#car cleaning concept

[superm4ks]

Kit do you not rep Charles anymore 😭

Of course I do he’s prime I just need a break from his team and that fucking dog

[thunderstomm]

You know what they say… you cruise you lose!

[bloodwolf25]

Things you will never have to do again(unless you want to) if you’re dating me. Pt1

1- Drive

You never have to drive again as long as we’re together, I’ll be your personal chauffeur where ever you wanna go I’ll take you, all you gotta do is be my passenger princess and feed me snacks.

[waffliesinyoface]

noticed car had some big gross splotches on it

went "ew" and decided to take it to the car wash

as im leaving the car wash i notice that the splotch on the front window did not actually come off. think to myself "well, that's annoying, but i have windex."

get home

notice that NONE of the streaks on that side have come off

take a step back and realize that the entire side of the car has faint blue streaks all down the side, and those bigger splotches were, in fact, impact marks

or, in other words, some shit face little twerp teenager thought it would be real funny to throw their blue raspberry icee at the side of my car and force me to crouch next to it in the hot fucking sun with a bottle of simple green and a stack of paper towels.

[techdriveplay]

The Top Concept Cars of 2024

In the ever-evolving world of automotive design and technology, 2024 has brought a plethora of groundbreaking innovations that have captured the imagination of car enthusiasts and industry experts alike. The top concept cars of 2024 are not just futuristic in design but also incorporate cutting-edge technology that redefines the driving experience. These concept cars offer a glimpse into the…

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Damian is de-aged to a baby and lost in Gotham. A magic user hit him with some kind of spell. His legs don’t work as well and he has trouble walking. That’s when a man appears and squats down with a tilt of his head.

“Yea, you are definitely not supposed to be out here, little guy.”

Damian glares at the man, early twenties, stubble along his jaw, ragged clothes, and dark bags under his eyes.

The man turns his head to look at the brick wall.

“Are you sure?”

And now he was talking to a wall. Curses. Of course he would be found by a crazy person.

The man suddenly hangs his head with a deep sigh. He regains himself quickly and stands. Moving closer to put his hands under Damian arms to lift him to perch on his hip.

Damian squirms to get down but refuses to make a sound. The last time he opened his mouth like this it was a pathetic baby sound. He couldn’t let this man see him like this.

“Looks like you’re coming home with me, little guy. I can tell you’ve got some spirit in you. Good, you’ll need it.”

Not ominous at all.

Damian stays with the man, mostly because he couldn’t physically drive a car, but also because he was almost always with him. The man would talk to air at the most random times. Obviously a schizophrenic. But Damian had to admit this man, Danny he comes to find out through a neighbor baby talking at him, has been genuinely trying to take care of him and take care of him well. Well, to the best of his abilities anyway. 

He feeds him organic purées that don’t taste half bad, except the carrots, that one was unacceptable. Danny cleans him regularly despite his crappy apartment and makes sure he is dressed appropriately for the weather. He makes an effort to take him out to the park to play in the sandbox or just walk around discovering ‘new’ things.

Damian doesn’t need a parent, he outgrew the concept when he was five and technically he already had one, but he could tell Danny would make an excellent father. Some mistakes can be overlooked compared to the effort he was putting in.

The only concerning thing was the talking to thin air. It took Damian an embarrassing amount of time to figure out the reason Danny was visiting all these random people and the graveyard. (Sometimes he will set Damian down to ‘play’ in the grass at the cemetery. It was quite odd.)

He was talking to ghosts. It wasn’t thin air or imaginary friends, no it was actually dead people. The reason Damian actually believes this is for two reasons.

One, Danny shows true results. Damian observes closely whenever they visit a ‘client’ and Danny always has accurate information despite never looking up or researching anything going in.

Two, he never calls himself a medium or psychic. He doesn’t boast about his ability to see ghosts. He does what he does to help the ghosts move on to the other side. Closure is what Danny always says. Closure for the family and the victim. In Gotham, there are a lot of victims.

Damian adjusts to his new life with Danny. It’s been five months and he’s getting used to being small and vulnerable. He’s allowed to be messy and whiny and childish. Danny never scolds him like Mother did. The man has never hit him or raised his voice at him and never expects anything from him. He encourages his progression to speak and walk, but doesn’t expect the best out of him.

It’s… nice. A good break if anything.

They are at the park when one of the bats spot him and pauses. Danny is blowing bubbles into the air and Damian tries to pop as many as he can. It’s a silly game with no clear rules, but Damian finds it entertaining nonetheless.

“Hi there! Is he yours?”

Dick Grayson wears a bright smile, but Damian can see the tightness around his eyes.

“Huh? Oh, yea, this is Damian,” Danny answers.

He had written it with the wooden blocks Danny had given him one week in. Danny took one look at the name on the ground, laughed loudly and ran with it.

“Do you mind if I say hi? He’s so cute.”

Danny looks puzzled by the request but ends up shrugging his shoulders, not seeing a problem with letting a stranger get close to Damian. (Damian knew Danny’s intense eyes were watching Dick’s every move. He was very protective like that.)

“Sure.”

Dick squats down to search Damian’s green eyes. Damian stares back just as intensely.

“Hey there, Damian. My name is Dick.”

Damian gives him a flat look at Dick’s terrible introduction.

“Grayson.”

Although with his little baby teeth not fully in it sounds more like ‘way-shah’.

Relief flashes across Dick’s face and he gives Damian a reassuring smile. It’s not as reassuring at he thinks it is. It promises to bring him home and restore him to his original age. Damian doesn’t know if that’s what he wants anymore.

Dick stands and gives Danny some imaginary excuse to leave quickly. Damian watches him go and so does Danny.

“Funny guy, huh Dami?”

Damian doesn’t respond and Danny notices his change in mood.

“Come here, little guy.”

He knows what Danny is going to do and willingly goes. He is pulled up into the man’s lap and held between two surprisingly muscular arms. Danny’s hugs are nice and warm. They aren’t too tight like Dick’s nor are they stiff like Bruce’s. He never thought he could enjoy human contact, but Danny has been showing him things about himself he didn’t ever know. Turns out he does like hugs and playing airplane and when Danny runs his fingers through his hair when he’s really sleepy.

“Let’s go home a little early today, huh? I’ll make spaghetti and you can be as messy as you want,” Danny promises.

Damian hums. Yes, that sounds nice.

That night Batman comes in through the window. Damian is waiting.

“Damian,” Batman whispers.

“Bah-mun.”

The flat, unamused stare is what gives him away.

Batman lets out a breath silently and reaches into the crib Danny had gotten him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Batman jerks into action, twisting to face Danny who had appeared suddenly. The door behind him is still closed.

Batman stays quiet, silently studying the man before him dressed in pajama pants and a worn t-shirt.

Danny tilts his head as he does the same. Damian has never seen the man so serious. He silently worries for the man. He didn’t want him getting hurt to unnecessarily protecting him from his father.

“I’d have to break your arm if you tried to do what it looks like you’re doing.”

Danny says it so plainly. So simple.

Batman straightens.

“He isn’t yours.”

He doesn’t say Damian is his. He doesn’t claim him as his own. Just that Danny shouldn’t have him.

Damian silently agrees because technically he’s right. He doesn’t deserve Danny. He can’t keep playing house like he’s an actual baby. But Damian is also selfish and over the last few months has been taught that it’s okay to ask for things he wants even if it’s not inherently beneficial. The stuffed dog he sleeps with every night is proof of that.

So Damian says nothing.

“He is now,” Danny answers simply like there was no other answer to such a statement.

“He needs to go back to where he belongs.”

“Over my dead body,” is the immediate response.

They stare each other down until Danny scoffs.

“Don’t think I’m not petty enough to fight you, Batman. I’ll fight anyone who wants to take him from me. Damian is mine.”

When Batman tries to forcibly take him, he ends up with a concussion, a blood nose, and two broken arms. Red Robin finds him in a dumpster the next morning.

The story continues with Damian learning how to be a child his age, Danny protecting him and doting on his brilliant son, and the Batfam’s frequent failed attempts to kidnap Damian back to them.

[leclerc-hs]

73 Questions with Mrs. Leclerc - cl16

pairing: husband!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you do a 73 questions interview with Vogue OR charles can't help but third wheel your interview warnings: none??? just cute fluff basically, NOT PROOFREAD word count: 2.1k author's note: I actually got a request by someone to do this and thought it was such a CUTE idea and concept. I obviously didn't do ALL 73 questions cause that would've taken forever. But thought this was a cute little piece to do. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think don't be shy !! xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE DELICATE FOLDS of the pale pink sundress fluttered like petals in a gentle breeze, framing your figure with a soft, ethereal elegance. As the front door yielded to the push, the fabric danced around your legs, caressing the tender skin of your thighs with a whisper of touch. Your radiant smile illuminated the scene, a beacon of joy amidst the fluttering fabric and nervous flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey!” The male voice chimed brightly, his tone cheerful as a songbird greeting the dawn, echoing through the air with an infectious energy that mirrored your own bright smile.

“Hey!” You respond with effervescent warmth, your smile stretching across your face like a sunbeam breaking through clouds. With a graceful gesture, you swing the door open wider, revealing the inviting warmth of your home’s foyer. The soft light spills in, casting a golden glow over the polished floors and elegant furnishing. The first thing to notice is the giant painting of a Ferrari Formula One car, hung high above the entry way table.  

“Look who we have here! It’s Mrs. Leclerc!” A delicate blush warms your cheeks, a subtle reminder of the tender affection that tingles within you whenever you’re addressed as such. Though you and Charles have been together for many years, your marriage has infused your relationship with a fresh sense of intimacy and closeness. And despite that it’s been almost five years, the title of “wife” feels forever new and unfamiliar.

“On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?”

“I would say 8, so I’m super excited!” With a gentle click, you shut the front door behind you, enveloping the foyer in a tranquility as you made your way down the hallway to the kitchen. Along the way, you stooped to pick up a scattering of children’s toys that lay scattered like confetti on the polished wooden floors, offering a quick apology for the perceived “mess.” However, you couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the orchestrated chaos around you. While the house was meticulously maintained by the cleaning company before the video shoot, every detail was carefully curated to strike the perfect balance between lived-in warmth and elegance, ensuring a setting that felt both inviting and authentic to you and the viewers.

“Any reason for that?”

In the heart of the home lies a kitchen adorned with a stunning green cabinet motif. The cabinets, painted in a rich emerald hue, exude an air of sophistication and charm, perfectly complemented by gleaming brass hardware. Sunlight filters through the vast array of windows, casting a warm glow over the polished marble countertops. 

“You mean other than the fact that the kids go back to school soon?” You and the interviewer let out a soft laugh as you made your way behind the kitchen island, opening the fridge in a smooth motion to pull out a water bottle. “Want one?”

