#// and when you think about the implications of things and what happens to him in NEO it makes it worse

[themultifanshipper]

Do you think you could do something like this

https://www.tumblr.com/themultifanshipper/759431110157631488/quiet-innocent-reader-x-lando-like-lando-finds

Maybe with Oscar ( love your writing)

If Oscar had to describe your sex life in one word : Vanilla.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that! God knows how much the two of you enjoyed the sex you had. You weren’t very experienced when you met Oscar, and you were quite a shy person.

Which is why Oscar was so shocked when he found what appeared to be a list of your kinks just sitting there when he got up to make his morning coffee.

Fun fact, this request was sent over a month ago, and i only have a couple more to do before i can get to my own stuff lmao

Warnings: innocent reader, Smut, PinV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, mention of lots of kinks n stuff

He hadn’t meant to get a glimpse into the inner workings of your sexual psyche, but really, who leaves something like that on the kitchen counter???

As he read it over and over again, his cock twitched in interest and got progressively harder until he put it down, the words seared onto his brain forever.

He tried to have a cold shower but just ended up jerking off furiously to completion imagining doing all the things from your list.

But as soon as he got out of the shower and dried off, he realized he was still achingly hard. He decided to put on a pair of his loosest joggers and go about his day while he waited for you to come back from work.

It wasn’t easy, but he managed to answer a whole two emails, internally debating the moral implications of communicating with his bosses while sporting an erection.

Then he jerked off again.

It did take the edge off for a bit, but every time he thought about it during the day he couldn’t help but fist his cock at the thought of all your filthy fantasies.

When you got home, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, and you did your usual routine: shower, skincare, dinner with a glass of wine, followed by watching something with Oscar, the two of you huddled up together on the couch.

That’s when you started noticing Oscar’s behaviour.

It was very subtle, but you could tell he wasn’t at all focused on the movie, periodically fidgeting around uncharacteristically. Oscar was usually very settled, and tonight it was like he couldn’t keep still for more than 30 seconds. You also noticed his breathing was irregular, often getting shallower as he fidgeted.

Oscar couldn’t care less about what was happening on the screen, his brain was focused on the same thing it had been all day, that damn list.

And he’d been hard all day, which certainly didn’t help his internal crisis.

“Oscar” you sighed, pausing the movie “Talk to me, tell me what’s going on with you tonight”

“Nothing’s wrong, why would there be something wrong?” his mouth said, but his flushed cheeks were proof that he was hiding something.

If looks could kill, the one you gave him would have certainly done the trick.

“I… full honesty?” he asked quietly.

You nodded “Full honesty”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Okay, but you can’t get mad at me”

You narrowed your eyes at him “That’s not a promise I can make, but I’ll do my best”

He bit his lip before taking your hands in his.

“I uh… I found your list”

You just stared at him. “What list?”

“This one…” he took the piece of paper out of his pocket where it had been burning a metaphorical hole in his hip ever since he’d found it.

He handed it to you, but you didn’t need to unfold it to know what it was. I was a bright pink piece of paper that had been ripped out of your diary the night before.

You completely froze, panic overtaking you.

“Oh my god. Oscar…” You couldn’t look him in the eyes as you tried to explain “you weren’t meant to find that I’m so sorry! I was going to throw it away this morning and I guess I put it down and completely forgot about it. Fuck- please don’t think I’m weird or whatever and just forget about it, okay? Please?”

You put your head in your hands and whined in distress. This couldn’t be happening. Your loving boyfriend had just learned about your depraved fantasies, and he was never going to see you the same way again.

“I can’t forget about it baby, I spent the entire day jerking off about it”

You head snapped up to finally look into his eyes, your jaw hanging in disbelief. You could tell he was dead serious and your gaze slowly trailed downwards towards his pants, where you could tell he was hard, then back up to his face to find him biting his lip so hard it was turning white.

“you-  what?”

“Sweetheart, I got so hard when I read it, I almost got in my car to come and get you from work. I want to do every thing on that list with you” he leaned closer to you and whispered “Every. Single. Thing.”

His arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, lips coming to brush against your neck. “especially number 3…”

You glanced at the list, seeing what he was referring to and gasped.

“Oscar!”

He chuckled into the crook of your neck.

“Who knew you were so dirty, hmm? Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“I- I didn’t know how to ask” you stuttered as he nipped at the skin of your shoulder.

“That right? Well ask me now, then” he said and you frowned in confusion.

“What?”

“Ask me. Go down the list, and ask me to do those things to you…”

His lips trailed down your body and his hands pushed you to lay down on the sofa as you spluttered in confusion. “I don’t- what?”

“What’s the first thing on the list?” he asked, he knew of course, but he needed to hear you say it.

You blushed, checking the list.

“Choking…”

“Then ask me to choke you”

You shuddered as his mouth continued downwards and his hands spread your legs, one of them pushing your flimsy pyjama shorts to the side to expose you to him.

“Oscar what-“

“I want to see how wet you get just from saying it, go on then.” He ordered and you keened as a finger dipped through your barely moist folds.

“I want you… to uhm” your blush deepened and Oscar smiled at you condescendingly.

“Go on baby, you can do it”

You gulped.

“I want you to choke me” you squeezed your eyes shut at the admission, but Oscar was having none of it.

“Now fucking look at me and ask me again”

You gasped and your eyes flew open to look at him.

“I want you to choke me!”

“Good girl” he stroked your thigh “Next thing?”

You glanced at the list still clutched tightly in you hands.

“Spanking.”

Oscar cocked his head to the side. “What about spanking?”

Your jaw clenched, the fucker knew how to get what he wanted.

“I want you to spank me”

He smiled and nodded for you to continue.

“I want you to fuck me over the balcony for everyone to see” you said, and Oscar’s pupils dilated as he used his fingers to spread you open for him.

“Yeah? Want everyone to see how fucking filthy you actually are?” You whined as his thumb came to dip inside you briefly before rubbing it in slow circles over your clit.

“I want you to degrade and praise me…”

He felt like he was barely holding on to his sanity at this point.

“That’s so hot, fuck.” He palmed himself through his sweats “You want to be my good girl yeah? Want to be my good little slut? Only thing you’re good for anyway…”

You whimpered, his words making your whole body heat up, and took a deep breath before continuing.

“I want you to fuck my mouth”

He had to grip himself through his pants to ground himself, your words having an enormous effect on his composure.

Where had his sweet little innocent girlfriend gone?

“I’ll fuck your mouth baby, make you fucking drool for it, god you’d look so pretty taking me down your throat”

You were definitely wet now, and he took the liberty of sliding a finger inside you and hooking it upwards just to watch you squirm as he rubbed that special spot inside you.

“I want you to tie me up and force me to take it” you said breathlessly.

The noise he let out at that was animalistic as his wide eyes found yours and his jaw went slack as he pulled his pants down just enough to get a hand around himself.

“You have no idea how hot you’d look all tied up and helpless under me baby, it’s making me so hard just thinking about it..”

You moaned as he added a second finger inside you.

“I want, fuck- I want you to use me, and fill me up with your cum whenever you want”

“Shit.” He hissed “Fuck baby, I’m going to fill you up so good, you'll see…”

“Please”

You hadn’t realised how close you were getting, but Oscar’s expert fingers were making you delirious as you continued.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk, want to cry from how good you feel inside me, wanna beg for your cock”

Oscar growled and pulled his fingers out.

“Then beg”

He settled over you, putting his weight on you, his dick resting against your folds as he panted into your mouth.

“Beg for my cock, slut”

You were so fucking turned on. Dominant Oscar was something new, but so, so incredibly hot you would have done absolutely anything to have him inside you at that moment.

“Please, please Osc, I need it. I need your cock so bad, please!”

He growled and slid in to the hilt without warning, making you moan into the heated kiss he was currently giving you to distract you. He was thick and the stretch was delicious as his cock dragged along your walls, making you see stars.

He started a deep, hard pace and his hips slapped against yours, obscene sounds filling the room.

“Fuck baby, so fucking wet for me. This what you wanted all along? For me to fucking ruin you on my cock?”

“Yes, Oscar, fuck!”

He chuckled darkly.

“That’s a good girl, so fucking tight, You’re getting close aren’t you? I can sweet your sweet pussy clenching around me, trying to keep me inside...”

He gripped your hips harder and angled his thrusts upwards, nailing your g-spot, and you were a goner. White spots danced in your vision as the pleasure overcame you, cunt spasming around Oscar.

