#I was feeling it but I've hit such a big block and I can't see how it can move forward ugh

[likelarryfics]

rant

[dinogoofymutated]

You asked for some smut suggestions for Logan, and I got one:

So like…I mean…Logan might be on the short side, but he’s still big! I mean, like,,,those hands 🫣 It would be nice to see a fic to do with Logan and a little manhandling. but not like in a BDSM way, more like a “I am very strong, and here’s a little reminder” type way. Might seem kinda silly but I’d enjoy a fic like that lol.

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB!Reader Ask and you shall receive!! I've spent like the last four days working on this and atp I can't looks at it anymore lol. I'm not super happy with how the beginning is written, but I still think it's alright enough to post lol. It's a lot more tell than show compared to most of my other fics, and I was halfway tempted to reformat it into headcannons, but I didn't feel like it. Anyway, hope you like the way I included the manhandling lol! Hope it turned out okay :) Also, might or might not be tall logan. I'll leave it up to yall to assume, I'm just short af so there's not a single person in marvel who wouldn't have to look down at me lmao.

Edit:FUCK I FORGOT THE READ MORE! TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Seriously, you will be blocked. Masterbation, lil bit of a scent kink. Sexual frustration. Manhandling. Jealous Logan. Creampie. Logan calls you "sunshine" and pretty and shit. I'll add more if I can think of any.

    You had a problem. You’ve had a problem. And it really didn’t seem like it was getting any better. It didn’t help the fact that it was incredibly embarrassing, either.

    You couldn’t get off. It’s not like you ever struggled with it before, but lately, it felt like you were fighting a losing battle. At first, you didn’t realize why. Maybe it was because you moved into the X-Mansion. Nerves because you’re living somewhere new, right? So you change it up a little. You got comfortable, had a glass of wine or two, and picked up a raunchy book. Yet every time you slipped your hand between your thighs… Running circles around your own clit, trying your best to finger yourself to your finish, you just could never quite hit that peak. It was safe to say you were beyond frustrated.

    Lucky for you, most people didn’t notice. You try your best not to be too uptight or mean, but there are just some things that you can’t quite hide from certain people.

    Logan’s noticed that something is up with you. You can tell he has, seeing the looks on his face, nose scrunched up in a way he’s catching into something that he just can't quite place. You’re assuming it’s your own pheromones, but hey, as long as he doesn’t realize what it is you’ll be fine, right?

     Maybe not.

    Eventually, you finally realized why you were having so much trouble getting off. All it took was one training session with Wolverine, and you knew immediately. You weren’t sparring or anything like that, hell, you knew before you even hit the danger room floor. Logan was in a bit of a mood today, although not as grumpy as he can be- and he’s trying to be patient with you. You can tell. But you’re having trouble focusing today- and you have been for a while. He can tell you’re not at 100% just by the way you hold yourself, and spends about 5 minutes watching as you struggle to reset the Danger room panel before he’s finally fed up with it.

    “Jesus fuck. Here, let me do it.” Logan grabs you by the waist, pulling you to his chest with one arm as the other reaches around you to reset the panel. It’s not like you didn’t find him attractive before, but the close contact? The smell of his aftershave and the sound of his voice growling in your ear? 

    oh.

    Oh. 

    You were having trouble getting off because you had a thing for Logan.

    You’re practically stunned when he pulls away, standing there with a flushed face and something rather embarrassing pooling in your underwear for the first time in a while. You had to quickly excuse yourself before you ran the risk of him catching onto anything coming from you. He’s a little confused for a second, but you can hear the sound of his low chuckle as you scramble away.

    First thing you do? Go to the store.

    It's not a random errand. At least, not entirely. You had meant to go out with Storm to grocery shop later this afternoon, but you told her you could really use some time out of the house by yourself, which she completely understood. You had the list and everything, it was only a coincidence that you passed by the cologne section on your way to pick up some toothpaste. The sight made you stop for a minute, the gears grinding in your skull. You spent just a few minutes curiously sampling the bottles until you found one that smelled a bit familiar… Should you? No, that's a bit strange. But really, what was the harm, right? I mean, who would know? 

    So you bought it. You felt a bit embarrassed afterward, knowing what you bought it for, and ended up letting it sit in the drawer of your side table for a good while. Until another desperate attempt at fucking your own brains out, that is. 

    You were sweaty and uncomfortable in your bed, sleep shirt sticking to your skin as you struggled to pump your fingers in and out of your tight cunt. It’s been a while, and it shows. You couldn’t even get your favorite dildo to fit inside of you, only adding to your frustration. Touching your clit hardly helped much, leaving you as unsatisfied as ever. Eventually, you give up, lying there as you sigh to yourself. You turn over in your bed in a huff, halfway temped scream your lungs out into the pillow you bury your face in. Instead, you let out something that sounds more like a whisper than a yell, letting the air in your lungs deflate as you let your feelings out. You roll over onto your side when you’re done, halfway tempted to be done with it entirely and go back to bed when you catch sight of the nightstand drawer, slightly ajar. The amber bottle of liquid stares right at you. 

    You open the drawer some more, picking up the bottle and looking at it as you wonder if you’re actually going to do this. But you’re ridiculously horny, and tired, and you know you’re gonna have trouble falling asleep in the state you’re in- so you end up spraying the smallest amount on your pillow.

    It’s…nice. The pillow is warm from where you had been laying on it, and despite how strong men’s cologne could be, this one isn’t quite so striking. At least, not in the amount that you used. You relax back into your bed, pressing your face into the pillow and laying there for a moment. You start thinking about Logan… His calloused hands running across your skin. How his lips and tongue would feel against your own, trailing down your body to your breast. Your hand trails down to your clit as you imagine it as his own. You imagine him behind you, pressing you to the bed as he growls into your ear. You think about what his happy trail would feel like against you. What his cock would look like, feel like, pressing into you. Your legs twitch and shake as you see stars underneath your eyelids, the scent of Logan hitting all the right parts in your head and going straight to your cunt.

    Holy shit. 

    Your orgasm lasts what feels like forever. Your legs are still shaking as you whimper from oversensitivity and pull your hand away, panting as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t cum that hard since… ever. Maybe the cologne was worth it, after all.

    You felt really good the morning after. You found yourself humming in the shower, more energized at breakfast and morning drills. No one had said anything, but you knew there were a few who were relieved to see you back to your usual self. If anything, the only person you noticed acting very differently around you was Logan. He was more tense than normal. He scowled a lot, spending less time in your presence. You’d strike up a conversation that would only last a few minutes before he would make an excuse and leave. It made you a little disappointed. But you knew him and knew he had good and bad days, so you brushed it off at first. But a week, two weeks- almost a month went by, and still no change. You felt scorned almost, silently rejected by the guy you had finally realized you were practically in love with, and to be honest, the only man who could get you off just by thinking about him- and boy, did you get off while thinking about him. 

    You’ve almost resigned yourself to the fact that Logan wasn’t interested when he corners you one morning. He’s leaning up against the wall of the hallway,  waiting for you when you step out of your room. It makes you jump a little, closing your door quickly behind you, knowing damn well you hadn’t washed your sheets after fucking yourself to the moon and back last night and fully not wanting the smell to hit his nose. All Logan does is narrow his eyes. Shit.

    “Who is he.” He asks you. The question completely derails your train of thought. And you furrow your brow, confused. What was that about?

    “Who is he? Your guy?” He asks again, but it does little to clear up your confusion. You’re halfway wondering if he’s being serious at this point, stepping away from your door as you cross your arms.

    “What?” You ask. Logan huffs when you respond to him, cocking his head at you in a way that's more sarcastic than curious. The way he’s looking at you is doing some things that you don’t think you’d like to admit, eyes narrow and scrutinizing as you struggle to keep eye contact with him.

    “What do you mean? What guy?” You repeat back to him, starting to get a little frustrated. He snorts, rolling his eyes as his scowl lingers. He steps closer, looking down at you from less than a foot away with that angry stare.

    “Don’t play stupid with me, sunshine. I can smell him on you.” You ignore the way the nickname makes you shiver a little bit, too busy shrinking into yourself when you process the extent of his words. Smell. He could smell someone on you. Something. Oh god, this was embarrassing. 

    “Oh! That- It’s not what you're thinking!” You say, face flushed red. You’re flustered beyond belief, doing your best to convince him to leave it be, and it’s not going so well for you.

    “Sure it’s not.” Logan huffs. He starts to take steps forward, closing in on your personal space.

    “It’s not. I can promise you that.” You’re anxiously fiddling with your fingers now, taking a step back for every step he takes. He looked predatory, unlike any time you’ve seen him before. You haven’t even seen him like this in the danger room, even less so on the battlefield. 

    “Just tell me who he is.” Logan is adamant about it, his scowl beginning to turn into a frown. Your back hits your door, kickstarting your heart in surprise. You hadn’t realized he had backed you up so far.

    “I can’t!” You say, in the beginning stages of becoming absolutely exasperated, and already incredibly embarrassed. 

    “Why not!?” Logan Snaps, stopping just inches away from you. You cover your heated face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see shapes, wanting nothing more than to curl up and die right then and there.

    “Would you just leave it!” You shout, but Logan’s having none of it. 

    “No, I won't!” Logan grabs your wrists and moves them away from your face, holding them in front of your chest with a grip lighter than you might have thought. You groan in utter frustration and mortification, looking him dead in the eyes as your angry mouth starts speaking before your reasonable brain can fully catch up.

    “Jesus Christ Logan! Do you expect me to just whip out the silicone and show you?!” Your eyes widen as soon as you say it, slamming your mouth shut as you finally catch up with yourself. Logan is staring at you in absolute shock, jaw almost slack at the confession. 

    “...What?” He asks, slowly. You wince, looking off to the side before deciding it's a bit too late to get the cat back into the bag.

    “Its… Cologne. What you’re smelling. I use it to uh, help me…” You make a sort of gesture with your head, praying that you won’t actually have to spell it out for him. He’s still in shock as he looks at you, hands frozen with his fingers wrapped around your wrists. He clears his throat when he comes to, an unreadable expression on his face as he slowly steps forward again, close enough to press his forehead against your own as he presses you against your door.

    “You’re that pent up, you need cologne to help you get off?” He asks, and you don’t know what to say, cat catching your tongue as he leans forward. The side of his face brushes against your cheek as he leans down a little, the action making your skin prickle. One of his hands releases a wrist to slide up and across the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side as he takes a big sniff of your skin. He’s practically nuzzling you, angling his head so that he can smell the scent on the back of your head where you rest against your pillow at night. 

    He’d noticed it before, at night when most of his anger had worn off, sometime after he started to pick up the scent on you. The undertones, the top notes. But now with you this close, he can tell that it wasn’t another man he was smelling. No. It was just you. Your scent being drowned out by the smell of something that he could finally tell smelled rather suspiciously like his very own aftershave.

    “...Don’t tell me that you wanted it to smell like me.” He asks after a moment. You almost flinch at the sound of his deep rumble, turning your red face away from him. You swallow, feeling like you are absolutely burning up as you nod- right as Logan catches the unmistakable scent of arousal.

    “Fuck”

    You’re sure the sound was more animal than man as he cups your cheek rather aggressively, pressing his lips against your own in a rather desperate kiss. It takes you a second to return it, eyes wide as you process just what was happening. It didn't take long for you to melt into his desperate kisses though, every nip and brush of his teeth just like you imagined it would be. He presses his knee in between your thighs, finally releasing your other wrist to grab ahold of your hip instead. You accidentally let out a whine when he grinds your hips against him, your heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to explode. He curses again at the sound, both hands sliding around you to lift you against the door.

    You practically squeak in surprise, the noise caught by Logan’s mouth on your own one more time before he trails down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You gasp as he presses against you, his hips beginning to grind against your own. You’re having a hard time thinking, biting your lip as you do your best to stifle your sounds.

    “Logan-ah, can we… head inside, please?” He only grunts in response, shifting your weight as you both begin to fumble for the doorknob. He gets it before you do, hardly stumbling as the door behind you swings open. He’s kissing you again before the door is even closed, kicking it behind him. As preoccupied as you are, you at least have the common sense to reach over and try to lock the door before he carries you over to the bed. 

    He plops you down onto the mattress before he crawls over you, eyes half-lidded and just as lustful as your own. He pushes you down as you try to sit up. His breathing a little hard, pupils dilated to a size you had never seen.

    “Now I know why you closed the door so fast,” Logan smirks, having picked up the lingering scent of your sex on the sheets right away. You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off. His tongue snakes into your mouth, and you find that you can’t really remember what you were going to say anyway. He kisses you again and again, distracting you as he reaches above your head. He pulls away when he has the pillow in hand, and you know just by the look on his face that he knows exactly what he is holding.

    “Hate to break it to you, but this doesn’t exactly compare to the real thing.” He snarks. It makes you laugh, and for the first time in a while, you see a genuine smile spread across his face. 

    “Yeah.” You respond, taking the pillow from his hands and tossing it to a far-off corner. “I know.” You could revel in his smile for as long as he’d let you. Logan’s kisses start off sweeter this time, at least for a moment they did. They begin to become more and more rough as hands start to wander and clothes start to come off. His shirt is first to go, your hands running up and down the hair that spans his torso. Logan is quick to remove your shirt and bra in one go, one very small step away from cutting off your clothes entirely. He gives himself a minute to appreciate your breasts, pinching and teasing you by sliding a hand up the middle of your sternum, the back of his hand brushing the side of a tit as he watches you squirm underneath him, arching your back to push your chest out, practically begging him to finally touch you.

    “Patience is a virtue, Sunshine.” Logan says, causing you to scoff. You glare at him a little and all it does is make him chuckle a bit. 

    “Don’t be mean.” You whine. He laughs a bit harder as he finally lowers himself to your chest. He keeps his eyes locked on your own as he brushes the blunt ends of his teeth across the soft skin, but he’s never been the most patient man. It doesn't take him long to give in to you, sucking on each breast individually, massaging the soft skin of the opposite as he does so. 

    “Careful.” He growls when your own hands begin to wander, touching him over the fabric of his jeans. He releases your nipple with a pop, bearing his teeth as he presses his face back into your neck. You don't pay much mind to that, rather enjoying the grunts and sounds he makes as you slowly stroke his covered hardness from base to tip. You can't imagine how restrained he must be feeling. You can’t help but smirk a little as your hands drift up and down, before oh So slowly unbuckling his belt. Logan is agitated, practically bucking his hips into your hands to get you to just get over with it. 

    “Patience is a virtue.” You quote, only earning a restraining hold on your hands once again.

    “Fuck that.” Logan growls. He holds you by your wrists, pushing them above your head as he uses his free hand to remove his belt and frantically unbuckle his pants. You'd be complaining if it weren't for the view of his straining cock, slapping against his abdomen as he pulls his pants down. 

    You don't get to stare for too long before he flips you on your stomach like you weigh nothing. He lets your wrists go to pull down your shorts and underwear, a sticky string of your slick thinning as he pulls the items down.

    “Fuck. You're this wet from just that?” Logan asks you, taking two fingers and sliding them through your lips from behind, spreading his fingers to let himself see the mess you've made of yourself already.

    “...shut up.” You mumble, more focused on the feeling of those very same fingers sliding back and forth across your cunt, the tips just barely brushing against your clit every time. Logan chuckles, sliding one hand under your lower stomach to lift your hips with ease. Your hips buck as he slides a thick finger inside of you without warning, slowly sinking down to his knuckle with ease.

