#but this is all the stuff that comes to mind at the moment

[informaturge]

1 - Keziah had a pretty good idea of which way the wind was blowing the moment Bellara popped out of the bushes with the big eyes and the magitech gauntlet and the absent-minded smart girl vibes. I imagine a silent "oh god dammit" in her head.

2- I have no idea. I am not privy to the inner workings of her mind. Keziah remains mind-boggled that it happened at all.

3 - I think that up until the whole "Rook is trapped in a ghost prison" thing there was a mutual "I like you but we don't have time for this right now" thing going on, but afterward it flipped to "on second thought we might not have time for this later".

4 - Keziah is Mourn Watch. Bellara is a Veil Jumper. They both dig up ancient hazards and put a stop to them. The only real difference is whose closet the skeletons are pouring out of. And how literal the skeletons are.

5 - I mean technically they're both elves, but Bellara is more aware and immersed in elf... stuff, whereas Keziah was basically raised to be a self-aiming gun by ghosts and gravedigger priests. I think they find each other's accumulated knowledge and experiences fascinating.

6 - Something the two of them have in common is a love of learning stuff. I think a lot of their relationship revolves around sharing hyperfixations. Does Keziah know what a manalytic converter is for? No. But Bellara does, and as such it's obviously important, so if she sees one she'll be sure to point it out. Is Bellara wary of Keziah's extensive collection of weird bones and scarification implements? I mean, a bit, but only because some of them are very delicate and others are very sharp. Doesn't mean that they don't talk for hours about the metallurgy of good knife steel.

7 - Bellara is easily flustered and Keziah isn't good at portraying emotions so I think it takes a while before they figure each other out, but once they do there's probably a lot of publoc hand-holding and sitting in laps. Anything more than that isn't really my area of expertise.

8 - I imagine they're known by name by the staff of any decent museum.

9 - I had her on my team for most of the game. And in my head their combat banter mostly revolves around their different approaches to fighting, Bel having all this elaborate mobility and tactical stuff going on with firing angles and magic arrows, in stark contrast to Kez whose entire combat strategy is abusing life-steal and burning health for mana to direct a continuous firehose necromantic laser death ray at anything in her way.

10 - I mean, Keziah shortens it to "Bel" and Rook is already a nickname, but other than that, not really.

11 - Keziah said "Huh. I think I might love you." at the dinner table during a particularly animated group conversation, but her one milky eye makes it hard to tell what she's looking at so everyone assumed she was talking to the cutlery.

12 - "Shut up I'm a genius." Spoken immediately after doing something stupid.

13 - All of my music is horrible crunchy electronic brutalism. Not nearly optimistic enough to associate with Bellara.

14 - I'm pretty sure they bring each other weird shit they find on the ground CONSTANTLY.

15 - Bellara built a god-killing knife out of magic radioactive waste to try and cut a hole in the fabric of reality and drag her love interest out of ghost prison. If nothing else, she was definitely thinking like Keziah to come up with that one.

16 - Keziah knew she'd get out eventually. Even if she had to tear a hole through the Fade's bones with her teeth. The idea that somewhere out there Bellara wasn't smiling and writing her stories was more than enough fuel to burn the place down.

17 - Keziah loves that Bellara will decide she wants to do something and just put her whole ass into it until she has it figured out. Bellara loves Keziah's seemingly unconscious habit of looking at every situation from multiple (sometimes contradictory) perspectives to make sure she knows what's actually going on.

18 - All anyone will know is that the beloved fictionalized serials of their adventures will end with a "to be continued".

Questions for your Rook and their partner:

Does your Rook fall for their partner at first sight? If not, what moment made your Rook realize they're in love with them?

When does the partner realize that they're in love with Rook?

How long does it take for them to officially get together? Did any of the other Lighthouse members have any suspicions beforehand?

Do your Rook and their partner share the same faction? If so, does that affect their relationship at all? If not, what is your Rook's opinion of their partner's faction? What is the partner's opinion of Rook's faction?

Do they have different cultural backgrounds (e.g. a Rook who was raised in Antiva with Harding who was raised in Ferelden)? If so, do they ever share parts of their culture with each other? If they're similar, how do they celebrate their culture together?

What is their favorite thing to do together? Do they share any hobbies? Does your Rook teach their partner their own hobbies? Does the partner teach Rook theirs?

Are they a physically affectionate couple? Are they fine displaying those affections in public or do they prefer to be in private? If they're not, how do they prefer to show their love instead?

What does their ideal date look like? Do they go on much?

Does your Rook bring them out often? How are they like on the battlefield? Do they banter much?

Do they have any nicknames for each other? Who uses terms of endearment more?

Who says "I love you" first? What is the other's reaction? Who thinks it first?

Any inside jokes?

What song(s) do you associate with them?

Does your Rook get their partner any other gifts (besides the one already in-game)? Does the partner get Rook any? Any gifts that are particularly special?

What was the partner's reaction to Rook being imprisoned in the Fade? How did they cope? How did they react upon seeing Rook again?

How did your Rook react to getting trapped in the Fade and separated from their partner?

What is your Rook's favorite thing about their partner? What is the partner's favorite thing about Rook?

When all is said and done, where would they like to retire together? Is marriage in the cards for them? Children? Pets?

[hazeytae]

perv!roomates taesan & leehan who always sneak around and steal your stuff until one day you catch them and they corrupt you..

can i be 🧊 anon ~○~

had to have this marinate in my inbox for a lil bit bc when i got this ask i was GIGGLINGGG 😫 nd yes u can be 🧊 anon!! hi !!! :3

♡ dacryphilia, voyeurism (?), oral (mf), i will be making this into a full fic!! 😡 so much i wanna add to this

you first started noticing your things going missing only a few months into becoming roomates with taesan and leehan. small things like a worn pajama shirt, or panties you swore you put in the laundry hamper that you just havent seen since. sometimes theyd randomly appear right back in your drawers and youd be a little confused, but you just brushed it off as you mustve missed it while searching.

unbeknownst to you, your perverted roomates had gotten their hands on all your panties! taesan literally couldnt get enough of you !! he wanted you so bad, but unfortunately for him you were just roomates. he resorted to stealing your worn panties and other used garments. stroking his cock as hed bring your panties to his nose, taking in your scent which just made his dick harder. wrapping the fabric around his cock to bring him closer and closer to the edge. strings of your name falling out from his mouth like a song while ropes and ropes of white sticky cum soiled your panties. afterwards he felt so gross, but its not like youd ever find out- he'll just wash it and place in back in your drawer! also i feel like taesan would take pictures of you changing or in the shower, staring at the pictures before stealing your panties off the floor and running to his bedroom to jack off to the photos. he'd think about how pretty youd look taking his cock sooo deep into your throat, gagging and crying on his cock. you were an innocent doll to him, and your angel like face and those cute lacey panties you wore made him want to corrupt you into a perfect slut just for him.

(more undercut!)

on the other hand, leehan wouldnt be stealing your panties if it werent for taesan. leehan once caught taesan in the act, but instead of asking him what he was doing it just gave him an idea. slowly but surely more of your panties started to go missing, some not even returning. leehan wouldnt return them. he'd keep them in his drawer and he'd make sure not to cum on your panties so your scent wouldnt go away. and if your scent went away- he'd take another pair of your panties. leehan would even take your panties to his mouth, tongue swirling around the fabric while he took in your taste. leehan had been obsessed with you- ever since he saw your pretty face and heard your pretty moans through the thin walls. you were moaning out his name too, even your lewd moans of his name sounded so innocent to him; from that moment forward he knew he had to corrupt you.

you started to get frustrated- your cute, expensive underwear kept going missing! youve searched everywhere and the only places left were leehan and taesans rooms. with a sigh, you decided to check leehans room, thinking it mightve ended up in his laundry by accident. but as you rummaged through his drawers, you found your panties, wrinkled and stained. your face turned red as you quickly grabbed them. "w-was leehan... with my panties...?" you whine blushing at the thought, before rushing back to your room.

you suddenly heard a sharp cry of your name coming from taesans room, his voice trembling as if he were crying, or maybe whining? your innocent mind immediately assumed he was hurt and needed you. as you approached his room, the sound of staggered breaths grew louder, confirming your worries. “taesan, are you okay?” you called out, pushing the door open, only to be met with the sight of him with your panties wrapped around his cock while thick ropes of his cum spilled out onto them, making eye contact with you with that cocky smirk while you covered your blushing face. was he really doing this? not only was leehan taking your underwear, but so was taesan!

you felt a large figure slowly come behind you making you squeak, it was leehan. "t-taesan.. leehan- w-what is this?" you watch taesan as he walked towards you chuckling.

"you just noticed? you didnt know i was the one taking your little lacey panties?" taesan asked cupping your face with his hands, smirking at your red face. it wasnt unusual for taesan or leehan to be touchy with you, cupping your face or kissing your neck- but this was something else. your heart was racing and you had just watched taesan cum while moaning your name oh so beautifully.

leehan was giggling behind you, "cant believe you got caught taesan." he swiveled you around to face him "i saw you found all your panties. sorry for taking them." he ran his hands down your body making you shiver, you knew his apology wasnt true.

"y-you guys are perverts..." you whisper, suddenly getting shy with their hands all over your body, leehans hands slipping under your shirt rubbing your sides while taesans hands slipped under your waistband. you did want them- you wanted them really bad, just as bad as they wanted you. and they knew that. they knew that from how many times theyve heard you moan out their names while finger fucking yourself.

taesan took innovative to tug your shirt all the way off, "you dunno how long ive waited" he mumbled moving your hair to kiss and suck on your neck while he played with the waistband of your shorts. leehan looked down at you humming, "me too..." he mumbled before smashing his lips against yours while desperately tugging down your shorts and panties at once, making taesan chuckle at his desperation.

taesan picked you up, pulling you away from leehan and throwing you down onto his bed, "let me use you angel, let me make you mine." he mumbled crawling on top of you burying his face into your tits kissing and sucking. his pants had already been thrown onto the floor, making his boner painfully obvious. leehan whined coming in between your legs "taesan stop taking her from me!" he mumbled swiping his fingers across your folds feeling your wetness. "yah,, shes already so wet for us," he giggled kissing your clit gently. you felt so shy, practically bucking into leehans face while you watched taesan.

taesan groaned licking and lapping at your tits while leehan worked on your pussy with his tongue. taesan suddenly got on his knees tugging your hair slapping his cock onto your face "use your pretty mouth angel baby. you got it," he hissed when you opened your mouth happily taking his length into your throat. he was big, you were gagging everytime you bobbed your head. leehans skilled tongue was making you moan around taesans cock and taesan loveddd the vibrations, he couldnt get enough of how good your mouth felt and leehan couldnt get enough of how delicious you tasted. he was starting to get pussy drunk as your juices mixed with his drool coated his chin, sloppily licking and pumpijg his fingers in and out of you while you worked your mouth so sweetly on taesans cock.

but taesan wanted more. he gripped your hair into makeshift pigtails before warning you "m gonna fuck your face, tap my leg if its too much" he grinned throwing his head back as he thrusted into your face ruthlessly and moved your head up and down. you started to cry. he loved this sight, your pretty teary eyes looking up at him while he ruined you. this was just what he needed. leehan was in a trance as he watched, humping taesans bed while he ate you out. your nose hit taesans tummy as his cum filled your throat, making you swallow it all. you and taesan came at the same time, your taste emitted a long satisfied moan from leehan as he slurped up your juices happily.

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Consumerism

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Pop Star! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

She was accustomed to the city—the endless shopping, the fleeting dopamine rush that came from spending copious amounts of money on items she’d probably use only once. Her bank account could handle it; as a very famous pop star, it was almost expected of her.

During one of Seb’s visits to her apartment—now more frequent as their relationship deepened—he couldn’t help but notice the abundance of PR packages and shopping bags cluttering the entrance of her penthouse.

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leaned casually against the doorframe. “So, uh… are you starting a boutique, or is this just your personal collection?” he teased, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

She rolled her eyes, setting her handbag down on the marble countertop. “Funny,” she said, walking past him toward the kitchen. “It’s not that much.”

Sebastian followed her, a mock look of disbelief on his face. “Not that much? Love, there’s enough here to open a department store. Do you even know what’s in half of those boxes?”

She turned to face him, her expression half-amused, half-defensive. “Of course I do! Well… most of it,” she admitted, glancing back at the pile. “It’s just PR stuff and a little shopping.”

Sebastian crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe, his lips quirking into a teasing smile as he gestured toward the pile of shopping bags near the entrance. “A little shopping?” he repeated, his tone dripping with amused disbelief. “Are you starting a boutique or something?”

She rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her hip. “Nope. Nope, don’t even start. You are not going to give me one of your ‘do you really need all of this?’ talks today, Mr. Vettel.”

He chuckled, stepping closer, his blue eyes sparkling with that infuriating mix of charm and earnestness that always made her listen, even when she didn’t want to. “I mean, I’m just saying… do you even remember what’s in half of these bags? Or is it just about the dopamine rush of hitting ‘buy now’?”