“Perfect, perfect cunt. And it’s all fucking mine” he growled as he finally spilled inside you, filling you to the brim and forcing a pathetic whimper out of you at the new feeling.

Oscar had never come inside you before, and it was insanely hot. The feeling of your slick, hot walls pulsing around him was pure heaven and he couldn’t wait to test everything on that list.

After you’d regained your breath, you chuckled silently to yourself while stroking Oscar's back.

If this is what you got for leaving your list out, maybe you should tell Oscar about your box of toys in the in the back of your closet…

[weepingtalecowboy]

Four meets the colors

I decided to be absolutely evil so here you go fanfic prompt :

What if four was never capable to combine into link but they didn’t even get the opportunity to take turns because everyone controls different body parts and they have to coordinate absolutely everything together and pulling the four sword back just to be four people again isn’t something they can just do

They learned to live with it but no matter how hard they try to make it look naturally

they still move in a way that feels wrong even when they are trying hard to cooperate

Their feet have slight delay

their hands have trouble gripping stuff in a way that looks naturally and one hand might grip the wrong side of a box ending with nearly dropping it

Their face can show different and several emotions at once and they can sometimes be heard mumbling to themself

And because of that they are perceived as unsettling or unstable by their own village

Their father couldn’t truly understand or accept them because link his child essentially died and they know it no matter how hard he tries to hide it

Their grandpa is getting older and even though he grieved his grandson he still wanted to accept them and when he is gone they would only have Zelda left

And she spends most her time in the castle ruling Hyrule

Shadow is not coming back ever again

And because of that spend as much time as they can on blacksmithing to not have to worry about things

But when linked universe happens they meet a version of them that has everything they could possibly want

Like their own bodies and lives

Shadow is still alive

The village doesn’t fear them

Vio,Blue , Red and Green all get to go by their own names

And four has to go by link

It’s genuinely paining them because it just doesn’t seem fair

Main while the colors hate how four is looking at him

Because they used to think that link would understand and support their decision to stay apart

But obviously link feels to good about himself as the perfect and superior hero of the four sword

And they all start hating him for it because it means that their decision wasn’t approved by the one person it mattered from the most

The chain feels the tension but doesn’t really know how to fix it so they separate both

And when they all get to four’s Hyrule they feel ashamed of how bad they are viewed by their own village

Because the colors are loved but they are not

So they tell them that when they put the sword back they never became one

The colors feel absolutely horrified when they realize the implications

Because four's existence sounds like their worst nightmare

And it makes them feel sick

That a version of them could be so screwed over by their own existence

And shadow isn’t even with them

And their dad doesn’t even want them to exist

Man and they thought they had it rough

Four gets to meet shadow and has a mental breakdown over it

Shadow is also very disturbed by the situation

Also they keep four there is no way hylia can stop them (it still is extremely weird when they interact with their counterparts because they like don’t always have the same expressions )

but also four is all fucked up like red is delusional (he was doing his own thing the entire adventure in the manga), blue has an obsession with keeping things under control(getting frozen and swallowed by a host is not fun) (which is why he is so obsessed with cleaning because it gives him a way to control the environment ) , Vio is depressed about shadow,green has a hero complex (he is link if you delete all personality traits except hero)

Yeah that won’t be fun

The colors have it easy in comparison

[necrotic-nephilim]

https://www.tumblr.com/necrotic-nephilim/761747687384252416/i-dont-care-how-much-you-hate-me-you-need-to?source=share

so i'm imagining that tim gets free

(maybe it's steph who's on the outs with tim and doesn't believe him about bruce but sure as fuck doesn't approve of whatever the hell this is or maybe it's damian who's jealous that tim is getting any so much of dick's attention despite the fact that he's the heir and robin)

regardless tim gets the fuck out of gotham and goes on his international art theft adventure to find bruce

unfortunately for everyone dick processes to lose his shit and now damian (and steph to a lesser extent) is doing for dick what tim did for bruce

also a lot of heroes are drawing parallels between this and b reaction after jason died

anyway tim gets his proof (and get saved by jason bc jason's looking at dick all "this is really creepy actually and i don't want you anywhere near tim despite how bad our relationship is")

tim then goes to green arrow with his proof because he knows that man would call dick out no matter what costume he's wearing and he actually does an ok job with all the kids he picks up

there's a jla meeting and dick sees tim and is just as unstable as tim guessed he would be and it's pinging everyone's radar as A Problem now

but obviously they get bruce back and no this is his problem bc literally everyone in the league is like "pls keep dick away from tim, his behavior has passed weird and gone into extremely unsettling"

i can't see what happens next bc i can't imagine bruce actually being help but i can see him being a disaster when he tries and that would be funny

this is SO good anon i love all of these things based on that fic so much aaaa

personally when i was writing it, i imagined Jason being the one to break Tim free. not out of wanting to save Tim or anything, but more so seeing it as a chance to make Tim owe him, and just to fuck with Dick. Jason will cause problems because He Can, and while i don't think he would particularly care for the moral implications of Dick holding Tim hostage (Jason was morally all over the place during Dick's Batman era i fear) he's just morbidly curious. that said the idea of Steph being the one to do so is also fun, because for her it *would* be the moral issue as well as caring about Tim. i think the most fun option is somewhere in the middle, where Jason and Steph are forced to team up, each with different end goals and not trusting each other whatsoever. so when they succeed and get Tim safely out of Dick's hold, there's a deep disagreement and slight scuffle over what to do now, Jason trying to manipulate Tim further against Dick and onto his side, whereas Steph is just prioritizing Tim's safety. i think it's fun if Tim is slightly mentally broken, just from how long he was held captive and the realization of Dick's feelings at the end fo the fic. so he's distrusting of anyone he's once trusted, even Steph, that he just slips away to focus on getting Bruce back, leaving both Jason and Steph trying to chase Tim. and course, Dick.

because Dick would of course try to get Tim back, again and again. Damian is trying to reel Dick back, just because he wants Dick's attention and he does sort of believe they should focus on Gotham. and then Steph is also trying to distract Dick to protect Tim. so everyone's tail spinning in the most complicated game of cat and mouse. Steph and Damian are forced on the same side, trying to get Dick to focus on Gotham instead of Tim, just for now. Steph is promising to keep an eye on Tim, Damian is insisting Gotham needs Dick's attention and combined, they're able to at least keep his immediate focus away from Tim, giving Tim time to find his proof. Jason having to save him is just *fun*, because it reinforces how sort of helpless Tim is. he's not up on his training and his become soft and with Dick's need to catch up to him eventually, it puts him in a vulnerable spot he would *hate.* he'd despise needing to be saved by Jason of all people. it'd fuck him up so bad, because all the bad things Jason is saying about Dick are technically true and somehow, the world is so flipped upside down that Jason is the reasonable one. i think it'd make Tim isolate more and more, distancing himself from the Batfamily, even the ones he should trust like Steph. sure, he's on the outs with her (likely still upset from the Search For A Hero arc) but she's looking out for him. and maybe he knows it, deep down, but Tim is just terrified of trusting anyone associated with the Bat name.

and since he can't go to the Batfam with his proof, him going to Oliver is *so* fun. i adore any concept where Oliver is the one to notice something is very wrong in the Batfam i swear anon it's like you're connected to my BRAIN. because sure Oliver doesn't *like* Bruce, but even Oliver knows this is fucked up. the story Tim tells him is a horrifying one. Oliver has always done right by his kids, or at least tried his best to. so to know what Dick pulled is horrifying. there's this implicit trust the entire hero community has in Nightwing that would get badly shaken up and i think that's fun. the Justice League meetings about it would be a shitshow. someone like Clark who's as close to Dick as he is would want to at least hear Dick out, try to understand his point of view. maybe Dick was in the wrong, but he had to have been doing this out of a place of concern and Tim's just twisted up about Dick's intentions. at the very least, trust in Dick is shattered but no one can agree on what to do, if they can do anything at all. it's agreed to keep TIm safe and away from Dick and long talks are had with Dick, but Dick is disturbingly good at being charming and manipulative, convincing them all he's sorry and he knows he took it too far, it's just the stress of the mantle that got to him.