    “Might not even need foreplay at this rate.” Logan rumbles behind you, eyes set squarely on the sight of your pretty pussy spread wide open for him. You can only moan in response as he pulls it back out again, plunging a second finger into you this time. Your hands clutch the sheets as Logan begins to finger fuck you to his content, curling those thick digits to hit that one spot juuust right. You try not to buck or squirm too bad, halfway wondering if this is all just some wet dream. 

    “Logan-” You call out for him through your moans. He only hums in reply, preoccupied at the moment.

    “I- god- I need your cock, please.” You're not sure if it was the phrase or the begging, but it makes Logan groan. You feel embarrassingly empty as he pulls his fingers out. You hear the sound of him stroking his hard cock with your slick, groaning and humming to himself before he picks you up. He leans over you, adjusting to you your hands and knees as you finally feel that thick, thick cock grinding against you. You gasp at the way it feels, feeling Logan smirk against your back.

    “Having second thoughts?” The tone of his voice is teasing, but you know there's more than that behind the words. You vehemently shake your head, grinding back against him a little as you protest. Logan swears under his breath, holding onto your hips to keep them still as he sits up.

    Both of you groan each time the head of his cock catches on your clit, Logan thrusting through your lips again and again as he lubes himself with the wetness you provide for him. You gasp when his head catches on your slot, notching just right. 

    Logan pushes into you so slowly, and you feel like he's thicker than you ever imagined he would be. You're impatient, desperate. You push back onto him in an attempt to take him in more, but his hands on your hips stop you.

    “Believe me sweetheart, you don't want that yet.” Logan tells you, straining himself with how tight you feel around him. He soothingly rubs his thumbs against your skin, pressing into you until you have him completely, balls deep inside you. 

    “Please, please. Logan, Please, I need you to move.” Your begging starts to sound like nonsense to your own ears, but it makes Logan gasp all the same, his cock twitching from where it's buried inside of you. You practically cry in relief when he finally begins to thrust Inside of you.

    His hip smack against your ass with every thrust, the sound of the slap mixed with the sounds of your love and the headboard hitting the wall a lewd and filthy symphony. Even better than your own moans were Logan's himself. Each and every groan and growl above you gave you a whole new array of things to imagine while fucking yourself- if you ever had to do so again. 

    You whine and whimper with every strong thrust, Logan slow and forceful with every movement. It felt like he wanted your insides to memorize exactly how his cock feels inside of you, and you doubt you'd ever mind it. He filled you perfectly, hitting every sweet spot inside of you.

    Your arms are shaking. Struggling to hold yourself up with each and every rock of the bed. You barely start to buckle when He catches hold of you, an arm snacking under your chest and pulling you towards him. His hand spans your collarbone as he holds your back against his chest, holding you up as he continues to fuck you like no one before. You're closing in on that sweet release when his hips stutter a moment. His teeth dig into your shoulder with a sharp bite, holding you there close to him without breaking the skin.

    “Are… are you -ah- close?” You ask. Logan only responds with a short and simple - “Fuck!” - before he pulls out of you.

    You don't have time to whine about the emptiness before he's flipping you around, kissing you again as he pushes your back to the bed rather aggressively. He's quick to sling your legs over his arms, folding you in half as he sides fully into you in a single thrust. He's hitting you so much deeper in this position, chest pressed against your own as his thrusts continue to stutter. 

    Logan kisses you again, a bit differently than the last ones have been. These kisses are tender, sweet. A stark difference between his needy, frantic thrusts. There's a line of spit between you two as he pulls away, half-lidded eyes meeting your own. You’re closing in on your peak, and you can tell he is too. The pleasure is too much for you to handle at once, and you can't help but squeeze your eyes shut.

    “Look at me.” Logan grabs a hold of your chin, your eyes flying open as he thumbs at your lip and holds your head still. “Don't look away.” His hips stutter some more, the both of you groaning as you clench around him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as you finally cum around his cock. The fluttering of your walls are more than enough to send Logan over the edge, his cum warming your insides in thick spurts. Logan buries his face into your neck, groaning as you ride out both of your orgasms.

    The two of you lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Logan lets go of your sore legs, massaging your thighs as he presses sweet, comforting kisses to your cheek and temple. His hands wander up and down your sides, doing his best to soothe your aches without you even having to ask. -not that he would ever admit to having a soft side. Who would believe you if you told them that The Wolverine was a cuddler after sex anyway?

    “Why didn't you just tell me?” You ask after a long moment. Logan hums, his Face tucked into the crook of your neck.

    “Tell you what?”

    “That you were jealous.” Logan only snorts at that, playfully pinching your side.

    “Jealous of what? Your cologne?” He returns. You slap him on the shoulder as he chuckles at you, unable to stop the playful smile on your face.

    “You mean the cologne that you thought was a whole-ass guy?” Logan stops at that, instead choosing to cover your mouth with his palm as he tucks his head closer.

    “You're a lot prettier when you're quiet. You know that?”

[notesofarichlycolorednight]

realizing the real reason why I can't write more than one fic at a time ISN'T bc it's just difficult for me to switch but IS in fact bc it fucks with my mental health

fanfic is supposed to be fun but the pressure to write for ppl who are waiting from me for three separate fics is too much

[shuenkio]

Cat hit puberty | Yj.w

Paring: Jungwon x male!reader | Genre: 18+ Smut! Don't like Don't press.

Synopsis: You were having a good time until the clock went off.

Cw: Mentioned of cum, masturbate, sex, laterally 18+ MDNI.

Non proof read | Wc: 800+

Eng is not my first language!

A/N: Was starstruck by Jungwon ever since KCON so I finally drop this bomb at night •_•

"M/n!" Jungwon voice out, calling out for you once he's enter your room.

It's unusual at the sight you are staring at since Jungwon never wore sleeveless shirts before, it's rare to be said. Why did he look so buff and— since when his bicep got a lot bigger?

"What do you want hyung? Woah" without any warning, Jungwon's body collapse on your lap while his face buries tight on your chest. There's no reason for him to act like this and you wonder why.

"What's wrong Won hyung?" You worries asking him, if there's anything you could help him however nothing left his mouth instead, You feel his hip, humping against the blanket nonchalantly.

Now that's very questionable, not only he's humping, he then shifting slightly closer to you as he turn his face up, with the strong grips of his before locking both of your wrist against the headboard of your bed.

Unable to utter any word, Jungwon's face was obvious enough to explain the situation. His expression was mad in a messy blush like a red ink, his eye's lidded that uesd to be an cat-like-eyes replacing by the half low Lidded as if he was in pain of something.

"W-at just say it hyung say it i don't know what are you doing!!" Panick got the best of you, the unholy thoughts float across through your mind like a Sharp knife. Nevertheless despite how strong he is, You can't even move anything on your body. Your limp was between his two legs, your wrist are pinned up. All you had right now was your face that soon would be abused by him with—

"I feel werid M/n I've never feel such hotness in my body before, m- my penis is too hard" Jungwon cries out, state out what's he going through right now but he can't help, to let his heat get a hold of his mind and body as he want to have it with you.

"You're.... Don't tell me you've never masterbate before?"

"No— but I'm going to finish.. with you ah—ngh"

Soon later, your legs was lift up and thrown over on his shoulder. As you hear the sound of unbuckle belt of his, tuck away on the floor.

Couldn't resist any longer, with one hand of his are still pinning you up, the other one unzips his own pant rolling down to spring free the semi hard underneath. It was dripping with the clear liquid on his tip, his dick was seen free in front of your eyes after a few years. It not big yet it's longer than what you're expected. Uh oh it's twitching and looking at you in a demanding gaze.

In a swift motion, your mind was blocked by the fog suddenly. Seeing you was in awe, Jungwon spare no sec as he ripped out your short like tearing a paper. Entrance Infront of your juicy pink hole, before you could react, he was pushing in, to the deepest part of your ass leaving your jaw almost crack to the pressure he was giving.

Jungwon was gritted his teeth to the pleasure he was going for, so tight and squishy. Your walls was squeezing him as if you never wanted to let go even though this session was out of blue.

"You're so tight m/n I'm too sensitive" Jungwon whimpers, he is closing his eyes absorb the wave of jolt that your hole around his shaft, looking down to his action he was thrusting in, like an expert.

Not even a words you can make it out from your thoat, the eyes of you rolling back to your brain leaving the white to be presence. The slapping skin noise really driving you insane to the point you're cumming without feeling it coming.

"Feel so good I'm sorry—ughh"

Your hyung was breathless, seeking for the climax, try all his might, pushing his hip with one last final thrust, as you feel his glan shaking terribly inside of you, pulsing on your belly, soon shooting out a huge load semen with the first times of his.

"FUCK Jungwon hyung"

The clock went off, screaming to wake the person who was in a deep sleep the whole time to wake up.

You were starlet to the annoying sounds, making you catching for air, sweating from the fever dream or should you called it a hot dream?

It was something you couldn't imagine that one day you'd but it's actually happened in your dream instead. Ugh don't tell your undie got soaked wet again?

"Why why why it was so good ugh you mf clock, the good part always got ruined now my cum stained on the bed sheet"

Shouting out loud, frustrated at yourself. Who wouldn't when the part went hard and boom, you woke up?

Little did you know, Your was was so loud and clear that Jungwon could heard everything.

"ㅋㅋ I'll let you feel it later m/n~"

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ Please mind my English! ><

🗣️ CRD TO ALL THE OWNER.

Ps. don't come at me, I just wrote this unexpectedly 😔 without plan so— other members would be next.

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

always a good morning - nh13

summary: (nh13 x f!reader) a snapshot into a morning at the swiss alps with our favourite devils captain! inspired by headband nico!

warnings: suggestive content, fluff, not checked! 2.4k words

< a/n: i've hit such bad writer's block i literally can't even tell you so i went back to my roots: brunettes with big brown eyes!! >

You inhaled at the feel of your heart rate quickening, something having thrown your mind from its restful slumber to suddenly being conscious of your surroundings. 

It was freezing, that was the first thing you noticed. You could feel the duvet cover draped across your shoulders but it was cold to touch, like a window had been left open during the night and cooled the one thing that was supposed to keep you warm. There was a draft somewhere down your back, the chilly air swirling up your sleep shirt and down your bare legs, and without thinking much of it, you pulled the duvet higher, nuzzling back down into your pillow.

Maybe if you stayed still enough and tried not to focus on the pounding of your heart, which was clearly telling you to get up for whatever reason, you’d be able to trick yourself into falling back to sleep. Maybe.

You were certainly still tired enough: your eyes felt dry and your bones felt heavy, your entire body and mind fully sinking into the mattress and pillows gladly and with a sigh of relief. You could feel your hair smeared across your forehead at an unnatural angle, and your top was twisted uncomfortably, but the mere thought of reaching around to move it was exhausting to even entertain.

You sighed, breathing into your pillow, feeling the last dregs of sleep begin to wither away. Your heart rate wasn’t slowing and you could feel yourself fight the urge to open your eyes. Suddenly the idea of burrowing back under the covers only awakened the desire to sit up straight and take in the view – when had you become a morning person?

The sigh turned into an impatient huff of resignation, your previous thoughts of sleep abandoned completely, and you slowly peeled your eyes open, peering out from under the covers. 

The foot of the bed was a heavy mess of blankets strewn around, clearly having been kicked off at some point in the night, and your eyes jumped over the chair filled with clothes and bags before settling on the open window to your left. For the sake of the view of the cloudy mountains and the utterly breathtaking green outside, you ignored the sleeping hunk of a back also on your left.

Though it could barely have been five seconds before you turned your attention back to him. That always seemed to happen, no matter where you were or what you were doing – Nico was much too magnetic for his own good.

You were still curled up where you’d woken initially, one arm tucked underneath your pillow, the other resting comfortably on top of the sheets. It was the space between you both that gave you the answer as to why you’d woken up cold: you were perched on one side of the bed, and Nico on the edge of his. The reason? You’d both seemingly drank enough the night before to not take any notice of the sides you’d fallen into, because he was on your side and you were on his. 

You blinked slowly, poking some sleep out of the corner of your eyes before glancing back at him quickly. His back was facing you, broad shoulders blocking some of the light from the window you’d obviously forgotten to cover with curtains the night before. His skin had a brownish glow to it, evidence from the dream-like string of vacations he’d taken this summer, and you restrained the urge to reach out and press your palm against the skin there, knowing with absolute certainty he’d feel like he’d just crawled out of the sun. 

You were so cold because he wasn’t near enough to act as a human hot water bottle, keeping everything just the right temperature.

You weren’t even sure how he did it, not in the early morning breeze, because he’d shuffled the duvet down to his waist and you could see he’d untucked one leg from underneath to come to rest on top of the covers.

It seemed your mind had made up the solution to your little problem before you’d even managed to comprehend it because you’d suddenly pulled the duvet into your fist taut enough to shuffle subtly closer, just enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, but not close enough to touch him.

You thought about pressing your feet into the backs of his calves, but judging from the sun just peaking round the mountains it can’t have been any later than six in the morning–

The bed shook violently, almost reminiscent of how someone would jump in their skin after falling down the stairs in a dream, and the sudden jolt had your eyes flying open, mind a complete jumble as you blinked the remnants of sleep away.

When did you fall back to sleep?

There was a groan of “woah” from the body in front of you, deep and gravelly, both hinting at the alcohol consumption last night and the early morning disruption of…whatever had happened there.

Your brows furrowed at the intense light streaming through the window, and you could barely open your eyes from squinting hard against it. Yet, you could still make out the silhouette of a shoulder moving in front of you, and still make out the thick head of hair combed back with the sudden appearance of a hand you knew all too well.

“What the fuck?” Nico grumbled, and the mattress bobbled again, prompting you to pull yourself into a sitting position, hair falling into your face before you managed to push it all back.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d slept but it must have been at least two hours later: the sun was beaming pretty intensely through the window, no tells of that early-morning breeze left to suffer through.

You were too busy trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light to notice Nico reach an unsteady hand out to the bedside table, fumbling with the phone lobbed on the wood. You blinked once, twice, before placing a delicate hand on his shoulder.

The involuntary shudder that immediately followed had both of you freezing. Right under your palm his skin seemed to transform, now littered with goosebumps. You frowned, slowly removing your hand.

He’d been as warm as you’d predicted, but his temperature was the last thing on your mind, especially when he almost instantaneously started to shiver, his phone long forgotten on the bedside table as he blearily rolled over onto his back, pushing away your hair that had fallen in a curtain around your face, blocking his eyesight.

You took that momentary pause where he couldn’t see you, eyes trailing greedily down his chest before looking up to meet his gaze. It was painfully clear he’d only just woken up: his eyes were still blinking quickly, trying to adjust to the light as well, and one side of his face was lined red from where his cheek had been smushed against the pillow.

There was something so adorably irresistible about Nico in the morning; he never quite ceased to amaze you, not with those big doe eyes blinking wearily up at you, and certainly not with the way he’d curled his arm to rest behind his head, bicep purposefully on show.

“What were you doing?” You croaked, eyeing the rather befuddled crease between his brows as his mouth formed an ‘o’, his attention darting to your pillow next to his head.

His face crumpled at your words, and you held back an amused snort of laughter at his clearly hungover state, instead moving to lay back down in your previous position, head perched on the corner of your own pillow.