She huffed, feigning indignation. “Okay, first of all, rude. And second of all, yes, I do remember. Mostly.” She faltered for a moment, glancing at the pile. “Probably.”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, his grin widening. “You know, this isn’t the first time you’ve said that. Didn’t we have the same conversation about that fancy juicer you bought last month? The one that’s still in the box?”

She shot him a playful glare. “You know, I liked you a lot better before you started being right all the time.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, stepping even closer, his teasing tone softening. “You’ve already let me talk you out of half a dozen things. What’s one more?”

She groaned, but there was no real fight in it, because he had already changed her mind on so much. His integrity—his annoying, unwavering integrity—had a way of making her question the habits she once thought were harmless. And, in a way, it was infuriating how much happier and more grounded she felt because of him.

“That’s mansplaining,” she joked, acting offended, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

“Sure, it is,” he said with sarcasm, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “But you know I’m right. And admit it—you kind of like that about me.”

She gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Maybe. But don’t push your luck.”

He laughed, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Deal. I’ll take that as a win. Now, how about we move some of this stuff out of the hallway before it becomes a fire hazard?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she nudged him playfully. “You’re unbearable.”

“Bur you still keep me around,” he said with a wink, grabbing one of the bags to help her.

“Yeah,” she said softly, watching him with a small, affectionate smile. “I really do.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: English is not my first language, and I hope you liked it <3

[grimmtells]

✦ Wizarding Lore Compendium |​| The Three Elders and Winnie (TBA) |​| Grimmverse Heroes of Yore (TBA) ✦

✦ Son of 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞, the galaxy's most renowned mage, 𝐎𝐳𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐝 has risen to serve wizardkind as their second Grand Magister following the "passing" of his mother. Wielding her staff as both a symbol and a legacy to carry on, he now has the duty of safeguarding Magic itself. When 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 threatened to engulf the galaxy in darkness, the wizards stood alongside the GSA and the Nichibotsu assassins. Together, they fought for years, united against this cosmic threat. Unfortunately, the assassins betrayed their comrades, aligning themselves with Nightmare. This treachery devastated the GSA, thinning their numbers and shaking morale. And though morale wavered, the GSA pressed on. Yet, the war reached a tragic turning point when 𝐘𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞, the orchestrator behind the ninjas’ treachery, abducted Ozwald from the battlefield astride a fearsome dragon demon beast. In a final, desperate cry before disappearing into the enemy’s grasp, the Grand Magister called out to his kin, commanding them to flee and never return. At that moment, none of them looked back, they obeyed their magister's last command and deserted the battlefield, leaving the GSA behind. A mere few weeks later, Ozwald reappeared, but the man who returned was no longer the same. Nightmare’s corrupting influence had taken hold, and wizard had been lost to darkness. Many years after the Great War, on a faraway planet called Popstar, King Dedede noticed that 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐛𝐲 was quite confused by magic tricks Tuff was performing. Without skipping a beat, Dedede activated his downloading system, a contraption from Holy Nightmare Enterprise, and demanded their most skilled magician. Thus, Ozwald was sent through their channels and set upon Kirby’s trail. A fierce battle ensued, with the young Star Warrior pushed to his limits. Yet, through resilience and determination, Kirby succeeded in breaking the spell that clouded Ozwald’s mind, freeing him from Nightmare’s grip and allowing the Grand Magister to finally regain his senses. Ever since, the Magister has been residing in Castle Dedede, occupying the vacant top of a tower.

✦ 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ────────

✦ Voice Claim | Patrick Page, Oz speaks with a West Country english accent. ✦ Likes | Reading, Opera & Theater, Moonlit strolls & Stargazing, Lemons, Tea ✦ Dislikes | Hypocrisy, Disrespect/ Disdain against magic, Egotism

✦ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 ───────────

• Despite looking as imposing as he does upfront, few are sweeter than him. Kind and endlessly patient, he'll engage in conversation with pretty much anyone, even Dedede. • While Ozwald believes that a certain degree of sterness is required to properly teach the youth, he also believes that being too harsh and demanding will not give positive results. He prefers to teach with rewards, and attempts to make any topic interesting to get the attention of easily distracted children like Tuff, who usually dislike learning "boring stuff". • Ozwald is extremely forgiving, perhaps to a fault, even. He, himself, says that as a man who has committed sins against his comrades, he does not get the luxury to be critical of what is done to him. • He is, however, never forgiving when it comes to humane decency and decorum. Rudeness is one thing he quite dislikes, and will grow annoyed by it very fast, still remaining as polite as can be on his end. He does not want to stoop down to this level. • Ozwald is very doting with children, and has a natural fatherly disposition that usually warms him up pretty quickly with kids of all ages, even the most cold and distant. • Old man rambles a lot. He's got a fondness for discussions around magic and any topics he enjoys, but quickly finds himself talking at length until he gets nervous that he might be bothering his interlocutor. • Ozwald has an easygoing sense of humour, while he does not hold grudges, he is not above using previous events as ammo to tease someone. • Ozwald gets quite competitive with games of any kind and events putting him against other people/teams. He's a bit of a sore loser, but he tries to hide it !

✦ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧 & 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫 ────

In depth description of the Mark here ! • About the Scar ~ Pierced through the eye by a kunai imbued with Nightmarish power, the wound defied all attempts of healing, leaving behind a hollow scar from which magic occasionally seeps through. • It resembles an unstable counterpart to the Mark of Merlin. While the MoM serves as a gateway to the core and source of all Magic and remains flawlessly stable, the scar can become volatile, leaking magic uncontrollably when Ozwald grows overly agitated.

✦ 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ────────────

✦ 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 ───────

✦ 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 ─────────────────

• Ozwald's closest loved ones are his mother, Merline, his little sister Winnie, the Three Elders of the Observatory Bumbledorr, Grindell and Maggie, and his magical owl, Duke Owlbert Hootsalot. • His birthdate is December 25th (12/25) • He has backpains, because Old. He gets very cranky when they start acting up. • He's a tea-drinker over coffee all the way. • He loves playing boardgames ! Always a good time between friends. • He's got quite the encyclopedia knowledge in astrology & astronomy. • Particularly likes the occasional baking of treats. • Ozwald is very adept at Offensive magic and Defensive magic, but also Supportive magic. During the Great War against Nightmare, him and most wizards were very important assets of the GSA, able to ward of most demon beasts, aside from those with magic resistance. • Ozwald and wizards as a whole do not really have mana. However, using magic, especially strong spells, for long periods of time can tire and wear them out. Ozwald can perform staffless magic. • He only has one eye ; he lost the other one during the war after a certain treacherous ninja threw a kunai at him. He tends to hide it with a glamour spell. He almost never lets it show.

[anon-sect]

As Trevor was walking around the corner of the back lot of the office, he happened to notice Axel and Landon smoking weed on the premises. This was in strict violation of company rules. "You know you two aren't supposed to be smoking that stuff here." He spoke to them.

Axel and Landon both looked over at their coworker, Trevor. "Mind your own business. We won't get caught. We have been doing this for weeks." Landon replied. "Yeah, piss off, okay." Axel remarked back as well.

Trevor saw no need to say any more and walked off. It was really none of his business after all if they weren't caught yet.

Later that day, the manager had called everyone up to the main area. "As you all know, we have a strict no weed smoking on premisis. But there has been someone smoking in the back lot. We have found the buds on the ground." Owen paused for a moment. "Due to the plant odor, it's hard to smell the weed scent in here. So if anyone knows anything, they are encoursge to speak up." He finished and dismissed everyone.

Trevor went up to Axel and Landon. "You know I should report you two." He spoke softly so that only those two heard his words. "You would lose your jobs, I bet." He added.

Axel and Landon looked a little nervous. They were both already on their second strike for violating company rules. If there was a third, they would be fired for sure. That resulst they didn't want. "What do you want to keep your mouth shut?" Landon asked Trevor, hoping something reasonable. "Yes, anything, we don't need a third strike." Axel also pleaded for some mercy from his coworker.

Trevor thought about it. "Come by my office in ten minutes, and I will tell you. If you don't show, I might be persuaded to talk." He spoke as he walked off heading bakc to his office. He wanted them to pondoer their options.

Riight on time, Trevor saw Landon and Axel enter his office. "We are here, now what you want from us to keep your silence." Axel wanted to know so that this ordeal would be over with.

Trevor pulled out his phione and opened up his TF Pro Max app. "I want you two to be my perfect socks to keep my feet comfortable. I never had living socks before." He stated his request to the strange look on their faces.

"Let me get this straight. You want us to be literal socks willing?" Landon asked in disbelief. Trevor nodded back in response. Both laughed at the thought of being socks.

"I guess I should call the manager then." Trevor threatened while smiling back at them.

"Even if it was possible, It's worth keeping your silence. We will be your socks." Landon spoke, not believing that would ever happen.

Travor pointed his phone at both of them and hit the flash. Axel and Landon were instantly turned into a pair of whites socks. He went around his desk and picked up the socks from off the floor. "Nice, you both look perfect. I will wear you two for about a week. I will turn you back to normal then." He sat back down in his chair and took off his old socks in favor of his new living socks. He loved how the new socks felt on his feet. He wiggled his toes in them before putting his favorite sneakers back on his feet. He caught a quick scent of the odor from his shoes. He was glad he wasn't the one being stuck in that foul stench.

Landon was totally shellshocked. He was completely wrapped around Trevor's foot and trapped in the most foul prison he could possiby think of. The shoe smell so bad it almost made him pass out if he had a physical human body. He didn't believe it was even possible to literally be a sock, yet here he was on his coworker's foot. The insoles had been so worn in that he could tell that the shoes were worn very often. They reek of foot stench of years of use. He wanted to get away form the foul odor, but was powerless to do so.

Axel was mentally begging for mercy. He found feet to be disgusting. The worst torment in his mind was to be tied up and forced to smell another guy's foot. He saw that being turned into a sock was worse than that. He was trapped in as stench that smelled like rotten eggs and sour milk with no way of escape. The very foot kept him trapped in his shoe prison, which made him feel so degraded and humiliated. He would have rather the guy rat on them than this existence. The excruciating pain of being walked on made it unbearable in his mind. He was now just an object on his owner's foot. The fact that this would be for a whole week only to keep one secret made it not worth agreeing to this. He mentally pleaded for Trevor to change them back to normal. He didn't want to be a whole week on his foot.

THREE WEEKS LATER.....

Trevor relaxed in his office with his socked feet propped on his desk. He had been wearing the same pair of socks for the past three weeks. Someone had also noticed Landon and Axel smoking weed in the back lot and reported it to the manager two days after he had turned them into socks. Seeing how this would have been their third strike, their employment in the company would have been terminated anyway. At least as his socks, they still had a job. Their new job would forever be to comfort his feet and to absorb all his foot sweat and funk.

But Trevor did enjoy other uses for his living socks. They made good cum rags as well. He took advantage of that on multiple occasions over the past three weeks. He often thought about what his socks were feeling now that they were permanent footwear. Unfortnantly for them, he had erased their datat them moment he heard they were reported. There was no need to change them back to normal now. They were just better of as his dirty, smelly socks.

[gingerteafairy]

type (dave lizewski x reader)

You're Dave's type, but he's too shy to tell.

tags n warnings: language, college!dave, teasing, mentions of sex. word count: +900

masterlist

The holidays were over, and you were finally going to see your best friend, Dave, again—a relief, given that the genius only replied to messages every few months. Sitting alone in the lecture hall, headphones on, you tried to tune out the idle chatter of your college classmates. Occasionally, you’d tilt your head to eavesdrop on bits of their conversations, but nothing held your attention for long.

Then, the door creaked open, and there he was. Dave stumbled in, nearly tripping over his own feet, his trademark awkwardness in full display. Your lips spread into a wide smile as you shot up from your seat and hurried toward him, wrapping him in a tight, lingering hug.

“Oh my God, Dave. It’s been so long! I missed you so much!” you exclaimed, rocking him side to side as his arms circled you hesitantly before settling into the embrace.

“Yeah, way too long,” he mumbled, chuckling nervously as he stepped back, one hand awkwardly running through his hair. His eyes darted away briefly before finding yours again. He shifted on his feet, then tossed his bag onto a random chair at the back of the room. “Uh, I’m just gonna say hi to Todd real quick.”

“I’m coming with you,” you said without hesitation, trailing behind him as he flashed you a shy grin. “I’m like your shadow, Dave. You’re stuck with me.”

“I don’t mind,” he quipped, his voice softer than usual, as if he were still processing how happy he was to see you.

When the two of you reached Todd, Dave greeted him with an overly enthusiastic high-five, laughing a little too loudly as they exchanged a few words. You hung back, watching the interaction with a warm smile, glad to see him back in his element.

After their brief conversation, Dave turned back to you with a mischievous glint in his eye, raising an eyebrow. “What?” you asked, squinting at him curiously.

He glanced around the room, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Come with me,” he whispered, leading you to a quieter corner. His gaze flickered toward Todd, who was engrossed in his phone. Lowering his voice even further, he asked, “He’s your type, isn’t he?”