“No, but thanks though!” His voice is light-hearted. 

As the fridge door remains open, a tantalizing glimpse is offered to the audience of its well-stocked interior. A colorful array of fresh produce fills the shelves, showing an abundance of vibrant fruits and crisp vegetables. Among the healthy offerings, assortment of juice boxes catches the eye, adding a playful touch to the wholesome scene.

“That’s a lot of juice boxes you have in there.” He makes a comment, it’s not a question, but you take it as one.

“Two kids and a husband,” You start, your tone light and casual before lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper for the camera, “who practically is also a kid, results in a lot of juice boxes.” With a playful wink directed at the lens, you punctuate the statement, adding a touch of humor to the scene. Setting the water bottle down on the expansive kitchen counter, you resume your easy demeanor, effortlessly blending candor and charm for your audience.

“Hey!” Your head shoots over, the camera seamlessly following your gaze to where Charles, your husband,sits on the floor of the living room, two of your kids, aged two and three, beside him with an abundance of toys strewn about. “I heard that!” Charles retorts with mock offense, a playful grin lighting up his face as he joins in the banter.

The living room exudes a chic sophistication with a distinct Formula One flair. Charcoal-gray walls provide a sleek backdrop, accentuating the mounted flat-screen television. A striking statement piece dominates one corner—a display of artwork showcasing all of the racetracks Charles has conquered – infusing the room with a sense of triumph and energy. A plush white sofa, adorned with an array of vibrant red pillows, invites relaxation and style. Across the room, a sizable shelf proudly showcases a collection of racing helmets, some belonging to Charles and others gathered over time, adding a personal touch to the space. Below the television, was a long console table that was adorned in various plants and photos of your family. You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced at them.

With a casual wave of your hand, you dismiss Charles’s playful interruption, maintaining your position at the kitchen island as the camera refocuses on you. The gesture carries an air of affectionate familiarity, a gentle reminder of the dynamic energy that permeates your bustling household.

“If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?”

“Definitely Austin Butler.” You answer almost immediately, no hesitance in your voice.

“Hey!” Charles’s playful yelp echoes through the room once more, accompanied by the joyful laughter of your children. One nestled in his lap, the other engrossed in a picture book, their presence adding warmth and vitality to the room. You share a knowing smile with Charles, the affectionate banter a familiar melody to your family life.

The laughter of the interviewer joins the playful exchange. The camera effortlessly captures the dynamic interaction between all of you with ease.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Restez en dehors de ça.” Stay out of this!

“Arrête de faire semblant de vouloir faire l’amour avec quelqu’un d’autre que moi!” Stop pretending you want to make love with anybody but me!

With a mischievous gleam in your eye, you turn back to the camera, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I change my answer?” You inquire, injecting a hint of playful anticipation into your tone.

“Sure,” the interviewer replies.

“You’re supposed to say no,” You quip with a chuckle.

“Oh, um no?”

With a playful pout, you glance over at Charles who is already staring at the interaction. A smile adorned on his face like he is in complete awe of you, regardless of what you are saying. “Sorry honey!” You wave your hand around. “Answers are final!”

Leaving the kitchen behind, you make your way towards the backyard, where the promise of relaxation and leisure awaits. Stepping through the door, you’re greeted by the sight of a large pool shimmering under the sunlight, its crystal-clear waters beckoning for a refreshing dip. Surrounding the pool, lounge chairs are strategically place, some on the pool’s ledge, inciting you to bask in the sun while enjoying the cool water. A wide arrangement of pool floaties from unicorns to racecars litter the pool as well.

It’s a breathtaking sight: a vast expanse of bright blue skies stretching overhead, adorned with barely a wisp of cloud in sight. The warm rays of sun dance upon your skin. With a stylish flourish, you slip on a pair of your favorite Ray-Bans, a subtle nod to your husband’s sunglass collection. 

“Vintage or new?”

You ponder for a moment as you stand in the backyard, a breeze blowing your hair behind your shoulders. “Depends, but definitely vintage.”

“Window or aisle seat?”

“Aisle, although Charles likes to take the aisle more.”

“What are three things you can’t live without?”

“Wait, do my children count as two of the three?”

“Up to you.”

“Okay, so my two children. And my lip gloss.” You laugh, pausing for effect. “Kidding! My two kids, and my lip gloss…” You pause, jokingly. “And my husband of course.” The light-hearted remark reflects the joyful chaos of humor and love in your life. “He’s really the sweetest man. I’m so lucky.”

The glass door slides open with a whisper, and into the frame steps Charles, his presence incessant. With a carefree demeanor, he approaches you clad in a pair of baggy jeans and a plain white t-shirt that stretched at the seams from his muscles. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks, the stubble of his own rubbing against your smooth skin, his love evident in each tender kiss.

“Désolé,” Sorry. He apologizes before pecking another kiss to your cheek. “Tellement ambrassable.” Just so kissable. He places one more on your cheek, your face bright red from the camera’s catching all of this.

“Looks like he can’t be far from you for very long.”

Charles looks at the camera, a glint in his eye with a large smile, like he was the happiest man on earth, and nothing could dampen his spirits. Especially with you nearby. “Est-ce que tu la vois?” Do you see her?

The interviewer, unaware of Charles’s words, simply nods in response behind the camera lens, acknowledging the affection in his tone. Later translations will reveal the depth of Charles’s words no doubt. Elle est tellement belle. Bien sûr, je ne peux pas rester loin longtemps.” She’s so beautiful. Of course, I can’t stay far long.

Your face is bright red as Charles remains at your side.

“Where are the kids?”

“Put them down for a nap!” Charles answers, his arm slung over your shoulder as he leans on you comfortably. 

As the interviewer continues the questionnaire, Charles can’t resist interjecting with playful remarks and comments on almost every question. His spontaneous interruptions add an element of humor and spontaneity to the video, turning what could have been a standard interview into an entertaining and engaging exchange.

“How do you define beauty?” “My wife.” “Charles, the questions are for me!”

"What do you love most about your body?" "That's an easy one...I think her--" Charles begins, but you swat his chest and cut him off. "I love my arms. Not because they're that nice but they give me the ability to hold my children." Charles clicks his tongue, hating that you even implied something about yourself as 'not that nice'.

"Least favorite color?" "Red." Charles lets out a large gasp with a string of phrases in French, clearly hurt by your response. "It's a joke, mon amour!" "How did you know you were in love?" You look at Charles then, his eyes already on you, a soft smile pulling on both of your lips. "I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with him. Probably when I realized I would rather be awake in the middle of the night, since he was traveling so much, just to talk to him for even a few minutes, instead of going to sleep." Charles plays with the ends of your hair, twirling the ends around his fingers as he chimes in. "We've known each other for so long. But, when I first met her, it was like meeting someone I've known my entire life. There was no awkward silences between us. We just clicked."

“Diamonds or pearls?” “Pearls.” “Mon chou, don’t lie.” “I’m not!” “The diamond on your finger says otherwise!”

“If you made a documentary, what would it be about?” “Charles’ brain. I seriously question what goes on in there sometimes.” “Hey! It’s only you…”  You raise your eyebrows at him, like he’s a liar. “And racing.” “Definitely racing.”

“If you had a tattoo, where would it be?”

Charles smirks deeply, like he knows something the world doesn’t, the interviewer picks up on it. “Wait, you have a tattoo? Can we see it?”

“No! It’s for me only.”

You playfully swat at Charles’ chest, a playful blush coloring your cheeks as you both wander throughout the house, showcasing its beautiful décor. Despite your embarrassment at Charles’ antics, you can’t help but be thankful for him easing your nerves. You weren’t one for the public eye, normally. So, when you agreed to this interview it came out as quite a surprise.

“Okay final question of the day.” 

You both stand by the front door, the interviewer on the front step outside of the home. 

“Hugs or kisses?”

“Definitely ki—” You don’t get to finish your answer as Charles’ fingers grasp onto your neck, his fingers sprawled along your jawline as well, and tugs your face into his. He shuts the door as soon as his tongue slips into your mouth.

It’s a few seconds before you push him off you. “You’re unbelievable!”

A giant smile spreads across his face as he looks down at you. “Only for you, mon chou!”

[reignpage]

Finders Keepers

Summary: in which alien!reader crash lands right in front of Gojo and your story with him begins Word Count: 1k (just trialing a new concept so it's a quick opening) Warnings: a little cursing, allusions to experimentation and alien warfare, reader is naked but not in a sexual manner

“I can’t believe aliens actually exist,” Satoru mutters to himself. 

This has been an incredibly wild evening. 

When he stepped out of his apartment to throw the bins out, he hadn’t expected to see a blinding flash of light zoom past him and explode in the parking lot. Thank goodness for his infinity, otherwise he would not have fared as well as the minivan you landed on. 

Yes. 

You.

The woman who came straight from the sky and fell on top of a car, missing him by just two metres.

At first, he thought it was a curse; these things get pretty weird sometimes, after all. But using his Six Eyes, he could tell you were different. Sure, you looked like any other person, with arms and legs and a head. But you had a unique aura to you, positively otherworldly. 

If he was any other kind of man, he would have just left you there and pretended nothing happened — ignorance is bliss and whatnot — but what kind of Honoured One would he be if he didn’t do his duty and helped you out?

So, he slides down the massive crater you made (boy is that going to be a pain for maintenance to clean up) and carefully cradles your naked body in his arms, carefully so as to not touch bits and pieces no gentleman has a business looking at. Why are you naked anyways? 

Sensing people making their way down the stairs to inspect the commotion, he teleports back into his apartment quick as a flash before anyone could think to look through their windows. 

He throws a blanket at you and leaves you on the sofa as he paces the length of his living room and ponders what to do. On one hand, he could call the police and leave it up to them to deal with you. The government would know best about how to deal about falling space women, right? But then, don’t all the sci-fi movies talk about inhumane experimentation, weaponizing alien technology, and Area 51? 

That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do, at all. 

And on the other hand, he could just take care of you himself. He has the means to, that’s for sure. You really don’t look any different from everyone else — surely, you need the same things he does: food, water, shelter and warmth.

Right?

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone to call his doctor friend, you begin rousing from sleep. Your eyes flutter open and they’re a normal colour, which freaks him out more if he’s going to be perfectly honest. 

“Uh,” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, shuffling on his feet a little, “hey? I’m Gojo Satoru. You can just call me Satoru, though. If you want, or can, I guess.”

You tilt your head, scanning his body, and you open your mouth. What comes out is definitely an alien language. Or maybe he needs to travel more. But he certainly does not comprehend a single thing that you say. 

Clearing his throat, he tries to smile comfortingly. “Okay, so I didn’t understand what you said. Sorry. But uh, do you need anything? Like, do you know where you are? Yeah, you definitely don’t know what I’m saying either, do you?”

You tilt your head again. 