and Bruce coming back would further complicate things in such fun ways. because Bruce will *always* protect and side with Dick. yes, he's worried about Tim, but he refuses to let any negative blowback hit Dick for this. because sure, Bruce would've never done that, but also, Bruce has done equally shitty things so, he's also not going to fully question it. Dick made a judgment call in the heat of the moment, and now, Bruce is going to defend his right to do so. it sends the League even more out of control, because they didn't expect Bruce to be so deeply on Dick's side. the phase "what would Bruce think?" got thrown at Dick a lot by all of them and now, well. they look a bit like fools for it because Bruce has made it clear what he thinks is that Dick had the right to make the call he thought was best as Batman. so while Dick is socially exiled, he doesn't face any *real* consequences. he's still in hero society and is respected as Nightwing and allowed to exist on the League. Dick just patiently waits for it all to blow over because eventually, there's always something more important to focus on that will make people forget about this outside of just a weird bad mistake Dick made.

and the longterm for TIm is fun. because I think he'd keep his distance from Gotham and Bludhaven, mostly keeping around Oliver, given Oliver is one of the few League members still refusing to let it all go, and it gives Tim some kind of safety net. but i think Dick would still try to pursue Tim. Dick would convince himself he just went about it the wrong way, he came on a little too strongly and he can still fix it. he keeps harassing Tim and trying to get Tim to like him back, making it clear he has no real regret for his actions. i think it's fun if Tim is forced to fake a relationship with someone else to get Dick to leave him alone. maybe Jason, maybe Steph. (honestly, this being JayTimSteph could be fun) and that fake relationship ends up developing into something more real, which would make Dick *insanely* jealous. i'm torn between Dick actually taking it too far (possibly forcing himself on Tim) or keeping his distance because both are fun. i'm partial to him forcing himself on Tim, just for the fucked up non-con that Tim has to cope with, knowing nothing he does will get Dick to leave him alone. he learns the best ways to stay safe, but it essentially kills his ability to have a vigilante career bc it puts him too out in the open. he takes a more Oracle-esque role (Tim working with the Birds of Prey could be a lot of fun) and always lives in some kind of fear of Dick catching up to him. it's so fun and fucked up that even when Tim escapes, he doesn't really and he knows it.

[vaxxman]

"Do you miss the time when you used to do no harm?"

Old habits.

Merc behaviour is based on a nice little comment @up-in-flames-writing left on one of my comics :)

Rambling and more silly drawings below.

Loosely based on the Solemn Vow's public blurb:

Art lovers will cherish the bust of Hippocrates, commemorating a time when the Medic still thought doing no harm was a good idea.

I am absolutely convinced that Medic carries dextrose drops with him. German pharmacies throw these after you when you buy anything at all. I went to check if this one specific brand I know of had been around since the 60s and 70s and yes, it was.

Small acts of kindness I can see Medic doing is giving everyone one of these if they are tired. I'm talking about Engineer mostly.

Or they snack on them when solving practical problems together, like during the teleporter bread tumor incident.

[catncore]

I was thinking about his offscreen panic attack that hits right after the failure in saving Neku in A New Day, observing the Shinjuku inversion and seeing noise in the Real Ground all at once. the immediate understanding of what happened and deep fear inside him that the higher plane was involved somehow. all that hard work and becoming a fallen angel for shibuya to prevent an inversion. all that work to save neku and beat and still it all ended in failure and the coming disaster on its way to try and undo progress made. his mental health post AND and into NEO is in shambles. hanekoma is haunted by the fact he couldn't get there in time. he blames himself for not getting there in time. he intended to save two but could only save one. and now an even greater threat was at shibuya's door and he was going to be powerless to try and stop it. all that work was burned away in an instant.

[sysig]

But would you tho (Patreon)

[aliusfrater]

i hateee the way the supernatural narrative sets up like. relationship conflict through fault because i feel like it's counterintuitive to understanding characterisations and relationship dynamics

[aroacettorney]

when will aup sidestories return from war and stop leaving me bitter about how the main story ended

[carefulfears]

thinking about when diana first came back and how she praised mulder (“that was a good catch on the video tape. i was impressed.”) and the way he tensed up, shook his head, smiled, stared at the floor, and deflected (“oh. you would’ve caught it eventually.”)

[steakout-05]

my new and improved Barry Steakfries autism headcanons :D

Barry is the type of autistic who actively seeks out sensory input and loves to talk to people! he does this by blasting rock music through his whole house, flying really high in the sky on his jetpack and feeling the wind on his face, causing loud and destructive explosions, listening to the whirring of his MGJP, going out for drinks with a lot of friends including Craig and watching action movies with a lot of carnage. most of these get him in serious trouble with the law, but they can't catch him because he has a jetpack and they don't >:)

he's the type of guy to listen to death metal screaming to feel Delightfully Whelmed and sit there calmly on the floor like it's nothing

Barry's main stim is ripping his shirt sleeves, usually as an expression of super strong emotions (excitement, rage, fear. etc) or to combat his tactile sensory issues. he also bounces his knee and clenches his fists when he's bored or nervous.

most of Barry's sensory issues are tactile, like the way certain (and by certain i mean most) types of sleeves feel on his arms. they can make his arms feel scratchy and tight, which can get worse if they're wet and just hang onto his skin. he's a lot more comfortable wearing loose soft sleeves or wearing them when it's cold. a lot of people have asked Barry why he doesn't just wear tank tops if he hates the feeling of sleeves, to which he says that ripping them off is way more satisfying and fun, like he's killing the bad sensory feeling itself by tearing it off him.

Barry mentions in one of the episodes of his vlog that his shirt ripping stim was passed down through generation to generation and that his dad rips his sleeves as well. my headcanon is that this is generational autism and their children learning their parents' stims! (Barry also mentions that the only generation that didn't rip their sleeves was in the medieval generation when they wore chainmail which i think in this context is really interesting!)

Barry isn't very good with emotional regulation. he can get frustrated, impatient and angry really quickly, which we see a lot of in the 'Rainbow Barry' short. he also struggles with executive functioning and frequently forgets or struggles to do tasks he finds boring, misplaces things, procrastinates a lot, struggles with impulsiveness and planning.

Barry also has inattentive type ADHD (otherwise known as ADD) which he shows traits of in the 'Rainbow Barry' short as well.

he picks up a lot of catchphrases and personality traits from his favourite action movies!

i mentioned before that Barry loves to talk to people, but he struggles with quite a few social skills. he forgets people's boundaries, has trouble controlling his volume, accidentally interrupts people, can come off as scary sometimes and forgets what the conversation was about. a lot of other people don't really like him because they think he's just being rude and self-centred and he's never really understood why. Craig understand though, and that's why they love each other :)

his special interests are jetpacks, action movies, his dad's record collection and dogs! he may not be an expert but he loves them :)

Barry has no idea he's autistic and thinks he instead has a disease that makes him rip his sleeves because no one's ever told him and he doesn't remember getting diagnosed.

[lord-squiggletits]

Getaway and the whole mutiny arc literally is one of the most disappointing things in all of phase 2 lmao and it’s not that I’m like “oooh Getaway should’ve been a perfect angel who was right and a better captain than Rodimus” it’s more that I would’ve liked to have him NOT immediately descend into cartoonish levels of pure evil and for him to have gotten to make a point about Rodimus/Megatron being shit captains besides the final confrontation between him and Rodimus. Like goddamn I understand now why there are so many Getaway fans/Megatron haters because I’m pretty sure if I didn’t come into this continuity as a Megatron simp I would hate him too

[bileroom]

we're going to have our own safe home again and then we can process the. aughh

[iamthedukeofurl]

Scott Pilgrim is, I think, the best example I can think of for establishing a setting's Nonsense Limit. The setting's Nonsense Limit isn't quite "How high-fantasy is this". It's mostly a question of presentation, to what degree does the audience feel that they know the rules the world operates by, such that they are primed to accept a random new element being introduced. A setting with a Nonsense Limit of 0 is, like, an everyday story. Something larger than life, but theoretically taking place in our world, like your standard spy thriller action movie has a limit of 1. Some sort of hidden world urban fantasy with wizards and stuff operating in secret has a nonsense limit around 3 or 4. A Superhero setting, presenting an alternate version of our world, is a 5 or 6. High fantasy comes in around a 7 or so, "Oh yeah, Wizards exist and they can do crazy stuff" is pretty commonly accepted. Scott Pilgrim comes in at a 10. If you read the Scott Pilgrim book, it starts off looking like a purely mundane slice of life. The first hint at the fantastical is Ramona appearing repeatedly in Scott's Dreams, and then later showing up in real life. When we finally get an explanation, it's this:

Apparently Subspace Highways are a thing? And they go through people's heads? And Ramona treats this like it's obscure, but not secret knowledge. Ramona doesn't think she's doing anything weird here. At this point, it's not clear if Scott is accepting Ramona's explanation or not, things kind of move on as mundane as ever until their Date, when Ramona takes Scott through subspace, and he doesn't act like his world was just blown open or anything, although I guess that could have been a metaphor. there's a couple other moments, but everything with Ramona could be a metaphor, or Scott not recognizing what's going on. Maybe Ramona is uniquely fantastical in this otherwise normal world. And then, this happens

Suddenly, a fantastical element (A shitty local indie band finishing their set with a song that knocks out most of the audience) is introduced unrelated to Ramona, and undeniably literal. We see the crowd knocked out by Crash and The Boys. but the story doesn't linger on the implications of that, the whole point of that sequence is to raise the Nonsense Level, such that you accept it when This happens

Matthew Patel comes flying down onto the stage, Scott, who until this point is presented as a terrible person and a loser, but otherwise is extremely ordinary, proceeds to flawlessly block and counter him before doing a 64-hit air juggle combo. Scott's friends treat this like Scott is showing off a mildly interesting party trick, like being really good at darts. The establish that Scott is the "Best Fighter in the Province", not only are street-fighter battles a thing, Scott is Very Good at it, but they're so unimportant that being the best fighter in the province doesn't make Scott NOT a loser. So when Matthew Patel shows off his magic powers and then explodes into a pile of coins, we've established "Oh, this is how silly the setting gets". It's not about establishing the RULES of the setting so much as it is about establishing a lack of rules. Scott's skill at street-fighter battles doesn't translate to any sort of social prestige. Ramona can access Subspace Highways and she uses it to do a basic delivery job. It doesn't make sense and it's clear that it's not supposed to. So later on, when Todd Ingram starts throwing around telekinesis, and the explanation we're given is "He's a Vegan" , you're already so primed by the mixture of weirdness and mundanity that rather than trying to incorporate this new knowledge into any sort of coherent setting ruleset, you just go "Ah, yeah, Vegans".

[aphelionwrotes11]

MDNI 18+ (not edited)

Part 2

Trucker!simon, who finds himself a lovely bird at a local truck stop he often runs through on his usual routes.

Sits his massive self at the bar on one of the small stools, glaring at any of the blokes who stare at you a bit too long.

Gives you a blank look when you check up on him, asking if he’d like anything else.

“Just anotha’ cuppa, sweet’art” he always says, sliding his mug towards you, which looks microscopic compared to his massive hand.

You think he doesn’t like you, considering he doesn’t ever talk to you much when you try to make small talk, but he always leaves you a fat tip. You figure he’s just quiet. He can’t dislike you that much considering how many times you’ve glanced over your shoulder to see him gazing appreciatively at your ass.

It’s an especially rowdy night at the truck stop that finally breaks the camels back. A real gentleman decided he wanted a feel of you. So he didn’t hesitate to grab a handful of the fat on your backside, his table and him whooping and hollering as you squealed and slapped his hand away, glowering at him as you scampered away to the bar.

You held back tears as you started up another pot of coffee, never were the confrontational type. This wouldn’t be the first time a man had taken it upon himself to put his hands on you, but it would certainly be the last. Considering how Simon was sat at the end of the bar; shaking with rage, his knuckles white from being clenched tight as he stood.

It all happened so quick you didn’t even catch it, you back had been turned. The restaurant went from ruckus, laughter, and loud voices, to silence after the sound of a sickening crack rung through the room.

You turned just in time to see the asshole’s friends jump from their seats and go for your favorite regular; Simon. The handsy asshole laid flat on the ground, out cold.

It took no time at all for Simon to lay out the other three, he was twice each of their size in pure muscle, and obviously lacked nothing in skill. Once he was done he simply turned to you, pointed to the back room and said,

“Go get yer things.”

You didn’t think twice. Passing your manager who stood in the doorway, face solemn. You asked him quickly if it was okay for you to leave, he took one glance at Simon and nodded his head. You grabbed your things, throwing on your coat and met Simon at the door.

He takes your arm, surprisingly gentle for his huge form, he looked enraged. His shoulders tense, brows furrowed, you’re certain if he didn’t have a mask on the lower half of his face he would have a deep frown on his lips.

You thank him softly, following him as he leads you through the full parking lot. He says nothing, staring ahead. You tell him you don’t live far, you can just walk.

“No, you’re not doin tha’.” He says, and you don’t argue.

Helps you into the cab of his massive semi, getting into the drivers side and turning up the heat.

Offers to get you some food, “haven’t seen’ya eat a bite ol night, bird.”

You refuse, thanking him for the offer, telling him you’ll eat at home. You probably won’t, your stomach is still all twisted from earlier, if he can tell you’re shaken up he doesn’t show it. He just nods.

Takes you to the corner of your street, wouldn’t be able to drive his truck down the narrow road. You thank him again, asking him if there’s anything you can do to repay him.

“I know’a few things you can do for me, bird.” He says lowly, you feel your cheeks warm at the implication. You ask him what he wants. He grunts, glancing to the side as if he’s thinking.

“Gimme a kiss.” He says, tapping his cheek. Your eyes widen, is he serious? Out of all things he could ask for, he asks for just a kiss on the cheek? You shocked to realize you’re disappointed he didn’t ask for more.

He pulls his mask down to his chin, revealing his chiseled jaw and thin, scarred lips. You lay a trembling hand on his giant thigh for support as you lean over, and just as you are about to meet his cheek he tilts his head and has your mouth. Pressing a heated kiss to your lips.

It takes you a moment to catch up, but before you know it you’re in his lap, making out sloppily, mouths open and tongues swirling together. You sigh into his mouth, cupping his jaw as his hand cradles the back of your head.

When you start grinding yourself against him is when he stops.

“Not yet, bird. Gotta take you out first, do it the right way.” He says. The right way? What the hell.

“Take ya for dinner, treat ya real good, take ya home and fuck that sweet pussy halfway to heaven.”

He cups your ass as he whispers that nasty shit in your ear, one hand on your hip as he bucks up once against your wet heat. You let out a whimper and he just chuckles. Asshole.

Jumps out the truck and helps you down with two strong hands on your hips. Walks you all the way to your front door, smiling at your peeved expression. You were definitely gonna have to rub one out once you got inside.

Gives you a sweet peck on the cheek, gripping your chin with his thumb and finger.

“Be here tomorrow a’ seven. Wear something nice.” He says softly before turning and stalking off into the night. Leaving you flabbergasted on your front doorstep.

Note: I dunno if you guys can tell but im incapable of writing anything small. This was supposed to be just a short little thing about how sexy trucker!simon would be but i got so carried away 😭 he’s the ghost that haunts my nights, can’t get him outta my head

Simon Riley master list

[gojorgeous]

“heatwaves”

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!fem!reader summary: when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, a/b/o dynamics, no established relationship, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with a/b/o), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, marking, spit, praise, swearing, pet names (baby/sweetheart/princess), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, knotting, reader gets picked up, reader is american, reader is unaware of their omega status, reader experiences their first heat, reader and satoru “bond” without having a fully conscious conversation, reader and satoru are early twenties. a/n: it's here! somebody spay me. by popular demand i have written alpha!gojo for you all… just a classic reader goes into an accidental heat at work and (x) character happens to be the nearest alpha LMAO. this is entirely uncreative, but i love it for that!!! straight smut with a little plot if you squint hard enough! i hope it lives up to your expectations. find my alpha!geto fic here and find the list of my 1k event fics here. enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. wc: 5k

Nobody ever told you that Japan was so damn hot. 

Hot was not what came to mind when you’d heard you’d be taking a trip to Tokyo. Temples? Sure. Mt. Fuji? Great. Hot? No fucking way. 

But, here you were, boiling away under the sun on what you’d thought would be a fun little work trip. Instead, you were just suffering with every step, trying to listen to what Principal Yaga was saying and failing miserably. 

“These are the sparring courts. No students right now, but they’ll start training within the hour.” 

You rub at the back of your neck, cringing when your palm comes away coated with a thin layer of sweat. Gross. 