“Sorry.” You whispered, unable to help a small smile at the way his nearest eye to you peeked open, immediately followed by a cheeky dimpled smile.

He hummed, shaking his head, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he fought to stay awake, “My fault.” He breathed, before snapping his eyes open, “I went to check you were still in bed and almost fell out instead. Why are we on the wrong side?”

You shrugged, yawning, “No clue.”

His face broke into a kind of smirk, and he rolled onto his shoulder, breath tickling your face, eliciting an amused scrunch of your nose, “We must have been pretty distracted, then.” He muttered, and you rolled your eyes fondly.

“Morning breath.” You mumbled, budging your cold foot against his shin. He didn’t recoil at your freezing touch, but rather helped trap your foot between his leg, sandwiched by heat on all sides.

“You don’t care about my morning breath.” He said knowingly, nudging his nose against yours and draping a bare arm across your shoulders to pull you impossibly closer.

He was boiling. The sudden change in temperature had you shivering, now enveloped completely in a bubble of warmth, your forehead pressed snugly against the crease of his shoulder. You found yourself humming, “No I don’t.”

There was a rumble in his chest, a soft, lazy laugh, as his hand dragged through your hair, gently untangling any knots and brushing it off your face to press a sweet kiss to your temple. Your heart had been beating pretty quickly from when he’d almost launched himself off the bed – from sheer shock – but now it was racing for a whole different reason.

It was still for a while, and you were vaguely aware of the pounding in his own chest and the constant shuffling, so when he wrapped both arms underneath you it didn’t come as a complete shock. There was a brief moment you were airborne, a new rush of cold air blowing through the sheets before the mattress was back on your side, and when you peeled your eyes open once more you were facing a now wide-awake Nico, whose cheeks were a significant tinge of pink, evidence of his previous warmth.

He’d spun you around so you were both back in your normal sides of the bed, but he’d also placed you on his hot spot. 

“That’s better.” He grinned, running a hand through his hair.

He’d not had it trimmed in so long it was difficult to keep it all from falling into his face, and for the last few days of vacation it had been driving him crazy. A hair tie didn’t work, it was far too comical for him to even walk out of the door with a sad excuse of a ponytail, let alone enough to face his family. It was only yesterday that you’d managed to wear him down to wear one of your headbands, and he hadn’t once moved to take it off throughout the entire day.

Clearly he was missing it already.

You pushed yourself up onto one elbow and he tilted his head quizzically, “What do you wanna do for breakfast?”

His face brightened, mouth twisting in thought, “We could go to that cafe and pick up some pastries and eat them on the dock?”

As if by command, your stomach growled in agreement, and both yours and Nico’s faces crumpled with amusement, before Nico took initiative and threw back the covers, that single action both the best and worst thing in the world: on one hand you were smacked with the one thing you’d been trying to avoid, but on the other? There was nothing quite as mouth-wateringly picturesque as watching Nico kneel on the bed, back muscles rippling as he stretched.

Your lip caught in your teeth, and he turned around after a moment, not having heard you even attempt to move even despite the goosebumps trailing across your skin, and you blushed, smiling unabashedly as he raised an accusatory brow in your direction. He tried to hide the fact that he was smiling as well, his mouth fighting to keep a straight line, but the dimple in his cheek gave him away. The dimples always gave him away.

He looked right at you, trailing his eyes across your splayed figure still unmoving from your previous position, and you collapsed your arm, head hitting the pillow with a soft thump.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, voice suddenly quite gruff. You reached a hand out to poke him in his lower back, just above the elastic band of his shorts, and he spun quickly, arms instantly bracketing your head in. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you found you were hungry for a whole different reason. The house was empty – everyone else had made plans to hike for sunrise – and Nico was slowly lowering himself closer to your face, his hair tickling your forehead.

You reached a hand out automatically, fingers catching and pushing his hair away from his face, just right at the same moment he pressed an urgent kiss to your lips, lingering for a few seconds longer than he usually would have.

But…you had an empty house and no reason not to kiss him back as fiercely as you wanted. There were no consequences, after all.

“It is, yeah.” You whispered, pulling back slightly. Through the gaps in your hands a stubborn lock of hair flopped onto his forehead, and he looked at it, contemplating something for a moment.

You did the acting for him, quickly twisting your hands out of his hair and avoiding his arm bracketing you in for the sake of pulling a headband out of the bedside drawer and sliding it around his neck before pulling it back up, the thoughtful task made all the more difficult by the hot, open-mouthed kisses he was leaving across the column of your neck.

“Always is a good morning when it’s with you, y’know?” He breathed between kisses, and you couldn’t help a breathy laugh, mind not completely focused on his hair when he was melting you to the mattress.

“As much as I love what you’re doing, I literally can’t–Oh, thank you.” You grinned as his face reappeared, his cheeks flushed and lips bitten pink as he waited patiently for you to slide the headband into place, just the way you knew he liked it.

You patted the top of his head and he flopped onto the mattress next to you, one arm somehow already wound around your waist, pulling you closer as he continued his path, “I thought you were hungry?” 

“The cafe’s not going anywhere any time soon.” You reasoned, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes – dazed and glossy, “You should wear headbands more often.”

“I know, right? They’re so useful.”

You frowned, “That’s now what I was going for.”

“I know.” He grinned.

[partycatty]

was requested to write interviewer!reader by this lovely post so here we are. @super-ssimp

johnny cage > interview

you, a reporter, have some questions for the hollywood heartbreaker. he just can't seem to focus on your questions.

notes: heheheheeggeheegehehegeh he's so fine in the gif i'm gonna shit everywhere

[ masterlist ]

• a box-office smash hit dropped after a long quiet period from hit star johnny cage, back stronger than ever with a movie that blew audiences away with its storytelling and casting. you had to squeeze in an interview with the director, cage himself. you were a part of a big company, front lining with interviews and now face to face with probably one of the most attractive men you'd ever worked with.

• johnny sat in his chair across from you, adjusting his hips ever so slightly in his seat as he holds intense eye contact with you. you return the stare, as hard as it is while a makeup specialist tidied up the powder on your brow.

• "you look great, doll," he's quick to charm, pointing a finger with a grin. "don't sweat this. you'll be fine."

• "i know i'll be," you return his affirmations with your own confidence, a beaming grin on your features that makes his breath hitch. "i've been in this job for nine years, mr. cage. we just haven't met."

• "what.. a.. shame," his voice is teasing, somehow his flirtations come off as honey smooth rather than sleazy. you scoff playfully, earning a laugh from the both of you. two assistants clip microphones to your tops, testing them quickly and hearing a full go-ahead to begin the interview.

• "i'm here with johnny cage, director of the new smash hit 'mortal kombat,'" your voice is smooth, experienced. "i suppose my first question is; what inspired such a story? it's unlike anything we've seen in films."

• the question seemingly didn't register at first, his faraway gaze blocking his thoughts. realizing his flaw, johnny snaps into celebrity mode, "oh, hrm — the ideas that came to me were because of a massive arc in my life. uh — without getting too into it, i was at a low point in the last year, running myself into the dirt. something changed and i wanted to be the new, young, and pretty one behind the camera for once rather than in front of it. i spent the entire summer writing and consulting some friends of mine and we were able to pull this film together based on our relationships and experiences. you won't see anything else like it because there isn't anything else like it. i was inspired by my life, and there is no other johnny cage in this timeline than the one you're talkin' to."

• you nod and agree, face hot at the way his expression lights up with passion as he walks you through his process. "right, and this was after a long hiatus, was it not? there were, rumors, so to speak—"

• "my divorce?" he cuts you off with a glint in his eye as he toys with his ring. "no need to dance around it, i suppose. yeah, different life paths, but i'm a changed man. single and ready to mingle as soon as me and my team crank out some projects we've had in the works."

• "so you confirm yourself to be single? confirming the rumors?" you clarify, leaning forward in interest — whether it was for your own or for the public's, you wouldn't disclose.

• "why?" his question catches you off guard. johnny rests a hand on his chin, tilting his head as he squints. a large grin creeps up onto his lips. "you interested?"

• you tense up, nervously giggling as your eyes dart around the small production team who is trying equally as hard to not laugh at your position. you were trained and professional and yet this man turned you into a blushing mess for all cameras to see. "that's not my question, mr. cage—"

• "—johnny," he interrupts you, pose unmoving. "the pretty ones get to call me johnny."

• what was he getting at? your notecards feel unreadable and your brain's fuzzing from the sudden attention. he was a pretty man, that much was sure, but was he really flirting with you or pushing his behavior for attention? it was hard to tell, his affections were dizzying enough.

• he chuckles at your blank, sweaty stare, your lips opening and closing like the dumbest fish in the tank. you'd been hit on before by interviewees but johnny took the cake without a doubt, from his veiny arms to his touchable hair, all the way to his tight, round—

• "earth to interviewer," johnny's teasing fingers wiggled in your face, grounding you back to the rickety wooden chair and blinding lights. "too much, or not enough?"

• "neither," you lazily protest as you come to. "just didn't... expect all of that." the interview proceeds as normal, with johnny's clicks and compliments littered to keep you flustered right when you regained your composure. it must've been a game to him, how long you're heated over a simple compliment. but it wasn't the compliment necessarily, it was the person giving them.

• it wraps up just as quickly as it started, and the production was being wrapped up the moment you delivered your outro. johnny's suspiciously large, dreamy grin was plastered onto his face for a strangely long amount of time.

• "it was nice working with you," you try to be cordial, it's hard when that smug look is looking back at you, like he's planning something. before you could stick around to figure it out, you spin on your heel with a beet-red blush on your cheeks.

• johnny visibly startles at your sudden turn, reaching forward to grab your wrist before you could fully face away. he flinches at himself and his abruptness, too eager to give away his desperation for just a little more time. he pulls away, scratching his neck.

• "sorry, doll," he gestures toward your wrist, a confused frown on your lips burying his ego for a moment. "just... hey, listen."

• "i'm listening," you cock a brow, stomach flipping at the out-of-script interaction.

• "me and you," he starts with a groaning sigh, struggling to find the words you stole from his throat from one look. "just us two. no cameras, no questions, no divorce — wait —" his slip-up makes you giggle. "no, no, really. lets go out sometime. gimme a shot, whatdya say?"

• "out?" your tone is teasing, a smirk of your own forming on your lips. "you flatter a lowly reporter."

• "you're not lowly," his voice drops down, more serious with a heartfelt smile. "you... make it hard to focus." he's silent for a moment before jumping into his playful attitude. "pick a different career, you're distracting me! but seriously, dinner? movie? not one of mine, i swear!"

• "only if you swear," you grin up at him, feeling far more human with johnny than you had in the interview.

[coff33andb00ks]

Burning - LN

Hopeless, Part 4

{1 - Hopeless} {2 - Luxury} {3 - Poison} {4 - Burning} {Epilogue}

Lando Norris x fem!reader summary: my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder, all my riches for her smiles, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter songs: lover, you should have come over by jeff buckley word count: 5872 warnings: angst, smut <mdni> a.n.: the finale <3

The overlook is quite lovely. Prettier than the photos he'd seen. The sea air is crisp, filling his lungs as he stares at a young family strolling along the beach. Pushing his hands into his pockets he watches them, homesick for something he's never had as the toddler picks up something to show their parents. A wholesome, beautiful moment, unmarred, and he swallows the lump in his throat as it occurs to him that he'll never experience it himself.

Turning his back to the sea, he breathes deep, eyes slowly scanning the area. Trying to match it to the description he'd been given. Gaze landing on the weathered bench he finds he's already walking towards it, one hand slipping from his pocket and reaching to trail along the arm, feeling the wood that's been carved with words and initials. And there, just as he'd been told, the two letters he would know anywhere.

Yours.

He drops onto the bench, leaning forward and trying to keep his breathing normal. It's the closest he's been to you in about a year – one year, two months, one week, five days, thirteen hours.

No, there was that day over winter break. When, melancholy and yearning, he'd spent more than he should have to fly out the week before Christmas, ignoring Oscar's suggestions that he stay away. He'd rented a car, following the roads you'd told him about to the seaside town that you'd described in such detail he could have drawn a map before seeing it. He'd driven the streets, stopped a few houses down from your parents' home. Had sat, watching the house, then cursed himself a million times over for being a fool and driven off.

Oscar hadn't said told you so. He'd merely sighed and nodded, listened to his sad story again.

You'd be so happy that Oscar's become his best mate. He wants to tell you, because he knows that only you would understand why it was such a big deal.

"Mate?"

He looks up, sighing at the sight of Oscar. "Nice, yeah?"

Oscar sighs sadly, sitting next to him on the bench. "You're torturing yourself."

"You said I could have one day," Lando reminds him.

"She's not gonna show up here on a Thursday morning," Oscar says after a moment.

"I know." It would be too movielike if you did. And the only genre of movies that reflects his life is tragedy. Standing, he walks over to stare at the beach again. The family has gone, their footprints already erased by the waves. When he heads back, Oscar stands, and there's a long look before they walk together to the gravel lot where they parked.

"Just call her." It's probably the billionth time Oscar has said the words since Lando's trip to Melbourne over summer break last year.

He exhales, about to lie and say he's deleted your number. But Oscar doesn't deserve lies. "I've tried."

"Did she block you?"

"Dunno." He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, stopped at the end of the lane coming down from the overlook. There's not much traffic, nowhere near enough to warrant him sitting idle for so long. He can't bring himself to hit the call button after punching in your number. Which he still knows by heart. The only number aside from his mum's that he has memorized.

"Lan?" Oscar ventures softly.

"Am I stupid?" he blurts.

Oscar sighs. "No."

"This—" He gestures angrily at their surroundings. "This isn't fucking stupid?"

"I wouldn't say stupid. Ill-advised, maybe?" Oscar follows a passing car with his eyes. "It's been a year."

He knows.

"I think if you were able to get over it, you wouldn't be here right now."

"I don't even know if she's here." His voice is wavering and he can feel the sadness and frustration and anger stinging, piercing what's left of his heart over and over, clawing up his throat and up into his brain, burning his eyes.

"You know her better than anyone." Oscar's voice is still gentle and soft. Careful, and Lando knows he's truly only there to support him. "Where else would she go?"

"Nowhere." This tiny corner of the world is your home.

"Call her."

Lando throws the car into park and bangs his forehead against the steering wheel. "This is stupid. It's been a year. A fucking year. I can't even bring myself to text her or call her, what the fuck do I think I'm gonna do if I bump into her on the fucking street?"

Oscar doesn't speak, merely waits.

"What would I say to her?" he whispers, scared to raise his voice because he knows he'll either scream or cry.

"Mate…"                                                                         

"It's stupid. I'm stupid. I should never have—" He cuts off, swallowing hard, squeezing his eyes shut. It shouldn't still hurt this bad. "I shouldn't have come."

"But you did."

"Yeah," he gasps.

Oscar's silent for a long moment, looking out the window while Lando struggles to compose himself, knowing that if he reaches out to offer comfort it won't be appreciated. "It's a small town, yeah?"

"Yeah." He scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms, wishing his heartbreak had been the type that was easily numbed. He's tried everything. Alcohol, exercise, random women, even random men when he was drunk enough. Therapy, antidepressants, meditation. Nothing's worked. He can get so drunk he almost forgets, he almost loses himself, but just when he's thinking this is it, it all comes rushing back and he snatches his body away from whoever he's with. Never much further than getting his belt unbuckled before he's rushing away with a shit apology and an empty ache in his chest.