Your cheeks flushed as you laughed softly. “Damn it. Yeah, he is.”

“I knew it,” Dave said, grinning smugly before his expression faltered. He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking unsure. “Uh, wait. Is that, like, offensive or something? I didn’t mean it to be—like, dating stuff—”

“Relax, Dave,” you interrupted with a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. I just… have a weakness for wavy hair.”

He swallowed hard, adjusting his shirt and fidgeting with the hem before abruptly striding toward the door and you crossed your fingers hoping he didn't get that he was your major type. “Follow me,” he blurted, glancing back to make sure you were behind him. He led you out into the hallway, peeking through the glass pane on the door.

“What are we doing here?” you whispered, mirroring his action and looking inside.

“Trying to figure out who else in there is your type,” he replied, squinting as he scanned the room. After a moment, he nodded toward someone. “Okay, the guy in the Strokes shirt with glasses.”

“Shit, Dave,” you muttered, laughing as you shook your head. “How do you always know?”

“I could fuck him. He's fucking cute. Look at those glasses and band buttons. So appealing.” He chuckled softly.

“Hold all bisexuals in the world, The Strokes guy is the moment.” You laughed, glancing at the guy briefly looking behind and you both crouched on the floor. “Do you think he heard us?”

“I hope so, we can make a threesome.” he teased, nudging you.

“Being sandwiched by two dorks, life achievement.” You said giggling with Dave on the floor. You both stood up and proceeded to chase.

“Your turn,” he challenged, crossing his arms.

You smirked, pretending to ponder before pointing to a girl with wavy hair and a blue sweater. “Her.”

“She’s hot,” he admitted, his cheeks reddening. He ran a hand through his messy hair and avoided your gaze, but his attention soon drifted back to you. He licked his lips, debating whether to say what was on his mind.

“What about the redhead in the Slayer shirt?” you teased, watching him glance at her.

“She’s… yeah, she’s nice,” he said quietly, though his eyes quickly returned to you.

Suddenly, he grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the courtyard. “Alright, now I’m guessing yours,” he said with a determined look.

“Dave,” you interrupted, halting his steps. “You know you’re my type, right?”

His entire face flushed as he froze, his hand flying to cover his face. “Shit, sorry. I embarrassed you, didn’t I?” you asked, guilt creeping into your voice.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he mumbled through his hands. Slowly, he dropped them, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. “It’s just… you’re mine, too.”

Your breath caught as you smiled down at the ground before meeting his soft, nervous gaze. Before either of you could say anything more, the reality of class hit you.

“Dave, do you think class started already?” you asked suddenly.

“I was just about to ask you that,” he replied, scratching his neck awkwardly.

The two of you rushed back, slipping into the room just as the professor launched into a speech about tardiness. You barely heard a word of it, your thoughts consumed by what Dave had just admitted. For Dave, hearing your confession in person—rather than over a text he’d likely overthink for weeks—meant the world. You were exactly his type, and he couldn’t believe his luck.

[16wheelerhorse]

Please please do a lando x ex!reader. Angst because hey’d broken up when she fell pregnant but he wasn’t ready. And now seeing her pregnant in the paddock is doing stuff to him. Eventually he can’t take it anymore and he fucks her…hard.

Burning By Design

pairing: Lando Norris x ex girlfriend reader (m/f)

rating: explicit

word count: 4,7 k

tags/warnings: smut, angst with a happy ending (maybe, maybe), toxicity, 3rd trimester pregnancy, unprotected sex (not recommended by author!!), rough sex (p.i.v.), pregnancy fetish (if you squint), 2nd person POV, past tense, no "y/n" or OC names used

a/n (header): title by shame. apologies for the wait. i have study related work. this might be as fast as i get. anyway, i really enjoyed writing this and am hoping for more requests - head to my pinned post :)

At first, he could not believe what he was seeing.

It was almost too stupid to process.

Perhaps, the A plot of a sitcom he had not consented to be part of. Perhaps, a form of divine intervention punishing him for blasphemy and pride, firmly guided by its own self-importance. More likely, a parasitic thought coming up from the basement of his mind to taunt him before the sprint. They like to wake up when there is light upstairs, when he is finally doing well again.

It immediately became clear that it wasn’t a dark daydream playing tricks on him, however. Nightmares are bold and unsparing, certainly not afraid of little Lando Norris. Certainly wouldn’t hide their face at their eyes meeting, wouldn’t try to scurry away.

As much as it irritated him, made him lose track of what he had planned before the race, he couldn’t let you run. Couldn’t let you get away with showing your face around the paddock again, putting yourself at risk of getting caught by the cameras before he could give you a warning. 

Lando didn’t have time to think about the consequences of the gossip that would ensue thanks to your caprice. He almost sprinted to you, capturing your arm in a firm grip.

“Hello?”

It rang loud in the heat of the moment, prompting the closest heads to turn to face the two of you.

“Lando,” you replied, volume low and tone as calm as you could muster, avoiding catching another glimpse in his direction.

You heard him exhale sharply behind you, hand travelling to the back of your neck, pressing on first vertebra he could feel beneath your skin. Continuing to walk, Lando led you to a quiet corner near the public bathrooms. He leaned in, breath ghosting past the shell of your ear. “May I ask exactly what brings you here of all places?”

His bratty tone triggered you even more than you had anticipated. You swallowed, keeping your expression stone cold. “I’m here to watch some racing. You know, one of the most normal things a person could be doing around here.”

He clicked his tongue, and you could sense him examining every detail of your appearance. Your parted lips letting a jagged breath escape. The oversized crewneck attempting to hide your enlarged belly, reminding him of the times when you used to borrow his clothes. Sunglasses to prevent you from being recognized, playing the same role as the unseen tint to your hair, arranged carefully with the intent to cover up the tattoo behind your ear - “I♡”, a Roman numeral. Lando couldn’t decide which detail hurt him the most.

“I see. Right after I lost the championship, which makes it all the more interesting, of course,” His words were laced with passive aggression, hand squeezing the skin around your spine. “So interesting you couldn’t, like, be satisfied with a screen… I mean, are you even allowed to travel, for fucks sake?!” He pressed a finger into the firmness of your belly.

You jerked away, finally turning to glare at him. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you mumbled, pulling down the hem of your sweatshirt. “Yes, I should be able to do so until week thirty-six. I’m healthy.”

Lando gave you a slow nod as he examined you, chewing on his lip. He seemed tense and somewhat worn out, the end of the year fast approaching, but it was the same man you had had on your mind for months. His eyes were soft and lively, with him sporting some light stubble on his face, same as when you had your last proper conversation; thick hair and eyebrows, a wild mess of curls you wished you could grab a handful of, even at that moment.

“Good,” he replied softly. “That’s a relief, then.”

You let out a cold laugh. “As of you give a fuck, suddenly.”

He straightened his back, drawing closer to you again. “It is still my baby,” he retaliated with a muted whine.

“In theory only. Which should be a relief to you. Now you have all the time in the world to be second.”

Disregarding your protest, Lando pulled you against himself, snatching away your sunglasses so that nothing was shielding you from his stare. “You bitch…!” He shook his head, almost as a warning. “Unlike you, I can be proud of myself.”

“Yeah...? Well. I ain't one to be controlling somebody's opinions. Good for you, Lando.”

No matter how well-intended your statement was - or wasn't -, it didn't fly with the boy in question. “I think you’ve said enough for today,” he gripped your arms tighter. His reply was full of contempt, with Lando making it clear his will to listen was much the same as his remaining respect for you. “I know why you’re here. You think you’re about to witness my downfall or something, that I’m getting weak. That you have a chance to embarrass me by any means possible.”

There was growing intensity to his voice, persistence. Lando didn’t process arguments like others would. He liked having an equal opponent to bounce off of, someone who could take his jabs and bite back. All because a part of him loved being bitten, torn down and mocked, so he would have a chance to see the vehemence in your eyes, hear the words picking him apart - so obsessed, so captured by the dance between you. 

And sometimes, it hit just right, the soft spot on his underside that made him lie back and revel in the pain. It was the easiest thing to do. Give up the fight.

This didn’t seem like one of those days, however. Lando really did appear to be standing stronger after Vegas. There were urgent flames starting to appear in his gaze, accented by the orange color of his suit. He was hell bent on proving you wrong. Judging by the way his hands lingered on the sides of your belly, they would have been all over you had you two been in private.

You kept your cool, raising an eyebrow at him. “That sounds like a lot of work. You must be mistaken. I’m minding my own business; you are the one trying to insert yourself back into it.”

“Your business? Like you are going anything except fuck all.”

“Yes, very serious business. I need to find a good man to support me and my baby. There should be plenty around here." Pause. "Still, I can’t be picking just anybody.”

Lando was cut off mid inhale. He looked over you with near disgust, his grip tightening as thoughts of someone else possessing you clouded his mind. It was always too easy to rile him up that way. Make him reveal many of his least sufferable qualities, intensify the competition he was always part of, with both others and himself.

“Ah-hah. Who do you have eyes on, then?” he kept presssing, tongue running over his lips. “Tell me.”

You ran over some names for a second. “Lewis.”

He let out a laugh with a note of played up cruelty in it, flashing his teeth. “Shut up. That’s way out of your league.”

“Okay. Then, hm. Why don’t you tell me who would piss you off the most?” you mocked. “Always beefing with men with way more integrity than you. Like a spoiled little chihuahua.”

You pulled at his waist, which was molded perfectly for your palms, until your stomach was pressed against the solid muscles under his suit. As you looked up, his eyes were already on yours.

What a waste of a pretty face he was.

“Well, who? Oscar? Max?”

His cheeks grew redder at a rapid rate. “Don’t drag them into this. They’re both happily taken.”

“Yeah? And did that stop you from leaving?”��You smirked, keeping your ground. “No. As I said, being a real man isn’t for everyone.”

Lando's eyes darkened. “All that talk, it’s funny, you know that. I’m sure you do, yet you’re quite shit at admitting you’ve messed up. Don’t look at me like that…” he snapped at the face you made.

“All this anger can’t be good for your body.” His fingers were back on the side of your belly, stroking gently. “All that… freaking idiocy. You chose to bang a guy at the highest point of his career – so far. A guy who wasn’t even twenty-five then, a guy who’d just won his first race. And for what? For me to leave everyone behind? You had a fucking chance; you had a chance to abort-”

“Maybe if you hadn’t tried to push your money into my face. Crying about how I was trying to trap you? Seriously?”

“Okay, whatever excuse you had,” he scoffs, laying his hand on one of the arms holding his waist. “But don’t come to me pretending like I fucked everything up. When you let yourself get pounded by guy who isn’t even a real man…”

“Lando…”

“And you loved it.” His voice had gotten close to a whisper, gaze softly studying your wide-eyed expression. “You were obsessed… I shouldn’t be surprised you kept the baby, you always wanted a piece of me, right?” 

He smirked. “You still are, are you not? You missed me, it’s why you came. Just say it.”

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. A fuck-up. Even a fool like him could see right through you.

His words were dirty, and they cut you deep. You could never forget those days, the pinnacle of your love him for him. How he had held you as they were snapping him with white light, bleaching the red flags in the distance into a warm pink that took over your eyes.

You had made love that same night, and you had been careless. You had said too much, things too strong to ever take back. He hadn’t understood, but you were sure he could remember everything.

It was all your fault, falling too deep, too soon. 

“No,” you denied his claim, voice cracking.

“Yeeaah. Still obsessed with little old me…” he reached forward to pinch your cheek, grinning as if the battle had already been won. There was hunger in his eyes that made you flinch. “You want me the way I used to be. When nothing mattered as much as you.”

He could read what was on your mind through your eyes. The mirror of the soul.

Stupid fucking idiot. If only he were as dumb as people liked to think. 

“Yes…”

It was almost inaudible. “Say what?”

“Forget it, Lando. Just… forget about me. I’m sorry, I made a m-”

There was the soft pad of his finger pressing on your lips.

“Shhh…”

Lando smiled at you like a wild animal he’s managed to tame, a beauty he could take all to himself now.

You closed your eyes, expecting what was coming.

He replaced his finger with his lips when he was an inch away and pressed hard. His exhale was absorbed by your skin as he pushed you closer to himself with his palm on the back of your neck, not letting you escape. He didn’t hesitate to wet your lips with his tongue, try to part them while you held on, freezing at the sensation of a hand having reached for your breast.

You let out a sob and felt him grinning against you. His teeth nipped at your lip, impatient and commanding, bruising the delicate skin. You refused to open up.

Lando pulled away just far enough to inhale, clawing at the bra under your clothes that was preventing him from feeling your skin.

“What? You literally just showed me that I was right. You pathetic fucking girl.”

This mockery was delivered the form of a quiet purr, teasing but insisting you to stay. At that point, nothing could hide you from Lando’s obvious arousal, the struggle that was your haughty, self-defeating mind making adrenaline flow through his body, much like rivalry between drivers. But you were more gorgeous than any shining trophy or livery, so enticingly vulnerable, a canvas he could see his own work displayed on.

