tighten around your arm and for a moment all he does is breathe slowly and heavy like he’s trying to keep himself grounded.

Then finally he whispers, “I had no idea you felt like that.”

You drop your gaze but he gently tilts your chin up so you have to look at him.

“I'm not ashamed of you. I love you. And I hate that you even had to wonder.”

Your bottom lip quivers. “Then why don’t you show it?”

He pulls you into him, arms wrapping around your shoulders so tightly it knocks the air from your lungs but in the best way. His hand cradles the back of your head, voice muffled against your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think I needed to prove anything. I thought you knew. But if I made you feel less than ever, that's on me.”

You bury your face into his chest, letting the tears fall freely now. 

You don’t know how long you stay wrapped in his arms.

Long enough for your breathing to even out. Long enough for the sobs to stop wracking your chest. Long enough that your t-shirt is probably damp from tears and your fingers are curled tightly into the fabric of his suit like you’re afraid he might slip away if you let go.

But he doesn’t move. Not even a little.

He just keeps holding you. His thumb gently strokes back and forth along your shoulder. Every once in a while he presses the softest kiss to your hair. Nothing rushed. No expectation. Just quiet love in every little movement.

When you finally pull back a little your face is hot and your nose is stuffy. “Sorry,” you whisper.

His brow furrows. “For what?”

“For all of this. For shutting you out. For crying all over you. For ruining your suit.”

Will doesn’t even blink. “You didn’t ruin anything.” Then, quieter, “And don’t ever apologize for feeling something.”

He brushes a thumb gently beneath your eye, wiping away the last of your tears. “I’m sorry you had to hear what was said. You should’ve told me I would’ve dropped everything if I knew. I wouldn’t have let you leave that night without me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. I just didn’t want it to be real. I kept thinking I’d wake up i'd forget about it. But it just got worse. I kept replaying everything in my head. What they said, the way they said it, how no one stopped them-”

“They’re assholes,” Will cuts in, a sudden spark of frustration in his voice. “I wish I’d heard them. I wish-” He stops himself, jaw clenched. “No one talks about you like that. Not while I’m in the room.”

You stare down at your hands. “I don’t think it would’ve mattered. They weren’t saying it to me. They were just saying it. Like it was obvious. Like I wasn’t good enough for you and everyone was just too polite to say it out loud.”

Will exhales sharply and then does something you don’t expect.

He stands up and offers his hand. “Come with me.”

You blink up at him. “What?”

“Come sit with me on the couch.”

You take his hand because it’s instinct now falling into his touch letting him guide you. He pulls you gently toward the couch, sits down, and tugs you into his side like he needs you close.

You curl into him, resting your head on his chest. His arm wraps around your back, fingers tracing soothing circles along your spine.

“I love you,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I love everything about you. And I’m sorry I haven’t shown that enough. I thought you knew. But if you didn’t, if I ever made you feel like a secret or something I’m hiding then I’ve been doing this all wrong.”

You feel the words settle deep in your chest, warm and grounding.

“I guess I just didn’t want to be a reason you got made fun of,” you whisper.

Will sits up slightly, just enough to look at you fully. “You are never a reason for anything bad. And if anyone can’t handle the fact that I’m with the smartest, funniest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, that’s their problem.”

You swallow hard, emotions tugging at your throat again but this time, the tears feel different. Softer. Safer.

He smiles gently. “I’m posting you everywhere, by the way. I’m making you my lockscreen. You’re gonna be so sick of me.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” His voice is firm, but tender. “You’re mine. And I’m proud of that. I want people to know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You press your forehead into his collarbone, heart beating a little steadier than before. “Can you spend the night?”

Will kisses the top of your head, his voice low and certain. “always”

[yoditopascal]

Sweetest Pie

summary: The Worst Logan isn’t so bad after all. (logan/wolverine x fem black reader)

content warning: Wade is your best friend that’s a warning all on its own, some angst (like literally the tiniest bit) cussing, mutual pining, making out, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, dirty talking? (I’m so bad at writing it lmaoo), creampie, actual pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it fellas), dacryphilia, post DP&W, breaking the bed, scent kink, overstimulation, he technically sniffs your underwear??, Deadpool being Deadpool, MINORS DNI

a/n: The Sweetest Pie by Megan the Stallion is playing in the background while y’all fuck, that’s all.

tag list: @allmyn1ghts @figsnpassionfruits @dragonqueen89 @shebby-the-webby

Ducking down out of the way, Wade just barely makes it out of the line of fire as a glass mug hits the wall behind him, shattering on impact.

“You wanna run that by me again bub?”

“That was my favorite mug!”

“Repeat what you fucking said!” He snarls, hand balled into tight fists, it’s taking everything in his power not to maul the idiot with his claws….again

“All I said was you're more pent up than a nun doing squats in a cucumber field!” Wade said looking back at the wall, there was already a dent forming, one of many that had been popping up since the older mutant had decided to move in with him.

It's been 3 months since Logan started living with Wade and Blind Al and he’s about fucking had it. Laura had moved out after the first month, needing her own space, but she still frequently visited, he honestly was tempted to join her but figured she wouldn’t want her old man around all the time cramping her style.