It's been over for a year and it's still fucking him up. He can't do what the therapist suggested – seek forgiveness for your part in a wrongdoing – because Charles laughed in his face.

"You? Slept with her? Impossible. She has standards."

Fucking bastard.

"Switch, I'll drive."

Lando doesn't argue even though Oscar hates driving in America. Nothing rattles his unbothered friend. But six lanes of Americans driving like – Oscar's words – fucking cunts? His friend is ready to commit crimes. Once in the passenger seat he sighs, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. It isn't long before he feels the car stop and he sits up, not looking to see where they are. "I'll call the charter for a flight out."

"Not yet," Oscar tells him. "Wait here a minute."

Confused, he rubs at his eyes, trying to keep more tears from forming. He just wants to go. Best to resign himself to being lonely. Alone. Maybe he'll be lucky and time will eventually heal the pain, even just a little, and he can— Grunting as he looks out the windshield, he watches Oscar walk into a small brick building.

"Really, Osco, not the time to be a fucking nerd," he sighs, leaning back and throwing an arm over his face. Why the fuck are they at a library?

It's not long before Oscar's back, getting behind the wheel and humming softly to himself. He doesn't speak, still humming while he buckles his seatbelt and drops a folded sheet of paper in Lando's lap.

"What?" Lando sighs, dropping his arm and looking at the paper. Even more confused, he picks it up. "What is it?"

"Mate."

Sniffling, he rubs at his nose then unfolds the paper. At first he's still confused, reading the address written in Oscar's handwriting. "Is… Is that hers?"

"Yeah."

"H…" He sucks in a breath. "How."

"She said she wanted to go back to school and work in a library, right? They've got a display board up of recent things that have happened, and there was a picture of her with a bunch of kids. A paragraph about how she's working here as a research assistant while pursuing her master's in library science."

Lando rubs at his temples, knowing his friend wants to tell the whole story but longing to tell him to get to the fucking point. And also a little touched that Oscar remembered the detail about you wanting to work with books.

"Asked the lady at the desk about her, said I was an old friend driving through. She's off today, won't be back until Monday. When she went to help someone I nicked the notebook by the computer and it has everyone's address." Oscar smiles, obviously proud of his ability to spy without being caught. "Nice lady. Said y/n's an asset."

Lando nods, typing the address into the search bar of the map on his phone. "It's…"

"Close." Oscar reaches for the in-dash screen, pausing just before his fingers touch it.

He could tell him not to. Could shake his head. And Oscar would nod, they would call the charter, and be on a flight back to Monaco by dinnertime.

And he would spend the rest of his life trying to forget.

He swallows, barely nodding his head.

"…we'll shift our focus to the surge of trade throughout the Mediterranean, but first—"

You look away from your laptop screen when there's a knock on the door. The professor drones on and you mute him, standing from the couch and setting the laptop aside to go see who it is. You're not expecting anyone, and the neighborhood isn't the type where neighbors drop in uninvited. Peeking through the window, you furrow your brow at the unfamiliar car parked on the street. Leaving the chain attached you open the front door just a bit.

And nearly hit your knees in shock.

He's looking down at the stoop, at his impossibly white sneakers, and his hood's pulled up over his head but you know it's him.

"Lando," you breathe.

His head lifts and his eyes take your breath away. They're just as you remember them, the jade hue that could see straight through to your soul.

He looks sad. Worried.

Scared.

"H-hey," he says, his voice cracking slightly.

You can only stare at him, unable to really believe he's on your front stoop. The light breeze picks up and you're slammed by the aroma of his cologne. It's so faint you know you shouldn't be able to smell it but you do and a wave of memories rush through you with it.

"Hey, nice to meet you." He smiled, an easygoing aura radiating from him as he stepped over and held out his hand. "I'm Lando."

"Hi, I'm y/n."

You press your lips together and swallow hard. "Hey," you murmur.

You, walking along pit lane with Charles and on the phone with your best friend. "So I finally got the game installed. I need to upgrade, the lag is so bad I die before I can get a shot in."

"Really? What are the specs?" Lando asked suddenly, appearing at your side.

"Call you back," you laughed into the phone, putting it away and smiling at him. He was always popping up to talk to you, had quickly become one of your favorite people on the grid. He never seemed too busy to at least stop and speak to you, that easy smile putting you at ease.

Lando exhales, his shoulders rounding. His eyes are almost mournful, the light of memory flashing and you wonder if he's reminiscing, too.

"Sorry 'bout the mess," he muttered, picking up a helmet and looking around, finally placing it two inches from where it had been.

"It's fine," you promised with a laugh. "You live here, it shouldn't look like a magazine spread."

"Yeah? I guess. Anyway, here you go, have a seat."

You swallow again, the sound of his hand slapping his computer chair echoing in your mind. Easing the door to a little, you reach up to unlatch the chain and take a step back as you pull the door open further. "What are… How did you know where to find me?"

"I love it here, really, but I miss the space. I miss having a little patch of grass where I can plant flowers and not have people squeezing in around me," you said, sliding the tarts from the baking sheet to the cooling rack.

"I get it. But I mean, you could talk to Charles, right? See about getting a place with a garden?" Lando looked at the tarts with a longing sigh.

"At least let it cool," you teased. Leaning against the counter, you shook your head. "No, this is his home. He'll never want to move out of Monaco."

"I like it here, but it's not home." He shrugged, pinching off a piece of the pastry shell for a taste, grinning when you slapped at his hand. "There's a villa up the coast a ways – it has space and nice gardens. I've thought about getting it, but seems a waste just for me."

"You could get a dog."

He's standing in your tiny living room. He looks so out of place and yet he fits and you think you're just in shock. Pushing back his hood, he fiddles with his hair, the nervous gesture you remember him doing. "Osco… He's with me – I mean, in the car," he says, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. "Man's a fucking spy I think."

"No, no, you put your hand here." His face is serious as he guides your hand to his shoulder. "Okay?"

You nodded, grateful he was willing to teach you. You knew Charles would happily pay for dancing lessons but it's embarrassing, not knowing how to waltz. And when you'd mentioned it to Lando he'd said to come by, he could show you the basics, and he'd practice with you so you wouldn't make a fool of yourself at the prince's gala. His hand moved to rest at your waist, warm and strong, and you felt a glimmer of heat as his other hand took yours, holding it up.

"We'll take it slow, yeah?" he asked softly.

He's still standing there, looking lost and scared, and all you can do is stare at him. You've seen him – on tv, online, on your phone because you hadn't been able to delete the pictures of him and every once in a while your phone likes to play a sick joke and throw you a memory that somehow always includes him. But you're struck by the slight differences since you've seen him in person. His hair is a little longer, that one curl he used to complain about dancing against his forehead. The scar from Amsterdam last year is faded, barely a line across the bridge of his nose.

He's still the most handsome man you'll ever see. He still takes your breath away. It's taking everything in you to not beg him to forgive you.

"Love it. This. Us."

You suck in a breath and hold it. "How are you?" you ask, because really what else can you say?

I'm so sorry I never should have let us end like we did, even if we were hopeless from the start. I still love you, I'll never stop loving you. I'll never stop needing you. I'm miserable.

"I'm fucking miserable, y/n." His voice is strained. "I-I came months ago. At Christmas."

You feel your eyes widen at the same time you watch his do the same. Suddenly recalling a strange car parked just down the street from your parents' home that had sped off. At the time your first thought had been that it was someone up to no good. "You did?" you whisper.

"I remembered where your mum and dad live, and I… I hoped I'd see you."

He would have, if he'd waited five minutes. But you remember the texts you'd sent that had gone unanswered. The one phone call you'd attempted two months after moving away from Monaco, at four in the morning when your dreams had been him.

They still are.

Lando takes a step forward. "Y/n…"

"Why are you here?"

"I miss you," he says, his voice still strained. Like he's just finished crying. Or is about to. And you don't want to see him cry. It'll break your unhealed heart. "Are… Are you okay?"

You jump slightly when there's a soft tap at the front door. It's still hanging open – way to go, just invite burglars and murders in – and both you and Lando spin to look.

Oscar holds both hands up. "Sorry to interrupt. Um… Hi."

"Hey," you squeak. God, you can't do this. You can't have this awkward, painful conversation in front of Oscar. "C-come on in," you say, dragging a hand through your hair.

"I, um, just…" His cheeks darken as he closes the door and he clears his throat. "Could I use the restroom?"

Blinking at him, you feel Lando step closer to you. With a small nod you point in the direction of the bathroom, backing away from Lando as soon as Oscar's back is turned.

"Y/n… Please—"

"What?" you ask. It's as though seeing Oscar threw some common sense into you. "I'm in the middle of a class."

"For the library thing, yeah?" One corner of his mouth lifts.

"How did you—" You glance towards the bathroom. "Maybe he is a fucking spy."

"He was trying to help me."

"He always has," you whisper.

"He's kept me from going completely insane this past year. I… I owe him a lot," he murmurs, and he's picking at his own fingers.

You're reaching to stop him and jerk your hand back. He's not yours to comfort. He never was. "He flew all the way here with you when he could be home with his girlfriend. I think you owe him at least a new car."

"She's pregnant."

You gasp. "Really? I should—" But you can't. You haven't been able to call her, either. You text sometimes, but your friendship with the other girlfriends will never be the same. She hasn't mentioned being pregnant and you know it's because you're not in the 'club' anymore. It's a wildly different life you lead now. And you're happy. You're miserable and lonely but you fake the happiness for the sake of your family and coworkers. "I'm happy for them."

"God, I hate this," he whispers, and he rubs his hands over his face.

Then he's reaching for you. Almost catches you, but you jerk away.

"Y/n—"

"You have no right, Lando. What, did you think I'd just fall right back into your arms?" you ask, voice trembling because you want to. You want to be hugged as only Lando's ever been able to do. But you can't let yourself, remembering all too well how your life had been destroyed because you wanted a hug once.

"I didn't – I miss you," he whispers. "It's been a year and I still can't wash the coffee cup you left on the counter because it's… It's still got your lipstick."

Your heart twists, thinking of the hoodie tucked in the very back of your closet. The one you were going to throw out two weeks ago but couldn't after you opened the bag and could still smell him. Then you firm your resolve. You can't. "I'm not stupid. I've seen how not lonely you've been—"

"I was trying to forget you!"

"Then try harder. Doomed, remember?" You'll never forget him saying that, or how your heart had fractured.

"I couldn't even do it, because I felt like I was cheating on you!" The words ring out and he looks shocked, face twisting. "That's how fucked up you got me."

That rankles you, and you don't know if it's because he tried or because he's blaming the failure on you. "It's not my fault you can't get off," you snap.

"I can only get off if I'm thinking about you," he snaps back.

Your cheeks flame, your broken mind immediately conjuring up the image of him in the shower or on his bed. And you would swear you can hear his breathy moans. You bite your tongue hard to keep from confessing that when you try to make yourself cum you have to think about him, too. "Lando—"

"Tell me you're happy," he whispers. "Say it and I'll go."

"Happiness is subjective," you say, because despite everything you can't lie to him.

There's a creak or a sigh. Both your heads swivel and though you've only ever respected and admired Oscar, you aren't happy to see him. He doesn't speak, turning and studying the notes and photos on the refrigerator door.

Your heart lurches, knowing he'll see the snapshot of Lando.

"Y/n."

You snap your eyes back to him, forgetting all about his friend when you look into his eyes.

"Can we just… Talk. Please."

"I would have talked a year ago. When you left me on read. I would have talked a few months later, when I called you and you didn't answer." The worst part had been that his voicemail greeting was the automated voice.

"I was hurting! I was trying to get over you! I wanted to hurt you—"

You gasp, the admission a knife in your chest. You deserve it, you know that, and so much worse, but it stings.

"Like you hurt me."

"What was I supposed to do, Lando? We were doomed. You said so yourself."

"I'd rather be doomed with you than broken without you."

You must leave. Despite how long it's been you're not strong enough. You doubt you'll ever be strong enough to resist him. About to step away, you remember it's your house. Small and cramped and yeah the neighbors are too close for your liking. But it's yours. "Go, Lando. Live. Be happy without me."

"Like you're happy here?" he asks, throwing his hands out. "Rotting away in a fucking library?"

"I was happy until you decided to show up." Your voice cracks and you try to hold it back but a sob escapes as you back away, shoulder banging the doorway of your bedroom.

"Don't lie to me, y/n," he pleads, taking a step closer and reaching out.

"Don't touch me." You shrug his hand away, trying to get out of his reach, lift a hand to slap his arm. He catches your wrist before you can and your breath sticks in your throat when he moves forward. "Lando, please, let me go—"

His lips crash against yours and you whimper. It's harsh and demanding and you struggle weakly against him, spinning as soon as his hand grabs your waist. His near feral moan vibrates through your body and in a heartbeat you're clutching at his hoodie, whining as your back meets the closing door.

"Lan," you whimper, shaking your head as you break the kiss. "Please, we—"

"One more," he gasps. He lets go of your wrist, his hand trembling as it cups your cheek. "God, please… I just need you one more time. Everything's wrong without you." His lips brush over yours, and you feel your own inconsolable longing reflected back at you. "Y-you were everything, let me feel everything again."

His kiss tastes like tears and stifled rage. It grows harsher, his body crowding yours tighter against the door. It's everything you've wanted for over a year and yet not enough and you whisper his name into the breaths you share, knowing you'll feel the worst pain imaginable when it's over and you're alone all over again. The pull of him is too strong though and you want to feel everything again too, want just one morsel of what you once had.

"Wish I could hate you," he groans, voice as rough as his fingers in your hair, so tight your scalp stings. You whimper with both delight and pain and he answers with a moan, snatching back, breathing uneven as his hand slides from your hair and there's a frantic, familiar scrambling to remove his hoodie and your shirt. His moan as his fingers brush your bare skin ends in a whine, tracing patterns over your chest. "Wanted to hate you. Wanted to forget you but you—" His mouth is on yours again, his hands clutching at your breasts. Your nipples are stiff before his thumbs brush them and he groans deep in his chest, pressing his thigh between yours.

He pinches and squeezes, lips almost cruel on yours, and you can feel the rage he feels. Know you deserve every bit of it for everything you'd done, and more than he's capable of showing. Tears sting your eyes. It's beautiful, crushingly so, because you know this will be the last time. You want to rush ahead, to feel the incandescence only his lovemaking had created inside you and you also want to slow down, to memorize every breath, every touch, so you can cling to the memories for the rest of your lonely existence.

"Y/n…" It's a low, drawn-out moan, lips parted over yours.

"Please," you gasp. You're practically squirming with need, and the hate for you that he can't muster is there, coming from yourself. "Need it, Lan…"

You feel his pained grimace, taste the ache and the agony on his tongue. "Need you," he whimpers.

"Us," you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut as your tears fall.

"Us," he barely sighs. One hand slips down, the rage still there as it pushes between your bodies and into your panties, cupping you and squeezing. His ragged groan echoes in your ears and it shreds the last sliver of your sanity.

You tip your head forward, initiating the next kiss, loosening your grip on his biceps and letting your hands smooth over his warm skin. Breathing in and holding it so you can taste and smell and feel him all at once. Your fingers trace the necklace at his neck and more tears fall – it's the one you gave him two years ago. Rough, his fingers rub along your slit, his other hand thudding against the door then cupping your throat. His lips still on yours, whining when you brush the tears from his cheeks.