His eyes were impossible to meet. If it were feasible, you would have had him kiss you with them. Burn your skin with the intensity of his gaze, then sooth you with the dreams he held in them, the coolness of light and his beautiful shade of green. Scar you with the batting of his lashes until you lost the ability to bleed for anybody else.

“Lan, we can’t.”

“You’re fucking crying…” he pointed out, his chuckle low and deep, wiping any sincerity from your words. “Yeah, we can. We will.”

You swallowed. You had never felt so feeble yet so willing to be. “Take me somewhere. Touch me, please, I need you--”

A dirty smirk formed on his face, despite which you let him tug you to one of the toilets, refusing to acknowledge the setting and directing all of your attention to his lips. After he locked the door, you were pressed against the wall in an instant, one of his hands moving up to your face and the other struggling to pull up the layers covering your stomach.

Lando’s look was utterly lewd as your swelling lips wrapped around his index and middle finger, sucking all the way up to his metacarpals as you squeezed his wrist with desperation. Your pupils, wide and glimmering in the low light of the room, were firmly focused on the veins on the back of his large hand, with Lando helping you roll up his sleeve to reveal them running further down his forearm. 

You did not have the guts to face his insufferable grin. “Crazy, it’s all yours,” Lando laughed, conceited and mocking, reveling in the shameful thirst in your eyes. He looked down at his fingertips exploring the curve of your exposed belly, following their path with filth written all over his face. It was as if he’d discovered a muse, unexplored fertile land to roam and sow full of sin.

“Fuck,” he cursed, reaching lower to undo your jeans. You let Lando’s soaked fingers slip out of your mouth as your breath hitched, whimpering when his hand pushed aside your panties for a more enticing view. 

He ogled at your clit peeking through an unshaved bush, flushed warm pink and begging for his touch. His finger went to brush past it, making you gasp and bend, and disappeared between the soaked lips of your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, glancing up with a bright, teasing flame in his green eyes, a look that understood the obscenity you were about to fall in the arms of. “For me.”

The word was accented in a manner that made your cheeks burn red in shame. You didn’t think you could admit to the disgraceful act of falling for him again, accept the way your body was reacting to his voice, his touch, his presence. He had you in full control, all but on your knees begging to be taken.

“How does that make you feel, huh?” Lando was grinning, his hand leaving your heat to undo his collar and pull down the zipper of his racing suit.

Your teeth were gnawing at your bottom lip unconsciously, heart about to leap out of your chest in a plea it was unable to scream.“Uhm… I-I missed this…”

“Missed what?” Lando asked with feigned innocence. “This?” He guided your arm to the bulge nestled in his uniform, pressing it into your open palm. A laugh escaped him as he batted his eyelashes at you with a pleased smirk plastered all over his face. “To think it made you into this,” he drawled as his other hand trailed from your baby bump up to your chest, cupping one of your tits and squeezing hard. “Am I being stupid or have they gotten bigger?”

“Yes to both,” you sighed as he began removing your top and sweatshirt, sliding them over your head. Your clothes and bra were tossed on the floor without care as Lando’s pupils grew wider at the sight of your enlarged breasts and areolas. There were darker stripes forming on your tummy and visible veins painted your chest, which made you flush under his gaze as you looked down. “You fucking ass.”

Lando did not let that fly. His hand wrapped around your neck, with a finger supporting the chin lifting it up to face him. “Was that one of your wishes right there?”

“No,” you gulped, raging need taking over your brain and making you unable to consider your own words. Your clit was silently throbbing and walls crying out in pain, begging for a hard dick taking you and stretching them out. “P-please… I need it in my pussy, Lando.”

He let out a breathless chuckle, with a low sound resembling a moan escaping his throat. “Ohhh. You’re begging, and I didn’t even have to ask. Fucking begging for my cock…”

Lando said these kinds of things not only to rile you up further, but also to help convince himself that they were somehow – miraculously – real. Earlier that day, he could never have guessed what he, what you would come to – and he would have done anything to make it happen. Your words and the sight of you were raw power, adrenaline flooding his veins, a vain delicacy for his horny and famished body.

His hands were trembling in anticipation as he wrestled out of the top half of his suit, letting it hang limp around his legs, and pushing his bottoms just low enough to free his aching dick. You stared at it with all thoughts but one wiped from your head while he rushed to peel off his skin-tight shirt, letting it fall from his fingers as he looked over you with a smirk.

This was between you, him, and whatever devil had gotten the better of you. It had really come to that. Throwing away everything you had convinced yourself of to feel his flesh against yours, to taste the rush of blood you had been missing for oh so long.

He leaned in to kiss you again, every bit of his body buzzing drunk with lust, his tongue warm and sticky against your lips when he moaned inside your mouth. “I hope he or she is asleep. I wouldn’t want mini me to witness the shit I’m about to do to you.”

Pulling down your undone jeans with your underwear and guiding himself in with the other hand, Lando entered your weeping pussy, curse words and groans erupting from his throat as soon as he’d felt the heat inside you.

“Oh my fucking God,” he exclaimed in a choked cry, “you – oh my dear, my God, you…”

You two were complete and unsalvageable wrecks. The only thing you could do was hold onto your belly for dear life as he began thrusting in and out of your oversensitive cunt, nails digging into one of your ass cheeks and pulling to spread you open wider. In return, your hand flew to squeeze one of his pecs, capturing his nipple between your fingers. 

Lando was unceremoniously loud, with your own moans ringing out almost inaudible among his sounds and the wet noises filling the small space. “Ah, shit. Fuck. You’re, like… hotter inside. So, so fucking tight…”

Your hormones were rushing through your blood in silent triumph as he pounded you, each of his veins and the head of his dick bringing a distinct detail of the sensation. It didn’t take long before you were sore, so incredibly sensitive and weak against his raging body that you were trapped in a tight embrace with. You yelped and clawed as he hit your cervix, causing him to crush your shoulder in a death grip, startled.

“Fuck, are you alright?” Lando blurted out as he stopped, appearing dazed from the lack of air.

“Just spare my uterus, okay? The baby adds pressure from the inside,” you panted, leaning your head against his flushed, sweaty chest. “I feel like you’re crushing him, we’re too close into each other. Is there a…”

“You want me to take you from the back?” Lando breathed, running his fingers down your back with a dirty grin. “Oh, hell yes.”

You were bent over the bathroom sink, your arms folded to prevent you from slipping off the tiny surface, with Lando behind you with your hair wrapped tightly around his right hand as he groped one of your heavy hanging breasts with the other. He was obsessed with the sight, muttering such filth that it made you unable to open your eyes, to face the mirror mere inches ahead of you.

“Look at me.” His tone was derisive as he managed to stammer in between moans, tugging ruthlessly on your hair. You swallowed, turning your head to the side. “In front of you.”

Lando had, quite frankly and unfortunately, never looked as sexy before. His sweat soaked skin glimmered in the low light casting shadows that brought out his defined muscles and the cartilage in his throat accented with each gulp. His mullet had been turned into a wet, untamable mop of curls resting on the top of his head. Slick with tears, the almost girlish lashes framing his eyes appeared longer and thicker, unmistakably enviable.

Best and worst of all, despite of what had happened, despite the time that had passed, he was still yours. He fucked you like it meant something, cried out like it was the only thing that felt right, painted scars and bruises on your back as a reminder of your helplessness for him. One you will never cease to feel.

“Pathetic,” Lando mocked right in your ear, having laid the upper half of his body on top of yours, face buried in a heap of hair. “You’ve always been so fucking miserable for me.”

You responded with the loudest cry you could ever wish to let out, muted by his large hand covering your mouth, so overtaken by him that not a single cell of your body would have fought back. He expressed his approval with a deep thrust, showing you gratitude by moving his fingers to your swollen clit, swiping up and down with tiny, rapid movements.

“I love you. Fuck, I-… I need you so God damn bad. …I’m going to cum, I’m not stopping—"

He parted his fingers, letting you respond with a moan. “Yeah… Please, please just fill me, fill this pregnant fucking pussy…”

Your breath hitched as you cried out obscenities to your man, much like the filth that resulted in him getting you pregnant in Miami some months ago. Filth you could never abstain from, filth you could chant for hours as long as you were with Lando, merging your bodies as you were once again proving nothing on Earth was stronger than the material tying you together. You felt yourself growing weaker, unable to contain the pool of sensitivity having overtaken your intimates.

“I’m coming… Oh, Lando, holy fuck…”

Lando could feel your pulse through your cramping walls as you came, tightening around him again and again, milking his cock right inside you. He unloaded with a deep, tortured groan, whimpering as each wave of his orgasm punched him in the heart. It was everything he could ever have wanted and more. Your pregnant body warm and snug against his, crying out his name in love, so dependent on him it could be broken with one touch.

“Oh, my…. You’re just perfect,” Lando heaved, straightening his back, all shaky and weakened by the amazing finish you had gifted him. You watched his reflection he pulled out, slowly and with care, watching his cum trickle down between your folds all the way to your abused clit. He cleaned his softening cock by wiping the leftover filth off against your bush, praising you with a worshipful caress of your curves as he stuffed himself back inside his suit. 

A yellowish liquid was leaking from the breast he had taken in his hand. Lando stopped you in your tracks, leaning down to bury his face in between your tender boobs, his warm lips and tongue not shying away from making you clean.

You gasped. Lando was purring, holding you tight in his powerful arms. Looking.

He had wrecked and built you back up, all just to blow everything you were into bits again. Made you a mess. A goddess. A hopeless starving animal. All to himself, in his own eyes.

In that moment, he had all of you to worship and adore. And he wanted to believe he wasn't stupid enough to let you slip away anymore.

“You may feel free to call me any names you want for leaving." He began after a long, soothing pause. "I am, admittedly, a huge fucking idiot.”

Still panting , you looked into his eyes in the mirror, your spine crying out in pain as you attempted to stand up straight. His words had you wanting to laugh. “Really, Lando?”

“…Is there a problem?”

Hugging your belly, you suddenly registered feeling cold. He rushed to pick your discarded clothes off the floor, offering them to you. You stared. “I dunno. Isn’t it funny how it took one good fuck for you to want to repent?”

“I-”

“I know you missed me. But I’m more than what I used to be, much more, and I don’t think you’ll be able handle it. It’s as you said.”

Lando gripped your garments in his fist as his jaw muscles tensed. For a moment, he considered saying something he’d regret. “I know. I need some time to think. A lot, maybe."

"But I’ll be keeping you close in the meantime, yeah?”

He stopped you from grabbing your underwear yourself, instead motioning you to stretch out your arms so he could dress his woman with his own hands. This Lando was more gentle than any version of him you could remember. 

His palm was warm and protective against your abdomen, rubbing soothing circles as he helped you pull your pants up again. ““He”, you said?”

How hard he was trying. Not a winner amongst men, but it was him. One you wished you would never have to move on from.

For a vulnerable girl, it was easy to fall again. 

You sighed. “Yes. For the record, I haven’t decided on anything yet.”

Lando’s eyes lit up as he grinned. “I kind of wish he was here already. He would really… love… watching me drive.”

His smile slowly disappeared as panic set in. “Oh god. I’m such an idiot.”

“Oh really? Haven’t we discussed?” you smirked, watching as Lando hurriedly put his racing suit back into shape. “In any case, don’t use this information to rear-end a Williams or a VCARB before the end of the season. This stays between us for now.”

“Okay, damn,” Lando pushed your shoulder playfully, adjusting his collar in the mirror and making sure his mullet wasn’t looking too shabby. You snuck your hand inside his hairdo, messing it up again. You had to. “Fuck you. This is all your fault. That pussy was so good I lost track of time.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “Weak.”

Lando turned to you one last time before unlocking the door, a wicked smirk plastered across his face. You didn’t have to wait for each other to lean in. It felt longer than a lifetime while you were kissing and shorter than a moment after he pulled away, your fingers still lost somewhere between his curls. His eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings as he gave a look to the brightest, smallest facet of his family.

“I gotta sprint, dear.” He gave you puppy-dog eyes. “You’re staying, I hope.”

You nodded. Lando reached for the hand in his hair, squeezing it in one of his. “Come watch with my mum! She can't stop asking me questions. Please.”

“But-”

“I want her to know. Don’t hide it. I ought to be a man.” He grinned, lifting your interlocked fingers up to his lips. 

Perhaps a ring was too early. Perhaps it was too late. Perhaps it would never happen.

But in that moment, a kiss was more than enough.

For that weekend, he would stay.

“I’ll do you proud, okay? Let’s go.”

That weekend, you felt like you were doing to be alright.

🧡 a/n (footnote): as you may know, in the sprint following the events of this fic, he returned the favor to oscar by letting him pass, which made many people warm up to him again. he would have made me very proud :) i hope this was at the very least not terrible, as i haven't finished a proper chapter or oneshot in quite a while. i literally never like my own works after finishing, so please let me know what you think! any corrections are welcome! i strive for accuracy and studied lando's speech quite a bit while writing. thank you for reading and have a good one loves!