“What is wrong with me? Seriously. What was I thinking bringing you home? You may have fallen from the sky but I’m the one that clearly hit my head. I really am an idiot.”

Glancing around the room, you don’t look any bit as frazzled and panicked as he is. Actually, you’re as cool as a cucumber, and there isn’t a hint of shame or embarrassment on your face when you push yourself off the sofa, blanket sliding down your body. 

“Woah! Woah!”

Satoru presses his hands to his eyes and leaves them there for a second or two before realising that does absolutely nothing and when he pulls them down, he doesn’t flinch when you’re standing before him, inquisitive eyes meeting his. 

His infinity is on and he’s ready to subdue you if you prove to be a threat, but so far, he’s simply letting you reorient yourself, getting used to your surroundings and giving you the opportunity to decide he’s not a bad guy. 

That being said, however, he’s still deciding whether to keep you or not. He doesn’t want you to be poked and prodded — that wouldn’t be a very cool welcome to planet Earth and he doesn’t need you to go around telling your alien friends humans suck, though they do. But he also doesn’t know if that’s the best decision. 

You could be a danger to jujitsu society, to his students, to the world. What if, right at this very moment, you’re leaking deadly radiation? And what if his infinity can’t keep it out? Can’t keep you out?

Gosh, there are so many things that could go wrong. 

It’s entirely possible too that you’re a blood sucking monster intent on wringing him dry for all he’s worth. Maybe you’re not even an alien. Maybe you’re a special kind of curse, the kind that can bypass his Six Eyes, though he’s fairly confident that’s not the case (there’s no one stronger than him, after all). 

What if this is Kenjaku all over again?

Yeah, on second thought, he should definitely call the police. Or Ijichi, or the Prime Minister of Japan, or whoever will believe him when he says there’s a naked, alien lady in his home, and no, he’s not a pervert playing out some sick fantasy.

But just as he’s lifting his phone, you lift your hand the same time he does and cover your eyes. 

Then you say his name in perfect Japanese with a sweet, soft voice, not a hint of hesitation or unsteadiness. You smile, eyes still obscured, and he feels himself mirroring your gleeful expression. 

“That’s right. I’m Satoru. It’s nice to meet you.”

He decides, there and then, to hell with radiation, alien armies, and the deadly risk you pose to everything he knows or cares about. The military, conspiracy theorists, and scientists be damned.

He’s going to keep you. 

[zvaigzdelasas]

Instead of burning fossil fuels to reach the temperatures needed to smelt steel and cook cement, scientists in Switzerland want to use heat from the sun. The proof-of-concept study uses synthetic quartz to trap solar energy at temperatures over 1,000°C (1,832°F), demonstrating the method’s potential role in providing clean energy for carbon-intensive industries. A paper on the research was published on May 15 in the journal Device.[...]

Glass, steel, cement, and ceramics are at the very heart of modern civilization, essential for building everything from car engines to skyscrapers. However, manufacturing these materials demands temperatures over 1,000°C and relies heavily on burning fossil fuels for heat. These industries account for about 25% of global energy consumption. Researchers have explored a clean-energy alternative using solar receivers, which concentrate and build heat with thousands of sun-tracking mirrors. However, this technology has difficulties transferring solar energy efficiently above 1,000°C.

To boost the efficiency of solar receivers, Casati turned to semitransparent materials such as quartz, which can trap sunlight—a phenomenon called the thermal-trap effect. The team crafted a thermal-trapping device by attaching a synthetic quartz rod to an opaque silicon disk as an energy absorber. When they exposed the device to an energy flux equivalent to the light coming from 136 suns, the absorber plate reached 1,050°C (1,922°F), whereas the other end of the quartz rod remained at 600°C (1,112°F).

“Previous research has only managed to demonstrate the thermal-trap effect up to 170°C (338°F),” says Casati. “Our research showed that solar thermal trapping works not just at low temperatures, but well above 1,000°C. This is crucial to show its potential for real-world industrial applications.”

Using a heat transfer model, the team also simulated the quartz’s thermal-trapping efficiency under different conditions. The model showed that thermal trapping achieves the target temperature at lower concentrations with the same performance, or at higher thermal efficiency for equal concentration. For example, a state-of-the-art (unshielded) receiver has an efficiency of 40% at 1,200°C, with a concentration of 500 suns. The receiver shielded with 300 mm of quartz achieves 70% efficiency at the same temperature and concentration. The unshielded receiver requires at least 1,000 suns of concentration for comparable performance.

17 May 24

[letsgetbigger]

Twink Death

The bass thumped like a heartbeat, reverberating through the crowded club as neon lights flickered in rhythmic pulses. Simon glanced at his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar. His blond hair was artfully tousled, and he wore a tight white tee that clung to his slim frame, tucked into skinny black jeans. He was used to attention but felt a little jittery tonight. Michael, his best friend, coworker and fellow roommate, had dragged him out, insisting they needed to "blow off steam" after a hectic week at the clothing store.

“Look around, Simon,” he said, gesturing with his empty glass. “This place is teeming with men who would kill to buy a twink like you a drink.”

“All they want is a one-night stand.”

“And what's wrong with that?”

Michael winked, then disappeared into the throng of bodies on the dance floor, leaving Simon standing at the bar. Simon scanned the room. That’s when he noticed him: a man in his late thirties just a few feet away, casually leaning against the bar like he owned the place. Broad shoulders filled out a crisp navy button-up that strained slightly over his chest, and his brown hair and neatly trimmed beard gave him an effortlessly mature air. His biceps flexed slightly as he raised a glass of whiskey to his lips. The man’s gaze met Simon’s. His brown eyes softened into a smile, and he walked over with the confidence of someone who had nothing to prove.

“Hi,” he said, his voice deep and warm. “I’m Jeff.”

Simon blinked, caught off guard.

“Oh, hi. Simon.”

He shook Jeff’s offered hand, his smaller fingers disappearing in Jeff’s firm grip.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Jeff said, nodding at Simon’s nearly empty glass. “Mind if I get you one?”

Simon hesitated for a split second before nodding.

“Sure, why not?”

Jeff signaled to the bartender and ordered another gin and tonic for Simon. As they waited, Jeff turned to face Simon fully, towering over him in a way that was somehow both intimidating and intoxicating.

“So, what brings you here tonight, Simon?”

“My roommate dragged me out,” Simon said. “I’m not much of a club person, honestly.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Really? You look like you fit right in.”

“Thanks, I think?” Simon replied, a faint blush rising to his cheeks.

Jeff chuckled. “It’s a compliment.”

Simon's drink arrived, and they clinked glasses before taking sips. The conversation flowed effortlessly—Jeff talked about his work as a Realtor, his passion for architecture and how much he loved discovering hidden gems in the city. Simon shared stories about the chaos of working retail with Michael. Before long, Jeff leaned in closer, his cologne—a mix of cedar and spice—invading Simon’s senses.

“Do you dance?” Jeff asked, his tone playful.

“I do,” Simon said, shyly.

Jeff extended a hand. “Come on, then.”

Simon placed his hand in Jeff’s, letting him lead him to the dance floor. The music was loud, the beat infectious, and Jeff’s presence steady and grounding. They moved together, Jeff’s strong hands guiding Simon’s hips until Simon let go of his self-consciousness. Their bodies pressed closer, and Simon felt a flutter in his chest every time Jeff’s dark eyes locked on his.

“Simon, I’d like to keep talking. My place isn’t far. Would you like to come over?”

Simon hesitated, glancing around for Michael. He caught his friend on the far side of the dance floor, waving and flashing a thumbs-up. Taking a deep breath, Simon turned back to Jeff.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

The sleek black SUV pulled into the underground garage of a luxury high-rise in downtown. Simon looked out the window, marveling at the clean lines of the building and the shimmering skyline. Jeff parked the car effortlessly and turned to him.

“Welcome to my place,” he said.

Simon followed Jeff to the elevator, their hands brushing as they walked. When they stepped into Jeff’s apartment, Simon’s jaw dropped. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a stunning view of the city, and the open-concept living room was immaculate, with modern furniture, tasteful artwork, and a kitchen that looked straight out of a magazine.

“This is... wow,” Simon said, turning to Jeff.

Jeff set his keys on the counter.

“Glad you like it. Make yourself at home.”

Simon wandered over to the windows, while Jeff grabbed two glasses and a bottle of wine. He handed Simon a glass, their fingers grazing, before leaning casually against the counter.

“You’re even more stunning in this light,” Jeff said softly, his voice like honey.

Simon felt heat rise to his cheeks.

“I bet you say that to everyone you bring here,” Simon teased, sipping his wine.

“Only when it’s true,” Jeff replied, his eyes never leaving Simon’s.

The tension between them simmered, and before Simon could respond, Jeff closed the distance between them. His hands slid gently around Simon’s tiny waist, pulling him close. Their lips met in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, filled with heat and longing. Simon melted into Jeff’s embrace. They moved to the bedroom, where the city lights cast a soft glow across the luxurious space. Clothes were shed, kisses trailed, and hands explored, Jeff’s touch both tender and consuming. Simon felt completely seen, completely adored.

After having amazing sex, they lay tangled in the sheets. Jeff’s arm was draped over Simon’s slender frame.

“You’re incredible,” Jeff murmured, his voice husky.

Simon turned to face him.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he teased.

Jeff smiled, then grew serious, his gaze softening.

“Simon, I want you to know something. I don’t just see this as a one-time thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I want to take care of you,” Jeff said, his voice earnest. “You seem special, Simon. I want to pamper you, spoil you, take you on dates...”

Simon blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Jeff’s words.

“Really?” he asked softly.

Jeff nodded.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean. Let me treat you the way you deserve.”

Simon felt a flutter in his chest, a mixture of excitement and disbelief. He had never been pursued so openly, so confidently.

“I... I think I’d like that,” he said.

Jeff grinned, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Simon’s forehead.

“Then how about dinner tomorrow night? A proper date.”

Simon nodded eagerly.

“Okay.”

Jeff pulled him closer, his strong arms enveloping Simon. As they lay together, Simon felt a sense of warmth and security he hadn’t experienced before.

***

Here he was, sitting in a vinyl booth at a 24-hour diner across from Jeff, who looked very happy. The warm smell of fried food and syrup hung in the air as Jeff casually flipped through the menu.

“Are you hungry?” Jeff asked, noticing Simon fidgeting with his straw.

“Only a little,” Simon lied, though his stomach growled softly in protest.

Jeff chuckled, the sound rich and warm. He flagged down the waitress.

“Two cheeseburgers, two orders of fries and two chocolate milkshakes. Oh, and a plate of waffles with ice cream for dessert. Sound good?”

He winked at Simon. Simon opened his mouth to object but couldn’t bring himself to ruin Jeff’s enthusiasm.