He leans into you, fingers rubbing steadily, teeth catching your bottom lip as they grow slick. "Did you…" He moans when one finger dips, your hips tilt forward, pushing yourself against his hand. "You miss me, baby?"

"Yes." You're gripping his wrist, clutching his hair.

"This?" His fingers move in slow circles over your clit. "…Or me?"

"You, Lando, you," you whimper, head falling back, the curling heat so sudden you fear you'll cum already.

"Have you let anyone fuck you?" he asks, still rubbing your clit agonizingly slowly.

"N-no." Your cheeks burn, hating yourself for feeling a spike of desire at his crude question. Pulse racing, you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, and his low hum as he leans closer, lips at your ear now. Your pussy clenches, gushing and you let out a shaky moan, able to hear the slick sounds of his fingers working your clit. Your hand wraps around his wrist and he chuckles.

"You need to cum? Hm?" He moans right in your ear and your pulse thunders beneath his fingertips at your throat. "You're gonna cum that quick?"

"I—" You whine, clutching tighter at his wrist. "It feels good, Lando, I can't…"

"It's gonna feel better when I'm fucking you," he whispers.

"Yes," you hiss, head falling back with a thump. "Please!"

"You want it, baby?" There's a slant to his cooed words and you wonder if he does hate you after all. "Want me to fuck you?" His lips tug at your earlobe, smirking while you whine. Slipping his fingers down, he dips them inside you, echoing your moan as you immediately squeeze around them. "Oh I missed your pussy so much… That's why I couldn't fuck 'em, you know?"

"Lando, please." God, you're gonna cum. It's sick and it's twisted now, but he knows exactly how to play your body.

"Cuz I know how good this feels…" He sucks on your earlobe, fingers curling tightly, exhaling harshly as they brush your spot and your hips jerk. "Gonna feel so good when you cum on my dick."

"Yes, baby, I need that," you whimper, digging your nails into his wrist. You need it more now than you did a year ago, your body buzzing. "God, please… Let me cum for you, Lan – Fuck!"

"Cum on my fingers, baby," he hisses, stroking your spot so hard it hurt. But his words and the reminder that he knew exactly what to say and do to you send you spiraling, pussy squeezing tightly around his fingers as a ragged cry ripped from your chest. "That's my girl, fuckin' cum…"

His fingers slip out and you gasp at the gush, tugging at his hair while he rubs your slit rapidly as your body tenses and trembles, panting harsh in your ear when you squirt over his fingers. When you slump back he coos, fingers strumming your clit and causing your back to arch.

He snatches his fingers from your clit with a low growl, and your lips meet in a fierce kiss, hands meeting at his belt. You wriggle between him and the door, frantic and scrambling to remove your panties, gasping against his tongue as he kicks his jeans away and then he's jerking your hips towards him, pressing his face to the side of your neck and your breath catches in the back of your throat, hooking your legs over his hips. His cock, hard and straining, glides along your slit and his teeth sink into your skin as his hips surge forward.

"Lando," you cry out, eyes rolling back.

"Make me hate you. Please, fuck, I need to hate you."

"How?" It's a broken sob.

"You can't." He presses his forehead to yours, hands so tight on your hips you know you'll feel the bruises forever. "You can't, y/n…"

"I'm sorry," you whisper, lifting trembling hands to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, Lando."

He exhales slow, releasing your hips and sliding his hands up, keeping the rest of his body still. It feels as though he's re-memorizing your body, closing his eyes while his palms sweep over your shoulders and up to your wrists. There's a prolonged moment as his shaky breaths fan over your lips, then his eyes open.

They're luminous. Shining with emotion. You can't breathe, can't even blink, can only just barely feel him shift, reminding you he's buried deep.

"I miss you so much." His hands are gentle, smoothing your hair back and cradling your cheeks. There's the reverence you remember.

"I'm right here." Your vision blurs and his lips are on yours, tender where they'd been rough before. "I'm right here, baby."

"Can't lose you," he mumbles, shifting again, his arm winding around your waist and holding you close. "Can't lose you again, baby, okay?"

You whisper his name, unsure of what to say. You're not sure you understand. "Lan?"

He kisses you again, turning and you're floating even after he lays you down on the bed. Each touch is gentle, like he's afraid of hurting you.

As though you're a dream he doesn't want to wake up from.

"I love you," he says. And for the first time since he stepped into the house it's the voice you remember. Clear and bright, warm and your favorite sound. It's him, the real Lando that you know and love.

Your lips part to say the words back – of course you love him, you've loved him since the beginning, before he was yours to really love. Before he was your forbidden secret.

"I bought the villa." Even he looks surprise as the words pass his lips and there's a small smile on his face and you want to laugh at the absurdity of the moment. He's talking as though he isn't inside you, as though he didn't just make you cum against your bedroom door.

"You did?" you ask softly, fingers following the freckles splattered over his cheek and neck. "When?"

Lando shifts, gently guiding your legs around his waist. The friction causes your toes to curl and he pauses, stuttering out a whimper. "F-first of the – god – year."

"Do you like it?" You're asking about the villa, remembering the photos he'd showed you on the realty website.

"Fuck I love it so much," he moans. His hands squeeze your thighs and he lifts himself up slightly, licking his lips slow. Eyes still luminous, he looks down at you and you can feel he's holding his breath.

"I love you," you whisper. "I love you so much."

And it's like that's all he needed. He leans down, kissing you deeply, his hands finding yours and holding on, fingers tangled as he rolls his hips slow. His thrusts are slow and deep, echoing moans and gasps the soundtrack to the passion. There's no subdued rage or cruelty anymore, and you whisper apologies between kisses, needing him to know how sorry you are for hurting him.

"I'm so sorry… I love you… Love us." You whisper the words over and over, tasting the salt of his fresh tears and yours.

Clasped hands tighten, knuckles turning white. "Be mine," he murmurs, his tremble rippling through you. When you arch, crying out yes, he dips his head, pressing sweet kisses over your heart.

"I always was," you promise, eyes locked with his as the passion crests and you cum with a scream of his name. It's blinding, deafening, and all you know that is real is the tight grip of his hands.

"Get your degree," he murmurs an eternity later. You nod, heart racing, the ache that has been in your chest for so long begins to fade. "Move in the villa with me."

"What if it's doomed?" you whisper, fear slicing through the elation. "What if we fail?"

"W-what if we win?" His breath stutters harshly, hands squeezing yours even tighter. "What if it's sacred?"

He kisses you, both of you trembling as his thrusts quicken and you feel his muscles grow tight. Your name is a soft, pleading cry and you feel the heat of him filling you, hips straining and pushing you deeper into the mattress.

Another lifetime passes with delicate kisses. Tender whispers. Praise and love are murmured between you, and you feel the eternal hope springing back when he offers forgiveness.

If it's all a dream you never want to wake. You'll gladly sleep until your final breath or even hasten your end so you never have to know cold reality again. But it's not a dream when you wake up, it's real and he's real, and the love in his eyes is still there.

The peace, the dreamy bubble formed around you, is burst by a gentle tapping at the bedroom door.

"Um… You good, mate?" Oscar calls out, his voice amused and embarrassed.

Lando giggles against your shoulder, kissing your skin before lifting his head. "Are we good, love?"

"Can we get a dog?" you ask suddenly.

"Just one?"

You nod. "To keep me company while I'm studying."

Lando grins, dipping to kiss you quickly. "All good, Osco!"

"Thank fucking christ," Oscar groans..

a.n.: originally this was close to 9k, but I cut a full scene from the end, because these two idiots deserve a happy, hopeful ending. I hope you enjoyed. housekeeping: if you'd like to be added to my taglist(s), please fill out this form.

taglist: @driverlando | @leodette | @trisharee | @manicpixiemom | @littlegrapejuice | @mochimommy2002 |

[cy-cyborg]

Can we talk about how dangerous petrol stations can be for wheelchair users? Because I feel like this is something that gets overlooked by pretty much everyone.

A lot of Australian petrol stations have a sign somewhere that tells wheelchair users to beep their horn and the worker will come and help you. But not a single station I've been to has ever actually told their workers this is what they're supposed to do, so most just ignore you when you do it. I've also been sworn at by other drivers who thought I was beeping at them.

So you have to get out of the car and assemble your chair - which takes a good minute, but to be able to do that, you need to park far enough out from the pump to allow the space to actually assemble the chair, if your fuel door is on the driver's side, which usually results in you parking in a way that partially blocks the road or is too far for the pump to reach. If your fuel door is on the passenger side, you have to assemble your wheelchair in the road between pumps (and people are often not looking for something as short as a wheelchair user in that environment).

When its busy, navigating around between your car, the pump and the store is also really dangerous, because again, people aren't watching for a wheelchair user (I also have the same problem on my short prosthetics, and I imagine little people would have the same issue). I've almost been hit a few times because people just didn't see me. Pay-at-pump makes this easier and safer because you dont have to go in, but I live rurally, not every place has that option (assuming I can even reach the keypad on the pumps that do).

Then there's getting back in. You have to disassemble your chair again, which can take time. Only about a minute or so, but that hasn't stopped people beeping and yelling at me for taking too long and holding up the line for the pumps when it's busy.

My old work van was fitted with a side wheelchair lift so we didn't have to do the assemble/disassemble bit, but we couldn't use it at petrol stations because the fuel door was on the same side as the lift, which meant we needed to leave a little over a meter between the van and the pump to get out, and most pumps don't have that much reach. a few stations specifically for trucks (as in, big 18-wheeler trucks) did, but that just increased the "people can't see you" risk even more because we were even less visible to truck drivers due to truck blind spots.

It's all well and good to mandate that petrol stations have a disabled parking space out the front, but that doesn't make them actually accessible or usable to disabled drivers. We don't all have someone with us to help, we shouldn't need to. I got my car modified so I can drive it on my own, without the aid of other people, I want to be able to safely put petrol in it on my own too, which, as of right now, depends on inaccessible public inferstructure.

[rottedghuleh]

I love otis so much I'm so sad that there isn't much about him </3

Otis x F!Reader

A/N: And I damn agree with you. I have scourged the Internet for good Otis content and there's been A FEW I've come across. So here's a juicy one for y'all mostly because I'm a big Otis lover.

Warnings: Otis himself is a warning, the UTI is worth it, breeding, choking, hair pulling, a lot of cussing, degrading.

"Imma give you to the count of three to drop the fuckin' attitude, mama. I ain't dealin' with no bitch that grew up with puppy dogs in Disney Land talkin' shit to me." Otis spat. He had too far enough of the constant bickering with you. The yappin' and the talkin' back. Over breakfast, in his room, when going out to feed the hogs.

Otis would give you the same treatment as he does his own victims.

You almost wanted to snap back, but the idiotic grin that came across your face when you realized what was about to go down. It was your absolute favorite. Otis would get so wound up when you got bratty and he'd chase you across the lawn like you were his victim. He'd chase you far into the woods until you were panting and whimpering like a scared puppy.

"Go on, I'll give you a head start." Otis pulled the ragged cowboy hat over his head, his hands coming down over his belt buckle. "Run, rabbit, run." Before anything else could be said, you took off like Otis said. It usually didn't take long to get to you. He was older, but them long ass legs is what really could get him going after you.

You ran hard, hard enough that the burning in your lungs was already starting to ache. That's how Otis liked it, when you were too tired to bitch back with him. The gun shot echoing in the air was your alarm that you needed to haul ass. The briars were causing small cuts on your legs as you whipped past them.

It was a horrible time to start running out, dark and mosquitoes swarming the area. The dark is when Otis like to hunt. No rabbit can't see or smell his scent. The cracks of sticks in the distance is all Otis needed to tell exactly where you were at. You thought you had made it, the blood thundering in your ears blocked out most noises besides the cicadas screaming into the late night.

"Got'cha, you bratty bitch!" Otis slammed in from your right side, sending you sprawling into the dirt. The air whipped out of your lungs like you were suddenly sucked out by a vacuum. It might've caused a slight moment of panic, but it was easily managed.

"Down, mama! Imma show you how a bitch should behave." Otis didn't waste time, pinning you underneath him where your face was in the dirt and your ass was pressed firmly against his groin. The warmth of his erection was warm enough to make you insides melt and quiver. He was always hard, the chase always had him going, especially if it wasn't some New York yuppie that was his victim.

A quick yank of your dress skirt and your ass was suddenly bare in front of Otis. What got to him more than getting to chase after his toy? You wearing no panties when you knew you were about to get a good fuck. "Atta, girl. Y'know how to fuckin' listen sometimes."

Otis grinned like a drunk bastard as he fumbled with his belt, the clatter of his buckle and his pants hitting the ground was almost loud to you once the pounding in your ears stopped. Otis grabbed a handful of your hair in a iron grip, ensuring your ass stayed bent in place.

"You're a good breedin' rabbit, bitch." Otis grunted, his cock teasing over the wet fold between your legs. "God damn, just a lil' slut, huh? You get so turned on when you know when your bratty ass is about to get ruined by me." Otis had his ways of making you feel praised and degraded at once. His words always filthy but some sort of praise was hidden underneath it. What causes even more praise was the groan of pleasure he released when he finally stopped teasing and just bottomed out in you, jolting your body further into the dirt.

"Fuck, you bastard-" You mewled, your thighs and hips already starting to ache the harder Otis drilled into you. You were sopping wet, the wet squelches of your insides parting around Otis was loud and filthy.

Otis was almost drooling onto your back before he caught himself. "You fuck." Otis placed a thick hand around your throat, forcing your head out of the dirt. "Arch it, arch it, two timing whore." He groaned out. You did. Your back arched, giving Otis access to just rail into you hard. Your air was choking off and your pussy fluttered the closer you got. He was hitting so deep into that gooey cervix that it made your eyes roll when your vision went spotty.

"No, ma'am. Not yet, mama." Otis pulled out, leaving you gasping for air as a scream almost ripped from your lungs. The missing ache of his cock was horrible. Otis laid back against the ground, forcing you right on top of him where his cock could pop right back in.

Otis could never stand long being out of you. When you'd get so needy and your cum was dribbling all over his pubes, it was just almost as delicious as Mama Firefly's peach cobbler.

Otis pushed his hat onto your head before giving you a firm slap across the face. "Ride." He commanded. It took you a moment to regain your thoughts and, of course, your breathing. The slap on your cheek stung but in the best way possible.

"You're a fucking jerk, Otis." You panted out when you started to rutt your hips into his cock. Otis leaned his head back with a groan that turned to laughter. "Oh, you dumb motherfuckn' slut. I'm a jerk? Thought you were used to them tourists when you served ice cream for tips. I got you a tip, a nice big fucking one." Otis held your hips, not out of being greedy, he knew you were getting exhausted.

What followed was probably the best fucking you had in your life. It left you gripping at his chest, pulling onto his hair. The sting of his hips slapping against you was fucking orgasmic. Otis pulled you roughly against his chest, his relentless pumping was growing uneven before the warm heat of his cum spilled into your womb. He pulled out, the rest of it covering your thighs and ass.

Otis smirked at the dirty work. He usually left people bloody, not shaking and covered in his cum. "Up ya' go, rabbit." Otis stood up, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, leaving you a giggling mess. Your red ass and cum soaked hole was just the perfect sight to see.

"I may be a fuckin' jerk, mama, but I at least know how to treat a lady." Otis planted a kiss against the side of your ass as he carried you back to the house.