Logan could feel a headache coming on as he pinched the bridge of his nose as Wade spoke again.

“You, my little honey badger, are lacking in the hanky panky department and no amount of self loving in the bathroom mirror at midnight is gonna fix that.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” He asked, sometimes he felt like instead of forming actual sentences Wade just put a bunch of random shit together so he could hear himself speak.

“Oh my gooood you’re so old, I’m talking about sex grandpa, you know, fucking? The horizontal hula? Bumping uglies? Filling the cream donut?”

“Stop.” Logan said with a look of disgust.

“I can smell your sexual frustration from here.” Wade groaned. “You need to spend a little less time brooding around the house like you're a DC character, and maybe spend a little more time doing hot yoga.” He was as he holds up a finger and boops Logan on the nose.

Logan swats his hand away but Wade continues paying no mind to his attitude as he points toward the front door.

“It just so happens that I know a great friend o’ mine who’d have absolutely no problems taming the beast for you bub and oh look at that, she happens to live right across the hall.” He said with a wink

“Don’t bring her into this.” Logan said, waving him off as he went to sit on the couch. Unfortunately Wade knew exactly how he felt about you, having figured it out during their whole ordeal with his variants, Paradox and Cassandra and the bastard had yet to let him live it down.

“Come on Wolvie you can cut the sexual tension you two have with a knife, it’s so thick!” He groans again, throwing himself on the couch beside him dramatically. “It might even be thicker than ours!” Wade said as he leans on Logan’s shoulder fluttering his scarred eyes at him. He shrugs him off, turning the tv on hoping the sound of whatever was on would drown him out but Wade just kept going.

“Stop being a pussy and talk to her!”

“Oh like how you talked to Vanessa?” He snapped back, his anger reaching its limit.

“First of all, we’re a working progress right now and second of all, ouch! Who hurt you?”

Growing tired of Wade and his endless jabbering Logan stood going to grab his jacket from the closet so he could leave.

“Where are you huffing and puffing off too big bad wolf?”

“Anywhere but here.” He said slamming the door shut behind him.

After a few drinks at Sister Margaret's and time to cool his head, Logan returns home to get some chores out of the way. He was far over due to wash his stuff and his hero costume was really starting to fuck with his nose, so, shoving a few handfuls of quarters from Al’s disco dust fund jar into his pockets,he loaded up his hamper and heads down to the laundry room in the basement.

Upon entering he almost immediately bumps into you. You were kicking the dryer when he found you, pissed because it ate your quarters, not paying attention to your surroundings at all.

Digging around in his pockets he bumps his shoulder to yours to get your attention. Startled you nearly jumped out of your skin as he held a hand up in surrender, not meaning to scare you.

“Sorry, just thought I’d offer up some of mine.” He said, pulling a handful of change from his back pocket.

“Oh. that’s ok, I’m-” you start but are stopped when he grabs your hands with one of his and unceremoniously dumps the change into your palms.

“I wasn’t suggesting, take 'em I got more than enough.”

With a silent nod you thank him as he shrugs you off with a “Don’t mention it.”

Logan starts to load up his laundry into the washer next to yours, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you toss your wet clothes into the dryer. You don’t notice as a piece of yellow fabric falls to the floor between you, Logan turns his head to say something, at first not realizing what it was, until it dawns on him that, holy shit, it's a pair of your underwear…and they had Wolverine on them.

They were boxer briefs, nothing inherently sexy about them, but the scent they gave off, clean laundry soap mixed with the smell of your core had Logan reeling.

A small smirk crawled across his face as he started to imagine you wearing them around your house, nothing else adorning your body except for an oversized tee shirt that looked eerily like one of his own, he thought it was cute. Turning his head back to finish his task he kept loading his clothes not showing interest in the underwear to keep from making things awkward. One thing he couldn't deny was your scent. The scent of your core that lingered on the fabric was making his head swim, it was utterly intoxicating, this definitely didn't help with growing his frustration.

After he loaded the washer he pulled a flask from his pocket taking a shot of liquor inside to compose himself as he realized you still hadn’t noticed you dropped them. “You uh dropped something sweetheart.” he nodded towards them. Horrified, you snatch them up and throw them in the dryer.

“Oh god I-I’m sorry! I-“ you start to stutter, at a complete loss for words you slam the dryer lid close and grab your basket ready to leave and hide away in your apartment for the rest of your life until Logan stops you with a strong hand that engulfs your wrist.

“No I-uh I get it. He was your hero right?”

“Yeah he was… but so are you!” You started but quickly press a fist to your forehead in frustration.

“Sorry I don’t want you to feel like you're obligated to live up to him or anything, you’re your own person! I just-“ you were interrupted by Logan closing the distance between you. In your frustration a few of your locs had slipped from your ponytail and were hanging in your face. Logan reached towards you moving one from your face tucking it behind your ear, his bright hazel eyes scanning you carefully taking in your features with a smirk.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” He said, your scent was sending his sensing into overdrive, he could smell your sweat mixed with the soap you used with the spicy aroma of your arousal starting to peek through.