You lift your eyes to the sky, wondering how much longer this was going to take. Your little trip to Japan was to organize an exchange program with Jujutsu Tech. Your students had been begging to take a trip to Tokyo, to where their cursed energy would be closer to the source and, consequently, stronger. You had to admit, it was a good idea. A few months spent training here in Japan would do them good. From the moment you’d set foot on Japanese soil, your power had thrummed faster in your veins than ever before. 

Principal Yaga was giving you a tour of the grounds and had sealed your horrible fate when he’d decided to start outside. You barely heard a word the man said. New York was never this hot…

“Are you alright?” You blink, fanning your face as best you can. It provides no relief. God, it felt like the heat was penetrating your fucking bones… 

When your eyes slide to Principal Yaga, you’re surprised to see that he looks genuinely concerned. “Y-yeah.” You blink again, shocked by your own stutter. Maybe you were coming down with something? “I’m fine, just not used to this kind of heat, I guess.” You fan your face again and clench your jaw when it still does nothing. 

Yaga’s brows furrow and you see him glance around, like he’ll find said heat standing next to him. How was he wearing so many layers? 

“How about we head inside and take a break, then? We can continue the tour… later.” You nearly fall to the ground and kiss his feet. Air conditioning is truly God's gift to man… 

You smile and it’s all genuine. “That would be amazing. Thank you.” 

Yaga nods, but you think his eyes linger on you for just a beat too long before he turns. He still looks confused… or maybe flustered? That only leaves you confused. 

You follow after him, each step feeling like you’re sinking deep into cement. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying to get some ventilation. When you finally reach the building you nearly sigh with relief. Air conditioning… that’ll be good. Just what you need. A few minutes inside and you’ll be good to go. You’ll just have to remember not to wear so many damn layers again when you continue the tour. 

You’re smiling as you step inside, so ready for relief that you’re practically shaking– but relief never comes. Your brows furrow. You brush your arm through the air. It… doesn’t help. It’s strange– you can feel the coolness of the air conditioning, feel it gliding up and across your skin, but the heat doesn’t subside, doesn’t so much as lessen. 

“I trust you know how to find anything you might–” Yaga clears his throat. “Need?” 

 Your brows furrow. He’d shown you all the school’s resources last night and your room was already stocked with food, toiletries, and every other thing you could possibly need. Of course you knew where everything was… 

“Yes… Thank you.” 

Yaga shifts so uncomfortably you think that maybe he’s about to pee his pants. “Right, well, you have my contact information. Let me know if I can be of assistance in connecting you to any… resources.”

You’re more confused now than you were at the start of this conversation. “Right…” 

“Take care.” 

Yaga shoots you one last– worried?- glance and stalks down the hall. You’re left wondering what the hell is happening in his mind and why he seemed so desperate to offer you resources? 

You blink, clearing your mind as best you can, but some sort of fog seems to be settling over your consciousness. Definitely coming down with something, you think. 

You make your way through the halls, steps still feeling suspiciously heavy and heat still radiating off your body. A cold shower. That’ll help. Or so you thought. The further you walk, the more each hallway starts to look like the next. Was it left or right next? Was this hallway always a dead end? Since when was there a bathroom there?

You’re leaning against the wall now, panting. Something is pooling in your gut, something warm and far too intense. Your inner thighs are wet, too. You want to convince yourself it’s sweat, but… you’re horny. More horny than you’ve ever been in your whole damn life. You think you might die if you don’t get some dick in the next ten minutes. What the fuck?

You slide yourself into the next room you see: an empty classroom. Thank fucking god. You grab the back of a chair, hands shaking with how hard you’re gripping the wood. You take a deep breath. You need to get a hold of yourself, need to figure out what the fuck is happening to you.  

You swallow and try your best to think. It’s not without difficulty. Your head feels like somebody’s filled it with glue. It takes a minute for a coherent thought to come through, but when it does, you think it’s a good one. Doctor. 

Yes– you don’t feel well, so obviously a doctor is the correct choice, right? You scramble for your phone in your back pocket but freeze when the brush of your own hand against your ass sends a jolt up your spine. What the fuck is wrong with you? 

Carefully, you extract your phone from your pocket, but it’s too difficult to even remember your fucking passcode. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the overwhelming ache that’s forming between your legs. Something is definitely wrong.

You fumble with your phone, but your hands are shaking so hard it just tumbles to the floor. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck?” 

“Yo, who’s baking cookies in here without me?” 

Your head snaps up and, with some difficulty, your eyes settle on a… man. You suck in a breath. He’s… dazzling. He’s wearing all black, but it’s not a student uniform. One of the teachers that you’ve yet to meet, then. White hair and pale skin contrasts against his clothes, but his eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses set low on his nose. Even in your delirious state you still have the wherewithal to wonder who the fuck wears sunglasses inside. 

You get a quick look at him before a wave of intense- fuck, desire?- washes over you. You tremble again and shock yourself when a whimper tumbles from your lips. 

“Oh, shit,” you hear him say. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and watch him inhale again– deeply. His lips part. “Oh, shit.”

You clench your jaw and tighten your grip on your chair. Your legs are shaking now– you can barely stand. You squeak pitifully. 

The second the sound leaves your throat you hear footsteps– rapid, hurried, concerned, ones. Warm hands clasp your waist and you cry out at the touch, electricity sparking on your skin. 

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He turns you gently to face him, hands steadying your swaying body. “Who the fuck left you alone in here?” His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your lower back now and you think you’ve never felt something so good in your life. It’s so good that you almost miss what he said. Almost. 

“W-What?” You see his brows furrow as you peek up at him. At this angle you can see under his sunglasses. His eyes are blue. Really fucking blue. You think he might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, even with the expression of… anger?- that he’s currently wearing. 

“Whoever he is, I'll kill him.” 

That makes you blink. An extra sliver of clarity opens in your brain. “What are you talking about?”

He tugs you a little closer, wrapping an arm fully around your waist and pressing you up against him. You try to ignore the fact that you love it, that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and climb him like a fucking tree. 

“What idiot leaves an omega going into heat?” He’s glaring at the doorway like he’s torn between staying here with you and running after said idiot to pommel him into the ground. 

“‘M not an omega.” The words are out before you’ve even stopped to consider them. It’s true. You’re not an omega. You’re a beta. You’ve always been a beta. You’ve got the little “B” on your ID card to prove it. You were tested at birth, just like everyone else, and even if you really were an omega you would have presented years ago.

He only glances down at you and snorts. “Funny, sweetheart.” His hand is still rubbing those little circles into your back and it’s enough to make that fogginess in your mind grow a little thicker. 

But your fear, your uncertainty outways your instinct. You pound a weak fist against his chest, not to push him away, but to get his attention. He’s still glaring at the doorway like he wants to murder it. 

“‘M serious,” you gasp. “I’m a beta… I don’... know whas’ happenin’… to me.” Each word is a tremendous effort to form. Your tongue seems to have lost its ability to do anything but hang limply. 

That gets his attention. He lifts a hand, gently brushing your hair back from your eyes and then cupping your jaw. “Is this your first heat?” 

You find yourself leaning into his touch despite the fact that you’ve only known him for thirty seconds. Your eyelids flutter. “N-Not a heat… jus’ feel… sick.”

His brows furrow again, deeper this time, and he shakes his head. “How old are you?”

You know why he asks. Most omegas present around eighteen or nineteen. “Older than… nineteen…” You try to laugh, but it only comes out as a whimper.

That answer only serves to make him push closer. You feel his hand trailing down your neck, skimming gently over the skin until he reaches a spot you hadn't even realized was so… sore. You keen at the touch. Fuck, no. There was no way. You had swollen fucking scent glands. 

You try to push away, but he pulls you in, burying his face in your neck. You shudder when he groans. “You smell like a damn bakery exploded,” he chuckles, and the sound is muffled by your skin. When he pulls away he makes it look like the action is physically painful. He cups your face again. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re an omega. If this is your first heat then…” he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his throat. “You’re just a late bloomer, baby.”

You shake your head desperately. It’s just the stupid heatwave. It’s just… hot outside… right? 

You try to think about how this could be possible. It could be that the test you took as a baby was wrong… it happened sometimes. It was rare, but it happened. But if you were an omega, what would have triggered your presentation now? What had changed? 

Your eyes widen. Japan. You’d set foot in fucking Japan. Ever since you’d gotten here, you’d felt power pulsing in your veins. Maybe it hadn’t been just power… 

“N-no–” 

A gentle thumb smooths over your cheek and you meet his eyes again. You shiver when you see a whole lot more black than blue. “You have no alpha?” 