[zaceouiswriting]

More than one surprise

Character: Theo Raeken x male (brother) reader

Universe: Somewhere in Teen Wolf

Warnings: Mentioned smut, implied incestuous behavior

Although it is customary to open my little brother's door without knocking - ever since he started doing it when he was eight years old - nothing out of the ordinary has ever happened. But today it offered me an unforgettable sight.

“What are you doing, bud?” My voice makes Theo jump and sit up in an instant.

“Can't you knock?” He replies angrily. Rightfully so.

I smirk shamelessly at him, savoring the moment of his embarrassment. “You taught me that knocking is unnecessary,” I tell him sarcastically as I take a sip from my coffee mug. "Anyway. I just wanted to- wait, is that my underwear?" Looking closer at his hand, I could see the baby blue of my Calvin Klein underwear - I had worn the day before and had already thrown in the laundry basket. Theo's eyes widen as his gaze shifts to where I'm looking. When our eyes meet again a second later, I can't suppress a wide grin. "You can keep it. I don't think I want it anymore."

Theo's face turns red; he is obviously embarrassed by the situation, but who am I to care? If he wants to be thirsty for me, he can do that. 

I leisurely sip my morning coffee. My mind is barely there, even though I've been awake for hours, casting my mischievous, glistening eyes over the rim of my mug so I wouldn't have to take my eyes off my not-so-little brother. He looks good - much better than I did at his age. His biceps, which he flexes involuntarily, were big enough to choke someone. His broad shoulders and large pecs make him look more like a man to me than the boy I always saw him as.

“You know, I thought you would be smaller. I mean, much smaller. That thing is almost inappropriately large. What the hell did you eat?" I grin from ear to ear as I see his hand searching for something to throw, which gives me more than enough time to get the door in front of me for safety. And not a second too late, as just as the door blocks my sight, a pillow, deflected by it, falls to the floor. “I just came to tell you breakfast is ready, dude. So when you’re done choking out your juices, come downstairs.”

I've just finished speaking when I can see yet another object flying in my direction. However, before it can hit me, just like before, I use the door to block it, but this time I slam the door shut, whereupon I start to laugh. The situation is just too amusing. Other men would have knocked Theo's teeth out for doing something like that - jerking off to someone else's underwear. But I always knew how he felt about me.

Theo was never good at hiding his feelings. I like to spoil him sometimes, cuddle with him, sleep in the same bed together, and hug him wherever we are. But I never thought about going as far as he wanted. Although I have to admit that the sight of him made my pants feel pretty tight.

In the middle of the hallway, not far from Theo's room - My little brother's bedroom, which he had lived in since he was a baby - I realized something. Heat rushes to my face. I can feel my resolve crumbling. Quickly, I go to my room to grab something before heading back downstairs to wait for my thirsty brother to get himself some breakfast.

It has taken him almost half an hour for Theo to appear, even though it's summer, he's wearing gray sweatpants and a hoodie that hides most of his body. As soon as he sees me, his gaze turns to the ground. He tries stealthily to grab some food so he can safely flee upstairs to avoid this situation, but I grab his wrist faster than he can react. Without mercy, I force him to sit down. With my hands firmly on his shoulders, I hold him there until I know he won't try to escape again. As always, there is resistance. To his detriment, however, I was always more stubborn than he could ever wish.

After a few failed attempts, he relaxes his shoulders, a sign of his surrender. With a satisfied grunt, I sit back down and stare at him.

“Are you still thirsty for your older brother?” I ask him neutrally so as not to make it too uncomfortable. But we had to talk about it somehow.

“Bro, don’t. It’s embarrassing enough that you saw me like that!”

I wave him off, amused. “Dude, I’ve seen you jerk off many times. I don't mean to kink or love shame you. It works in mysterious ways. But are you sure you don’t want to try to find someone else?”

“I tried, okay? I really did, but whenever it comes to... you know. I can't get hard. I always want to smell you, feel your hands on me, and feel your intense gaze when I spill my seed. I just can’t help it, okay?”

I swear to God, if I hadn't finished my coffee by now, I would have definitely choked on it to death. I've gotten many confessions of love over, but this one was dirtier than my underwear he smelled.

“Don't worry, dude; I understand. After all, you have grown to be a fine young man,” I tell him teasingly.

"Fuck!" he mutters, his face contorted with anger. "It's because of shit like this! Right now, I want nothing more than to bend you over this table and show you what you're doing to me. But it’s wrong, and I know it. We are brothers, after all.”

"So? I can't get pregnant, and neither can you." I smile mischievously at him. It's easy to incite him. As always, it works like a charm.

He swallows hard, his gaze jumping from my lips to my eyes and further down. If I wanted to, I knew I could get him to agree to anything at that moment. So I decided to put my plan into action. I tossed him a small gift and raised my eyebrow challengingly.

"What's that?" he asks, confused, visibly unsure whether he should take it or not.

"It's something I bought for someone else, but we don't see each other anymore, so maybe you would like it." I couldn't help but grin, as I was pretty sure he wouldn't just like it but love it instead.

But before he can unpack it, I jump up, walk towards him, and ruffle his wild bed hair, whereupon I almost storm straight into my bedroom. My heart beats so loudly that I can feel the pounding in my ears. It isn't a pleasant feeling, but somehow it turns me on.

[Masterlist]

[metalotaku-da]

danny phantom x dc prompt ideas: weather wizard addition.

this comes to you thanks to my big story pieces comment section. i think if the phandom knew more of this characters background and i thought it was more commonly known. it would have more of a field day. same with gotham academy >.> but that is for another post.

alright weather wizard, is a flash villain and a member of the rogues.

mark mardon. is a thief and criminal who escapes from prison and fleas to his brothers house. where he believes he found his brother dead and his weather experiments. including the weather wand which he takes and starts his alias crime as weather wizard. it is hinted at in the comics he actually killed his brother and stole his work. it is believed he had a confrontation with his brother over his prison break, the argument and heightened emotions triggered mark's meta gene and he accidently killed his brother when his powers manifested. and he blocked out that memory. and it is also why he can't use his weather powers without the wand. as a mental block. because he does have powers without the wand.

later on he finds out he has a son with a cop he had relations with. it is known josh is his son because he has weather powers. mark in a fit of rage and jealousy over the his son's powers kidnaps him, with plans to DISSECT AND EXPERIMENT ON HIM TO FIND OUT HOW HIS POWERS WORK SO HE CAN GET THEM. he has a break down though over it before he can go through with it. and wishes his son had someone besides him as a father, because he deserves someone better.

other facts of note: josh was thought to be wally's kid till he got his powers. lady cop has batman's taste. her name is julie.

the rogues have strict rules against hurting kids.

weather wizard killed impulse breaking this rule. though he was tricked.

so yes phandom. here are some options i've brain stormed. please add more ideas for others to knaw on.

1: danny has escaped the fentons/and or giw. flees to central city and weather wizard finds this vivisected terrified kid. and man does it hit his guilt and crazy. this could have been his son. he was going to do this to his child. and it's his redemption/penance to protect this child to make up for his sins. could have a mental break and think he actually did this danny and danny is his son josh too. so many ways to go.

2: other rogues find him, after hearing about ww kidnapping his son and think danny is his son who escaped from his injuries and go on revenge spree for this kid in mistaken idenity. which has funny and dark ways it can go.

3: danny meets ww or his son. and hears how ww couldn't go through with it. maybe from young justice. impulse or members of the league, other rogues dealers choice. danny just dieing a little on the inside like, how come your parent could stop himself with love when he never met you, but my parents raised me and still didn't love me enough not to. the angst protentional here is so high.

4: jazz could work at the facility treating mark. her point of view from treating a person who is so much like her parents but who showed their love for their child in the end. when hers couldn't move past their goals and see their child they claimed to love. could add in she's got a de-aged danny/dannies because of it. to see what it could have been if her parents had been better. stronger. she could get feelings. (totally thinking on par with harley/joker kind of but not that dark.) where mark actually like her and cares for her. could be one-sided. and the giw find them mark breaks out cause she and or kids are in danger and saves them.

5:mix and match the above.

please add more

[romanarose]

hey! i just saw your supportive logan fic for writer gf, and i was wondering if you would be open to writing something for chronic pain? the (gn! if possible!) reader having severe chronic pain, mostly in their legs, that prevents them from walking sometimes when a flare up is particularly bad. the reader just kinda feeling hopeless and so tired because there’s no cure to their condition. just really soft cuddles and comfort, ya know?

totally chill if this isn’t something you’re up for writing or isn’t the vibe! <3

thank you!!

Hi friend!!! I suffer from fibromyaglia and i fucking SUCKS so yes, I'd love to write this for you! GN read is 100% good, i'll write all kinds of readers.

Here you go!

Supportive Logan Thoughts: Chronically Ill Partner

Logan Howlett x gn!reader

Summary: Logan takes care of you

Warnings: Chronic pain

************

When Logan came in after work, the house looked exactly the same as he left it, from the banana peel on the counter from breakfast to your shoes you always took off in the middle of the hall, which (lovingly) drove him a bit insane. It's not that he expected you to do housework while he was gone or anything, but it was a sure sign that no, you weren't feeling better.

"Honey?" Logan called.

"Upstairs!"

Logan opened the bedroom door to find you in the dark, only lit by the dim glow of the TV playing reruns of your favorite show. He took a seat down on the bed, brushing the apple of your cheeks. "Hurting pretty bad, is it?"

You give a little nod, looking up at him. "Sorry, I didn't get anything done..."

"Don't worry about that, I'll take care of it."

A little whine escaped your mouth, lip quivering. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have too, Lo, you just worked a ten hour day-"

With a playful smile, Logan pinched your lips together, making you giggle a little. "I'll survive doing a few dishes. You rest, I'll make dinner."

With a little kiss to your forehead, Logan did his best to prepare something you'd like. He was no chef, but after being alive all these years he was no idiot, and could cook pretty well. Plus, this was far from the first time your pain and exhaustion mad it hard to do anything. You liked to cook for him, but Logan liked to return the favor too. He liked taking care of you. He liked cooking for you and helping you bath and nursing you when the days were too hard.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!" He enters the bedroom again. "I lied, there's no eggs. Or Bacon. But I did make soup."

"Soup!" You exclaim, happily sitting up.

"There yuh are..." Logan smiles at seeing you animated again.

After you eat, Logan carries you into a warm bath, gently rubbing down your soapy body in a massage, careful with the tender spots. He works on your legs where he knows it hurts the most, making sure to massage the feet too, where he knows pain can start.

"You're really sweet, you know." You mumble sleepily. Doing nothing all day really takes it out of your when your own body feels like it hates you. "I know you pretend you aren't. But you are."

"Oh, I know." He teases. "You should see me at work. I can't get shit done because I'm smelling every damn daisy out there. I've been written up 3 times."

You can help but laugh at the idea of your big, hunky boyfriend laying on grass, kicking his feet as he smells a wild flower, his boss in the background shaking his fist.

"Oh I bed. Do you also break for butterflies?"

"Every damn day. Can't go a block without hitting my breaks. Hard to get anywhere."

You're giggling now, feeling better as Logan drains the bath. He starts to towel you down before picking you up and carrying you to bed.

"Thank you. For all you do for me." You snuggle up next to him watching your silly little shows. The pain is a little better, but still hurts.

Logan's lips are kissing your neck and face. you know he's not trying to initiate sex, just showing how much he loves just existing with you. "I like doing it, baby. I know it seems like I'm bullshitting you, but when it's for someone you love... really there's nothing easier."

*********

Thanks for the ask!!!!!! feel free to send more in!

[jadeee]

Living with Nanami

I get the feeling there'll be a part 2... I've never done anything note motivated but maybe if this gets 100 notes I will 👀 -> update: read part 2 here!

He habitually wipes the bathroom countertop after using the sink. It's ingrained in him. We all saw that ep in season 1.

Definitely has a modern aesthetic which when paired with yours is very... interesting. He'll eye whatever knick knacks you have in silence, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Your feet felt warm on the multi-colored rug you placed in front of the couch. The walls were decorated with art you picked out, a few pops of green from your many plants here and there. Then there was the odd trinket you found from a thrift store years ago which stood upright on the coffee table. The longer he studied the color blocked sections of your bookshelf, the more his set mouth morphed into an impressed smile. Your hands brushed against each other until he took yours in his completely.

His pet peeve would definitely be little bits of trash scattered throughout the house. He's not passive aggressive but he won't lash out or lecture you. Just a little "Darling, I noticed you forget to throw things out sometimes. Why is that?"

Another pet peeve I see for him is walking around brushing your teeth or flossing 💀 if you walk down the hall flossing, he just imagines bits of plaque flying onto the walls silently. I'm not sure if he'd say anything about this because he thinks you may find it silly and he knows it's not a big deal but a piece of him shudders just a bit.

Always has pads, tampons, and pain relief meds in stock. He'll get the special snacks you like around that time of the month. Whenever it hits you, he's there with everything prepped and ready to go. I imagine he'll secretly want you to ask him for cuddles just so he can spoon you 💗 he rests his hands on your low abdomen while talking to you softly, his breath tickling your ear.

Side note: He doesn't get into the habit of carrying these things around until one day you two are out and you're period suddenly comes out then he goes on the hunt for a pad or tampon.

He's very serious about going to sleep at a certain time and is lowkey bothered when he sees you staying up late - if it's for work, okay fine but if you're up on your phone or watching TV, expect a "you should really go to bed". If you're being a brat and he's really serious, he will haul you off to bed. He wants to give you a peck on the cheek so you know he's not mad but he won't because he's feeling petty.

The place would look very clean and organized nearly all the time except for the weekends. I believe in this 100% because Friday night is when he finally let's loose just a bit. Maybe he had too much to drink when you two went out but you look so cute and you smell so good and my God, your lips... Saturday morning rolls around and so does he in the sheets. His arms wrap around you as he groans softly against your skin, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. He knows the place is a bit messy but would rather clean tomorrow since he wants to spend the day with you.

Cleaning is a shared effort. He's not doing all the work and neither are you. I love him and I know he's all for taking care of you but I feel like realistically, this would truly be a shared task. Doing dishes can suck and so can cleaning the bathroom but it's enjoyable when you're playing your music. When he hauls the laundry off to the washing machine, he can't help but look in your direction and smile at the private show you're putting on for yourself.

No matter who cooks, dishes are typically done together. I think it'd become a tradition to bake on Saturdays. Ohh some cake with wine in the afternoon? You two sitting on the porch just giggling and talking about nothing and everything inbetween. Then when golden hours hits and the sun just casts that heavenly glow on you.

Kento leans back with a soft grin on his face.

"What are you smiling at?" you block the sun from your face.

"My light, my life."

Heat filled your cheeks as you dropped your head and crossed your legs.

Kento chuckled, "Did I make you nervous?"

"No." you snicker then glance up at him.

He filled your empty glass, "You're a better baker than you are a liar."

You grinned then looked off into the sunset to hide your embarrassment but it only highlighted the things Nanami loved about you.

He doesn't go to sleep mad or upset. He doesn't have the space for it or the time or the energy. Your relationship isn't perfect but it's worth fighting for and he makes sure to do that whenever you two have a fight. If you're both home that night, he won't invade your space but he'll make sure to let you know he cares in some way. Say you fall asleep on the couch? You're going to wake up in the bed and wonder how he ended up on the couch instead. If you haven't eaten, he'll bring you a small snack without saying anything.