“That’s… a lot of food.”

“You don’t have to finish it all,” Jeff said with a shrug, though the gleam in his eye suggested he hoped Simon would.

When the food arrived, Simon stared at the towering cheeseburger, the golden fries glistening beside it, and the decadent milkshake topped with whipped cream. Jeff dug in without hesitation, biting into his burger with gusto and groaning in satisfaction.

“You’ve gotta try this,” Jeff said between bites. “It’s amazing.”

Simon hesitated, but the aroma was too tempting. He took a cautious bite, the melted cheese and juicy patty practically melting in his mouth. Before he knew it, he was reaching for the fries, then sipping the milkshake. Jeff watched him with a satisfied smile.

“See? Told you it was good.”

By the time the waffles arrived, Simon was full but couldn’t say no when Jeff slid the plate toward him. Two scoops of vanilla ice cream oozed over the warm, syrup-drenched waffles.

“Just a bite,” Jeff said, though Simon noticed the encouraging tone.

Simon groaned as he took a forkful.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Only in the best way,” Jeff replied, smirking.

That first date set the tone for the beginning of relationship. Simon quickly discovered that Jeff had a talent for making indulgence seem irresistible. Every time they met—usually at Jeff’s spacious apartment, there was always something sweet in the kitchen. A pink box of fresh donuts on the counter. A chocolate cake with thick frosting in the fridge. A carton of premium ice cream in the freezer, always paired with Jeff’s insistence: “Have a little. You deserve it.” Jeff had a knack for making Simon feel special, showering him with compliments and small surprises. He’d pick Simon up after work, whisking him away to a cozy restaurant or back to his place, where they’d curl up with a movie and snacks. Jeff always seemed happiest when Simon gave in to his offers—taking the extra slice of pizza or savoring the brownie Jeff had baked himself.

At first, Simon didn’t think much of it. Jeff clearly loved seeing him happy, and the attention was intoxicating. But after about a month, Simon was starting to notice some changes. His skinny jeans felt a little tighter. His favorite shirt clung in places it hadn’t before. One evening, while stepping out of the shower, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His once-flat stomach now had a slight curve, and his face seemed a touch softer. When he stepped onto the scale, the digital numbers blinked back:

15 pounds heavier.

Jeff entered the bathroom. His gaze dropped to the way the briefs hugged Simon’s growing hips and how the waistband strained against his softening waistline. Simon turned, catching Jeff staring.

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing. You’re just… perfect.”

Simon rolled his eyes, but his blush betrayed him.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true,” Jeff murmured, wrapping an arm around Simon’s waist. He tugged him close.

“And you know what? I think you’re getting even more perfect.”

Simon squirmed slightly but didn’t pull away.

“But I’ve gained weight.”

Jeff grinned.

“Yes. And I love every single bit of you.”

His hands slid down, cupping Simon’s ass.

“Especially this.”

Simon let out a surprised laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?”

Jeff tilted his head. He gave Simon a gentle squeeze, earning a mock glare.

Over the next few weeks, Jeff’s obsession grew more obvious. He loved surprising Simon with treats, always framing it as an act of care. He’d surprise Simon with his favorite pastries, or he’d whip up elaborate dinners that always ended with a rich dessert. He never outright said it, but Jeff was thrilled to see Simon indulging. And Simon—despite his initial reservations—found it hard to resist. Jeff was so good at making him feel cherished. “You deserve to be spoiled,” Jeff would say, handing him a plate of double-fudge brownies. “Let me take care of you.” The results were impossible to miss. Simon’s hips filled out his jeans in a way they hadn’t before, and his thighs started to press against the seams. His briefs became a challenge to pull on, the fabric stretching tight over his fuller ass, often leaving the top of his cheeks exposed. Jeff loved those moments—catching Simon struggling with a waistband or seeing him shift uncomfortably on the couch, adjusting the fit of his too-tight clothes.

***

Curled up on the couch one lazy Saturday night, Simon sat with a bowl of his favorite ice cream while Jeff rested his hand on Simon’s thigh. Jeff’s hand kneaded the soft flesh.

“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Simon asked, glancing at Jeff with a teasing smile.

Jeff didn’t look embarrassed—if anything, he looked proud.

“Into what?”

“You know,” Simon said, gesturing vaguely at his body. “Fat.”

Jeff pulled him closer.

“I’m into you. I love everything about you. And yeah, I love that you’re letting me spoil you. I love how happy you look when you’re eating something you enjoy. And, if I’m being honest…” His hand slid lower, resting on Simon’s fuller backside. “I can’t get enough of how sexy you look.”

Simon’s face turned pink.

“You’re something else, you know that?”

Jeff’s adoration was undeniable, and it was hard for Simon not to feel flattered by all the attention. Still, he couldn’t ignore how his wardrobe was shrinking, or how every pair of briefs he owned now clung to him like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. But every time he caught Jeff staring—his brown eyes full of love and hunger—Simon couldn’t help but feel a thrill.

After having a coffee the following morning, Simon stood in front of the mirror. He realized his ass had grown a lot, spilling over the top of his briefs and making it impossible to find pants that fit properly. His tits and belly looked bigger too. He sighed and ran a hand through his blond hair as Jeff walked into the bedroom, carrying a pink box of donuts.

“You bought donuts again?” Simon asked, narrowing his eyes.

Jeff grinned.

“Of course. You love these.”

Simon crossed his arms over his chest.

“Jeff, we need to talk.”

Jeff set the box down on the nightstand, his brow furrowing.

“What’s wrong?”

“This,” Simon said, gesturing to himself. “I’ve gained twenty pounds, Jeff. My clothes don’t fit. I can’t keep eating like this.”

Jeff stepped closer, his hands finding Simon’s love handles.

“Simon, you look incredible.”

“I look chubby, I'm not a twin anymore” Simon shot back, his cheeks flushing.

Jeff tilted his head, his brown eyes softening.

“You look hot. You’ve always been gorgeous, but now… I don’t know. I love you like this.” His hands slid down to cup Simon’s big ass, squeezing gently. “Especially this. It drives me crazy.”

Simon tried to pull away, but Jeff held him firmly.

“Jeff, I mean it. I need to go on a diet.”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Jeff said, his voice low and soothing. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

Before Simon could protest, Jeff pulled a donut out—a glazed, sugar-dusted ring that practically sparkled under the light.

“Open up,” Jeff said, holding it to Simon’s lips.

“Jeff, I—”

“Shh.”

Jeff’s other hand slid around to Simon’s belly, his fingers brushing over the soft curve.

“You know I love you,” he murmured, his tone dripping with adoration. “Let me take care of you.”

Simon hesitated, his resolve wavering. Jeff leaned closer, his lips brushing against Simon’s ear.

“You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen,” Jeff whispered. “You have no idea how crazy you make me, Simon.”

The sweet, buttery flavor melted on Simon’s tongue as Jeff’s hand continued its exploration, squeezing his developing man boobs and then reaching his dick.

“Good boy. You’re so sexy,” Jeff said, his hand jerking him off. “Every time I see you in these tight little briefs, I lose my mind.”

Simon swallowed.

“I don’t feel—”

“Shh,” Jeff cut him off. He picked up another donut, holding it between his fingers like it was something precious, and crouched to meet Simon’s gaze. “I love how soft you’ve gotten. How much you’ve let me take care of you.”

“Jeff…” Simon began, but his voice faltered when Jeff brought the second donut to his lips.

“Open,” Jeff said, his tone both gentle and commanding.

Simon hesitated but parted his lips. He took a bite, the sugary glaze melting on his tongue.

“Good,” Jeff said with a satisfied smile. “That’s my boy.”

Simon moaned as Jeff continued to feed him. By the time he was on his third donut, Jeff stop jerking him off and his fingers slipped under the waistband of his briefs, tugging it down to expose Simon’s round butt cheeks. He gave them a slap. Simon was torn between embarrassment and excitement.

“Do you really like my new curves?,” Simon asked.

“You have no idea,” Jeff replied, grabbing another donut.

Simon finished it slowly.

“I can’t eat anymore,” he murmured, his voice shaky.

“Yes, you can,” Jeff said, his hard dick now entering Simon's ass. “For me.”

Jeff gave Simon another donut.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Jeff said, his voice thick with desire. “And you’re going to let me love every inch of you.”

***

A few months passed, and Simon barely recognized himself. His once-fitted clothes had long been replaced by stretchier options that could accommodate his growing figure. His belly was soft and round, resting comfortably over the waistband of his sweatpants, and his hips and thighs had thickened noticeably, giving him a fuller, almost plush appearance. Jeff, of course, was over the moon. His constant attention and affection made it impossible for Simon to feel anything but adored, even as he packed on more weight. Simon loved how Jeff’s eyes would light up every time he grabbed an extra helping or indulged in the treats Jeff always seemed to have on hand.

One Saturday afternoon, Simon sat on the couch of his shared apartment in his underwear, lazily scrolling through his phone. Michael arrived after being on a date.

“Holy crap,” he blurted out, his wide eyes scanning Simon’s body. “Look at you”

Simon glanced up.

“What?”

“You’ve gotten huge!” Michael said, gesturing toward Simon’s belly. “Is this Jeff’s doing?”

Simon shrugged, trying to hide his smile.

“He just likes spoiling me, okay?”

“Simon,” Michael said, exasperated. “You were, like, a twink icon, and now—” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I mean, are you happy?”

Simon looked down at himself, running a hand over his soft stomach. He thought about Jeff—the way he looked at Simon, touched him, worshiped him—and nodded.

“Yeah. I am.”

Michael groaned.

“Whatever.”

Simon was sprawled on Jeff’s bed later that night, recounting the interaction while Jeff rubbed his fat belly, grinning like he’d won the lottery.

“He called me huge.”

Jeff chuckled.

“He’s right,” Jeff said, his voice low and reverent. “You are huge now.”

Simon blushed.

“My sexy ex-twink,” Jeff murmured, pressing kisses to his belly. “You’ve let me take care of you so well. And look at you now. You’re perfect.”

His hands roamed freely, exploring every curve, every new softness. Simon shivered, his embarrassment melting under Jeff’s touch and words. He loved how much Jeff adored him, how desired he felt despite—or maybe because of—his growing body.

“You’re mine,” Jeff said. “My beautiful, fat boy. And I’m going to keep loving you—and feeding you—for as long as you let me.”

Simon moaned as Jeff’s mouth engulfed his dick. He didn’t really care about Michael’s reaction or the numbers on the scale. All that mattered was Jeff and the way he made him feel like the most cherished person in the world.