You whimper, leaning into him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, a part of you begs. You shake your head again and a tear slides down your cheek. “No,” you whisper. 

Strong arms slide beneath your knees and you squeak when you’re suddenly suspended in the air. When you glance up he’s grinning triumphantly. “You have one now,” is all he says before he’s carrying you out of the classroom and twisting through the halls. 

Warmth rushes over you at the sensation of being held, and something begs you to give into it, to give into the heat still washing over you, to the throbbing between your legs. You fight it and fight it hard. 

“Where’re we going?” you ask, but your voice is sounding more and more like a whisper. 

His eyes stay focused ahead, even as he presses a comforting kiss to the crown of your head. “Your room, sweetheart.” 

Your brows scrunch. “How d’ you know where–” 

“‘M following your scent, baby.” 

He can do that? You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, only to be hit by a different scent so delicious your mouth starts watering. You groan. Loudly. There’s a scent pouring from his neck that’s filling your head with memories of spices you can’t name, but suddenly know you love. 

You think you hear him chuckle and then feel a gentle hand on the back of your neck, encouraging you. You snuggle deeper into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and burying your fingers in his hair. Taste him, taste him, taste him your mind chants. It’s too good an offer to deny. You lick a stripe across his skin. 

Your groans are instant. He’s squeezing you closer, leaning into your touch, and you’re pulling him closer. Your fingers curl into his jacket, tugging and tugging. You lick again and now he’s the one groaning. 

“Damn, that feels good,” He sounds as surprised by that fact as you feel. The swaying of his steps comes to a sudden halt. You whine, missing the rocking of his body. “Think we’re here, princess. This it?” His hand is smoothing over your hair, slowly coaxing you away from the curve of his neck. You blink, not wanting to leave the paradise of his scent, but also feeling some overwhelming urge to please him.

Your eyes settle on a door and you recognize a little chip in the wood. You nod. “Mhm.” 

You gasp when his hand grips your hip, wriggling through your pocket until he pulls out a little brass key. 

“Perfect,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s all too pleased with himself. He shimmies your key in the knob until the lock clicks and then you’re inside. The door slams shut loud enough to make you jump and squeak. 

“Oops, sorry, baby. Guess I’m a little excited, heh.” His hand squeezes your hip soothingly and you mewl at the wave of heat that pulses through you. Your clit throbs almost painfully and you feel something gush onto your thighs. You whimper. 

He inhales. “Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then you’re moving again. He navigates your room like he knows it. He probably does. From what you can tell, most of the rooms at Jujutsu Tech follow a standard layout. He weaves down a hall to the left and then into your bedroom on the right. 

He lays you on the bed gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid you might break if he drops you so much as an inch. “There we go,” he breathes. You can’t deny that it feels good, that it feels right, to be lying on the softness of your mattress, but it’s not enough. 

You claw at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close. You want something from him, need something, but you can’t name what. You just know that the heat boiling beneath your skin can only be sated by him, that the throbbing between your legs can only be calmed by him. “P-Please,” you whimper. Tears well in your eyes. You need him so bad it physically hurts. 

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine and it takes your breath away. He dips his head and you think you see him slide those sunglasses down his nose and toss them to the side. You don’t pay too close attention, though, because he’s kissing your neck again and your body is screaming with sensation. 

“Aw, I know, baby. Don’ worry. ‘M gonna take care of you now. Jus’ relax.” 

His words spark something in you– your last bit of consciousness. A brief moment of clarity shines through the fog of your mind and you remember what the hell is happening, what the hell you’re doing. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head desperately. No, no, no, this is not happening to you. There’s no way.

“Hey, now. None a’ that.” Fingers clasp your chin, holding you still. When you peek your eyes open, you see that he has in fact removed his sunglasses and that his eyes are more black pupil than dazzling blue. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is heavy. “Don’t try t’ fight it. Jus’ try to enjoy it…” His head dips and suddenly he’s nipping at your scent gland again. 

You thrash and scream, but not in fear or pain. You’ve never felt something so good in your life. Every graze of his teeth feels like heaven. Your skin zings with electricity, sending pulses of pure need straight between your thighs. 

You grab at him, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging him closer. Your chest is heaving when you speak. “Please, p-please-” 

“Shhh…” You think you hear your shirt tearing, but you’re too focused on pulling him closer to care. His tongue licks a stripe up your throat and your eyes roll back. 

You’re sure your shirt is off now. You can feel the cool air, but it does nothing to ease the heat raging inside you, pulsing and pumping through your veins.You feel him tugging at your pants, too, and you try to raise your hips. He only shushes you again. “Jus’ relax. Let me do the work, baby.” 

Your pants are gone in seconds, even without your assistance. So is your bra and then your panties. He tries pulling away to undress himself, but you mewl and his eyes blow even blacker before he’s back over you again. He settles for popping the buttons straight off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants. 

The sight of his bare skin makes you whimper and then you’re clawing at him again, dragging your fingers across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abs. It’s a greedy touch and one that he returns. His palms move along your body, kneading and squeezing at any flesh he can grab. It feels so good that you think you might pass out– but it’s still not enough. Something is still missing. You feel… empty. 

His fingers trace across your stomach and it’s too late to realize what’s happening before he’s circling your clit. You jerk and jolt at the touch, but he presses his chest to yours, pinning you. The throbbing only worsens when his fingers settle into a rhythm. 

Tears leak down your cheeks. It’s too overwhelming. You’re burning– burning from the inside out. The pulsing between your thighs is all-consuming with its intensity, with its-

“Need! N-Need–” you’re crying out, but you don’t even know what to ask for– don’t even know what you need. 

“God, Fuck, I know, princess,” he groans. He licks a long stripe up your neck. “But ‘s your first heat. Gotta–” he has to pause to swallow. He’s panting, now, just as lost as you are, and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. “Gotta get you ready… go slow.” 

You shake your head. Now, now, now is all you can think. You need him now. “No… please…” You bury your head in his neck and find that spot that’s pouring his spicy scent into the air. Your mouth waters and you lick him, letting your teeth graze his skin.

“Fuck!” He shivers atop you and you feel the pure strength restrained within his muscles. “Fuck- okay. Okay. Relax f’ me, princess.” 

You try, you really do, but your body refuses to do anything but try to pull him closer. You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them up, up, up until they’re pressed tightly to your chest and your feet are dangling on his shoulders. The position makes you whine, feeling more exposed than you ever have before. 

“You on birth control, baby?” 

Your brows furrow. It’s becoming harder and harder to focus on what he’s saying rather than simply the sound of his voice. Were you? You try to think, try to remember through the pit of glue that is your brain. No…

You shake your head. “N-No…” 

There’s a slight pause, a beat of contemplation, and then he’s laughing. “Guess I’m bouta be a daddy then, heh.” He chuckles again and the sound rings through you with a wave of pure bliss. His lips brush your neck again, settling on your pulse and making you whine. “Don’t really mind as long as I get you.” Your head rolls back submissively, exposing your throat. Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams. There’s nothing you want more than that, you think.“Okay, here we go, baby.” 

There’s hardly any more warning. One second you feel him shifting between your thighs and the next he’s pressing inside of you, feeding his cock in inch by inch. The stretch is… delicious. It burns, fuels that fire inside you, but it makes the heat feel more… pleasurable. Your back arches and your head rolls back submissively. 

“Oh, fuck, princess.” His voice has gotten higher, more like a whine than anything else. When you gaze up at him you can see the flush in his cheeks, even through the fog in your mind. More, more, more your mind screams. Or maybe you say it aloud, because more is exactly what he gives you. The second you feel him tucked up against your cervix the second he begins to take you. He sets a pace that is somehow both brutal and gentle, with strokes that rattle your skull and also give you exactly what you need. His hands grip your hips, holding you still to take exactly what he wants to give. His head dips until he has his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his tongue is swirling so deliciously that you can’t help but drag your nails down his back. 

Your body rocks with every thrust, teeth rattling and eyes rolling. The heat inside you grows… tighter, like it’s all pooling to your core, waiting for something you still can’t quite name. 

“N-need…” You don’t know what you need, still. Only that you want to beg for it so badly it hurts. 

His tongue slides away from your nipple, tracing a line up between the valley of your breasts, over your collarbone, before he finally settles on your pulse once again. The nick of his teeth makes something click in your mind. This is what you need. Bite me, bite me, bite. Claim me, claim me, claim me. 