This is really random but the security would honestly be multi-layered. Definitely a self insert bc home invasions TERRIFY ME 😭 he'd invest in a good alarm system and have the security cameras outside - yes, cameras to cover the front and back door.

Hmm, what else? Oh you'd have house shoes by the door. I like to think someone bought you two matching ones as a wedding gift or couple themed - like his and hers.

Fun fact: Sharing a bed with you the first night was weird for him. He didn't feel uncomfortable but he didn't feel comfortable either. He just laid there like a man in a coffin.

"Nanami?"

"Hm?" he turned his head to glance at you in the dark.

"Are you ok?"

"... I'm fine, why do you ask?"

The sound of you moving around made his ears turn pink and he was grateful for the dark for once. "You just seem so," he tried not to grunt when you poked his side "stiff."

"Hm, it's really nothing. You should go to sleep."

More rustling he wished would go away. Each second caused a slow heat to creep from his feet to his face.

"Can I hold you?"

He turned his head again then glanced up at the black ceiling. A sigh escaped his lips as he rolled over. Your limbs found each other in the dark and you rested your head near his. His chest deflated of anxiety then.

"Is this better? Do you feel comfortable?"

The sudden feel of lips against your forehead made you smile.

"Yes," he said softly then held you tight until he fell asleep.

Author's Note: I only saw him as the husband while writing this. You're already married in this headcanon.

[vonlycsnn]

✖ — EARLY-HALLOWEEN SPECIALTY — ✖

　　　　　　VON LYCAON x GN READER

- SYNOPSIS: you go on some decoration hunting with Lycaon in preparations for Halloween, that's when something caught your attention.

- CW/TW: none.

- A/N: oh my god oh my god oh my god HELLO HI HI HEY ITS ME. THE GUY WHO WROTE A LOT OF LYCAON X READER FICS BACK IN JULY AND EARLY AUGUST!!! IM SO SO SO SO SORRY FOR THE MASSIVE INACTIVITY... (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) September has been hectic for me and writer's block hit me like a god damn truck so I haven't been able to fully indulge myself into writing. I've missed you all so much waaaa...hopefully i can write more stuff for you lovely ppl!

Your eyes lingered towards the clothing store next to you, staring at the Halloween costumes displayed in the front.

As you became lost in your thoughts, a familiar voice snapped you back to reality. Your body shook up in surprise, but you immediately calmed down when you turned around to see him.

Your one and only love.

You had nearly forgotten that he was fetching something of his own importance and that he requested you to wait outside for a bit.

His gaze followed yours, taking a quick look at the displayed costumes and looking back at you.

"My apologies, master. It seems that I've kept you waiting." He said. You shook your head in response.

"It's fine, Lycaon; you didn't take that long."

You reassured him. Before you could say anything else, your eyes lingered towards the displayed costumes again. Lycaon took notice of this.

"Something in your mind, master?" Lycaon asked.

You snap back to reality once more and shake your head, assuring your thiren butler that everything's okay.

As the two of you were walking towards the parking lot of Lumina Mall, you couldn't help but wonder. A thought that stayed with you ever since October rolled in. You suddenly stopped, standing there as you continued to be deep in your own thoughts. Of course Lycaon became confused and worried by your actions.

He approached you, carefully grabbing your face and pulling your gaze over to him.

"Master, if you need anything else, there's no need to hesitate. Just tell it to me; I've reminded you of this many times already." Lycaon said.

"Im okay! I just...thought about something." You looked away in embarrassment.

"There's no need to hide, master. I will not shame you for what you have in mind."

You hesitate, inhaling and exhaling until you finally build the courage to speak up. You could tell that Lycaon is very focused on you; oh, what a gentleman he is.

"Ive been wondering, Lycaon. What...do you usually dress as during Halloween?"

You finally asked. While you can't see it because of his restraints, you can tell he raised his brows in confusion.

You suddenly felt embarrassed from asking such a question, and the air became heavier for you. It doesn't help the fact that Lycaon was just standing there...menacingly.

But just as you opened your mouth to apologize, Lycaon laughed softly. You looked back at him to see his cheeky little smile.

"Now what brought up that question, love?"

Lycaon takes a few steps towards you as you try and answer his question.

You hesitated again, completely scrambled by your own thoughts. Is it really okay to tell him this? Yes. No. Absolutely. Not at all.

Lycaon slightly titled his head as he waited patiently for your answer, his eyes straightening in case he doesn't hear you well enough.

"I just..." Breathe. Just breathe.

"Saw a big bad wolf costume earlier, from the fairytales, y'know? And I thought it'd..."

You looked back at him. Weirdly enough, he reminded you of those cute dog pictures where they tilt their heads in the same manner.

"It'd look good on you...maybe?" You awkwardly laughed to yourself.

Silence followed, and oh, did you feel like you wanted to throw yourself into a companion hollow and get ether corrupted—You hated every second of it.

Lycaon merely chuckled, walked up to you, and guided your gaze onto him.

"Well, would you like to go back and see how it looks on me then?" Lycaon suggested.

"Huh?"

"I'm no fan of having to act as a villainous character when it comes to these. However, I do find myself...enjoying dressing up as that antagonist in particular for some odd reason."

You weren't showing it, but you suddenly felt all giddy when you heard those words come out of his mouth. You gently took his hand and pulled him back towards the mall entrance.

"What are we waiting for then? I want to see how good it looks on ya!"

[aangelicest]

Thinking about Big!Bro Suguru who started off just smoking cigarettes to take the edge off after he'd ingest curses. But it wasn't enough. And he found himself indulging in weed just to calm himself down. And his little sister who's never touched a cigarette or drugs in her life, being pressured into trying.

Content Warnings: Inc♡st, Peer pressuring, Dr♡g usage, Dubc♡n? (They don't don't anything really but it does insinuate that he will go further & they are both high), Non-explicit, Suggestive, Little Sister! Reader, Pet names (baby, princess), Short Rambles, Can you tell I've never done a drug in my life? I don't know what I'm doing, I see plug!suguru content all the time and I can't get him smoking out of my head

MDNI + Anti's please block and move on♡

Big!Bro Suguru who speaks to you in his soft, soothing voice. "C'mon, it'll be fun, yeah? Let me teach you." He murmurs before he blows smoke from the blunt on his hand into your face gently. He gives a sly little smile followed by a low chuckle as you cough at the smoke. It's cute, the way your nose scrunches up at the smell

Big!Bro Suguru who watches as you hesitate, but don't look very willing to try. "C'mon, you know you can do it. I just wanna- I just wanna show you, just trust me and try."

Big!Bro Suguru who raises his hand, cupping your chin when you look at him, his fingers just lightly touching your smooth skin. He then blows the smoke in your face again, the sight of your eyes fluttering as you try to blink the smoke away was too cute.

Big!Bro Suguru who pulls you closer when you attempt to take the blunt but not knowing exactly how to hold it properly. "Open wide- yeah, that's it…" He murmurs, his voice low as he holds the blunt to your lips.

Big!Bro Suguru who brings his hand back up to your chin, turning your head gently in his grip, forcing you to look at him. His thumb lightly rubs over your lip to try and soothe you with his loving touch. "Do that again, baby, yeah? This time, don't pull away, alright? Just breathe- just breathe. That's it princess…" He coos.

Big!Bro Suguru who whispers praises in your ear after every hit. "There you go. Good girl, you're doing so good for me, such a good little baby." while he pulls you onto his lap.

Big!Bro Suguru who can't help but stare at his sweet, precious, perfect little sister… so vulnerable and so cute. He's never seen you this loopy or this out of her mind… and all it took was a little bit of weed. He just gently brought his hand up, tucking your hair just behind your ear, fingers trailing down your waist.

Big!Bro Suguru who can't help himself, watching as you grow more pliant in his lap, mind all fuzzy from your first time. "Hey… how about we do something to make you feel even better, yeah?" He'd murmur, his thumb pressing against your soft lips.

Big!Bro Suguru who uses the lightest amount of pressure to slip his thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue as he takes a hit, blowing it gently against your face with a low hum. Every soft whine that leaves your lips makes him feel bolder.

Big!Bro Suguru who keeps playing with your tongue as his other hand starts to slowly move under your shirt. Rubbing your hip, thumb sliding against your tongue more. "You're doing so good for me, baby. Just keep feeling good, I got you. I always have you."

Big!Bro Suguru whose eyes darken when he takes another hit, blowing it directly in your mouth as he leans in. "Does it feel good baby? Hm?" The way your eyes look so cute, all glossy and glazed over as you take another hit makes him grunt, unable to stop his hands from sliding down your hips and finding its way between your thighs.

Big!Bro Suguru who's glad your parents are out late tonight, because he has something better to replace his thumb with.

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #27

The Battle of Big Wand

Part 2 of reacting to this episode (spoiler-free)!

Cosmo talking about the Big Wand going down: Better check with I.T. Hazel: Just I.T.? No fancy fairy name?

why is this so funny to me

Y'know... I've have a post in my drafts for ages that mocks Anti-Cosmo's castle entrance for not being wheelchair-friendly (because the road is covered in spikes). If he took over and then put spikes on this new road, I'm gonna lose it.

OH, I NAILED my "After thinking about it, this is my final answer" prediction. Dev is in the house! oh, good gravy.

This is the second time he's tried to be a king, and I think it's funny he hasn't tried to be a company president or anything. Not fantasy enough for him.

It's stupid funny to me that Dev just turned 10 and he's got impressive muscles when he flexes. what is this child doing- bench pressing solid gold??

We've been robbed of Dev wishing himself into one of the puzzle games he likes and getting buried under, like... Tetris blocks and having to claw his way out.

That might make a good 'fic; I feel like "wishing to be inside an app" is very correct for him.

??? whaaat does he have? He's got portable wishes of some kind? Is it a shooting star? oh, goodness. Let me think, let me think...

!! Crocker has these in the finale of Jimmy Timmy Power Hour 1. He throws them at the ground near fairy guards to poof them into animals. They're grenades. lmao, Dev got into the Fairy Armory.

Canonically, the Fairy Armory is the only place in Fairy World that still has power during outages, so... epic magic fight with weapons?? Ooooh, I hope so!

Irep is back, I knew it!! Part of me suspected he wouldn't be here because he's not really known for being a team player, but I'm glad he is :) Let's go Anti-Fairies!!

I'm delighted Anti-Cosmo isn't taking lead. Also, for some reason it's hilarious to me that Irep is focused on Hazel and not interested in addressing Cosmo or Wanda. He used to greet them as Auntie and Uncle, and now he's like "I don't need their approval or love."

Uh-oh... Has he sorted out his needy issues? If he's too old for naps and we can't bribe him with hugs, how will we defeat him??

I wanted to see if he uses their honoraries in "Fairly Odd Fairy Tales" (since he does it when he's being polite and I knew he was offering food). He doesn't, but I like how Wanda straight-up fed her nephew an apple that puts him to sleep until his true love kisses him, then looks dead at the viewer and says "And then we all lived happily ever after." Is the implication that no one will ever love him, so he's unconscious forever?? omg. Wanda's very black and white view of things is so incredibly funny to me, especially since she grew up in a mob family.

I'm excited to see Dev and the Anti-Fairies. Who would win: the species that invented papercuts, or a little boy who longs for lemonade?

Are you telling me Cosmo and Anti-Cosmo are BOTH intimidated by Irep now? Either this is about to be super funny, or they've switched.

Did Anti-Cosmo finally step up his parenting? Not out of the question; in Season 10, Foop was in time-out for putting spiders in his spaghetti.

(How ironic, considering Foop liked eating spiders).

I rewound and Cosmo jumps when the magic hits, before he sees Irep, so he's not necessarily afraid of him. Also, keeping my fingers crossed for anti-family interactions. I'm really looking forward to a face-off between Irep and Peri; their banter is my favorite and we didn't get much in "Best of Luck."

I'm so glad that despite changing his name, Irep presents himself with the same flair he always did. He is the same person...

omg, his little cufflinks. He's adorable.

For some reason, I've called him "posh British boy" in two previous posts, but... idk why, because he's literally never been posh and I know that. I'm glad he looks like his aesthetic is "bad boy with the tiniest detail of fancy."

I hope he's still friends with Sammy Sweetsparkle :) Maybe they're in a gang. I know there's 0 chance of Sammy being in this episode, but can you just imagine if Foop took out his wallet and there's a picture of Sammy in it.

Actually... if he's got a little metal circle there, I think that implies his jacket is closer to denim than leather. Lemme check......

OH, interesting... Yeah, he and Sammy don't match.

I don't say it enough, but it's really freakin' funny to me that Foop spends a distressing amount of "Certifiable Super Sitter" following Sammy or spying on Sammy and/or reacting to everything Sammy says. He's just Like That... Like, I enjoy the implication that of all the places Foop could go when his parents canonically left him unsupervised for the week, he likely chose to hit up the Turner place in spite of his hatred for Poof because Sammy is there. Silly.

Anyway...

Dev: Yeah, yeah, yeah... and Irep. Joint conquerors of Fairy World.

OMFG, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Was I RIGHT that Anti-Cosmo isn't even at the takeover!? Local introvert hates leaving his house and never wanted Fairy World anyway; more at 11. I'll be there!!

Plot twist, Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda don't actually show up in this episode because they're busy flirting while Irep's away.

I clocked the design aesthetic of the taken-over Fairy World as "This is Irep and Dev as partners; Anti-Cosmo wouldn't do this" so hard. crying. how did I do that. it's not getting better than this.

"Let's get DEV-ious!!"

dlkfgm, once again losing it at Dev using his first name rather than the "Dimm" part of his surname when he makes puns. He's a Dimmadome, but... he's kind of his own twig on the tree.

It is unreasonably funny to me that Irep's wand is so heavy considering he had massive muscles as a child after his Abracatraz imprisonment ("Spellementary School" & "Timmy's Secret Wish").

Also, I am FASCINATED by the decision to give Irep one little zipper tab that hangs off his jacket. Impeccable.

I love this team already. These are two people who are both known for:

- Coming from upper class families - Having parent-related abandonment issues - Not showing a lot of restraint - Only showing restraint when they've REALLY gone too far

Hmm... Oh boy, let me think. We know Dev's [previous] line was that he didn't like his dad shocking people's brains for money, with Dev having strained feelings even when he was trying to convince himself the shocks could be good ("You can help kids!") And he did feel bad about fighting with Hazel, though he's definitely Going Through the Wringer right now.

And Irep's line in the OG series is that he was totally down for:

- Tormenting his parents - Annihilating Crocker for not inviting him to his house party (whom he hilariously calls Denzel when he's mad at him) - Pointing his school's playground slide into the void - Sending Cosmo and Wanda on a dinner date to a black hole - Poof dying (despite the fact their lives were tied together)

- but he wouldn't allow anyone to harm Chloe, who finally introduced him to hugs.

He made it very clear he wasn't willing to face Vicky to save his own life, even on the verge of death, but he'd do it for her or for chicken cordon bleu. And she's not here, and we're all out of chicken cordon bleu. Uh-oh…

- Would Irep rate Hazel hugs 10/10? Inquiring minds need to know. - Is Dev bribing Irep with hugs? Or is Irep just here for the chaos and assurances that Dev's having more fun with him than Peri? - Is Irep bribing Dev with hugs? Are they pumping each other up with positive affirmations?? Go king; continue the healing cycle!