[jeansmartswhxre]

𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔏𝔲𝔰𝔱 | Vampire!Emily Prentiss

emily prentiss x f!reader 18+, MDNI warnings: language, smutsmutsmut!!, mentions of blood, blood kink, feeding, teasing in public (others can't hear), dirty talk, petnames, strap-on (r!receiving), dom/sub dynamics, some aftercare, usual vampire stuff, feeder!reader (youre for em and em only) 2.5k words (i got carried away) This is my first fic about Em!! Lemme know if y'all want more Vampire AU stuff!! I'm currently writing vamp au's for Emily Spencer, Hotch, and Blake (JJ and other BAU members coming soon...) I hope to god there aren't typos lmfao... ENJOY!

You had been stuck in the bullpen all day finishing up paperwork and sitting through those boring budget meetings you always hated. One of those rare days where you weren’t flying across the country to catch unsubs. This however, was horrible for you. It was horrible because it meant you were at the every whim your vampire girlfriend. Days like these were the days you sometimes wished she wasn’t a vampire. Sometimes. The mind reading thing could be sexy, but she would sometimes be such a menace. 

For instance, during one of the budget meetings, your mind wandered. While Strauss was talking, all you could think about was the last time Emily fed, her fangs sinking into your tummy near your ribs. Moments later you could feel Emily’s eyes on you, her sitting across from you at the conference table. You turned to look at her, her eyebrow quirking up as your eyes met, you looked back at Strauss, her gaze too much for you to hold. Then she got in your head, “You naughty girl darling. You forget I can read your mind.” Fuck. “Where do you want me to feed next baby? I know you love it when I suck your neck. Or maybe I try something different like your thighs.” You turn to look her, giving her a warning look before looking back at Strauss. “You’re so cute when you think you’re in charge.” Emily smirked a little when she saw your eyes close briefly, trying so hard to ignore her. “Oh don’t worry baby. I have other plans for you. Just wait until tonight sweetness.”

It was taking every thing in you to control yourself, a wave of heat washing over your core. The rest of the meeting she drove you insane, she loved doing it. Watching you squirm while no one else knew what was going on in your head. When the meeting was over, you both walked out next to each other, her passing by you swiftly. Her scent entered your nostrils, a hint of tobacco lingering with a scent that was so Em. She could hear your heart speeding up as she walked past, a smirk gracing her lips as she sat at her desk.

This was a game she played all day, she always loved how needy you could get for her, and watching it build was admittedly a guilty pleasure of hers, torturing you. You were so grateful when Hotch came out his office and called it a night, telling the team we had been there long enough, the rest of the paperwork can wait for tomorrow. We all packed up our things saying our goodbyes, JJ and Spencer staying back a little to talk as Em came over to your desk. You couldn’t help but look at her form, her legs clad with black slacks, a black and silver belt on her hips, the buckle off center, because she knew it drove you crazy every time you saw it. Her top was red and ribbed, a boatneck, exposing her collarbones. She now wore a leather jacket, to act as protection against the cool fall air (even though she didn’t need it. But hey, she had to keep up appearances), a pair of big black sunglasses in her hair as she waited for you to pack your bag. She slung her purse over her shoulder, her top riding up slightly, exposing a sliver of her stomach, where you saw the beginnings of a mark you had left from the night before. “You ready to go sweetness.” She smirked. You nodded as you put back on your blazer, your bag hanging from your shoulder.

***

The car ride home was full of tension, you were so desperate to find out what Emily was planning for you. “Don’t be so nervous darling, I think you’ll like my little surprise” She smiles, glancing at you before bringing her eyes back to the road. Now that… that scared you. A fucking menace. 

When you finally pulled up your shared house, your heart definitely picked up. “God you’re so sexy when I can hear your blood pumping through your veins, all of it just for me.” She said before she left the car, leaving you groaning in the passenger seat before finally opening the door to catch up to her as she unlocked the front door.

As you walked through your front door, the both of you sat your bags on the table in your hallway, slipping off your shoes and hanging up your jackets. The second you were done Emily’s hand was on your wrist, pulling you into her, her lips automatically connecting with your neck. You couldn’t help but bring your hands to her hair, tugging slightly (something she loved), a groan escaping your lips as her teeth nipped along the skin there. “Em, please” you whimpered, you couldn’t take it anymore. You were already ruined from all the teasing at work, you truly couldn’t take it anymore. 

“What is it sweetness? Are you that desperate. I might have to tease you a little longer if you’re gonna be impatient.” Your head immediately shook. That was the last thing you wanted her to do. “No please Emmy, please… i cant take it.”  she couldn’t help but smirk, her fangs sheathing. jesus christ. It got you every time. No matter how many times you had seen them or how many times she fed, your knees always buckled when you saw them.

She ran her fangs along the exposed part of your neck, never piercing skin, but enough to make you wince. She was all hands, tugging your pencil skirt and white turtleneck off of you as you walked to your bedroom. You were left in your bra and panties, distracted by the feeling of Emily’s hands and lips all over you. She moved you toward the bed until the back of your legs hit it, causing you to fall backwards with her on top of you. She continued her journey down your body, kissing your tummy, stopping at the mark from last night, kissing it gently before running her tongue over it in gentle circles. You couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped your throat. She was so close to where you wanted, yet so far. With her on top of you, you couldn’t help but notice she was still fully clothed. Your hands slid down her sides, stopping at the hem of her shirt, gently tugging it up. “Emmy,” you whined, “You have too many clothes on baby.” You whimpered, needing to feel her beneath your fingertips. You watched as she looked up at you from your stomach, her fangs exposed, a sexy smile on her lips. 

“Alright baby, hang on… you’re lucky I need to taste you, or else I’d be edging you until the sun came up.” She smirked, leaving a kiss just above your belly button, before removing herself from on top of you. You watched as she took off her shirt and bra, her breasts jiggling slightly from their release, her hands sliding her slacks down her beautiful legs. “I’ll be right back sweetness, why don’t you take the rest of that off.” she says bending down to place a kiss on your lips, biting down on your bottom lip, before releasing it with a gentle tug walking to the bathroom in your room. Your eyes closed at the sensation, before falling off the bed, tugging your panties down your legs and your bra off your chest, throwing them god knows where. You laid on the bed patiently waiting for her to return, your body practically shaking in anticipation. Your thighs rubbing together to give yourself any semblance of friction.

You heard her footsteps, your head lolling to the side to watch her. Your eyes immediately fell to the harness across her hips, the dark red dildo jutting from it. “God baby, I could smell you all the way from the bathroom. All that for me? Fuck I bet your panties are ruined.” She said walking toward the bed. You, however, were in disbelief. The image of Em in the strap, her fangs jutting from her gums and her breasts on full display... you were practically drooling at the sight of her. She had never used the strap during your feeding before being that it was all still a little new. 

“Jesus Em.” You breathed. The smirk that played on her lips as she joined you on the bed could have made you cum right there. Your hand placed itself on her thigh, stroking it gently as she straddled your waist. 

“Baby, why don’t you get it wet for me, so I can fuck you while I feed.” Your eyes darkened at the idea. This woman was going to be the death of you. You nodded slowly as she moved a little closer to your mouth, you sitting up on your elbows to reach. Emily watched as your mouth wrapped around the dark red appendage, sucking just the tip, before sliding down further, eventually taking the full dildo in your mouth, your nose brushing against her tummy. She watched with her mouth agape, moaning when the base of it nudged against her clit. Her hands falling to your hair to move the strands from your face. “Fuck sweetness, you take me so well. I could watch you like this all night.” You did this for only a minute longer, before Emily’s hunger got too much for her to bear. She pulled you gently from her cock by your hair, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Fuck she looked so hot above you with those fangs. 

“I heard that baby,” she smirked. She leaned down to kiss your messy lips. Your hand moved to her chest, kneading her breasts, her moaning into your mouth as you tweaked her sensitive nipples with your fingers. You felt as her legs settled between yours, her cock nudging against your core. You couldn’t help but kiss down her jaw to her neck, moving down to her breasts, your tongue circling around her sensitive buds. She whimpered above you, you always loved when you could make her do that.

You didn’t want to stop but she pulled away from you, kneeling between your legs. Her fingers trailed up your thighs and she scooted closer to your core, the tip nudging your entrance. “Fuck baby, you look so pretty like this.” She murmured, before pushing into you. Your head fell back as she let you adjust to her size. “Nuh-uh baby, none of that, keep those pretty little eyes on me, I wanna see you before I feed.” She said, her hand coming to your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact as she began to move. Her pace was slow and gentle, her hands grasping your neck quickly before running itself between the valley of your breasts, down to your tummy, her hand splayed out, pressing down gently which caused you to moan. “God you look so beautiful sweetness. Ok, I’m gonna start feeding now. Just trust me baby.” She moaned, the base of the strap hitting her just right as her hips kept moving. You nodded quickly, words unable to form at the image in front of you. 

Emily leaned down, her lips leaving gentle kisses on the side of your neck, it turning into wet kisses before you felt her fangs sink into your skin slowly. “Fuck.” You stuttered, the feeling of her fangs piercing your skin, and her hips moving into you driving you insane. You could already feel your head getting woozy from the combined sensations. You could feel Em moaning against your neck as she picked up her pace, her hips starting to snap into you as she fed, the taste of you driving her crazy. The feeling of the base of her cock pushing against her clit combined with the taste of you, was almost too much for her. You could feel her hips start to falter as she continued her feed, your orgasm building like walls around you, ready to crumble at any moment. “E-Emmy, t-too much. H-head getting woozy.” You moaned, your hand gripping at her waist as if to almost push her away. “F-fuck Em, p-please.” She finally released you, licking the blood that dripped from your neck before sitting up again. When she came back up, you watched as blood dripped from the corners of her mouth, falling down her chest as her hips picked up their pace, you could tell she was chasing her impending orgasm. You had never seen a sexier sight, Emily’s boobs swaying as she snapped her hips into you, blood dripping down them, her mouth a bloodied, baring her fangs. You sat up with all the strength you had, your tongue licking the blood that had trickled down her breast, the sight breaking Emily above you.

“F-Fuck baby, c’mon cum with me.” You didn’t need to be told twice. You were already so close and the taste of Emily mixed with the coppery taste of your own blood sent you over the edge. You couldn’t help the noises that escaped your lips as you came, Emily fucking you through both of your orgasms. 

When her hips finally stopped, she fell on top of you, her lips softly kissing her feed mark. “You did so fucking good for me sweetness, such a good girl” she whispered against your skin as she laid there for a minute. Your limbs were practically jelly. You were fucked out and woozy, exactly how Emily liked you. You whimpered as she removed her strap, the sudden emptiness almost too much for you. You watched through hazy eyes as she took it off, throwing it toward the bathroom for proper cleaning later. She moved back to you, pulling you into her, you head laying on her bare chest. “I can feel your heart darling, it’s pumping so fast.” She breathed against the top of your head, kissing it gently. Her hands gently roamed your body. “Thank you baby. You did so good for me baby, you tasted as sweet as ever. Next time I’m gonna have to feed while you cum, it’ll probably be even sweeter.” She whispered. You just nodded, your body still fucked out. “Use your words sweetness.”

“You’re welcome Emmy.” You rasped, a smirk appeared on her lips before she kissed her way from the top of your head to your lips, her hand holding your chin as she placed a gentle kiss there. You laid in her arms for a while as you waited for the wooziness to go away. Once that happened, she began the aftercare routine the both of you had perfected after a feed. She ran a warm bath for you, settling behind you to help you bathe, leaving little kisses and praises in her wake. This was always one of your favorite parts. 

After the bath, she would help you put on your body butters and oils before helping you get dressed, and in bed as she brought you small snacks and water. You took a couple nibbles of the protein bar she had brought and a couple of sips of water before laying back on her, wanting nothing than to be in her arms. 

“Seriously, thank you baby.”

“Anything for you Emmy.” You smiled, placing a quick peck to her cheek before completely settling on her chest, your heartbeats synching as the both of you fell asleep, tangled in each other's limbs.

[carbonfiction]

Soft car sex w logan?

Thoughts below! 18+ link, mentions of sex, car sex, orgasms, soft sex, mutal orgasms? Kinda naughty kinda fluffy? Idk honestly. Imagine whichever lo you'd like, although i used X1-2!

Masterlist Longer stuff coming soon; just struggling w coherentcy and flow rn besties :(

Specifically car sex that looks like this?

Slow and soft, holding eachother tight. Forfilling a need deep and primal; overwhelmingly emotional, to be close to one another in a way that just a hug or kiss wont do.

You'd both been in that cramped car for too long; not touched eachother for even longer, and tension? Well, tension bubbles over.

But its not the usual; the rough and hard, mind emptying kind of sex the two of you usually have.

No

No this time its more delicate. This is more about keeping close, proving eachother is still there. Still alive. The potential of an orgasm just a bonus.

So thats how it goes.

Car pulled over in a grassy lay by. Cuddled close in the confines of the passenger seat, nowhere near enough cares to worry about how he even fits squashed down in the footwell. Hips delivering soft grinds and slow bucks. All things that wouldnt usually be enough, today sending you into the most passionate and leg trembling orgasm of your life.