“Yes,” you breathe. Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, coaxing his teeth to sink in, to stake their claim. “Oh God, yes. Please.” You sound delirious, you think, but then so does he when he answers. 

“Not yet, princess. Not yet.” His tongue darts out to lick across your neck again and you can only sob. Why not yet? Now, now, now… 

Tightness coils in your muscles, the throb at your core reaching a breaking point. You feel something coming, something like an orgasm but yet also not. You know that when whatever is pooling inside you releases, you will shatter, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be put back together. 

Your nails claw across his back hard enough to draw blood and the action forces out some sort of low grumble from his chest that makes you whimper and melt into the mattress. The tip of his nose draws a line up your throat. “Keep doin’ that, baby. Mark me up.” 

You don’t dare deny him. You scratch at his skin, desperately trying to pull him closer. His thrusts grow faster and your thighs begin to tremble and shake on his shoulders, overwhelmed with the intensity of all you’re feeling. You pull at him, grab at him, thread your fingers through his hair. 

Your body jolts with each thrust and you’re sure you’re going to burst any moment. But you can’t. Not yet. You still need something, something he hasn’t given you yet. He groans and the sound is so delicious that you feel it sliding over your skin and settling in your bones. 

“M’ gonna knot you now, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take care ‘ve you.”

You whimper at his words. You hope they’re true. You don’t think you can take much more of the incessant gnawing of need in your gut. 

“Please…” your voice is hardly more than a whisper. His breath is hot as it shakes against your neck. He’s licking and nipping at you ravenously, like he needs you just as badly, like he wants to claim you as badly as you want to be claimed. 

His thrusts quicken even further and your jaw falls open, neck arching. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. Apparently, neither can he. 

You feel it the moment he starts to swell inside you. It’s perfect, you think. It can’t get better than this– but then it does. 

His teeth graze your throat again, this time a little harsher and with a little more intent. “Mine,” he whispers. The second he bites you everything goes blurry. 

You’re experiencing… heaven. There is a rush of that electricity that buzzes under your skin. It bursts forth and you feel it reaching out, forming a link between the two of you that you know is now impenetrable. It pulses and burns and you can feel him, feel his pleasure, his desire, his need for you and only you– his need to make you his. You think your souls must be blending, merging, with how deep the connection runs. You think you know him, know everything you could possibly ever need to. You know he’s the one. You know he’s yours.

It’s perfect, the way it fulfills every desire you’ve ever had, the way he notches inside your cunt like that’s where he was made to be, the way his teeth clamp around your throat and bond you together forever.

You scream for him, you think, but you can’t tell through the complete and total haze of pleasure. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for every last drop, and you feel the heat of his cum coating your cervix. The heat at your center finally releases, bursting and flooding through you in a way that feels like pure bliss has been injected into your veins. Your thighs quake and tremble with the pure intensity of it all and white spots dot your vision. 

His body is tense above you, shivering with the magnitude of what’s just happened. He’s groaning into your neck, your flesh still clamped between his teeth like he never wants to let go. You’re not sure you ever want him to. 

Your breaths shake in and out, lungs heaving as you finally come down. His knot is still settled deep inside you and with the few strings of consciousness that slowly filter back into your mind you know that he’ll remain there for a while.

His teeth release from your neck with a squelch that you think you would be sickening in any other context, but only makes you whimper at the loss of contact. He only hums and finds your hand, twining your fingers together as he laps at the fresh bite on your throat. It feels… amazing. Not in the way it felt before, like he was licking pure lust straight onto your skin, but more like he’s giving you a comfort you have never known in your life. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt you here. 

His lips press a final kiss to your throat before you feel him shifting. He gently rolls you both onto your sides, getting comfortable and pulling you to his chest while you both wait for the next wave of lust to hit you. It will, you know. Sooner rather than later, too. Your mind has cleared enough to realize what’s happening, what’s to come. You won’t be leaving this room, this bed, for quite some time. 

A gentle hand brushes a sweaty lock of hair from your eyes before it settles on the nape of your neck, massaging the sore muscles there. You sigh and raise your gaze to find him already looking at you, an easy smile on his lips. He has dimples, you realize, and he’s… breathtaking. And now… he’s all yours.

There’s a beat of silence between you, a moment of reconciliation with what’s just happened between you, of what it means. You blink up at him, your lips parting to say something, anything, but instead your brows furrow in thought.

His smile drops instantly. He leans into you, thumb caressing your cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

Your mouth runs dry. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes. “What’s your name?”

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[maxtermind]

baby, would i still be your lover?

★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 2.9k ★ : a/n :: as much as i love making the crack texts, i'm just an angst addict 😔

Max Verstappen

Everyone, people who weren’t even in Max’s close proximity, knew that he was impulsive and a little reckless. With you, on the contrary, Max was usually a think first, act later kind of a lover. That wasn’t to say that when arguments happened, they were a pretty sight to look at.

It was a single thing that you said which suddenly turned into a huge blown out argument, leaving your head throbbing as Max continued to vent his frustrations about unrelated issues.

"You're so hot-headed, you can't even have a normal conversation without blowing up."

"Attacking me now, are you?" Max retorted, his tone defensive.

He was quick to bite back and the ball in your throat made it scratch-y to talk. You were sure that your eyes were welling up with tears but he was too far away to see it.

"I'm just stating the truth.” You started after taking a shuddering breath. “Every time we talk, it turns into a fight because you can't control your temper."

"Well, maybe if you didn't push all my buttons, we wouldn't be here."

He was talking in the same decibel at least and for a second you had hope that everything would be better. Then his words registered and the hope vanished as well.

"I'm not the one who flies off the handle at the slightest provocation!"

You had to stop and take another breath, otherwise, you were going to start crying and this conversation was inevitably going to get left in between because Max wasn’t an asshole who was okay with his girlfriend crying just because he was angry.

"You know what? I'm sick of your constant criticism."

"And I'm sick of walking on eggshells around you!"

He took a moment to say the next thing. The silence indicating that he was thinking it over first. Max's next words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

"Fine, maybe we should just call it quits then."

The suggestion hit you like a punch to the gut. Was this really that easy for him? He just ripped your heart out and splashed it on the ground. Your chest hurt so much and he was just sitting there? Was he not at all affected by the way you looked close to crying now?

"Fine. Enjoy being single and available," you retorted, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes looking over at you, indicating how he didn’t really think that you guys were breaking up. Though in your head, this was the last time you were ever going to look into his eyes again.

"You're too sensitive, always getting upset over nothing."

You were already on the edge, not having even processed that you guys almost- probably did break up over you trying to talk something out with him.

“Us breaking up is nothing to you?”

The weight of his words crashed over you, the tears finally spilling down your cheeks. Max's expression softened, regret flashing in his eyes, but it was too late. The damage had been done, and the fragile bond between you felt irreparably shattered.

Lewis Hamilton

How can one tell if they really are in a good relationship? Is it the security and sense of peace? Is it the frequent love confessions? Honestly, the explanation might differ person to person but one thing you always believed that made a relationship was being level headed even during arguments when emotions were running high

Needless to say, you were very glad you found solace in Lewis. A person who was prone to recognizing the impact of his words. Arguments between you two were rare, and when they did occur, Lewis prioritized finding solutions rather than escalating the conflict. His ability to remain level-headed during disagreements was a cornerstone of your relationship.

Everyone has those days though, when acting out of character seems more suitable than the usual. Moments when emotions override reason.

You were more worked up than usual. Your insides were burning with this desire to get answers because your boyfriend wasn’t there with you on the day you needed him the most.

You drove back home from your conference, dismayed despite it being a very successful session, given that your proposal got accepted as soon as you were done. You just wished your chocolate eyed man was sitting in the crowd looking at you with his signature proud smile.

After a shower, you sat on your couch to watch some show and just move on from the bittersweet day. It was an hour later, when your boyfriend showed up with a bouquet in his hand. Lewis walked over to you and leaned down to kiss your head.

“Congratulations, love," he greeted, oblivious to the storm brewing within you. “Saw it on the news, sorry I couldn’t join you. Got caught up with work.”

Usually, you would have avoided the argument till you felt like you could understand his side too. That was one of the things that helped you guys the most. You both waited to discuss stuff till you knew you were calm and ready to get what the other was saying.

“Aren’t you too busy with work lately?”

He gave a humorous huff in return, not catching on.

“You know how it is once the season starts.”

“You literally got home last night and you had to go in again early in the morning?”