You look down to the ground still slightly embarrassed but mostly warm from the close proximity before you feel a finger lift your chin causing your gaze to meet Logan’s once more. “S-sorry I ramble when I’m nervous.” It came out almost as a whisper, causing Logan to chuckle. It was an annoying habit you had picked up from your best friend Wade over the years he noticed. The intensity of his stare was starting to send your stomach into knots but not in a bad way.

The sound of the laundry room door opening and closing as another tenant enters quickly separates them. Silently the pair looked away from each other as the tenant loaded up his belongings in the open washer. He quickly spared a passing glance between the two of you who awkwardly tried to stare at anything but each other before shrugging his shoulders and leaving.

An awkward silence blanket over the two of you as you shuffle your feet before you scooped up your basket again.

“Listen Logan-“

“Darlin I-“

You both started at the same time. A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest causing your cheeks to feel warm. You smiled down at your feet and tucked another stray loc behind your ear before Logan spoke again.

“You first.”

“I was just gonna ask, did you maybe wanna come over for dinner tonight?”

Logan thought of a million different reasons why he shouldn’t. As if you could see the hesitation across his face you spoke up again.

“Before you say no, I got booze. Something a bit stronger than what I normally drink but it’s right up your alley. It was a gift from Wade.”

Of course it was from Wade.

“I’m also making pie.”

Well shit.

He let out a small sigh, looking down at your big pleading doe eyes before he shrugged; “Sure,why not.” Afterall how could he say no to you when you looked like that?

He could almost imagine Wade fist pumping the air in excitement at the aspect of the two spending alone time together, the blubbering idiot.

You flashed Logan another bright smile before heading to leave, you paused in the doorway for millisecond, before asking “See you at 7?”

“It’s a date doll.”

Seven o’clock rolled around much too quickly for either of them. Logan was busy fussing with his hair in the mirror trying to get the tufts of hair that usually stick up to lay down when Wade walked into the bathroom unceremoniously.

“Don’t you look positively ravishing tonight, got a hot date peanut?”

“Fuck off.” He growls, giving up with his hair and going to throw on a flannel over his wife beater.

“Wait, you do! Holy dick cheese Batman it’s finally happening!” Wade squealed excitedly

“What the hell are you even doing in here?” Logan asked in the doorway of the bathroom observing Wade, he was dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of hello kitty pajama pants and slippers, Logan rolled his eyes before heading to the kitchen to grab a beer.

“Had to take a shit, thanks for asking, but don’t change the subject!” Wade said following him into the kitchen “Who’s the lucky gal?” He asked leaning on the island, his head propped dreamily on his fist. “Or guy we don’t judge here. Wait wait wait! It's not who I think it is, is it?”

Logan didn’t say anything as he guzzled down his drink pre-gaming for the night, turning to grab another from the fridge before plopping down on the couch behind him.

At his silence Wade kicked his feet and clapped his hands excitedly, swinging around in his seat to look at Logan. Mary Puppins barked from her spot on the couch beside him.

“Fuck the Bachelorette and Love Island! The producers are going to make a killing outta this!” He paced excitedly flopping down beside him struggling to keep his composure. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?! We are gonna make millions, no fuck that billions off your sex tape alone! I mean you two love birds are going to blossom in internal passion as the stars align with the future of the virgin Mary!” He said hugging Logan from the side.

Confused as fuck he shrugs Wade off him with a frown as he stands to his feet looking at his roommate with a raised brow. Downing the last of his beer he puts the empty bottle on the counter and heads for the door not wanting to be late.

“Oooh don’t forget to wear a condom, peanut! Remember wrap it before you tap it, before you attack her wrap your whacker! And if you’re not gonna sack it, come home and-!“

Logan slams the door shut before Wade could finish anymore of his bullshit.

He raised his hand to knock at your door but hesitated for a moment. Memories of the you from his timeline flooded his brain for a brief moment and he lowered his hand. He had really fucked you over royally in his own timeline and then you had died before he had a chance to fix that. Was he even worth your time in this one?

He shook the thoughts from his head and squared his shoulders, this was his second chance, a chance to fix all the shit he messed up before and he’d be damned if he was gonna waste this opportunity.

Just as he raised his hand to knock again you tore the door open with wide eyes.

“Logan hi!”

“Hey- you ok kid? You look outta breathe.” He questioned looking you up and down in concern while also unabashedly checking you out.

“Y-yeah I’m sorry I was about to come over and ask Wade if I could borrow something but I-it’s fine come on in!” you said ushering him in before the door behind you both.

The inside of your apartment is cute. The layout is much the same as his own place that he shares with Wade and Blind Al but yours just felt a little more homey to him.

Movie posters and works of art decorated your walls, there was a bookcase in the living room full of all kinds of books and knick knacks that you had collected over the years. On a table by the tv was a record player with a decent sized stack of vinyls. The whole place just screamed you.

“Dinner’s just about ready!” You said drawing his attention back to you. You had changed clothes since he last saw you in the laundry room, your outfit hugging your soft curves in all the right places.

“I was comin’ over to see if Wade had some ice cream for the pie, but I guess we could go without it.” You said leading him into the dining room with a smile, you’re always smiling at him, he noticed. “I hope you like blueberry!”