Your lips constantly pressed into his skin. His chest, his neck, his mouth- anywhere that'll do. Just as long as your close.

And in turn? In turn logan holds you like you are going to dissapear any second. Jeans and boxers tugged just beneath his length; heavy bulking biceps cradling you. A hand sometimes pressing into the side of your head. Never letting you squirm away; vanish into thin air.

His voice softer than youve ever heard as he talks you through; lathers praise into your skin, careful grunts and groans pressing into your head. All of the 'good girls', the 'you feel so good's', 'so pretty baby', 'love you so much alright's'

You cum together, slow and steady waves crashing against the shores of your bodies. Lips and skin intertwined as he fills you with warmth.

A little piece of him to drool wetly into your fixed panties the moment he chooses to resume his place back behind the wheel; to get you both back home.

[writing-mlm]

Hello!!!!!! I was wondering if you could do a Damian Wayne x sick male reader and how he would take care of them? It could be hcs or a while fic, I don’t care lol I’m sick right now and honestly really like Damian haha (BTW I LOVE YOUR WORKS!!)

Do as I say, not as I do

Summary: An alien sickness is running through Damian’s house and he’s confident he can beat it. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male!reader Wc: 1.6k tags/warnings: sick fic, alien sickness, fainting, general illness stuff A/n: hopefully you’re not still sick ik this took 4everrr

It’s not that Damian doesn’t like when you wear his clothes— you’re his spouse, of course, he absolutely loves when you wear his clothes. His pants, his shirts, sweaters, hell, he’d let you wear his socks if you’ve asked. It’s just… not while you’re sick, man. 

He watches as you cough into the sleeve of his Nightwing hoodie, resigning himself to hand washing it before putting it in the washing machine once you’re done. He hides his negative feelings; not quite distaste, not quite annoyance. It’s a third emotion he hasn’t found just yet. You inhale and he can hear the mucus getting sucked back into your nose before you hack a flurry of coughs. A nearby tissue gets attacked with the boogers that went from your nose to your throat. 

Despite the… disliking for germs and all things that could get him sick, Damian is not far from you. He hasn’t been more than ten feet away from you at any given moment. You smile when you see him walking back from the bedroom with a mountain of blankets for you to choose from. You’d said you were cold and when prompted, you simply said blanket. Never mind there were nearly twenty tucked away in one of the various dressers. 

“Habibi, which one would you like?” He asks, showing each, still folded, blanket in his arms. 

“The—“ Which comes out as a wheezy da. “— tiger one.” Amazing choice, he would’ve picked that one if he had to. Carefully, he shakes it open and goes to drape it over you when he sees you looking up at him expectantly. He sets the blanket down and leans over, wiping the sweat from your forehead before he kisses the spot. You hum, eyes closing at the warmth that spreads to your face when he holds you so tenderly. The blanket slides over you and he checks on the fireplace, adding another log for good measure. 

He silently curses Jon for giving you some alien sickness, deciding that he’ll give him yet another earful when you fall asleep. Thankfully it wasn’t deadly, confirmed by J’onn, but it was a nasty sickness all the same. Expected to last nearly half the month but could last longer depending on your conditions. And Damian prides himself on his abilities; abilities that include making his home stress-free and sterile. Not clean. Sterile. He won’t allow even a single molecule of dust to enter the house without wiping it away. He, even though it pains him, had temporarily set up Alfred and Titus back at the manor until you were well. 

You told him that part wasn’t necessary, but he insisted and you especially understand just how stubborn he can be. 

Of course, at the news of this alien sickness, Bruce (and let’s be honest, anyone with a working, unbiased, mind) had requested you be set in the WatchTowers quarantine zone where you could be closely monitored. Damian refused, declaring himself the perfect doctor and he doesn’t need anyone subpar attending to his husband. 

Just don’t let him know that every time he leaves the room you see one of the members at the window taking random tests to check up on you. A couple of times one of the speeders has done a drive-by blood sample or something else that requires being in close contact. It’s something you intend to keep a secret from him for a while.

Sinking into the soft pillow, you watch as he turns the channel to something more pleasant. He doesn’t want you watching crime or medical shows while you’re recovering; he thinks it’ll prolong your sickness with the stress. He also doesn’t want to bore you with documentaries. Or stress you with horror or thriller. He doesn’t want to watch RomComs because they’re either too good or too bad. So, cartoons it is. 

“I don’t wanna watch Bluey,” You whine. “I’m a grown man.” He raises an eyebrow at you and you huff. To your horror, a booger flies out from your nose, landing on the floor several feet away from you and you try not to laugh and/or hide in embarrassment. 

“I’ll put on Miraculous Ladybug, then,” He grabs a tissue and wipes up the mucus from the floor. 

“Oh, yes.” The show plays and Damian starts on dinner. He’s a little unsure of what to make; he wants something healthy but nothing too healthy so you’ll eat it without fuss. He tried feeding you nothing but vegetables blended together the first night and you threw it up as soon as the bowl was empty. He knows you’re also tired of soup; he would be too if it was all he ate for nearly every meal for the past week. 

He thinks for a moment, looking at the fridge doors and pictures of what foods are in there. There’s a lot, considering he’d allowed Dick (read: Dick begged him until Damian agreed) to help him with grocery shopping only for Dick to show up with a shopping cart filled with food. Not that he was upset; he even said thank you before slamming the door shut. He’d seen how Dick had an open wound on his face and he wasn’t going to risk any type of contamination. 

His fingers drum on the countertop as he thinks before he stops and opens the door to double-check something. 

“Beloved, how would you like a poke bowl for dinner?” 

“Yes, please,” You cry at the idea of not eating yet another soup. He nods and begins to work, listening to your breathing and stopping every so often when it changes to something too harsh for his liking. You eventually sit up, cracking your back and watching as he chops up the avocado slices, splaying them nearly on top of the rice and other assortments. He drizzles on the kewpie mayo and sriracha like they do in recipe videos, cleaning the sides of the bowl with a napkin until it looks pretty. It’s like watching The Bear. Or BingingWithBabish. 

Changing the channel to something you both enjoy, you open the blanket up for him. He sits close to you, your thighs touching despite the warnings that the illness is communicable.

You eat, happy that it’s staying down because it tastes so fucking good and you’d hate to throw up again. At some point you, though, between chewing on the last bite and setting the bowl on the coffee table, you knock out. 

It startles Damian as he grabs you once he notices you were going down, suddenly limp. Putting a hand to your forehead, he chews at the inside of his cheek when he sees your feverish skin against the back of his hand. It’s not dangerously hot, just a little above your normal temperature. Checking your pulse, he finds that it’s normal and listens to your breathing; also normal. So, nothing that’s immediately alarming. 

Perhaps you were simply fatigued, but he wasn’t going to take his chances. From a small box on the coffee table, he grabs a small flashlight and checks your eyes. They dilate as they should. He then goes into the closet to grab his inflatable cuff, which he would later tell you was exactly why he’d insisted on having one in the first place and tested your blood pressure. Normal. That’s good. In the same box, the cuff was in, he takes the glucose meter and pricks your finger. 

Low. 

Not dangerously so, but lower than he’d like it to be. 

He doesn’t want to leave you on the couch but he needs to as he fixes a cup of a sugary drink and a small plate of your favorite cookies before he returns to the couch. You’re stirring at that point, grumbling as your eyes adjust to the lights. 

“You worried me,” He admits, sitting at your side, gently brushing his fingers against your face. “Here, your blood sugar is low. Eat as much as you can manage,” Nodding, you take a long sip of the drink, relishing the feeling because Damian insisted on those crazy superfood drinks with nothing but kale and spinach. 

“I apologize,” He blinks down at the floor. “I neglected to realize how important eating… fun foods are as well as healthy foods.”

“It’s okay,” You shrug, eating the cookie and then offering him one. He shakes his head, insisting you eat them. “How long was I out for?”

“No more than ten minutes,” He assures, putting the items back into the box but doesn’t put the box away. He inhales and checks your forehead again. It’s the same, of course.

—

That routine continues for another week. A week of tissues and sore throats. Not that you minded all that much, it wasn’t so bad spending all that time being doted on by Damian. At least until you woke up to the sound of him coughing his lungs out, reading blindly for his shirt. 

“I’ll get the soup ready,” You hum, tossing the overs off and stuffing your feet into your house slippers.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ll go to the quarantine ward in the WatchTower.” He shakes his head. “You’re just getting over being sick, stay here.”

“Damian, no,” Pushing him back to the bed, he glares and grabs your hand. 

“I do not want to get you sick, your body shouldn’t be under stress after you’ve just gotten over being—“ He’s forced to stop as he can no longer hold back his own coughs. 

“I think I remember the recipe you like,” You mutter, checking his temperature. “I’ll tell Bruce you’ll be out of commission for a while.”

“I’m going to the Watchtower,” He insists, following you out of the room. “I’ve already contacted Father and he agrees. He’s on his way now,”

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“I’m keeping you safe.”

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hi everyone it's another Wednesday <3 I was tagged by the wonderful @ladytanithia @changelingsandothernonsense @lillxart @theoneandonlysemla

Tagging: @captain-of-silvenar @pocket-vvardvark @dirty-bosmer @bougainvillea-and-saltwater

@umbracirrus @firefly-factory @thequeenofthewinter @lucien-lachance @sanza-17 @hircines-hunter @scholarlyhermit @sulphuricgrin

Was hoping to post some more Vevora/Aicanatr stuff but unfortunately it just ain't working rn but! I was able to get some writing done on a wip that's been sitting around since November. Below is some of my Theomar love confession rewrite <3 Man down so bad he volunteered to go to Windhelm post-Civil War as an excuse to see her <3 <3 <3 Under cut for length, one slightly horny line, and she takes that mer drinking at the Cornerclub :P

There could not be a worse time for him to fall for her, become so entangled in wanting her that it made him desire to abandon his post. But if that were a doable feat, then the standards that made him feel that way would not be as strict as they are. Their deeply grim reality did not stop the love, admitting it to himself had been like a dam bursting; the drops of sustaining professional praise could not compete with the rapids of intimacy. Her hands on his face, letting him lie on her breasts and listen to the calming sound of her heartbeat, how her legs would pull him in closer until he was- Enough. There he went getting too far ahead and wrapped up in her yet again. The sigh heard from him sounds more of a stifled groan to which he gets a confused, yet intrigued look from the Imperial woman. He provides a quick cover up. 

“My apologies, it would seem I let myself get distracted by you again.” 

“Why Commander, you really must get better about that.” No. He had no intention of pushing her from his mind, it had already proven to be a losing battle. He prayed to be freed of her to now welcome the torment, retreating further into her. If had any power in the situation, he would absolutely not be in Windhelm right now, planning how to tell this Imperial soldier that he loved her. “I wouldn’t want you losing sight of things.”

“Oh, I think you would like it very much.” Finally, he remembers her question. “And yes, I did come all this way to see you. You ran through my mind constantly these past months, how could I not take advantage of the opportunity?” 

“I’ve missed you as well.” Controlling the elation he feels is difficult, uptick in his voice.  

“Is that so?”

“I did think about you on occasion.” When? Despite desperately wanting to know, he refrains, content to know she has noticed his absence. “It has been a few months, it is good to see you. Despite the circumstances…” Her words trail off a bit towards the end, the similar look from before only now she does see him. Staring up at him, her left eye twitched as though she would begin crying again.  

“You wouldn’t want to join me somewhere, would you?” Please he thinks. Please let me steal you from them, just a moment Theodora. Tapping her finger to her chin, she smirks at him. 

“Hmmm, I will but only if you join me somewhere first?” Oh What did she have in mind? He assumed she knew the city better than him, maybe there was somewhere else they could go…

“Tell me what do you have in mind?”

“Well, after the day I’ve had, I need a drink.” A quick glance at their surroundings before she taps his chest. “And I imagine you could use one as well.” 

“It would not hurt.” Anything you would like. That is what he wishes to say. Have his only concern making her happy and if there would be something other than mead available. But he has far more worries than that. 

“I cannot imagine the tavern will be a safe place for us.”

“No it would not be.” Confusing the Thalmor, she laughs. “Do you think so lowly of me to think I’d go there?”

“Where do you drink then, Theodora?” 

Regret is not what he feels, sitting at a table that is continuously blasted with cold air as the patrons of this Cornerclub, as it were, shuffle in and out. Offhandedly he wonders if they were passing by him purposely, seeking out more chances to lour at him in the way only Dunmer could. The scowls form the Nords, the shifted glances half outside his vision, those were all too easy to interpret: Damn elf. Uninspired. But the Dunmer, oh the Dunmer could hate with such sincerity that as the few who uttered something in addition to their glares, they did not need to say it in the common tongue. The Dunmeris meaning of the word unknown, their tone alone conveys the intent of an insult. It’s not important for him to know exactly how he is being insulted, though he could harbour a guess or two, simply saying it for their own satisfaction. It was somewhat impressive, in a peculiar way, but nonetheless, Ondolemar is slightly impressed. Perhaps he was just glad to be in the company of mer, regardless of what type of mer they are. Yet what does rouse further intrigue in him, however, is the decidedly lack of similar treatment Theodora receives. 

Ordering in their language and going relatively unnoticed as she returns to him, two strange jars that resemble nothing he had seen before, he comments on it. Not completely surprised as why would she frequent an establishment she was not welcomed in, this is still strangely welcoming. 

“You’re well liked here.” The woman places one jar in from of him before chuckling at his notion. Lovely to hear her laugh again after the pain that marked her face when they first spoke. 

“I wouldn't go that far, Commander.”

“You wouldn’t?” 

“I wouldn’t.” She opens the jar and takes a mouthful. “But speaking Dunmeris, having lived in Morrowind even if only for a few months, it does help. Still an Imperial bastard but I don’t have to pretend to be interested in mead and a poor rendition of the Dragonborn Comes at Candlehearth Hall.” Cyrodiil natives prided themselves on being cosmopolitan but Theodora was a true example of that. 

“Clearly you get along with many different kinds of people.”

“Clearly.” She rolls her eyes. He himself is the most damning evidence after all, but it is humorous her assessment of her person. 

“Well, I suppose Imperial bastard is correct in the most literal sense.”

“I prefer the term love child I’ll have you know.”

"Equally true, from what you have told me." He takes the lid off the concoction in front of him. “What would I be?”

“I suppose you could go ask, I bet Ambarys would be willing to tell you to your face.” Directing his attention to the barkeep with her eyes, the Altmer instead chooses to remain with the reason he’s here at all. Less interested in what he thought of her choice in company and more in enjoying what he came all this way for; her. 

“I believe my imagination will suffice.”

[rekino2114]

Hello! I'm more of a nanamin & geto girlie, but I can't resist the glorious blue eyed king. Could you write fem! Gojo x bf/husband that's an introvert or just not really that sociable. He's not shy, he just prefers observing and listening rather than talking all the time like a certain someone. It's prob giving hyper x calm

Fem!gojo with an introvert reader

It's definitely hyper x calm

Gojo is always trying to do something with you, especially if it's something outdoors, while you would much rather stay inside and chill with her and you two just settle it with rock paper scissors and she always complains if she loses

Sometimes, she just convinces you other ways, though, like if you go out with her she'll buy you some stuff that you want (even if she already always does that) especially books to read together or sweets to eat (she eats most of them)

Cuddling is your favorite pastime because both of you love it. She gets to be affectionate with you, and you get to just relax in peace.....well not really because gojo still keeps talking to you even when you're cuddling. It's mostly just whatever comes to her mind plus a few compliments, cause to her she can never compliment you too much, while you just listen to her and nod occasionally

She's also incredibly affectionate in public. She will hug you and pepper your face in kisses no matter who's around. Sometimes, she'll even just start making out on the spot for no reason other than she missed doing it. When she pulls back, she just smiles like always while you look at her with a deadpan expression a bit annoyed that everyone is watching you now

All of your friends genuinely don't understand how you can deal with her, utahime and nanami, especially, you're calm and.....not annoying and gojo is....gojo they have no idea how you can stand her much less love her. they both spit their tea and almost fainted when you announced you were getting married

One time you went to visit her at school because she forgot something and the moment she saw you she immediately tackled you in a hug and started kissing you while telling you how much of an amazing husband you are. Meanwhile her students (except for megumi) were like:"YOU TWO ARE MARRIED!?" Cause they honestly thought you would get sick of gojo eventually

"Of course we're married, y/n is the love of my life and he's soooo handsomely and caring and amazing, *sighs* I'm so lucky"

".....can you please stop hugging now, everyone is looking.....and it's kinda tight"

"Oh yeah sorry babe"

[mrrharper]

Gamer Night

Ari and Mike were laying on Ari’s bed, bored out of their minds. After getting lunch at one of their favorite spots and taking a long walk through the city in the still hot September sun, they were exhausted. After coming back to Ari’s house they fell on the bed and laid there for about an hour. Thankfully no one else was home, which was not a given. Both guys were broke college students who benefited from their family homes being close to their campus. Mike was an only child, but Ari had a nosy younger brother who was set on disturbing his brother’s relationship every chance he got. Fortunately he was away on a school trip and Ari’s parents left for a few days to visit their office in New York, leaving their oldest son home alone.

Mike slowly turned on the bed and looked at his boyfriend, then groaned quietly.

“God, I need to change my position” he slowly forced his body into a sitting position, balancing on the edge of the bed. “It’s not dark outside yet, we need something to pass the time and laying on the bed won’t cut it for me, I’m afraid.” Ari looked at him and stood up next to the bed. He had to admit Mike looked hot int hat moment, his shirt unbuttoned, exposing his flat stomach and barely visible abs. 

“Sure.” Ari grinned at his boyfriend and grabbed his arm, then pulled to get him standing. “Any ideas?”

“It’s your house, you need to come up with something.” Mike responded, then yawned.

“Sure.” This time Ari’s response was less enthusiastic. He left his bedroom and stood in the middle of the corridor, thinking. “We could cook something?” He shouted back towards his bedroom.

“We’ll burn the kitchen before we make a single edible thing and you know that.” A reply quickly came back.

“Oh, don’t you dare insinuate such things about me. I’m perfectly capable of doing stuff in the kitchen.” Ari rolled his eyes. “I dunno…” His eyes wandered to the entrance to his brother’s room, the door slightly ajar. This gave him an idea. “Hey, you wanna play something on Jason’s PS5?”

“Your brother has a PS5?” Mike stuck his head out of the bedroom he was still in, clearly interested. 

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Ari smirked in response and opened the door to his brother’s room, letting Mike inside.

“Holy shit” He heard Mike’s reaction instantly “What a setup!”

“Yeah.” Ari entered the room and saw his boyfriend amazed at Jason’s gaming setup - a few consoles, a gaming PC covered in LEDs, all connected to a giant TV hanging from the wall opposite the bed. “The perks of having your parents work in finance, I guess.”

Mike, with his mouth still basically on the floor, moved to the side and looked at Jason’s giant games collection. “That’s… a shit tome of games, it’s insane.”

“That’s the reason he basically never leaves this room” Ari walked up behind Mike and put his chin on his partner’s shoulder. “You see anything interesting? Cause I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

“It seems your brother is a big fan of COD.”

“Of what?” Ari groaned “I need to put up a sign at the entrance - no gaming slang in this house.”

“Call of Duty. Your brother is a big fan of Call Of Duty.” Mike laughed “At least, I assume he is, cause he has a whole shelf filled only with every edition of COD there is.” He pointed and the shelf close to the floor and Ari had to agree with Mike. It was all Call Of Duty. While he was distracted, looking at hall the game boxes, Mike bent down and Ari, still leaning on his boyfriend’s shoulder, lost balance and almost fell down.

“Hey, watch out, gamer boy!” He said after he sat on the floor to be on the same level as Mike, who only laughed and patted Ari on the head.

“You’re gonna be fine” he said and picked up one of the games form the collection. “Huh.”

“What is it?”

“This” Mike put the box in front of Ari’s eyes “I don’t recognize this one.”

“Call Of Duty: Cyber Warfare II” Ari read the title on the box aloud. “Eh, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Yeah, isn’t that exciting? Your brother has somehow got access to a brand new, possibly unreleased game. And we can play it right now!” Mike was clearly excited and he quickly got up to the console and put the in the game disc.

“Wow, this thing still uses discs?” Ari commented as he sat down on Jason’s bed, which also functioned as a couch.

“I guess so.” Mike joined Ari on the bed, two controllers in his hands. He handed one to his boyfriend and waited for the game to load.

“Didn’t expect to spend the evening learning all about your secret gamer lifestyle” Ari laughed.

“I mean… it’s not like I’m a fanatic or anything, but games allow me to relax form time to time.”

“Sure thing Mr. Gamer, now tell me what to do.” Ari waved his controlled in the direction of the TV, where the starting menu was displayed.

“Yeah, I think we should start with the tutorial first. Get you used to the controls and stuff.” Mike chose the appropriate option and they waited for the training stage to load.

They spend the next few hours in front of the TV, Mike trying to teach Ari the basics of playing a shooter with a controller. It didn’t go terribly and after a while both were ready to move on front eh tutorial, so they played a couple stages front he campaign and even tried to get into an online match, but the servers were not working, which made sense - the game was most likely a special pre-release copy and the infrastructure was not yet ready.

Both guys ended up falling asleep, first Ari after he put his head on Mike’s lap “for just a moment”, with his boyfriend following not long after. They slept while the game was still on, the glare from the TV not disturbing them in any way.

Ari opened his eyes. Then he closed them again. Something was not right. He blinked a couple of times. Where was he? Certainly not in his brother’s bedroom where he was sure he fell asleep. He was… what was this place? He didn’t recognize it, and it seemed like his eyes were playing with him because every object seemed to have this weird sort of texture. He looked around. It was some kind of deserted area, a forest in the distance and a bunch of old buildings and car wrecks in front of him. What the fuck was— Oh god! Wasn’t this the tutorial stage format he game he played with Mike? Ari turned around to make sure. Yeah, this was the exact same place!

What was happening? Why did it seem like he was transported into the game world? And what did he have to do to wake up form this bizarre dream? Ari looked down and sure enough, he was wearing full combat gear that he recognized form when he was playing the game with Mike. 

He started walking around the area, wanting to make absolutely sure this was indeed the tutorial stage. And all signs pointed to one answer - yes. Walking itself felt weird, not only because his body didn’t feel quite “right”, but also because this avatar was higher that Ari was. And bulkier, the avatar was certainly bulkier. Ari stopped for a moment and looked at his new body again. He put his arm in a flexing position and his eyes widened as he saw the bulky muscle moving under the uniform.

Ari was suddenly transported to a different side of the building. He wanted to move and continue his exploration, but he couldn’t. His body was stuck in some weird idling loop, moving the weight of his body form one leg to another, and checking on the rifle he was holding once in a while. It was hell, not being able to control his own body, instead he was stuck looking into the distance.

After god knows how long, something happened. Another avatar appeared in front of him. It was another soldier, but with visibly less gear than Ari. The other character looked around. Ari tried to say something to get his attention, but he wasn’t able to. He then realized there was a tag above the other avatar’s head. “Player”. Oh shit. Ari tried to look up, to see if he also had a tag above his head, but again - he could not move, stuck in that stupid animation loop.

The player slowly walked closer to him and suddenly Ari’s body moved to a different position and he felt his mouth moving.

“Come on, rookie. You gotta move. We have to take that target!” This was not his voice. It was low and rugged, nothing like Ari’s highish pitch. The player’s avatar nodded and started moving towards the building. After a moment Ari’s body started moving as well, turning around and walking behind the player. When they both entered the building Ari’s hands put his rifle close to his face and pointed it forward, constantly scanning the space around him. It didn’t take long for Ari to realize that he was the NPC that was leading players through the first tutorial stage. 

Mike slowly opened his eyes with a loud yawn. He then stretched his arms, which felt weirdly sore. He thought for a moment why would that be. Oh right, he did an evening workout yesterday. Huhuhuhuh, he was suck a dumbass sometimes. He raised his arm and flexed his beefy biceps, because why the hell not, he was a fuckin' hot brah. He then sniffed his pits. Damn, he reeked. He must have forgotten to get a shower. That scenario made more sense when Mike realized that the TV was turned on, with the main menu of one of the Call of Duty games was on screen. Mike chuckled and looked around for the controller. He must have decided to try out the new game only to fall asleep before he even got to the first stage. 

With the controller now back in his hand Mike decided to shower later and choose the “New Game” option in the menu. A character creator appeared in front of him, but Mike didn’t care about that stuff, he only wanted to shoot some bad guys, so he didn’t change anything in the avatar that appeared on the screen, eager to just play.

Finally, he was transported to the first real stage of the game. He groaned when he saw the words “Tutorial Stage” appear on the screen, but then shrugged and started playing. An NPC was running alongside him, sometimes giving him basic advice about how to use his weapon, how to sneak, how to change rifles. It was all stuff Mike knew form years of playing shooters like this one, so he ignored the one-liners form the gruff soldier and he quickly captured the target and moved on to the next map, quickly forgetting about the boring-ass tutorial mission.

Ari reached the end of the tutorial stage and turned towards the player. This took way less time than Ari remember it took him and Mike to get through this stage.

“Good job, recruit. You’re ready for the next mission.” Ari, or rather the NPC that Ari now inhabited, growled at the player. The other avatar then froze and disappeared quickly after, probably having been teleported to the next stage. Ari meanwhile was now alone in the ruins, but he regained control over his body. He used this opportunity to explore his new form. He was wearing full camo, a tactical vest with a ton of gear attached to it, a radio antenna sticking out next to his arm. He was holding a rifle and had access to a handgun, that stayed in a holster attached to his leg. But Ari focused most on the bulk that he was now carrying. Having been a proud twink before all… this, it was a change to now inhabit the body of a ripped soldier. He very quickly got used to it though and found himself flexing his various newly acquired muscles, loving the way his uniform bulged as me moved his arms and legs.

Suddenly, Ari froze and was then transported back to the beginning of the map but he saw no player avatar next to him. He was once again stuck in an animation loop, this time a mix of checking on his gun, looking around and flexing his arm. Though as time passed and there were no players in sight, Ari began to worry that maybe something went wrong. Maybe the game glitched and he would be stuck in this spot forever.

Then he hears a weird, robotic voice. Debugging algorithm activated. He didn't know wiat direction it was coming from… or maybe it was inside his head? He couldn’t say for sure.

His body suddenly froze in the middle of an idling animation, his arms stuck holding his rifle in front of him. Ari tried to move, but he was unable to. He couldn’t speak, move even one finger or blink. What the fuck was going on?

Then he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head as if someone injected a needle inside his skull. It felt terrible, but he had no way of stopping it. He was now at the mercy of the game.

As he waited for something to happen he realized that his mind became awfully quiet. No random thoughts about his jacked arms, no desperate planning on how to escape this nightmare, nothing. He was just standing, waiting for something to happen. This alarmed him, but before his anxiety could escalate, the voice spoke again. Operator TR#001067 requires additional reconditioning. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Was the voice talking to him? Ari had no idea what was happening and… wait.

Wait wait wait.

He suddenly realized he couldn’t remember his name. How the fuck could this be? He was… his name was… he…

Operator TR#001067. That was his name. But was it? It didn’t sound like—

Operator TR#001067. Yeah, that was certainly his name. His ID number was right there.

His mind was then flooded with clear memories of countless different scenarios for the tutorial stage, every possible player choice now ingrained in his head. At the same time, his memories of everything that happened before, of his family, his house, Mike, it disappeared behind a thick fog. He still felt like he was not where he was supposed to be but—

Of course he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He was... he was... it was.. Yes, it was—

Another player spawned next to Operator TF#001067, activating its dialog. The NPC turned around and faced the newcomer.

“Come on, rookie. You gotta move. We have to take that target!”

[rangersoup]

Thank you @emsprovisions @carlos-in-glasses @lemonlyman-dotcom @eclectic-sassycoweyes @paperstorm @nisbanisba @thisbuildinghasfeelings @heartstringsduet @annoyingcloudearthquake and @futures-tense for tagging me!! I’m really feeling the love today 🥰 here’s a snippet of my current wip Turn and Burn which can be read in Ao3.

Uh-oh, I know that face.”

“What face?” Carlos demands, looking up from the case file he is only pretending to look through.

“Your pouty face,” Campbell says, taking a long sip of his coffee as he sits down at the desk next to Carlos.

“I do not have a pouty face,” Carlos huffs.

Campbell chuckles and gives Carlos a pitying look. “Sure and I have two heads.”

Carlos glares at him and he only shrugs. “What's eating you on this fine Monday morning?”

“Oh nothing,” Carlos sighs and pretends to direct his attention back to the file sitting open in front of him. His mind couldn’t be farther away from work. He’s still thinking about the rambunctious medicine hat mare.

“I don’t know how I feel about you lying to me, partner,” Cambell says on a long exhale, leaning back in his chair to study Carlos. Carlos tries to ignore him, but he can feel him watching him.

“It’s nothing,” he insists.

Campbell keeps staring at him expectantly.

“Don’t you have better things to be doing than harassing me?”

Campbell checks his watch and shrugs. “Not really. I’ve got all day to get stuff done.”

“It’s stupid and doesn’t matter.”

Campbell sighs and hangs his hat on the divider between their desks. “Is it husband problems or kid problems?”

“Neither.” Saying this is a mistake because Campbell lifts an eyebrow. Now he really has his interest piqued.

“Hmm,” Campbell’s gaze gets a little more intense. “TK brought home another unwanted reptile?”

Carlos cracks a smile and laughs a little. “No, no more new pets. Yet.”

“Yet?” his partner prompts.

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“Definitely not.”

“Fiiiine,” Carlos says, giving up on his attempt to be coy. “It's about a horse.”

“Oooh boy.”

“Yeah,” Carlos agrees. Oh boy is right.

“Well, let's hear it,” Campbell says, waving his hand.

“I gave TK a riding lesson over the weekend–”

“And he got dumped off and wants nothing to do with em’ anymore?”

“Would you let me finish?”

“Yes, sorry, continue.”

“No, while we were there someone came by returning a horse he bought, that’s apparently crazy and hasn’t been able to keep a owner longer than a couple months before being brought back…”

“And you want to try to train the crazy horse and your husband doesn’t want you to get your neck broken or your brains kicked in?” Campbell finishes for him.

Carlos purses his lips. “Something like that.”

“But he doesn’t know horses so you're not inclined to listen?”

“Also yes.”

Campbell nods his head thoughtfully. “How bad we talking?”

“People have been trying to work with her for two years and no one’s been able to sit on her.”

“It’s a mare? Boy, you really are in trouble,” Campbell chuckles.

“Yeahhh,” Carlos agrees with a deep sigh.

Campbell goes back to studying him for a few more moments before speaking again. “What’s special about her?”

“Who says there’s something special?”

“Your face and the fact that we’re having this conversation.”

Carlos lets out a little huff of air. He should know by now that his partner has the ability to read him like an open book. Hiding things isn’t ever going to work. “She’s the last horse my dad ever touched.”

“I see.”

“And she’s the last foal to come out of my old horse.”

Campbell rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I'm not gonna try to talk you out of trying to work with her. But I will say, I’m quite fond of you even if you’re a pain in my ass and I’d hate to see you get your brains kicked out.”

“It’s a stupid idea, isn’t it?”

Campbell shrugs. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen her for myself.”

Open tagging anyone who wants to participate!

[greenerteacups]

7 and 8 for Narcissa (or really, any member of the Black family - dealers choice)

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I love talking about Narcissa, I'll take the chance all day!

I love that fanon Narcissa absolutely runs Draco's shit. He's portrayed as an über mama's boy, with I really jive with (obviously), since it opens up the chance to explore a relationship we basically never see in the actual books. Leaning into that also explains how Draco got so spoiled, when by all evidence Lucius isn't the most cuddly parent — he's scolding Draco in a lot of the interactions we read of them (granted, usually because Draco's doing some dumb shit). Canon Draco is always nattering about his dad, so I think he idolizes Lucius a lot more, but he's actually closer to Narcissa. As an only child in a family where his mother doesn't work, that interpretation makes a lot of sense to me, as does the idea that Narcissa would play more of an influential role in his adult life, once he'd become disillusioned with Lucius (especially in a postwar context).

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Narcissa gets woobified in the fandom like you wouldn't believe. Especially postwar fics. No blood prejudice, no bias, no hateful language, and striking civility to all muggle-born characters, Hermione especially. A change which, in most cases, seems to occur spontaneously and apropos of nothing except the end of the war. I think people do this for two reasons: (1) prejudice not a sexy flaw for your villain to have, hence why many postwar Dracos don't seem to retain virtually anything of the ideology he has in canon, and extend that blanching to Narcissa in order to avoid conflict with him and his mother; and (2) Narcissa and Lucius are both extremely scary antagonistic characters in any Dramione story if you take them seriously, and sometimes people aren't trying to write serious scary antagonists. Sometimes people just wanna write slice-of-life low-stakes stuff. That's fine! People should read and write whatever makes them happy. It just drives me up the wall to read that specific characterization of Narcissa, because I think it's totally unrealistic. Narcissa married a Death Eater! Her sister was a Death Eater! She raised a Death Eater! She lived with Death Eaters for months, if not years! Yeah, she obviously doesn't give a fuck about the Cause if it threatens her family — cf. the "is Draco in the castle?" moment — but she would not have run in these circles if she hadn't drunk the Kool-Aid and kept it down. And plus, like: if losing the first war wasn't enough to create Woke Narcissa, why would the second one be?

The obvious reading of a postwar heel-face turn, if you take canon seriously, is that Narcissa is at best a morally agnostic opportunist who adopts whatever philosophy happens to be profitable at the moment. Which is a pretty dark character. And I wouldn't mind at all if that's how she was actually written, because I think there's a real foundation for that in the text. But in fanon, it usually scans like she's a fundamentally loving and charitable person who never really believed in blood purity, she just decided to marry into a eugenecist death cult for — y'know — tax benefits or something.

[variant-zee]

All out of Love

pairing: dean winchester x f! reader

summary: based off of that one supernatural blooper where sam and dean are in the car and “all out of love” by air supply is playing on the radio in which it then cuts to jensen singing loudly in the blooper, but make it ‘x reader’

genre: fluff

cw: y/n usage

author's note: so i don’t think i’ve posted this here but i wrote this fic a WHILE ago and ngl forgot it existed.

===========================================================================

[Sam, Dean and Y/N were on a werewolf hunt in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. They went to help Jody, since they’re was a whole pack, too big for just her, Claire, and Alex. Jody had her house full with the girls that she couldn’t lend them rooms to stay in. Sam and Dean insisted on staying at a motel either way, as to not disturb them. The boys and Y/N had checked in at the closest motel by Jody’s house.]

“You can take my bed, Y/N. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Sam said politely. Y/N shook their head in disagreement.

“Sam, I’m ok with sleeping on the couch. Plus it’s small, you won’t fit and you’ll just be uncomfortable. I’ve slept on a couch before, I promise it’s fine.”

They insisted. Dean quietly chuckled to himself when they brought up how tall Sam was.

Sam looked at Dean with a stern look on his face, as if he was telling him to shut up.

“Are you sure?”

Sam asked. Dean, obviously, didn’t want to give up his bed so he started to unpack as much as he could. Sam looked back at Dean, he cleared his throat to get Dean’s attention. Dean looked up at him.

“What?”

Dean said, confused on what Sam wanted from him. Sam rolled his eyes and took out his laptop from his bag. While Sam and Dean had their silent argument, Y/N had just sat on the couch and set their bag on the ground. Their bag wasn’t as filled or heavy as the boy’s. They were a hunter-in-training anyway.

“I’ll do some research on this case and… uhm… how about you two go get us something to eat.”

Sam said as he made his way to a small table that was placed next to the window of the motel. He sat facing towards the door, as a precaution, if anyone were to break in. [You should know this.]

“Sure.”

Dean said without looking up from his stuff on the bed.

“Y-Yea…”

Y/N stutters as they get up and wait for Dean to finish unpacking.

“Alright, let’s roll!”

Dean takes out the Impala’s keys out of his pocket, he spins them on his index finger as he walks towards the door. Y/N follows behind him. Dean walks out of the motel room. Y/N waved at Sam. He waved back.

Y/N closed the door behind them and walked to the car. Dean was waiting for them, as he was waiting, he used part of his flannel sleeve to clean a small spot off of the car. [Baby, a beautiful queen]

Y/N gets in the car then Dean gets in, the both close the car doors at the same time. They take off, the radio is on. The silence between them is only broken by the music playing. All Out of Love by Air Supply plays.

Y/N and Dean both collectively look at the radio and then at each other. Dean quickly turns his head back towards the road and Y/N looks out the window. The song slowly reaches the chorus. They look back at each other, but this time it’s different. It’s like if they had talked telepathically to one another.

“Don’t tell Sam!”

They both thought as they stared at each other.

Once the song get to the chorus, they belted out singing. [More like yelled out the words!]

“I’m all out of love! I’m so lost without you! I know you were right, believing for long!”

They sang together the whole way to the gas station to get the snacks Sam had told them to get. The song finishes as they get closer to the gas station. Dean parks the car, gets out, and heads inside. Y/N stayed in the car, they overthink about the moment they just had.

“D-Did we… just?…. Huh?”

Y/N says to themselves. Their mind goes at a 100 miles per hours just thinking about what just happened. Some time passes and Dean comes back with bags filled with snacks and in one bag he had a pie. Y/N could tell Dean cared more for the pie, since all the other bags were on the verge of ripping while Dean held on to the pie in his arms. He had reached the car. He put Sam and Y/N’s snacks in the backseat of the Impala, he sat in the driver’s seat with the pie in his lap.

“Pie?”

Y/N said with her eyebrow slightly raised and their arms crossed, questioning his snack choice.

“Pie!~”

Dean happily respond while he started the car, it sounded like he was going to drool just by saying it’s name.

“Ok then! Let’s go home!”

Dean said excitedly as he put the car in reverse and drove out of the gas station’s parking lot.

On their way back, it was silent, too silent. They had both remembered that they just sang a song out of their aesthetic range. The silence remained between them, as they reached back to the motel’s parking lot entrance, Dean broke the silence.

“Don’t tell Sam about what just happened.”

He said, almost emotionless, as he parked the car in front of their rented room.

“Yea.”

Y/N responded as emotionless as Dean.

They both got out of the car. Dean carried his pie and Y/N carried everything else Dean had left behind and they both walked in the motel room leaving their moment behind.

“How was it?”

Sam said as they entered. Dean and Y/N looked at each other.

“Fine.”

They said in unison.