Jeff stirred awake, the morning sunlight streaming through the curtains. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he turned his head to see Simon already sitting up on the edge of the bed. He stretched, his arms reaching overhead, and Jeff couldn’t take his eyes off the way his soft belly rounded and shifted with the movement. His love handles curved gently over the waistband of his new briefs, which had also grown so tight that they seemed to struggle to contain him. The fabric cut into his hips, emphasizing the generous swell of his behind, which jiggled slightly as he stood. Jeff bit his lip as Simon hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the too-small briefs and tugged them down, revealing the full glory of Simon’s ass. It was round and plush, its fullness accentuated by the way it swayed naturally with each step toward the bathroom. His thighs rubbed together as he walked, the soft flesh shifting with every movement. As Simon stepped into the bathroom, Jeff heard the sound of the shower starting, water splashing against the tiles. He couldn’t resist any longer. Throwing the covers aside, he padded across the room and slipped into the steamy bathroom.

“Jeff!” Simon exclaimed, half-turning to look at Jeff.

“Couldn’t stay in bed,” Jeff said with a hard-on.

The water ran down Simon’s body in rivulets, highlighting every curve. His belly glistened under the spray, the soft flesh jiggling slightly as he shifted his weight. Jeff’s hands found Simon’s hips almost instinctively, pulling him close.

“You’re stunning,” Jeff murmured, his voice husky.

Simon rolled his eyes, though his lips curved into a shy smile.

“Well, I'm almost 300 pounds.”

Jeff's fingers started kneading Simon's belly, marveling at its warmth and softness.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered.

Simon shivered as Jeff’s hands slid lower, tracing the curve of his thighs before moving back up to cup his ass. Jeff squeezed gently, his hands full.

“You’re obsessed,” Simon said, his voice breathy.

“Completely,” Jeff admitted, planting a kiss on Simon’s lips. “You’re everything to me. I love you”

“I love you too, but I'm worried I'll never be fat enough for you.”

Simon turned around and leaned against the smooth tile. Jeff's hands rested on Simon’s thick waist, fingers sinking slightly into the soft flesh. His round belly jiggled slightly with every shift, and his love handles spilled over Jeff’s large hands. Jeff’s touch was deliberate, reverent, as he let his palms slide along Simon’s sides, squeezing gently. Then his hands moved up, cupping Simon’s chest. His thumbs grazed over Simon’s soft man boobs, teasing the sensitive nipples. Simon gasped, arching his back slightly. Jeff leaned down to kiss the curve of Simon’s neck.

“I want to pamper you even more.”

Simon's belly quivered as Jeff’s hands wandered lower, gripping the wide curve of his ass.

“Even more?” Simon asked.

Jeff’s grip tightened, and he kneaded the round flesh, his hard dick digging into the softness.

“Oh, much more,” he said.

[asha-mage]

🌶️

The MCU's Spiderman is not a poor execution of Peter Parker's character concept. He's not even poor execution of Miles Morales's character concept.

He is a poor execution of Terry McGinnis's character concept.

Peter Parker and Miles Morales both have so many fundamental pieces to their characters that are just missing for the MCU's Spiderman. Familiar names are floating around him- Aunt May, Mary Jane, Ganke Lee- but the fundamental ideas that make up Peter or Miles arcs just are not there. Themes like Miles's family expectations, Peter's constant money struggles, and the balancing act of doing good vs trying to live your own life are all absent. Even the idea of power and responsibility isn't properly introduced until the THIRD MOVIE when that really should been the central theme from the beginning.

Rather the MCU Spiderman has way more parallels with Terry McGinnis. Both are young hot shot teenagers who end up being taken under the wing of established and experienced hero who is on their way out. Both have complex relationships with their mentor which in a lot of ways serves as the driving force of their character arcs. Both gain high tech suits which enable their heroism. Both are viewed (or at least supposed to be viewed in MCU Peter's case) as heirs to the legacy of this hero.

It falls apart when you get into how they are different. While Uncle Ben is implied to have existed and be dead by the time MCU Peter is introduced in Civil War it's never actually confirmed and never properly comes up. Meanwhile the death of Terry's father is essentially the inciting incident of Batman Beyond: it's what motivates and drives Terry and the murder and it's fallout are the main focus of the first two episodes of Batman Beyond.

What's more MCU Peter's relationship to Tony is grounded in the fact that Tony just shows up one day and essentially taps him to join the Avengers. Bruce by contrast initially tosses Terry out on his ear, and when Terry turns up seeking justice for his father Bruce can't offer him anything but 'go ask the cops for help', and when that goes exactly as poorly as Terry said it would, Terry breaks into the manor steals the Batsuit and goes to stop Powers himself. Terry has active agency in his own choice to be a hero, which helps define his relationship with Bruce and to heroism. While MCU Peter was doing his own superheroics prior to Tony showing up in Civil War (not that he ever does much of that in future movies) his relationship to Tony is defined by Peter's dependence on him and his quest for Tony(/the Avengers)'s approval. And because they don't even bother name drop Uncle Ben or flashback to him, we're left with the impression that the main thing driving MCU Peter is that quest for approval. His motivations are never more complexly explored, and we don't even really see him just running around Queens stopping muggings or car crashes or anything that hints he enjoys or feels the need to actually help people.

And I think that gets into the final and most important difference between the two. Gotham not only needs Batman, it visibly and obviously and terribly needs Batman. Batman Beyond leans into this because decades without a Batman have left Gotham a cyperbunk dystopian hellscape. The city needs someone to stand up to the darkness, to be a symbol of hope, to be aspirational. Terry taking up that mantel means fighting supervillains, yes- but mostly it means doing what the original Batman did. Solving murders, stopping muggings, rescuing people from burning buildings or fighting off street gangs like the Jokerz.

But even in the earliest MCU movies, New York only needs superheroes when the current world ending threat shows up. Otherwise the city is all bright shinny clean streets filled with haplessly content citizens. This is the only reason that Vision's position of 'Our very strength invites challenge' in Civil War makes any sense- because the only purpose of these Superheroes is usually to fight a threat they where somehow responsible for creating. And this problem hits 'friendly neighborhood Spiderman' the hardest because he only has a responsibility to use his great power to solve problems, if their are problems in need of solving. Most of Peter Parker's (and Miles Morales's, Gwen Stacy's, or any other Spiderperson's) day is not fighting alien armies or netherworld gods. It's stopping break ins, rescuing people from car crashes, or dealing with other small scale local threats, that none the less benefit from someone with his abilities to make them better. Either New York in the MCU is an ideal utopian city where the police have everything handled apparently (which ha!) or Peter is apparently not interested in stopping bad things from happening. He spends so much of the first movie basically begging Tony to give him superhero things to do, not realizing that he could go outside and find people that need help on his own.

In conclusion MCU Peter Parker isn't 'regular Peter Parker but not an underdog', or even 'Miles Morales but white'. He's 'Terry McGinnis but without any agency in his own heroism'.

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

Random things to manifest:

ੈ✩‧₊˚A fancy car.

ੈ✩‧₊˚To become a billionaire or a millionaire.

ੈ✩‧₊˚A tiny fairy.(success story here and here)

ੈ✩‧₊˚A flying magical pet or plushie that helps you and grants your wishes.

ੈ✩‧₊˚A magical wand.

ੈ✩‧₊˚A Magic door that exists inside your closet.

ੈ✩‧₊˚A hidden garden just for yourself.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Superpowers.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Able to shapeshift.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Just snapping your finger once and you tap into the void state instantly.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Having a photographic memory.

ੈ✩‧₊˚A billion dollar mansion/penthouse. (Success story here)

ੈ✩‧₊˚Owning a Land.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Having a (hot😏)Bodyguard.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Princess treatment.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Ideal boyfriend (down to smallest details, they could even be your fictional character).

ੈ✩‧₊˚Winning a lottery.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Always receiving expensive gifts.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Desired phones (iPhones or even Samsung).

ੈ✩‧₊˚Supernatural Friends.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Your desired Friend group.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Desired best Friend. (Success story here)

ੈ✩‧₊˚How people view you (high self-concept).

ੈ✩‧₊˚Desired career.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Being a famous youtuber.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Meeting with your favorite celebrities.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Owning a big company.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Being a nepobaby.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Having the ability to appear things from thin air.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Being popular in school.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Being the most beautiful girl in the entire universe.

ੈ✩‧₊˚modeling.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Having A marks in every subject no matter what without studying.(success story here)

ੈ✩‧₊˚Revising your past grades to perfection.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Revising your whole life.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Having pretty privilege.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Getting food for free.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Manifesting fictional characters to reality.( A success story about it here)

ੈ✩‧₊˚Desired scenarios to happen (even the most unrealistic one).

ੈ✩‧₊˚Dating your crush (they Can be your celebrity crush). (Success story here and here)

ੈ✩‧₊˚Ability to fly.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Turning into mythical creatures.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Expensive apartment.(success story here)

ੈ✩‧₊˚Desired pet (cats or dogs).

ੈ✩‧₊˚Getting accepted into a desired college.(success story here)

ੈ✩‧₊˚Desired face and body.

ੈ✩‧₊˚You Can change the eye color of your eyes at will.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Your house get all cleaned with just a Snap of a finger.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Turning into a vampire or mermaid.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Can read Minds.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Telekinesis power. (Success story here)

ੈ✩‧₊˚Superhuman intelligence.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Living in a castle.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Having maids.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Revising your whole family.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Ranking first place in your school or college.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Having fans.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Having rich parents.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Get popular on tik tok.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Being the trend.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Revising embarrassing events.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Getting asked out by hot and loyal guys.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Living the Wattpad life.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Being skilled in something (art,sports,..ect).

ੈ✩‧₊˚Less period pain.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Able to shift instantly on commands.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Having your Desired wardrobe.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Skilled in playing games at first try.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Your desired setup.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Getting money out of nowhere. (Success story here)

ੈ✩‧₊˚Lucky girl syndrome.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Scripting your own story.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Your Pinterest board becomes true.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Manifest your desired app.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Making classes get canceled.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Making exams get canceled.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Manifesting Xbox or PlayStation 5.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Ability to Time Travel.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Travel to your desired country.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Move out to your desired country or place.

ੈ✩‧₊˚Having a Magic tattoo that have powers (inspired by the k-drama “my demon”).

ੈ✩‧₊˚being a math genius.

[inkskinned]

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

[antiquarianfics]

A Slip of the Tongue

a/n: how would y’all like an un-proofread one shot i wrote? ‘twas inspired by someone else’s story with a similar concept, but i lost it. :( anyhoo. i made you some content.

warnings: brief mention of death, otherwise none.

masterlist

—

“Me and Nina played on the swings today!” Your daughter, Ellie, tells you as you strap her into her car seat.

“Yeah? That so?” You ask. This is one of your favorite parts of your day; that is, listening to Ellie tell you about her day at school.

“Yeah! Nina is new. Her daddy got a new job and had to move them here. She speaks 2 languages!”

“Wow! That’s really cool, baby. What other language does she speak?”