If Irep's parents show up, I hope he's on good terms with his mom, who used to pack chicken nuggets and anti-venom in his lunch box :)

Dev's faith in his ability to not fall off his O-pairs makes me nervous every time he's ever been onscreen.

His dad might let him down, but the O-pairs never have.

[ cnt'd - #Long post ]

All I've been thinking about for ages is an AU where Dev and Mikey Munroe (Bunsen Is a Beast) switch drones for a day, so Mikey's parents freak out that they can't monitor their son 24/7 and meanwhile, Dev just... can't get his dad's attention despite the two-way microphone and camera screen. Also, Mikey spends most of his time making noises into the O-pairs' fans. It's always been my headcanon that Mikey's parents installed the Buxaplenty's and Leadly's security systems (hence the buttons releasing different dogs & the lethal lightning bolts) since I think "ooh, rich people want us" helps justify why his parents are gone for months or years at a time when we know their job is designing home security, so basically... all the cool rich people use them. I actually have a WIP of Mikey and Remy playing near the Buxaplenty train tracks when they were little, but I never found a plot point strong enough to carry it to the end. Anyway, I've been waiting to see what the Dimmadomes have in terms of security, but it's... nothing yet. Plot twist, Dale has trust issues even with the people installing security?? ... I think he'd be friends with Mikey's parents. Maybe. Actually, I might need a 'fic about Dale having a meltdown when he goes home for the first time in 7 years and doesn't trust that Vicky won't sneak in to get him. He needs the world's best security team. It's two terrible parents afraid of literally everything. Yes, they ditched their kid for this. Don't worry about it. y'know... It's really messed up that Mikey's parents are terrified of everything, but they leave their 12-year-old home alone with the pets for months or years at a time, "but it's fine because they're spying on him 24/7 and sometimes give him gifts (like medicated wipes)." His dad is implied to have a fear of germs and I've always wondered if that plays into them not being anywhere near Mikey... Plot twist- We pull a "My Gym Partner's a Monkey" (where the reason we don't see Adam Lyon's parents is because they're severely allergic to animal hair and Adam has to thoroughly wash when he's home and they can't go to school events), but it's Mikey's parents fleeing Muckledunk because they're either allergic or afraid of Beasts. They left their son... Okay, I just checked my notes and I have a line here that says "Mikey's obsession with soft things like animals, beards, and blankets is probably because his parents never touch him." help??

Anyway, I think an AU where Dale hovers over Dev 24/7 and is still a terrible dad would be funny. Instead of neglect, it's obsession... Especially at this age since Dev's as old as Dale was when his trauma started.

... Is Dale putting distance between himself and Dev on purpose because Dev looks exactly like him and is now the age when Dale's life came crashing down? idk if Dale had access to mirrors back then, but that's gotta be weird.

crying at Irep waiting for his cue to pull Dev's flashbacks down from the top of the screen. They rehearsed this. Painfully in-character (In "Secret Wish," Foop claims he waited 10 minutes outside so he could burst in at a dramatic moment).

The way Irep twists his legs gives me Anti-Cosmo vibes.

Rare "Winn without cap" spotted in the wild.

Dev has the room oriented the wrong direction and in doing so, he forgot to include the door. Emotionally, he's stuck in this room. lmao.

Maybe it's a class that's not Guzman's since we know from "Multiverse of Jenkins" that these kids do attend other classes. But... Dev, what's goin' on, buddy?

INCREDIBLY funny to me that Bev sits directly in front of Dev? I gotta go back and fact-check that sometime. Has he been harboring his crush on her because she's right there? That's great!

??? If she DOESN'T sit there then I have to assume Dev is just so Bev-centric that he WANTS her to be there, and that's very funny. Go chase your sporty crush, rich boy. I support you.

Okay, I went back, and it seems his canon seat is between Bev and Kev (with Kev behind Hazel), but Kev vaporizes when we need to center Hazel and Dev onscreen at the same time (such as Dev faking sick and Hazel glaring at him). Oh my glob, he's another witch... Dev, embrace your ancestral witch-hunting for me, plz and ty. It would be funny... /checks my witch notes as a joke and screeches to a halt. Oh my goodness, I could finally get a Soil Tribe child in my roster... I have their magic down as "causes host to fade unnoticed into the background," and it would be very funny to do something magical with the child model. ??? On my first watch of "28 Puddings Later," I don't think I saw that scene of Dev falling over and losing his shades when the pudding throne collapses. Must've missed it while taking notes. That's cute.

I like how Dev's memories are 2D like the photos we've seen throughout the series. Also, Hazel's so dang cute.

I'm glad Dale's pants look the same in both the New Wish and old 2D style despite no FOP character ever wearing anything with that many dots.

I like that Dev's hair is much shinier than his dad's, implying Dale still has the dullness that comes with being soft instead of slick.

- I'm assuming this means either Dev's hair is gelled or he gets that from the maternal side of his family? - idk man, this is very in line with my "Dev's mom is a Leadly" headcanon... At this point, I can't NOT torment him with two very rich and extremely messed-up sides of his family... They both have extreme branding and weird fixations and funky buildings and run big businesses that have brought in incredible amounts of money and they like tech and call people the wrong names... do you see what I see...

I'm DELIGHTED Dale's hair curls up in the back. I've been so sad that he lost his tuft when he grew up. This is clever.

!!! oh yeah, Dale has his dad's stripe! Technically he and Dev both have the stripe, but I love the subtle differences in their hair. While collecting screenshots for an earlier post, I noticed the hair above their ears is combed in different directions, like this:

- with Dale showing the stripe much more clearly than Dev does. I like the implication that Dev's stripe is gold. That's really cute.

I checked, and the gold streak does seem to be in the place he has the Dimmadome family stripes in his 2D form (Eyebrow level). Neat!!

Aw, Irep's a big boy! And his hair grew out blue!! Parents' genes came out kickin'. I did wonder. I think it's funny his mustache and goatee are still black.

Despite losing the black hair, he's not yet immune from "Irep, are you sure one of your parents wasn't actually pixie?" allegations. This is stupid funny to me... In my Cloudlands AU, the Anti-Fairies are always dunking on him for having black hair like Anti-Cosmo's ex-wife, but no one can say anything because unlike Anti-Cosmo's first heir (Talon), Foop was born with the iris virus (colored eyes), so he's "been accepted by the nature spirits" and is heir apparent.

... Seeing this many colored eyes is giving me incredible amounts of anxiety, but it would not be appropriate to clarify why out of context. I like the guy with hair over his eyes and a big hat.

Is Irep leading the charge these days? Do the Anti-Fairies take orders from him?

Did Anti-Cosmo step down!? Because considering how much he hates conflict, I wouldn't be slightly surprised, omg...

I think it's funny that if Dev uncovers any official documents or watches memory clips that flashback to Irep's past crimes, he'd probably be like "Why is there no paper trail for this Irep guy? who tf is Foop?"

WAS that his experience of browsing the anti-web? I have to assume it was- I can't imagine Anti-Fairy World would cross his path without Foop's name coming up.

?? Considering that in my previous post, I said I couldn't think of any reason for Anti-Cosmo to desire taking over Fairy World unless he managed to score the earth and/or godkids out of it...

I'm so glad Dev just dropped "They have to take over Fairy World so they can rule Earth." slkdfj?? okay...

Irep: Now we can rule BOTH! Anti-Cosmo: That just sounds like scoring godkids with extra work.

THEM!! I am once again so intrigued by the lore that A.J. went into parascience and is following in Crocker's footsteps?? You've no idea how much I need to know what the A.J.-Crocker relationship is.

crying at Irep making a peace sign when he gets in front of the camera with Dev. Doesn't he do that in his profile pic on Dark Laser's phone? He's literally the same person he's always been. I missed him so much.

PLEASE do not tell me Dev's full name is Development "Devin" Dimmadome. The quote marks Dale puts around "Devin" are making me lose it.

Dale's partner: Honey, can you stop thinking about business for 5 minutes so we can pick a name for our son? Dale, who comes from a family that usually just slaps their name on things: I got this.

?? I'd LOVE to know what's going on with Dev's mom. Did she die in childbirth and had no say in naming her son, and Dale took over from there? Is she alive, but divorced from and/or passive around him?

Like... I have to assume she had the most exquisite prenatal care through a rich family like this, especially if we assume she also came from a wealthy family cough- Leadlys.

Holy flipping plot twist, does Dev not have a mom at all? He looks exactly like his extraordinarily wealthy dad. Was he just cloned so Dale could pass the business on someday? Did Dale just kinda buy him and wait for the surrogate to hand him over, and he never formed any attachment to him as a baby because he had the O-Pairs / au pairs raise him? lmao!!!

Traumatized beyond belief for 7 years by a girl his age so he trusts absolutely no one and never learned what a healthy relationship was like even with a partner, let alone his son. smh.

Actually, it's very funny to think of him and Vicky splitting up. Like, it was extremely toxic and not romantic in the slightest, but she straight-up identified him when she saw his face in "Operation: Birthday Takeback" even though logically, that would have been 70 years since she was last close to him. She probably knew him pretty well, especially since his hair has changed.

Timmy can't have frozen the timestream any earlier than Channel Chasers in Season 4 when he learns he'll lose Cosmo, Wanda, and his memories when he grows up, which is the reason he cites for freezing time in "Timmy's Secret Wish," and that was 50+ years. It's been 20 more on top of that for Dale to grow up and his son to turn 10. We know Vicky and Doug Dimmadome very, very occasionally crossed paths in later seasons (Vicky tries to sell him the Stryker Z in Season 3's "Engine Blocked").

If anyone cares, this (Season 3) is presumably where Dale grew up unless Doug took him to Dimmadelphia.

Like?? Something about the fact that Vicky and Dale are the same age is funny as heck to me. New Wish canon heavily implies Vicky's been taking advantage of Dale since they were 9, and they might've been friends once upon a time (despite the fact that in both New Wish and the OG series, she can never remember who the Dimmadomes are, lol).

There's no way Doug did a good job of looking for him, or Vicky would've turned him in for reward money. I wonder if Dale had a history of sneaking off to play with Vicky and just never came home one day.

Do you think that after her bossing him around for 7 years, Dale was really messed up and didn't know how to make choices for himself?

Oh, that's awful!! Who would write a 'fic about him running away to look for Vicky and beg her to take him back because he doesn't know how to be a person anymore and needs schedules and instruction? Who would do that?? I'm fascinated by their dark, twisted, and incredibly under-explained vibe. Haha, I'm in danger...

oh no, and Dev even told us his father relies on algorithms over his own thoughts, and we KNOW Dale was upset his publicity team said he should talk to people face to face instead of sending the O-Pairs or hiding behind holograms... A snarky Dev told us he thinks "talking to people isn't [Dale's] thing..." I'm connecting the dots...

hey wtf. does Dale have issues with scraping by in the dirt and dark with limited food and water and nothing to his name for 7 years and that's why he freaks out when he loses money? He can't handle the thought of not having a house??

Holy flip, I wish he'd communicate his trauma to his son, but I'm yelling that we keep seeing hints that he's withholding things from Dev. Like ?? Dale explains his thoughts all the time (in monologue fashion), but he's clearly keeping some things under wraps since Dev didn't have any concept for who Vicky was or why she knew his dad.

I genuinely think Dale doesn't want Dev to know the details. Dev didn't even seem to have a good grasp of why he isn't allowed lemonade, or at least that was my read considering how grumpy he was about it.

omg, this is horrible. who would write a 'fic about Dale taking his son camping and then slipping off to have a total meltdown where Dev won't see. who would do that.

Like, I think at this point they're so rich, you'd have to assume they're not at risk of losing everything if Dale took time off work, but we KNOW he's stuck on that schedule Vicky raised him with (working on Saturdays, which we see him do multiple times), and we KNOW he's always trying to claw his way up despite having the money to buy literally anything he could ever want.

And we KNOW Dale's big thing is that he loses his entire flippin' mind when the money slows down ("You still making sales?" / "Yes, but they're dropping, Dev!") and he's willing to stalk and hurt people to keep it coming in.

Y'know, this is continuing my theory that Doug Dimmadome is probably dead. I legit think Dale lost his support system (possibly around Dev's birthday considering how clingy he is about boots and says they came into his life on that day, plus the golden boots with the "In honor" plaque he has in his house). Daddy's not bailing him out of this one...

Lovely that Dale's first words to Dev after finding out he's taken over Fairy World are "My son." Oh, NOW he wants to talk...

I also find out my son is working with the fey and immediately drop his full legal name.

Why is Dale both the worst person alive and the only dad ever? I need to flatten him with a cruise liner (carnally).

Happy boy... (Dev, don't trust him.)

omfg, Irep's not buying this for a second.

?? I feel like it makes things WORSE that Dale seems at least a little aware of how upset Dev is about the boots? "I'm so proud of my son; it almost makes me want to throw away my boots." - There's no way he doesn't know he's been screwing with Dev's head for the last 5 months. omg.

- Hey, does Dale treat Dev this way because Doug made Dale feel like he was playing second fiddle to his giant hats?? I can't help but notice this whole city has a hat theme, yet Dale doesn't seem to care for hats at all... which is interesting, because we know Dimmadelphia existed way before Doug got here. Doug in my theory: /died 10 years ago Dale: If I touch Dad's hats or add boot statues around the city, he'll totally kill me. - ?? I guess the alt theory is that Dale put all the hat stuff up as memorials to his dad, which doesn't sound far-fetched since again... he keeps THIS in his house:

... Huh. I guess it could be a trophy for Dale instead of a memorial. That's another relevant time to use "In honor." What does it say about me that "omg his dad is dead and he bronzed his boots as a keepsake" was my first thought when I saw this in "Operation: Birthday Takeback" and not "Dale is successful of his own merit"? Obsessed with the implication that Dev's brand image is his sunglasses... Three Dimmadomes go down in history: The Hat, The Boots, and The Shades.

I still think Dale should have a gun. Not to be helpful; just to keep things spicy...

Please go to the Fairy Armory: the one place in Fairy World that canonically keeps power during blackouts. I am begging. I feel like his Southern daddy would want this for him. Doug had a flamethrower.

Is Dev still holding those magic grenades, and what would happen if someone tackled him in a hug?

SDLJKFSDKLFJSDF I'm on the floor. Did I call it? No way... But is Anti-Cosmo only going to show up now that Dev's giving godkids to Anti-Fairies??

Irep: Yo, I'm going to take over Fairy World; anyone want anything? Anti-Cosmo: The same thing I always want: a new child. Irep: wtf

Oh, all that time I spent speculating instead of actually watching the episode the night I started was so worth it. I was really nervous people would grump at me for how I see Anti-Cosmo, but now I feel like I was set up for a slam dunk.

Also, I like how Dev's taken over Jorgen's office. I didn't notice at first, but that's clever.

Dale is so proud despite the fact Dev taped his mouth shut and tossed him aside. That's so funny...

omg, this pit looks dark.

Will Dev torment his dad with lemonade? Is Dale going into the dark torture pit that swings open from the top like a trapdoor, which parallels his underground trauma to a T, or is that going too far?? Is Dev going to dump on his dad about Vicky? Will Dale freak out when he realizes he accidentally hired his abuser of 7 years to babysit his son? Will Dale be joining Club Redheads Who Didn't Get Mindwiped? (I hope not, because Vicky's in it). Will Dev bully his father while he has all this power and then wipe his mind?? So many questions. Find out next time...