Logan never thought he'd see the day where someone would cook a nice meal for him let alone the variant of someone he treated so callously before.

He winced internally trying not to think about that. He was here now, not in his old shitty universe where you were gone, but in a new one, one where he had friends, a daughter, a family. It was a chance to start over.

“Sounds great darlin, I’m starving.”

Once you sit down for dinner Logan immediately tucks in, he could smell what you were cooking hours ago from across the hall and damn if it wasn’t the best thing he ever put in his stomach.

The two of you made light conversation as you ate, you poured yourself a glass of wine while Logan had the hard stuff, single malt scotch on the rocks. It had been a gift from Wade after one of his missions, an expensive one at that, and Logan savored every drop of it.

After a few more drinks the pair cleared their empty plates, wrapping up the leftovers of their meal up in portions so Logan could take some home with him. You were pulling the pie from the oven when you heard the telltale sound of running water, looking over you see Logan, rolling up his sleeves with a dish towel draped over his shoulder as he started to do the dishes.

You bite your lip to physically keep from moaning and embarrassing yourself on the spot, domesticity looked damn good on him.

His nose twitched as he smelled your arousal spike for a second, thinking it better to keep that to himself he shifted on his feet as he dried a dish and put it on the rack.

“You don’t have to-“ You started pulling off your oven mitts. They were Star Wars themed, nerdy like the rest of your apartment.

God you were such a geek! You thought flustered, while shoving them onto the counter behind you.

“Nah you cooked, it’s the least I could do.” He said not moving from his spot at the sink

“Logan.” You said firmly placing a hand on your hip. “You’re a guest.”

“And you cooked.” He reiterated,cocking an eyebrow your way. “I’m not budging on this darlin.”

You sigh defeatedly as you grab the towel from his shoulder. “Fine, at least let me help.”

The two of you do the dishes in silence, him washing and you drying, your fingers brushing against each other every so often.

“Dinner was great.” Logan said awkwardly trying to break the stifling silence that enveloped you.

“Good I’m glad you liked it.” You smiled down at your hands timidly, refusing to let him see you cheesing as hard as you were.

“Sorry for not being better company, I know you’re more used to people talkin’ your ear off.”

Wade begrudgingly crosses his mind.

"I'm just uh not so good with people. Makes me anxious.” He admitted, it took a lot for him to come out and say it but he was comfortable with you, he trusted you.

“I get it, I’m the same way that’s why I’m always around Wade. He usually does all the talking for me.” You say fondly thinking back to all the times Wade had been your emotional support extrovert.

Logan honestly had no idea how you put up with him.

“Besides I think your company’s just fine Logan, I like having you around.”

I like being around you too, he wanted to say but he couldn’t get it out. Instead he settled for brushing his shoulder against yours, a small smile dancing across his features as you smiled back up at him.

Flicking the water from your hand as you both finished up, you dry your hands on another rag before offer it up to Logan, his fingers brushing against yours for the umpteenth time that night.

When you look up he’s staring at you, his eyes taking in your features again, flickering between your face and your mouth. You can’t quite place what the emotion is behind his eyes but it makes your belly feel warm and your chest flutters.

Maybe it’s the alcohol you both had, though you know for a fact it takes a whole hell of a lot more than what you had to get you both drunk, but you could have sworn he was getting closer to you.

You start to back up just as he moves to close the distance between you. Chest to chest, or more like chest to sternum as he was almost a whole foot taller than you, Logan starts to lean down sniffing you as your back hits the counter behind you.

“Your heart’s racing.” He says

You had almost completely forgotten about his heightened senses. You were so nervous this whole evening, hoping that everything would go right, could he hear you this whole time? Oh god could he smell you?

“You smell good too.” He says moving to stroke your face with the back of his hand, confirming your fears. You clench your legs together tightly, hoping to at least dampen the smell of how wet you were becoming, causing him to chuckle.

“No use hiding it doll, I can smell you from a mile away.” He said leaning down so that his face is closer to yours.

“Logan…” you whisper. His eyes never leaving your mouth.

“Hm?”

“T-the pie…” You stuttered nervously as your own eyes drifted down to his mouth. You worked so hard on the pie you didn’t know if you’d hate it more if it went to waste or if he moved away from you at that moment.

You wanted more than anything for him to stay where he was, caging you in at the counter like a frightened little mouse.

“It can wait sweetheart.” He said, finally claiming your lips as his own.

He pulls back for a moment to look at you, dipping to place a gentle peck on your lips, as if he’s asking if this is ok.

You wrap your arms around him, dragging his mouth back down to yours, he moves his hands to the back of your thighs hoisting you up onto the counter behind you, grinding himself into you as the kiss deepens.

Logan hesitates in the kiss for a moment, pulling himself away from you as if he realizes something. When you try to lean back in and kiss him again he stops you, holding you at arm’s length searching your eyes for something, anything he could use to make you hate him in this timeline like you undoubtedly did in his old one but he found nothing but adoration.

“You-“ he starts to speak, his voice a little shaky “You don’t want this sweetheart, I’m not a good man.”