“I think she said… Um. Something that started with an R.” Ellie scrunches her face up in consideration.

“Russian?” You ask, finishing buckling her in. You close the door and move around the car, getting in yourself.

“Yeah, I think,” Ellie replies.

“Did you know Bucky speaks Russian?” You ask her, sharing the tidbit about your boyfriend with your daughter.

Ellie loves Bucky, and he her. When Ellie’s father passed away, you truly never thought you would move on, and it killed you Ellie would grow up without a father. Then, you met Bucky, and he was wonderful. It was a complete meet-cute. You ran into him—literally—in a coffee shop 5 minutes away from Ellie’s school. You were in a rush, trying to get your coffee, your belongings, and your bearings to go pick up Ellie, and in your frantic fumbling, you crashed into a stranger who, rather than getting upset by being hit and drenched in a late, simply steadied you by the arms and asked if you were alright.

Bucky insisted on buying you a new coffee because “It’s my fault for being on your way, Doll. Besides, my ma’d kill me if she knew I passed up an opportunity to ask a pretty woman on a date.”

The admission took you by surprise, and Bucky later revealed it took him by surprise, too. Something about you, he said, brought out his old 40s confidence. He didn’t worry about scaring you like he would anyone else. In fact, he said, in that moment, he wasn’t the Winter Soldier, and he never was. He was just Bucky.

That day, though, you’d declined, telling him you had to pick your daughter up from school, but you quickly amended your statement to let him know you were at that very coffee shop everyday for an hour before you picked up Ellie. “So,” you had said, “if my being a single mom doesn’t scare you, you can buy me that make-up latte another time.” And, by god, Bucky Barnes was at that coffee shop then next day, waiting with your latte.

Fast forward to today, and Bucky practically lives with you and Ellie. He still has his apartment, but he spends 6 out of 7 days at your house. It’s so natural, though, you wish he’d just ditch the apartment and make it official. After all, he is an excellent roommate. He does the dishes, cleans up after himself, doesn’t hog the blankets, and—most importantly—he is fantastic with Ellie. He plays with her, he reads her bedtime stories, he cuts her food for her, and so much more. He is everything to you and Ellie.

So, when you tell Ellie that Bucky also speaks more than one language, you can’t help but grin when she rambles the rest of the car ride home about how she is going to ask him about that language he speaks—what language does Bucky speak again, Mama?—and then she is going to learn it too so she can show Nina.

Ellie’s rambling lasts all the way home, into the house, and into the living room where she drops her backpack on the ground and runs to Bucky, jumping in his lap with no warning. Bucky grunts at the impact, but he smiles fondly at the young girl.

“Hey, El,” he greets. “How was school?”

“Bucky, I made a new friend! She’s so cool. Did you know she speaks 2 languages! That’s really cool. I can only speak 1 language. Her daddy got a new job, so they came here. She’s my new best friend. I don’t remember what language she speaks, though.”

Ellie speaks a million miles a minute as she tries to fill Bucky in on her day. Bucky makes eye contact with you over her head and you merely smile and shrug, making Bucky grin.

“Russian,” you offer, as you move to sink down onto the couch next to your boyfriend and your daughter.

“Russian!” Ellie exclaims, nodding her head excitedly. “Mama said you speak Russian, Bucky. Do you speak Russian?”

“I do,” Bucky confirms, laughing at the amazed look that crosses Ellie’s face.

“Say something! Say something!” She begs.

“Yeah, Bucky, say something in Russian!” You join in on Ellie’s begging with a laugh.

“Вы двое знали, что я люблю вас? Мои красивые, глупые девочки,” Bucky says, chuckling to himself as he watches Ellie’s amazed face.

“Wow,” she says, eyes transfixed on Bucky.

You laugh. “Yeah, wow,” you confirm, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Bucky’s cheek before standing to go to the kitchen.

You make it just across the room when you stop dead in your tracks, turning to make eye contact with Bucky and attempt to gauge his reaction to Ellie’s words.

“I can’t wait to tell Nina tomorrow that my daddy speaks Russian, too,” Ellie says, lying her head on Bucky’s chest.

You and Bucky make eye contact across the room, and you hold a silent conversation.

Bucky’s eyes are widened in shock, but he raises an eyebrow at you as if to ask, “Did she just call me her daddy?”

You shrug, mouth slightly agape. Ellie has never called Bucky her daddy before, but it doesn’t surprise you. Bucky is always around, and he acts like a father figure regardless of your relationship with him. So, you say nothing, just shrug your shoulders and hope Bucky gets the message:

“I don’t know, but I’ll tell her not to if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Bucky shakes his head to let you know he doesn’t mind. Really likes it even.

Finally he speaks, “Yeah, tell her your daddy speaks Russian. I’ll even teach you some if you want.”

Ellie shoots up in Bucky’s lap, grabbing his face between her hands, and seriously begging him to follow through with his promise immediately.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” She exclaims. “What did you say a minute ago?” She asks, assigning her first Russian lesson.

“Вы двое знали, что я люблю вас? Мои красивые, глупые девочки. It means, “Did you two know I love you? My beautiful, silly girls.”

[admirationandromantics]

Keeping Warm

Another request, thank you so much. Again, reminding people that these usually take some time!! I loved the concept of this one, and believe me when I say that I love to write smut (blog is 18+ minors get away). It's not exactly like the request, but I still hope you like it.

And Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Not gonna be active today, so please enjoy this one and send requests if you want me to take a look at them later. Have a nice day everyone <3

Basically, reader comes to the lodge with Josh a day earlier to set everything up, and they have to get the guest cabin ready. Snow storm, they're snowed in and have to keep warm (you can imagine where this goes).

Word count: 3,3k (Unedited)

i absolutely adore your work, especially the drugged chocolate ones was such a trip!! i was hoping if you could write about josh and reader being stuck in a snow storm. being stuck somewhere, a car or a small cabin (whatever works for you!) and having to have sex for warmth. i know this request is kind of silly but i could totally imagine josh asking this just to be funny and being shocked that reader agrees to do it.😭 (@dissolvedprincess)

“Should we go and set up the guest cabin for Emily and Mike?” I ask, fluffing the last pillow on the sofa. 

“Are we done here?” Josh comes into the room, looking around for any imperfections. Everything is cleaned, changed and heated up. I take it all in, the coziness of the lodge is like no other. It is perfect. 

“Yes we are, don’t you think?”

He comes up behind me, seeing everything from my perspective. 

“Yeah, looks great, guest cabin next”

We take our jackets, not bothering with extra sweaters and outerwear. We aren’t going to be long, just change the sheets, check if there’s firewood and do a quick cleanup. 

Everyone is arriving at the lodge tomorrow night, and I volunteered to come with Josh to prepare for it. The weekend was going to be awesome. Drinking, dancing and talking. I do have an ulterior motive to the kindness I’m paying him. Usually he does these things himself, but by coming with him, we could get some alone time. Not that it would lead to anything, either way, I enjoy his company. 

We go outside, the snow-filled wind immediately hitting us. I knew it was brewing up for a storm, but I didn’t expect it to come so early. I look over at him, and he has his hand in the air, reaching out for me. I grab it, holding firm so I don’t lose him. We can barely see, barely open our eyes to follow the path before us. 

He leads me down, an occasional swing to the side and a little hill here and there. We walk up a couple of stairs when we suddenly hear a loud wolf’s howl. Fucking hell, was this mountain trying to kill us? Luckily, he’s basically grown up here, and knows by heart the way. I finally glimpse the little cabin in the distance, dark and empty. I collect my last strength, one hand still in his and the other in my pocket to keep its warmth. There’s a bunch of snow in front of the door, but he kicks a little away, as if that’s going to help. Hands go in his pocket, finding the keys. He fumbles with them, finally finding the right one and unlocking the door. He struggles to open it, the snow going too high. I try to help him, using my hands to mow as much of the white coldness away that I can. It finally opens, just enough that one of us can press through at a time. I go first, letting him hold the door open. He quickly follows, squeezing his body through the tight space. 

As the door closes, a blissful silence falls over us. The only sound being the wind howling outside, slamming against the wood walls. I look around the cabin. It’s dark and cold, probably dusty as well. 

“Fuck, what a weather” he exclaims relieved, taking a deep breath and going straight for the bedroom. I follow suit, helping him find new sheets, organising, cleaning stuff away, and sweeping the floor. We share one lamp, moving from room to room as we do the tasks. 

“You know, it was great having someone up here with me this year” 

“Don’t worry about it, give me a treat and I’ll come next year as well”

“You’re that easy?”

“In this area, yes”

He laughs at my response, and I sit down on the couch, finally being able to relax a bit. He sits down beside me, legs touching as he makes himself comfortable. I look over, noticing that his gaze is already on me. Eyes move up and down, taking in every inch of me as I’m laid out on the couch. 

“Staring a bit much are we, Washington?” 

“Can’t help myself”

“I mean, if I was wearing a bikini and sitting in a hot tub, I’d be flattered. But you’re literally looking at wool and a massive jacket” 

“Hey, I know what I’m into, you don’t”

I smile, the playfulness of it all getting to me. 

“I don’t know what you’re into or what I’m into?” 

“The first one you know” 

“That you’re into wool and big jackets” 

“Like thinking about what’s underneath” 

“Good play Josh”

I laugh, standing up and taking a last lap around the cabin. The bedroom’s good, the kitchen’s good and the living room’s great. 

“I think we’re good to go back” 

He stands up as well, grabbing his knees and grunting like an old man. He takes a quick look around, being satisfied with the result. 

“You’re right, it’s starting to get cold” 

We go to the door, and he tries pushing it open. It doesn’t budge. He tries again, putting more force into it than last time. It still doesn’t open. He keeps trying, and I move over to the window to look outside. We’ve been in too long, and the snow is now reaching up to our waists, the storm still going strong. 

“Josh, I don’t think we’ll be able to get out” 

He moves to my side, seeing the snow balling on. 

“Windows” He comments, eyes widening in realisation, glad for the solution he conjured. We try to open it, but to no avail. We try the other one as well, but they’re both frozen shut. 

“Shit, shit, shit” 

“Do you have your phone?”

I reach in my pockets, making myself aware that I left it back at the lodge. He hums, trying to think. 

“Okay, I think I’ll pass sometime during the night, right?”

“I believe so” I try to stay hopeful, even with our clothes, the cabin was freezing. 

“Hey Josh, how about we start a fire?” 

He answers by moving over to the fireplace, sitting down and giving a loud sigh. What was the problem now? 

“Out of firewood” 

“You’re joking” 

“I wish I was” 

I whine out loud. What the hell were we gonna do? The only way out is blocked. Even if we manage to remove some of the snow, the storm would replace it easily, leading to us being exhausted and frozen. 