“Missed me?”

He had a playful grin on his face and it killed you to spoil the good mood.

"Of course, after all you're more committed to your cars than you are to me."

The words left your mouth and you were too far gone to be caring about it at this point. Lewis has been such a passionate lover so this sudden shift was hurting you.

“What was that?” he responded, his tone sharp with surprise.

However, you were done and already up to call in early but his words stopped you on our track.

“Wow. You're so insecure, it's exhausting trying to boost your ego all the time."

Tears immediately welled up in your eyes but you didn’t turn around and with a deflated sigh, walked into your bedroom before locking the door while Lewis stood frozen in his place, not believing his own words.

It was like he was in a stance and all he could do was listen to you cry through the closed door on a day when you guys were supposed to be celebrating each other’s wins.

Carlos Sainz

Carlos was the perfect man. His mature yet easy going demeanor was exactly what you needed in a partner. You hadn't been together for that long to be at the altar but just enough to know that you were going to last.

You understood the demands on Carlos's time, with his career in the spotlight of the racing world when you decided to say yes to a date with him. Carlos was left with very less time away from all the glam, media and the track. Making it precious because of how rare it was.

You mostly accompanied him and let him drag you around to wherever he wanted once he had the break. So imagine your surprise when the only time you made some pretty important plans and he refused to tag alone.

"I can’t believe you’re saying no to this," you protested, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“I’m not saying no to anything, Carina.” He kissed your knuckles to un-knot the strong fist you’ve made of them. “I’m just suggesting we do it some other time.”

"But this is the third time, Carlos!" You stood up, unable to contain your hurt and disappointment. “Sorry if meeting my parents is such a chore for you.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth now.” Carlos responded with a sigh, attempting to pull you into a hug, which you reluctantly accepted. “It's not about it being a chore. You know I'd do anything for you, Y/N."

"I do know that, but actions speak louder than words, Carlos. My family is important to me."

“I promise that I want to meet them. I do. It's just… the timing."

"I don't want promises, Carlos. I want actions. If you can't even make it to meet my parents, what does that say about our future?" You insisted with a heavy heart, putting distance between you two.

"You're blowing this out of proportion, Y/N." Carlos countered, frustration evident in his voice.

"Out of proportion? I just wanted you to meet my family, and you can't even do that!"

“Well, I don’t have time to waste on this! If you want to go, just go alone!” His words hung in the air, a sharp pang of hurt piercing through you.

You immediately took a step back and saw him do the same. Both of you standing there as the silence stretched, contemplating in silence what exactly the next course of action was going to be.

“Y/N, I…” He trailed off as you glared at your foot, trying to hold the tears in before one eventually slipped and fell down your cheek.

“Baby, no! Don’t cry!” He panicked about extending his hand, about to touch you but you flinched away and shook your head.

“Carlos, if you think I’ll just ignore what you said ten seconds ago then you’re very wrong.” You whispered, your voice thick and husky.

Guess you were the only one from you both expecting this relationship to last. A second later, you were clutching your bag in your hand and walking towards the exit, speaking up before Carlos could beg you once again to ‘sit and talk it out.’

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice barely a whisper. “Thanks for letting me know that our time together was time wasted for you.”

You walked out with his heart in your pocket, your own splashed on the floor of your apartment.

Charles Leclerc

Charles was the love of your life, the very time you saw him smile at you from across the room igniting a spark in you that shaped your future together.

He walked over to you with a pretty girl hanging onto his arm, leaving the impression that they were more than friends. Everyone around you was also convinced at the time that they were dating but Charles bluntly flirting with proved just how different the real life scenario was.

Pippa was just his ‘best friend,’ someone who throws side eyes at you every time you and your boyfriend are in close proximity to her. Despite nearly a year together, her hostility persisted, the woman was a different kind of vicious. Hell bent on draining your energy.

It was physically exhausting being around her with her catty sarcastic tone that Charles always failed to notice. It was just another one of those days and Charles dismissed your concerns as usual, leaving you frustrated.

This time it was pissing you off greatly.

"Doesn't she realize we're together?" You rolled your eyes.

Charles remained silent and that drew your brows together.

“Charles, does she not think we’re serious?”

“I don't think so. She's always been oblivious to these things.”

And honestly? That fucking hurt. It hurt to know that Charles noticed this but was still rather quick to defend her every time.

"But we've been together almost a year?”

"Baby, she just never pays attention.” His arm pulled you closer to his chest. “Or maybe she doesn't want to see it."

"Do you think she has feelings for you?”

There it was, the truth out in the open. As much as it made you want to die to say it out loud and acknowledge it, your body felt lighter while the comforting arm around your waist began to feel heavier.

"I don't know. Maybe?” Charles’ chest heaved with a deep sigh, "It's complicated?"

The heart beating in your chest stopped for a long second because of how unconcerned your boyfriend seemed right now. Was he seriously just going to accept that a person he has shared so much history with wants to steal him from you?

“It’s not that simple, darling. she's been a friend for years.”

“Yeah, well, friends don't act like that. She’s just what? Waiting for the right moment to swoop in and steal you away from me?”

Charles did not like it because the arm was moved away from you in a second and he was sitting a bit straighter now. He looked furious and ready to defend his best friend and all that was running through your head was how he would probably not do the same for you in front of her.

"That's enough, Y/N. You're being paranoid."

"Paranoid? Or realistic? Face it, Charles, you're so blind when it comes to her. It makes me feel so small compared to her!"

Charles, frustrated and defensive, ran a hand through his hair and shot back,"Don't flatter yourself thinking Pippa gives a damn about you or me."

Lando Norris

No one could deny the magnetic pull Lando had on everyone around him. It was, after all, what drew you to him in the first place. You had your biases but he broke through them all with his shameless at worst and awkward at best flirting.

However, as you stood in a quiet corner to hide from the crowd, you couldn’t find it in yourself to sympathize with Lando. He had brought you to this glamorous social event, flashes of camera and expensive drinks overflowing all around you.

You were extremely excited to accompany your boyfriend especially since he had such an amazing season but throughout the evening, Lando was constantly pulled away by enthusiastic fans and demanding media, leaving you aside feeling like an accessory rather than his partner.

Standing in a quiet corner, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as you watched other couples bask in each other's company. You didn’t even know where Lando was at this very second.

Then, suddenly, his arms enveloped you from behind, his lips pressing gently against your head. "I'm sorry, babe. Everyone here just wants a piece of me," he murmured, attempting to console you.

You sighed and tried to calm yourself so you wouldn't explode in front of everyone, "I understand, but I miss spending time with you."

"I promise, I'll make it up to you tonight." Lando winked, keeping the conversation light.

That was all he said before someone from your left approached him again and your safety haven spot under the stairs was crowded with journalists a second later. You rolled your eyes before walking away, with half a mind to grab a cab and leave.

It was on your way back home when your patience finally ran its course as you listened to your boyfriend go on and on about how much of a success the event was.

“Why did you even take me with you?” You interrupted, your tone tinged with hurt and watched as the smile on his face got replaced with a frown.

“What?”

“I mean… you barely clicked two pictures with me and then left me to fetch for myself? You didn’t even come stand with me for more than a minute?”

"Babe, I'm sorry, but this is part of the job."

"I get it, but it doesn't make it easier.” You felt your own body shudder because of how overwhelmed you felt. “You were there talking to everyone but me!”

Lando opened his mouth to say something but you weren’t done yet.

“They were all strangers to me and you didn’t even acknowledge this! I was standing there alone the whole time, watching others and wondering why my boyfriend wasn’t there for me!”

The weight of your words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, there was silence. You stopped to take a breath and not start crying. Then, Lando spoke, his words struck like a knife to the heart.

“This isn’t… This isn’t about you. Why are you always making it about you?”

Your body froze after that and your mind went blank. You didn’t care that the tears were running out of your eyes or that apologies were falling from his mouth. His own eyes were welling up because he knew.

He knew what he said was unacceptable.

You were so zoned out that as soon as the car stopped, you got out of the car. Thankful to catch the glimpse of yellow among the traffic before you hailed a taxi, the distance between you and Lando growing with each passing moment.

He attempted to hold your arm, his own tears falling down his face. You just wanted to put your point across but with his reaction, you were certain you guys were done for.

“I guess I expected a little too much from you, Lando.”

With a heavy heart, you walked away, knowing that sometimes love wasn't enough to mend the fractures in a relationship.

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