I’m not your hero, he meant to say.

You place a hand on his cheek rubbing softly at his mutton chops with your thumb.

“Please stop telling me what I fucking want.” You say leaning back in to peck at his lips. “I want you, not a hero, or this timeline’s Logan, or any other Logan out there, just you. You’re not the Worst Logan, you're just you and I want all of you.” You finish while leaning up into him, waiting for his response.

Raising an eyebrow and at a complete loss for words, having rarely heard you cuss, Logan smirks before leaning back down to meet you the rest of the way recapturing your lips with a “Yes ma’am.”

His right hand comes up to cup your jaw, gently running the pad of his thumb over the skin before running his hand up to weave his finger through your locs.

You hop off the counter, grabbing him by his flannel your mouth reconnects with his as you lead him into your bedroom, he kicks the door shut behind him.

You start to kiss down his jaw before Logan stops you with a growl. He picks you up and tosses you onto the bed before his lips reconnect with yours.

His hands find their way under your clothes to paw at you, as you free him from the confines of his flannel. Tossing it behind him, it hits your iPod dock causing music to start playing but neither of you care, too enraptured in each other to even notice. Logan pulls away from your mouth only long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his hands trailing down to pull down your pants and underwear next.

He grabs you by your hips dragging you to the edge of the bed, as he kneels down in front of you, eye level with your hot core.

You throw your head back with a moan at the first drag of his tongue. Your legs finding their way around his shoulders as he drags his nose and tongue up and down teasing you.

He presses his mouth against your clit, sucking on it before pulling away and flicking it with his tongue, drawing circles and nipping at it with his teeth.

Watching you through dark lashes, he drags his hand down your body bringing it to his mouth, he licks his finger, bringing it to your wet cunt as he slowly begins to move it in and out of you, curling it against your gummy walls searching until he finds the right spot. You let out a strangled half-sob as he leans back down pressing his mouth against your clit again, sucking and flicking at the hard nub.

“Shit,” you rasp out, reaching out for him. He knew you were getting close, he could tell from the way you pulsed around him as he added another finger.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you felt your orgasm building. “Please, right there!” You choked, eyes closing as you threw your head back.

“So fucking wet for me already and I barely touched you.” Logan chuckles. You stifled a noise as your impending orgasm builds in your gut.

“I-I’m gonna-!” You start to cry out but are cut off by a sob.

“I gotcha darlin, I’m right here.” He mumbles into your pussy as he reaches his free hand out to hold your hips open for him, your hands frantically bury themselves in his hair, desperate for something to hang on to. He carries on lapping at you as you squirm talking you through your orgasm as he rubbed his nose to your clit, drawing it out of you as his fingers continue to fuck in and out of you.

“That’s it sweetheart.” He sighs as he keeps fucking you on his fingers, his intensity increasing as he latches himself back onto your clit devouring you like a man starved, you come almost instantly. It’s when he looks up at you, hazel eyes dark and hungry, that you finally lose it, your second orgasm of the night ripping through like a freight train.

Standing back to his feet Logan licks your residue from his lips and fingers, chin glistening with your slick.

You sit up immediately grabbing at his belt, fingers rushed and fumbling with the buckle, he replaces your hands quickly unbuckling it before pulling the hem of his shirt up over his head.

Reaching behind you, you free your chest from your bra, just as he kicks his pants off. Logan pushes you backwards, your back hitting the soft mattress beneath you as he stalks over towards you on his hands and knees.

He inhales deeply through his nose taking in your scent, the aroma of you mixed with your arousal is intoxicating and is driving him absolutely feral, with a wet kiss he bites down hard where your neck and shoulder meet, where your scent’s the strongest, nearly drawing blood, before he’s back on you, covering your mouth with his own kissing you viciously as if you’d fade away from existence if he let you go.

He laps at the spot he had previously bitten you as he slowly pulls away, soothing the skin there. The mark was already gone, thanks to your healing factor, but god you could still feel it and you secretly ached that he’d do it again.

You soon feel the head of his cock running along your folds, it’s thick, and hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick hole. Then without warning he’s pushing into you, sheathing himself inside of you with a single thrust.

Logan threw his head back with a loud groan. He promised himself he’d go slow with you, take his take opening you up for him but fuck if this didn’t feel right, good it felt oh so good.

“Fuck” he grunts out into your mouth as he drops his head down to drag you into a hard smoldering kiss swallowing your moans as he sinks in fully.

He lets you adjust for a few moments before he pulls back and thrusts into you instinctively, repeating the harsh action as he begins to slowly pick up his pace. If you had been completely human, the force of his thrusts would’ve surely shattered your pelvis or at least threw them out of alignment.

Reaching up to grab onto the headboard of your bed to anchor himself Logan locks in fully, gripping the wood bar in a death grip as he pushes into you. You reach up too, grabbing a handful of sheets by your head with one hand and his hips with the other, desperate for something to anchor yourself with as Logan’s brutal pace has you reeling.

“L-Logan!” you cry out, body shaking from the force of his thrusts. His cock sinking deeper and deeper as he angles your legs over his shoulders, hitting that sweet spot inside of you repeatedly making your legs tremble in unadulterated pleasure.

An audible crack is heard from where Logan is still holding onto your headboard but you both could careless, your heads completely clouded over with lust.

Just when you were starting to think it was all too much, his thumb finds your clit again and starts to rub fierce quick little circles.

“Gimme one more darlin.” His voice is strained and rough, as he leans down to your neck inhaling your scent again as he licks up to your neck nipping at your jaw and neck as he pulls away.

You scrambled to get away, pushing at his chest as the over sensitivity was proving to be too much.

Logan lets go of the headboard and grabs both your hands with his much larger one, locking them firmly to his chest right over his rapidly beating heart.

“Don’t try and run from me kid, you wanted this remember?” He chuckled darkly, picking up his pace even more if that were possible.

Tears stream steadily down your cheeks as your barreling toward your next orgasm, it’s here, with your hair fanned out around your head, cheeks puffy and tear stained while you pant desperately trying to get away and keep up with him at the same time , that he thinks this is the most beautiful he’s ever seen you.

“Come on my dick, baby.”

Your body completely locks up at his words, your back arching off the bed as you scream, your orgasm wrecking through you as you clench around him like a vice. Logan drops your legs, yanking you up into a messy kiss as he takes you through it.

“Good fucking girl.” He grunts against your lips, he gives you a few moments to come down from your high, burying his face into your neck before he resumes his punishing pace.

You think you’re at your limit as fat tears fall from your eyes, never have you ever felt this good, this full before, it’s far too much for you.

Just as you were about to tap out, he grunts into your neck, his hands move to grip your ass bringing it up to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck, tell me where?” He growls out. He wraps an arm around your back bringing you chest to chest as he fucks you on his lap, the new angle making him hit that sweet spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

At first you don’t quite understand what he’s asking, your brain too foggy to comprehend much of anything right now, but as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, nearly drawing blood again, you finally understood, he was close and so were you again.

“Inside, please I wanna feel you.” You whimpered as he pounds into you. He groans at your request and picks up the pace rutting up into you desperately like an animal. His hammering is deep and unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it feels too good to make him stop, you’ll definitely have a hard time walking in the morning.

With one last harsh flick of his thumb to your clit you’re coming hard on his dick, clenching around him as your body quivers uncontrollably, almost blacking out for a moment.

He growls as his hips stutter against your own, as he cums into you, the force of his final thrust knocking you both bad down onto the mattress. Logan thrusts a few more times, pumping his load as deep inside of you as he could, claiming your mouth once again in a deep searing kiss.

You run your hands through his hair as he nearly drops himself on you, his forearms supporting the weight of his adamantium skeleton. He’s still buried inside you as you're peppering his face and neck with light kisses.

It’s quiet for a moment before he lifts himself up, pulling himself from inside you with a grunt. He pushes stray locs from your face as he kisses your forehead and flops over onto the other side of the bed dragging you with him.

At the weight of his adamantium bones dropping down onto the already crack and barely hanging on frame your bed frame finally gives out dropping your mattress to the floor with a loud thud, startling the both of you.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You panted too shocked and tired to move from your spot on his chest.

“Sorry baby, I’ll get you a new one.” Logan laughs lightly as he pulls you to his chest.

A comfortable silence fills the room as the two of you lay on the floor, your breathing starting to return to normal. Leaning down to inhale your scent again Logan’s met with the pleasant tang of you covered in him and pulls you tighter snuggling you into him.

“You still with me?” The rough edge of his voice brings you back to your senses.

You smiled up at him from his chest with a big dopey smile, eyes completely dazed as you answered with an “mm-hm.” Too fucked out to fully speak properly. You laid back down on his chest, eyes closed as you shiver, he runs a hand up and down your spine as you start to drift off.

He chuckles at your response or lack thereof and pulls your sheets over the both of you. The temperature in the room had started to come down dramatically as your sweat covered bodies cooled in the night.

Just as Logan was about to close his eyes and join you in what was hopefully a peaceful night’s rest for the first time in years, your bedroom door bursts open revealing Wade, still clad in his hello kitty pajamas helping himself to a piece of the pie you had left out.

“Jesus Wade!” You yell eyes practically bulging out of your head as you scramble to grip the sheets to your chest.

“What the fuck asshole?!” Logan growled trying his best to shield you from view with his arms. His hazel eyes were seething with anger.

“My sweet virgin eyes!” Wade said, covering his eyes but still peeking through them through a gap in his fingers with a smirk as he chewed loudly. “You two sounded like an indoor jungle gym but instead of a shit ton of kids it's just you two.” He laughs shoving the rest of the slice into his mouth as he moves to sit on the edge of the broken bed on the floor, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You, young lady, have some pipes on you. Could hear you practically singing about the Wolverine.~” he teases with a tsk.

“And you sir!” He points to Logan who growls at him as he swats his hand outta his face. “Where do I even begin?” He tsked again as he shook his head “You really had some pent up frustration didn’t you, you slut? Did you break her? I know she has a healing factor too but good god man have some restraint!” he leans back on her broken bed as he spreads himself out on the end.

“And her poor bed! I hope you're planning on replacing it, bee tee dubs.” Wade rolls over onto his side propping himself up on his elbow at the couple’s feet. “Did he even use a condom?” He whispered to you loudly before adding “Nice tits by the way.” as he winked at Logan. “I don’t think creampie was the type of pie she had in mind when she invited you over for dinner, old man.”

“Who knew Wolverine was a cuddler?”

You roll your eyes at Wade’s antics completely used to him over the years of knowing him but Logan on the other hand had clearly had enough. Ripping the sheets from himself you watch as Logan comically chases Wade out of the room, buck ass naked.

Slamming your bedroom door shut Logan turns the lock with a grunt, finally returning to your side he pulls you back to his chest and flings the sheets over you.

“He’s not so bad, y'know when you get used to him.” You shrug with your eyes closed as you snuggle into his chest. Adrenaline, now dying down, sleep had started to wrap you in its dreamy embrace and it was hard to keep your eyes open.

“That little cockroach is gonna be the death of me.”

You laugh at him one last time before finally drifting off. Your soft snores were the last thing Logan heard as he too snuggled into your warmth and drifted off.

Who knew the Wolverine was such a cuddler.

[checkeredflagggs]

Bananas for You

pairing: charles leclerc x male!baseball player!reader x logan sargeant

summary: fans are stumped when both charles and logan start soft launching new relationships. the big reveal is even more shocking

a/n: I got started on a YouTube video hole and this popped into my head 🤷🏻‍♀️

a/n2: I’m still working on my Vegas series but I’ve had this one in my drafts for like 2 months and I wanted to finish it finally

fc: Dakota “Stilts” Albritton

Masterlist | Taglist

charles_leclerc

liked by notyou, notlogan, oscarpiastri, pierregasly, and 1,191,124 others

charles_leclerc: quiet days ♥️

view all comments

user1: leo spottings!

↳user2: the best doggo ever!! liked by charles_leclerc, notyou, notlogan

user3: ok i could be wrong…but photo 2&4&6 don’t look like Charles??

↳user4: I think you might need to go back to sleep babe

↳user5: no no no let her cook — as a Charles professional, those aren’t him

↳user4: that is not the slay you think it is…

oscarpiastri: you knocked off padel so you could lay about in bed??

↳charles_leclerc: something like that, yes 🤗

↳oscarpiastri: I thought our relationship meant more to you than that…

↳charles_leclerc: tomorrow!

↳oscarpiastri: yeah that’s what you said yesterday…

notyou: you have no idea how much I miss you guys…

↳not16: next week mon amour

↳notlogan: just the 3 of us and whatever bad takeout we can find

↳notyou: excuse you but unlike you 2 i know how to cook!

↳not16: since when?

↳notyou: I’ve been taking lessons!

↳notyou: you know since my boyfriends have carelessly abandoned me all alone in the us while they go gallivanting around the world

↳notlogan: really? The guilt trip again?

↳notyou: is it working?

↳not16: yes. I’ve booked even earlier flights

user6: looking good Charles!

user7: any hints on how you’re gonna spend your small break before Miami??

↳charles_leclerc: 😊😊😊

↳user7: but what does that mean?? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??

logansargeant

liked by notyou, oscarpiastri, georgerussell63, not16 and 728,293 others

logansargeant: one last photo dump before break

view all comments

user8: is that…is that a man?? Are you dating someone?

user9: is my emotional support american dating someone??

user10: 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈???

alex_albon: Logan!

↳logansargeant: yes?

↳alex_albon: is that someone else on your photo dump? Are you soft launching someone? Without telling me?

↳logansargeant: I don’t tell you everything

↳alex_albon: well that’s just rude

oscarpiastri: ready for break?

↳logansargeant: i really really am

↳user11: i think that might be sus 👀

↳oscarpiastri: got any plans then?

↳logansargeant: not really 😂

user12: I feel like we really moved on too fast from the BOYFRIEND??? soft launch

↳user13: I’m gonna throw something very crazy out there…

↳user14: oh here it goes…

↳user13: could…could Logan’s soft launch be Charles?

↳user12: ok grandma back to the loony bin with you

↳user13: think about it! Charles post a photo dump that includes pictures people swear ARENT him then Logan starts to soft launch a new man??

↳user12: we still don’t even know if it’s a man! Or if it’s Logan’s boyfriend!

↳user13: just you wait!

thesavbananas

liked by user, teammate, not16, notlogan, and 2,823,229 others

tagged: your_user

thesavbananas: and we’re wishing a happy birthday to Stilts! Definitely our favorite player on stilts!

view all comments

user15: he’s the only player on stilts?

↳user16: I’m gonna hold your hands when I say this — it’s a joke

↳user17: I feel like we have to do this every time they post Stilts 😭😭

your_user: thank you! Big fan of getting thanks from my favorite fruit themed baseball team! liked by thesavbananas

user18: happy birthday stilts!

user19: it’s your birthday already?? How time flies…Happy Birthday!

notlogan: did you get our gifts??

↳notyou: I did and you guys are crazy — keys? Really?

↳not16: oh c'mon mon amour…you can’t be shocked can you?

↳notyou: you want to live together?

↳notlogan: babe we spend so little time together as it is — why not make it easier for ourselves?

↳not16: please 🥺

↳notyou: …so what’s the plan then?

↳not16: yay 🤗

↳notlogan: we have an apartment in Savannah for us while in the US

↳not16: and I’ve got a bigger place in Monaco for when we’re in Europe!

↳notyou: have I mentioned I love you?

↳notlogan: not recently

↳not16: I’ll accept it with kisses please

f1gossip

liked by notyou, user, user, and 1,123,421 others

tagged: logansargeant, charles_leclerc

f1gossip: Fueling rumors sparked earlier this year by matching soft launches, Charles Leclerc and Logan Sargeant were spotted together traveling to Florida ahead of the Miami Grand Prix happening next week.

view all comments

user13: WHAT DID I SAY???

↳user12: THERE STILL ISNT ANY PROOF OK. THEYRE JUST BOTH IN MIAMI, ON THE BEACH, together…,on a boat — together…

↳user13: just say gay and move on

user20: or, and I’m gonna go out on a limb here, Logan and Charles are friends?

↳user21: that’s what I’m hoping for tbh. My boy Logan needs some friends on the grid…

↳user22: oh theyd be amazing friends I can just tell

user23: i don’t know if they’re dating or not but i want them to be cause they’d be so hot together

↳user24: faulty logic but I totally agree

user25: ok but why is Charles in Miami so early? The gp isn’t for like another 2 weeks

↳user26: honestly don’t even care why he’s there early I just need more photos of shirtless Logan and Charles… liked by notyou

↳notyou: big mood…

notyou: not16 notlogan YOU GUYS SRE ALREADY IN MIAMI???

↳not16: 🤭🤭🤭🤭

↳notlogan: Surprise! Come home soon!

↳notyou: literally gonna kick ass this game so we win faster liked by notlogan, not16

charles_leclerc has posted a story, logansargeant has posted a story, not16 has posted a story

[my first baseball game! Go bananas 🍌][best kind of baseball game!][finally got to see my boyfriend play — what a game!]

user27 replied you’re a…baseball guy now??

user28 replied I have to care about baseball now??

pierregasly replied since when do you watch baseball??

↳charles_leclerc since my partner introduced me to the sport?

↳pierregasly since when do you have girlfriend???

oscarpiastri replied is that the bananas game?

↳charles_leclerc it is!

↳oscarpiastri have fun then! Logan took me to one after he met one of the players — they’re very fun to watch

↳charles_leclerc it has been so far!

alex_albon replied how on earth did you get Charles to go to a baseball game??

↳logansargeant he seemed very interested 🤷🏼‍♂️

↳alex_albon will wonders never cease…just don’t let him try to play

↳logansargeant yeah no — i remember the soccer incident

user29 replied oh my god i love the bananas!

oscarpiastri replied since when are you and Charles close enough to hang out like this??

↳logansargeant I don’t know…but we just got to talking one day and suddenly I’m inviting him to Miami and showing him around

↳oscarpiastri good. I’m glad you’re making friends

↳logansargeant you sound like my mom

notlogan replied sap

↳not16 always for you 2

not_arthur replied maman says to text her back — she wants to finally meet your men

↳not16 we’re working on it!

↳not16 is she free to fly out for Miami? Y/N has a break that weekend!

↳not_arthur im asking her right now!

Private Messages — Charles, Logan, and y/n

Bluesky

user30: did…did Charles just kiss Logan??

↳user31: what in the fanfiction is happening right now???

user32: 3RD PERSON??? DID THEY JUST DIP AND KISS ANOTHER GUY???

↳user33: they did!

↳user32: WHAT THE FUCK

user34: did they just fucking hard launch??

↳user35: the absolutely fucking did. Do you see the reaction of all the other drivers???

↳user34: they really told no one did they…

↳user35: Jesus they didn’t! Look at Pierre and Oscar — they had no idea

user36: ok but who is the gorgeous guy not a driver??

↳user37: he’s y/n l/n! He’s a baseball player on the Savannah Bananas!

↳user36: omg they went to his game last week then!

↳user37: they did! Awww it was a date then…

charles_leclerc

liked by your_user, logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 2,193,724 others

tagged: your_user, logansargeant

charles_leclerc: I’m not sorry for finally sharing our love — happy 1 year anniversary mom amours ♥️♥️

comments have been restricted on this post

logansargeant: happy 1 year guys — the best year ever

your_user: I love you guys so much — happy 1 year

↳logansargeant: love you too babe

↳charles_leclerc: Mon cœur est rempli de mon amour pour toi. My heart is full with my love for you.

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @anunstablefangirl @evie-119 @sugarfreerbr @princessesgarden @tukes @mayax2o07 @teti-menchon0604 @galaxygurlll @star73807-blog @shelbyteller @ihaveitprinteddout @lilymaleshka @kuolonsyoja @allthings-fandom @mountainshuman @hannahmotors10 @moonypixel @nikfigueiredo @daisydaze111 @deephideoutmilkshake @theendofthematerialgworl @raizelchrysanderoctavius