He walks over, hands going to either side of me and holding tight. I look up, finding his eyes oddly comforting, though being anxious himself. I take a deep breath, meeting his gaze before leaning on him, burying my head in the crook of his neck. I wasn’t going to be so shameless to sniff him, but my body listens before I think. Like warmth and fire, how ironic. 

“Listen, this is going to be great” 

I move away, rolling my eyes and giving him a ‘oh, really’-sarcastic look. He smiles, hands gripping even harder and moving up and down, warming me up. 

“It is! Look, we’ve been cleaning and preparing all day, now we’ll relax, talk and just enjoy the night” 

“Josh, it’s freezing” 

“We have each other. At least I didn’t send you here on your own” He laughs, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Would you?” 

“Nah, I wouldn’t” 

I sit down on the couch, and he goes into the bedroom to get the covers and some more blankets. We get cozy, sitting beside each other in front of the cold fireplace and telling stories. We talk about Chris and Ashley, as well as Mike and Emily. 

“You have noticed the tension between Jess, Emily and your sister, right?” 

“Who hasn't?” 

We go into detail about our lives, and just now, I realise how little I actually know about him. I haven’t gone beyond surface level, which is partly his fault because of the fake persona he always displays, but still…

“Wait, you had a thing for me?” 

My eyes widen at the realisation, a book which I could never imagine was opened. He once liked me. He thought about me, and felt a certain way. 

“Well, had and had… But, you know”

“Yeah, would be a bit weird for the others, don’t you think?”

“Not as weird as Mike’s triangle-drama” he states, laughing at the man. 

“Isn’t it technically a quadruple-drama?” 

“Wouldn’t that be a foursome?” I think for a minute, intrigued by the affairs. I could be, I bet Mike would love it, but I don’t think that’s the right term. 

“No, that’s just sexual, this is just drama” 

“Speaking of sex and sexual appeal…” Josh starts, and I can help but snort. How the conversation has turned. I never imagined myself talking about this, with him, here. 

“Was all this a plot just to make me tell you this?” 

“Maybe” he answers, a playful smirk on his lips. He loves the direction this is going, he’s intrigued, interested. Of course he is. It’s freaking Josh Washington. 

“Okay then, let me tell you. If we had a fire here, I might do it right here” 

“Really?” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time” 

His eyes widens in surprise, brows furrowing in confusion. Oh, it sounds like I’ve done it ‘here’ before, which is absolutely not what I meant 

“You mean that time you and Sam shared this cabin…”

“No, no! Sorry, I worded that wrong. I just meant to say that fire in itself is a bit of a vibe, mood lighting and all” 

“Ohhh, yeah” 

“Not that I’ve done it here, I’ve never had sex on a mountain before”

“You don’t say” his tone is different, something darkly curious in it. I smile at him, aware that I’ve shared a bunch and he hasn’t shared anything. 

“I do, have you?” 

He pauses, looking at the imaginary fire we’ve constructed, keeping us warm. None of us are, which is why we’re automatically sliding closer and closer. We can’t help it, it’s just instinct at this point. 

“No I have not” 

“I’m surprised” 

“What, why?” 

“Well, bring a girl up to a mountain, your secluded beautiful bachelor pad. Who knows what might happen” 

“Are you saying we should…” 

“You wish Washington” 

He puts his hands up in defeat, grinning at my smiling face. I’ve never connected with him this way before. There’s something different about it, as if everything happening is supposed to. We’re supposed to be trapped here, in the ice cold cabin, fighting for warmth together. 

“Maybe I do” 

I laugh, thinking back on all the things I’ve imagined before. I know I have a dirty mind, but when my thoughts are filled with this man, I can’t help myself. I lean my head against his chest, pulling all the layers over us as I close my eyes. 

“Let me know when the storm is over” 

“You know you should never sleep in situations like these” 

“You’re here, I’ll be okay” 

***

I wake up shivering. The wind is still howling outside, and the room is icy. Josh has his eyes closed, probably sleeping. 

“Psst, Josh” I whisper, my body vibrating as I speak. He opens his eyes, body suddenly aware of the cold air surrounding him. 

“Shit, it’s cold” 

“Should we try to get back to the lodge?” I propose, breathing coming in quick and fast. This was not good. We’re literally going to get hypothermia if we keep like this. He stands up, arms around himself as he looks out the window. 

“It has calmed a bit, but seeing our condition, we’ll not be able to get all the snow away” 

“Fuck” I shutter, pressing the covers harder on me as if it’s going to work. He sits down beside me again, starting to remove his clothing. My mouth opens as he keeps going. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“Body heat, take your clothes off” 

“You know the first factor that you have hypothermia is that you want to remove your clothing?” I add, the idea being odd. I know it’s a legit thing, but at this point, the covers seem like the best options. 

“So, I guess you are not reason enough?”

“If I wasn’t freezing to death, I would laugh at that” 

He finally reveals himself, taking the last shirt off before moving to his pants. I shake my head, what am I going to do? 

“What are you waiting for, I’m going to freeze to death alone and you have to wait here for backup with my dead corpse” 

I oblige, starting to take off my clothes. The jacket, the sweater, the shirt… 

“How much am I taking off?” 

“As much as possible” 

“Josh, is it really necessary t-” 

“Oh, fuck it” he exclaims, taking hold of my pants and dragging them off, leaving me only in my underwear. He’s quick to lay down, pulling me on top of him and the covers over us. I almost faint from the warmth. His chest is hot, heart beating rapidly as his cold hands run over my naked back. Our legs tangled together, his crotch by mine as I try not to think about our position. I do my best to adjust my breathing, calming myself and forcing my brain to stop the conjuring of dirty images. The silence is deafening, and I ask the only appropriate question that comes to mind. 

“Why shouldn’t you sleep in situations like these?” 

“What?” 

“I know we shouldn’t, but why?” 

His hand keeps drawing circles on my back, occasionally touching the hem of my bra. 

“Because our body temperature lowers when we sleep, we don’t use as much energy, like an energy-saver” 

“Oh, yeah, makes sense. You keep active and work out so your body gets hotter. It’s such a simple concept, I just didn’t really think about it” I exclaim, a bit embarrassed it didn’t click faster. 

“Yeah… You know, there’s other ways to keep warm too” he continues in a whisper, and I move my head, holding myself up as I look down on him. Our faces inch closer, hot breaths colliding. 

“Like…” his hand moves under the hem of my panties, tugging at the fabric. I feel him getting harder under me, poking at my dripping heat. 

“Like-” I interrupt him with my lips, crashing into him. He answers quickly, opening his mouth and grabbing my ass. He squeezes, causing me to moan into him. My arms fly up, one beside his head and one feeling down his toned stomach. I take him in, his warmth, tracing every curve and muscle. 

I start grinding on him, elevating his hardness and making him groan into me. He grabs my thighs, pushing me closer and moving underneath. My body is on fire, kisses getting sloppier and wetter. One of his hands moves to my heat, letting me grind down on his fingers. 

“So this is how you’ve felt about me all this time” he coos, stroking the wet fabric. I force myself not to make sounds so early, after all, he gets me all worked up so quickly. How am I going to keep it up? 

“I can say the same about you” I state as my hand goes down to cup his bulge. He grabs my thigh harder, a weak attempt at controlling himself. My hand goes to trace the hem of his boxers, teasing him with the movements. He jolts into me, making me yelp and lose my balance, falling over him once again. He grabs the back of my neck pushing my lips down on his. His teeth clasp around my lower lip, definitely colouring it red. 

His hands move up to my back, fiddling with the clasp of my bra. It takes a couple of tries, and I try to hide my smile. 

“Need help?” 

“It’s the position we’re in” 

“What, me on top of you?”

“More the freezing cabin-bit, but maybe you’ve got a point” 

He manages to unhook it, dragging it off my arms and throwing it in the clothing pile. I’m about to kiss him again, when he takes hold of my body, one hand on my back and one on my thigh, and rolls us around, making him lay on top. The action leaves me in surprise, it was unexpected, but so is he. I should always be on my toes around him. 

He captures my lips again, mouth moving to my jaw and down my neck. I can’t help the sounds I make, each one a result of his tender touches. He’s warm and cozy, knowing exactly how to make me melt underneath. His mouth travels down my stomach, leaving kisses and bites all over. I whine at the pain, but he quickly licks and kisses the areas better again. Hands are kneading my breast and thighs, coming slowly up to my wet heat. I grab hold of him, not wanting him to go further down. 

“No, please, stay up here with me” 

It’s cold without his chest against mine, it feels empty and alone. He smiles at my request, pushing himself up again and letting me feel his lips. 

“I’m not saying I don’t want to, but-” 

“I know, we’ll keep each other warm” 

He speaks in a tone I’ve never heard before, making butterflies flap around in my stomach. It’s loving and caring. A deep voice which makes my toes curl. I’ve never felt as safe before. He takes hold of my underwear, dragging it down my legs. I help him, kicking it off my feet. He does the same with his, leaving both of us pressed together, in an ice-cold cabin, with a bunch of blankets, naked. I feel him stroke my folds, his hardness pressed against me. I yearn for him, waiting for him to take the first move. 

He does. Chests pressed up against each other, he lowers himself, slowly filling me up. Head is in the crook of my neck, breathing heavily as he keeps going. Shit, he’s big, not even feeling his thighs yet and still pressing in. 

“You’re doing so good for me” he whispers, breathing unevenly and struggling to form the words. Knowing that he’s also feeling this way makes it better. I take hold of his torso, quickly pushing myself completely down on him. We both moan in response, and he doesn’t waste time, starting to move immediately. The cabin fills up with the sound and smell of sex, whimpers and moans in symphony, no one close enough to hear. We’re here, alone and together. 

His pelvis rubs against mine, giving me that extra bit of friction to my core. It starts building up, the warmth, the withholding pleasure wishing to cave. His arm takes hold of my leg, lifting it up, letting him dig himself even deeper. My back arches as he does, reaching my cervix, pain and pleasure shooting through me at the same time. 

“Fuck, Josh I’m gonna come” 

“Mhm, yeah me too” 

He pumps in and out, almost leaving me before slamming into me again. His hand grabs my side harshly, leaving marks which’ll stay for days. My arms go around him, pressing him harder against me, elevating the friction and rubbing. I can’t help it, my nails digging into his back, scraping and crying for release. His lips capture mine in a passionate kiss, and I finally come, clenching around him. Feeling my whole body twitch with pent up energy and ecstasy. He rides me through it, pumping until he digs himself deep, coating my walls in white release. 

The room is filled with deep breaths, bodies tight as his arms go around me, head moving up to kiss my cheek. I stroke his back hand hair, not getting enough of him. I just had sex with Josh Washington, but… was it just to keep warm? My own insecurities get the better of me, and as if on cue, he meets my eyes with his, looking for something. 

“You okay?” 

“I mean, I’m warm” 

“That’s not what I mean” 

I sigh, the high slowly falling, making my body limb and tired. 

“What happens now?” 

He smiles, leaning down and kissing me again, this time, more romantic, more real. 

“I guess we lay here until the sun comes up. Then we get to the lodge, and maybe we can do this again” 

“Again?” 

“You know, really do it again” 

“Fucking hell Washington, that’s not what I mean” 

“I know what you mean, and you should probably stick to calling me Josh”

[jamminvroomvroom]

in the middle of nowhere.

ln x fem!reader

in which you get the wrong idea in the middle of nowhere, so lando finally pops the question.

hello again! two fics in three days, unhinged jas is back 🤭 right so anyways, here you go! i love this concept so much and i hope you do too, lemme know what you think!

this can absolutely count as part two to everything if you want it to!

songs to set the mood: green eyes::siena by nothing but thieves, fearless by taylor swift, white ferrari by frank ocean, to love by suki waterhouse

warnings: 18+ minors dni! smut, angst for a sec, fluff, bit of choking, reader being stupid, lando also being stupid, then being so sickeningly in love, car sex hehe

2.1k words

the proposal

lando could see it now, the picture clear in his mind. the lines of your dress, clean and white. a veil that flowed, lacy and intricate. your eyes meeting his as you ascended towards him, ready to be bound together in life and love by two silver bands.

all you had to do was say yes. all he had to do was ask.

it was simple enough, getting down on one knee, bowing down before the woman he cherished with everything he had. the planning, however, that went into asking the question was eating him alive.

lando thought that he’d nailed it, finally landing on that one big idea that you’d remember for the rest of your lives. the perfect moment where he’d pledge to be yours forever.

little did he know that while the preparation was killing him slowly, it was also killing you.

-

the car ride was quiet.

lando tried to remain neutral, hiding his nerves and excitement. today was the day, you were en route to a small vineyard in the south of france. the drive from your monaco apartment wasn’t too far, but it was long enough for the pair of you to slip into silence. lando perceived it to be comfortable, glancing at you every now and then, noticing how you were taking in the countryside.

he tried not to concern himself over the way you were fiddling with your hair, chewing at your fingernails. you didn’t seem to notice the way he was watching you, eyes flirting between where you sat and the road ahead. he was more concerned by the dark cloud gathering ahead, but found some hope in the way the sunlight broke through, casting beams of light every which way.

the road was dead, not another car for miles. lando felt like you were the only two people in the world, manoeuvring the vintage lamborghini through the winding lanes, the overhanging trees casting curious shadows. it felt like a fairytale, until, of course, it didn’t.

“do you still love me, lando?” you choked out, finally turning to look at him.

lando slammed the brakes, hard. the way they screeched in protest told him that he’d be dropping a large sum into his mechanics bank account, but he couldn’t find an ounce of care, not when the woman he adored was asking such gut wrenching questions.

“what?” lando spat, delirious with confusion. his eyes were wide, wild with fear. “i- what?” he repeated himself, heart beating dangerously fast, and not in the usual way it did when you spoke.

“you just… are you breaking up with me?” your eyes were brimming with tears, lip quivering ever so slightly, but you stayed strong.

“are you serious?” lando was bewildered. “why would you think that?” he was wracking his brain for anything he’d done wrong.

“you’ve been so distant, at first i thought- well i don’t know what i thought, i just feel like you’re slipping away from me.” you sounded like the shell of your usual self, distraught in the face of it all ending. lando was too.

“baby, i’m so sorry. you’ve got it all wrong, i promise.” lando turned in his seat towards you, quickly checking his mirror as he did, safety first. he grabbed your hands, eyes meeting yours as he tried to convey reassurance.

“why have you been like this, then? have i done something wrong?” and so the troubleshooting began.

lando clenched his teeth, wondering how on earth he could explain his way out of this one without completely letting the cat out of the bag. it seemed that while he was planning perfection, he’d been neglecting you and he felt painfully stupid.

“i can’t… well, i can’t say.” lando replied, voice laced with hesitation. you frowned at his lack of explanation, head tilted in confusion.

“you can’t say? well that’s reassuring.” you bit back sarcastically. “if you don’t want me anymore, i’d rather you just tell me now.”

lando couldn’t believe what he was hearing. three years. three years you’d been together, and he was sure he’d loved you even longer. he was shocked that you thought that low of him, that he’d treat you so poorly, stringing you along. he could admit to himself that he’d made a bit of a mess of this, but he couldn’t accept that you thought he didn’t love you.

lando lived and breathed you.

“are you serious? you think i don’t want you?” his mind was moving a million miles an hour, and it spurred him on to make his next move. “get out the car.”

lando swung his door open, bounding round the door to open your door. there was a little velvet box burning a hole in his pocket, and he could feel it getting hotter with every stride he took. you stared at him dumbfounded when he took your hand, pulling you out of the car and into the road. you glanced around nervously, making sure you weren’t about to cause a car crash, but the coast was clear.

he pulled you into his chest, holding you close, eyes fixed on yours, his own a little teary now.

“you think i don’t want you? god.” lando sighed, shaking his head. one of his hands snaked down to his pocket. “you are the only person i will ever want. i didn’t want to do this here, had a whole plan and everything, but that means nothing to me if the woman i love thinks i don’t want her.”

his little speech had knocked the air out of you, and as he sunk down onto one knee, the colours of the sun hitting him so beautifully, you realised just how wrong you had been.

“baby, from the moment i met you, i knew. i knew you were gonna be my person, i just didn’t even imagine that you’d feel the same way. these years with you have been the best fucking years of my life, and i knew from the beginning that i wanted you by my side through it all.”

he was grinning up at you, a ball of nerves and curls, a few tears falling. you were a river, weeping over him, one hand clutching over your heart, the other fallen to your side.

“maybe i got it wrong, and i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry. but i’m asking what i’ve wanted to ask for a ridiculously long time.” lando breathed. “will you marry me?”

you blinked, once, twice, choking out breaths between sobs. you dragged him up from the ground, kissing him with everything you had left. it was passionate, heavy with pent up emotion, and you never wanted to let him go. you cupped his face, keeping you together when you broke apart.

“yes, lando.” you whispered. “of course.” he slipped the ring onto your finger, a perfect, effortless fit, and then you were kissing him again, as close as could be, his hands all over you.

that’s when you felt the first drops of rain, the clouds finally breaking, just as they’d been threatening to all day.

“oh, fuck.” lando muttered, ready to pull you back to the car, but you wanted this moment to last.

“it doesn’t matter.” you said, letting the droplets coat your flushed skin. lando just smiled, relief washing over him like the rain.

you were engaged. fuck the rain.

and so, there you were, getting your very own movie moment, kissing in the rain with the love of your life, your fiancé, the man you would spend the rest of your life with. the sun still broke through the clouds, bathing you in light as the rain splattered against the damp ground. the leaves of the trees seemed to glisten, water droplets casting twinkles like fairy lights all around you. somehow, after everything, it was perfect. more perfect that anything you could have asked for, and, as bittersweet as it was to admit it, better than anything lando could have planned.

you threw your head back, staring up at the sky. lando leant forward, kissing over your exposed neck, and you hummed in delight. his lips worked their way up until they were ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“i love you. i will always love you.” lando whispered, and you melted into his hands that had a firm grip on your waist.

you shared a look, every worry dissipated, and you saw your life together, right there in his eyes. a flower littered aisle, him in a sleek black suit, his eyes meeting yours from the other side of the room. and then he was kissing you again and you felt the cool, damp metal of his car against your skin. your mind was full of houses in the country, white bedsheets, children playing in a garden. dinners by a fireplace and maybe a dog. but everything you saw slipped away until the only thing that remained was lando, right here, right now.

he was all over you, wet curls trickling cold water over you, sending a shiver down your spine. you grabbed at his shoulders, pulling at his soaked shirt, the white material translucent from the weather. it clung to him deliciously as you ran your hands over the linen.

“get in the car.” he groaned, sliding the material of your skirt up your legs. you complied instantly, turning to climb into your seat, when he stopped you. “no, honey. on my lap.” he smiled mischievously as he slid into the passenger seat and you quickly followed clambering onto his lap.

lando pulled your left hand up, so that it was resting over his heart. you finally had a chance to properly take in the ring, breathtaking as it was. it was an emerald cut diamond, simple yet elegant, exactly what you’d always envisioned.

“you see that? every time you look at this ring i want you to remember that i will always be yours. okay?” his voice had dropped, making the moment you were in even more intimate.

“okay.” you whispered, and his hand trailed lower, slipping under the hem of your ridden up dress. the other went to your neck, fingers gripping softly at the base of your throat.

“you thought i didn’t want you?” his grip tightened, your eyes wide in awe, fixed on his, murky blue green waters turned dark. “silly girl.” and then his other hand found your underwear, tugging it to the side.

lando moaned when he felt how wet you were, dripping all over his fingers, nice and ready for him. he worked through your folds, applying a firm, slow pressure to your clit. your mouth hung open, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure, but the way his hand closed around your neck had you staring back at him again.

“i need you.” you whimpered, your own smaller hands gripping at his wrist, pushing him further into your delicate neck, rolling your hips against where his hand worked against your soft flesh.

“don’t doubt me anymore, do you? not when i’m the only one who can make you feel like this?” lando teased, and your stomach tightened, clamping down on the two fingers he’d slipped inside you.

“no,” you whined. “only you, lando.” and that was enough convincing for him.

he held you up, just enough to free himself from his jeans and boxers, and you gripped his shoulders, clawing at him as you sunk down on his length. the rain fell harder, condensation gathering on the windows as you ground down on him, meeting his thrusts. tears pricked your eyes; he felt so good, fit you like a missing puzzle piece, and you’d doubted him. you knew, in that moment, that you’d never do such a thing again.

moans were shared between you in unison, your foreheads pressed together as you both got closer and closer, the tight space intensifying the desperation to meet your end. his hands were firm on your hips, his body tight underneath your hands. you couldn’t keep the pace, thighs aching where you were straddling him, and he quickly took charge. your head fell to his shoulder, panting into his ear as he gave you everything, putting everything he had into the final few thrusts.

you laid against his chest in silence after, the sunset casting pinks and purples over the car. you grinned lazily, exhausted, your heart fuller than ever before.

“i’m sorry i doubted you.” you mumbled into his neck, nosing at his stubbled jaw.

“i’m sorry i made you doubt me.” he responded, stroking your hair, squeezing you tighter for a second.

“i can’t wait to marry you, lando.” you kissed his jaw, sitting up to smile at him. your hands looped around his neck, twisting his curls around your fingers.

“my wife.” lando chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “let’s get you home, hm?”

“please.” you crooned. “i’m sure you need to tell max that you finally asked me, huh?”

“you know me too well.”

-

taglist

removed tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit