#my writings > ln

[coff33andb00ks]

Hazy Days - LN

summary: summer fling, don't mean a thing pairing: lando norris x divorced!reader word count: 3.6k warnings: non-explicit smut (mdni), older woman a.n.: fuck quadrant's summer scope vids song: summer nights from Grease

You're doing it again. It's been over a year now and you're still rubbing your ring finger with your thumb. You're not as quite as surprised when you don't feel the rings, and when you look down you're relieved to see that the pale patch of skin has disappeared. I've got to buy a ring, you think. Because, despite everything, you still feel weird without a ring on that finger.

You give your head a shake. The marriage is over. It was over before it officially began, but the divorce has been finalized for almost a month. The settlement is in your account – it's how you're paying for this spontaneous trip.

You're no longer a married woman. A terrifying thought, even now, when your entire identity for nearly 10 years was wife. And now…

Now you don't know what you are.

So you packed a bag, bought a plane ticket on a whim, and now you're at some seaside hotel in the south of France. You're looking out at the people on the beach, and further out at the yachts dotting the Mediterranean.

A place you've always wanted to visit and now you're frozen in the hotel room, scared to death that you won't enjoy it. Like a decadent dessert you've thought about all day that tastes like an old candy bar when you finally get a bite. Like the new Louboutin pumps you'd wanted for your birthday two years ago that had pinched your toes and you haven't worn since.

You've built this up in your head and now you're afraid it won't live up to your expectations.

Babes, enjoy it. This is gonna be so healing for you.

Your best friend's words ring in your mind and you reach for the phone to call her for more reassurance, then remember the time difference. She loves you, but she won't appreciate a phone call this early unless it's an emergency.

"God, get over it. You're not the only newly divorced woman in the world," you mutter to yourself, turning away from the window to finish dressing. You want to do some exploring, get plenty of photos to share, maybe find a few souvenirs.

Your thumb slides over your ring finger as you exit the hotel a little while later and you sigh, turning back to ask the concierge of a nice jewelry store. When you tell him you're interested in purchasing a ring, he knows the perfect place and soon you're on your way, strolling along the winding streets.

The afternoon sun is hot and you breathe a sigh of relief once you step into the shop. The interior or hushed and you're aware of the clerks' eyes all moving to you. A couple young men at the counter are chatting and laughing, not paying attention to you at all, and you venture further into the shop.

The men are looking at bracelets, and a smartly dressed clerk is more than happy to show you the rings, leading you to a low counter and inviting you to sit in the cushioned chair.

"Oh… No, not anything like a wedding or engagement ring," you say as a tray of sparkling diamond rings is brought out. "I… I recently got divorced and I need something to replace my rings. Something that looks nothing like a wedding ring?"

From behind you, you can hear the two men murmuring, their English accents oddly comforting after three days of hearing only French voices. You finally narrow the selection down to two and are trying to decide when movement out the corner of your eye snags your attention.

It's one of the men, peering at necklaces. You steal a glance at him – handsome, well dressed, a head of dark curls – and look back at the rings when he turns his head, embarrassed to be caught looking.

You're focusing on the rings, trying them on and testing out how they feel against your thumb, when he speaks.

"I think the other one looks better."

Jerking your head up, you find yourself looking into a pair of brilliant green eyes.

It's so fucking unfair that his lashes are so pretty.

"Do you?" you ask, looking back at the rings.

"Yeah – unless you want something flashy?"

He's moved close enough you can smell his cologne.

He even smells divine. So fucking unfair.

You switched rings and nodded. "Flashy isn't really me… I'll take this one," you tell the clerk.

The man smiles. "Getting used to a ring?"

"Ah… No," you chuckle. "Can't get used to not having one."

His smile dies and a look of panic flashes over his face. "Um… Sorry?"

You almost laugh. Giving your head a shake, you watch the clerk wrap the ring and wait for her to return. "Don't be."

"Oh," he murmured, smile returning and sliding into a grin. "Congratulations, then."

This time you do laugh. "Thanks."

He gives you a look as the clerk returns, and before you can reach for your wallet he's already handing over his card. You open your mouth to protest but he tips his head. "A congratulations gift," he insists.

His friend approaches, giving you a friendly nod. "What are we congratulating?"

You smile weakly. "The end of my marriage."

"Divorce?" he asks. When you nod, he smirks. "The best thing about marriage, honestly."

"Max."

"What am I supposed to say?" Max protests, holding up his hands.

The first man groans. "You're such a – cheers," he says when the clerk brings his card back. "Let's go before you embarrass me even more."

You're smiling at their banter as you thank the clerk for her assistance. When you stand to make your way out, he's waiting near the door.

"Buy you a drink?" he offers as he opens the door for you.

His name is Lando. Max – pain in my ass – is obviously his best friend and doesn't join you for drinks as he's got to get packed up to leave. When you suggested Lando spend time with him before he goes home, Lando waved it off.

"He lives in England but I see him all the time."

Lando, it turns out, does not live in England. He looks almost embarrassed when you ask where he lives, and when he finally mutters that he lives in Monaco your eyes widen. Surely he's too young to be that well off?

Trust fund, probably. Now you don't feel so bad for his paying for the ring.

"That must be… Interesting," you say, taking a sip of your drink. He's brought you to a chic bar at the beach, and you're sitting on the upper terrace, the slowly sinking sun casting a golden glow over the water.

"I don't really get much time there." He fiddles with the stirrer in his drink. "I'm gone a lot."

Interest piqued, you set your glass down. "Oh?" Maybe he's a model, even if he is a little on the short side. Not that he's that short – he's definitely taller than you. "What do you do?"

"I drive cars." He ducks his head briefly. "Racecars."

"Really? I'm not… I'm a dumb American, the only racing I really know is the Indy 500?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "That's IndyCar."

You listen, fascinated, as he tells you about formula one, which you have heard about but it's not in your orbit. He seems both relieved and amused at the fact you're not into sports, and you can feel him relax as he laughs when you tell him you only watch the Super Bowl every year so you can eat a ton of junk food.

A drink turns into a few, and he's so nice to listen to, so easy to talk to. When he suggests dinner, you hesitate. You don't want to be that woman, newly divorced and falling into bed with the first man that looks at you. Especially one so young—

"How old are you?" you blurt.

It obviously surprises him and, though he was halfway out of his seat he sank back down. "How old are you?"

You refuse to play coy, to fish for compliments like you're desperate. "I'm thirty."

His eyebrows lift. "Twenty-four."

So not that young. More like… younger.

Lando gives you a smile. "Does that cancel dinner?"

You look into his eyes for a long moment then glance out at the view. There's an obvious fork in the road in front of you. One leads to something with this handsome racecar driver, and you have a feeling it's going to be more than dinner. The other leads to the rest of your solo vacation, with the cloud of what could be lingering. Looking at him again, you slowly breathe in.

Expensive cologne. Salt air.

"I'd love dinner," you say, and his smile rivals the setting sun.

You'll never be able to describe the meal you ate. Lando makes it nearly impossible to focus on anything but him. Not in a demanding way. He's just… Magnetic. He tells you stories about his career, about embarrassing moments and highs and lows and talks about his other ventures. How does he have time to sleep? He talks glowingly about Max and has you giggling into your wine over a story of the two of them getting into trouble that left Lando locked out of his parents' home. When he apologizes for talking so much you almost beg him to not stop. But he asks about you, and you can't help thinking he seems genuinely interested.

"My life isn't half as interesting as yours," you say with a shake of your head.

"I don't know… You're divorced, halfway around the world, having dinner with a strange guy. Seems interesting to me," he murmurs.

"Oh, it's a tale as old as time. Girl meets boy, girl falls in love and gives up everything… Girl becomes a woman, boy becomes a toad."

Lando winced. "No kissing to turn him into a prince?"

"He'd have to want the kiss for that to happen."

"What a fucking idiot," Lando says.

You tilt your head to the side. "For being a toad?"

"For not wanting your kiss."

You set your glass down with a surprised gulp. About to call him out for feeding you a line, you pause, seeing the glimmer in his eyes. Without thinking you lick your lips and see his gaze dip down briefly. You don't know what to say or how to react so you sit there, unable to refrain from thinking about how a kiss from Lando would feel.

"His loss." Lando's voice was barely above a murmur. Then, shockingly, his cheeks darken and his tongue darts over his lips. He looks down at his plate and you can hear his sigh before he looks up, his expression serious. "You gave up everything?"

"A slight exaggeration, really." You shrug, picking at your food. "I had dreams that I put on hold to help him achieve his."

"I've never been married. But, like…" He sighs, setting his fork down. "That doesn't seem fair?"

"Life isn't—"

"I know, but marriage isn't life is it?" His face screws up at that but he forges ahead. "Isn't the whole point of it to support and help each other achieve their dreams?"

Smiling sadly, you nod. "I thought it was. He thought different."

"What dreams did you put on hold?" he asks after a moment.

"I wanted to get published." You look down at your half-eaten food. "When I was a kid, I loved reading and making up stories… I was studying for my degree in English – I planned to teach writing while working on my novels, because it's hard to make money doing it at first, and… Now it's too late."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'd have to go back to school and—"

"Yeah? Would you have to start over completely?"

"No." You can't remember how many credit hours you have left, but it would only take a phone call or an email to find out. "I wasn't too far from my degree."

"Then what's stopping you?" he challenged softly.

You don't have an answer. Nothing but the fear of failing, and you don't know him well enough to admit that.

"I don't read." He winces a bit at the admission. "Dyslexic, yeah? It's a miracle I finished school. But anyway. You write a novel and I promise to read it."

A smile pulls at your lips. "You'd do that for me? Someone you don't even know?"

"Of course." He grins. "I believe in supporting the arts."

He drives you back to the hotel in his sleek sportscar and for once you understand the allure of a purring engine and soft leather seats. There's no impending pressure when he offers to see you to your room, only the heat of his hand at the small of your back and the enticing scent of his cologne.

At your door, he hesitates. "Can I kiss you?"

Has anyone ever asked your consent for a kiss? You don't think so and the realization makes you sad, but you push that away because you've wanted him to kiss you since halfway through dinner.

His lips are a lighted match to kindling. The heat and desire are immediate and you're leaning into him, frightened by the strength of your want but craving more. It's been an embarrassingly long time since you've felt this way and you're aware that it may be even longer before you feel it again. So when the door finally clicks open you don't hesitate to step inside, pausing and reluctantly breaking the kiss to look up at him.

And wish you'd googled how to invite a man into your hotel room without sounding desperate.

But you don't have to ask.

"Okay to come in?" he whispers.

"God yes," you gasp.

His lips are on yours before the door closes behind him. Wrapping your arms around him, you sink into the kiss, snatching in breaths as his hands cradle your head. A soft whine is muffled against his tongue as you grip the front of his shirt, knees nearly forgotten as the tenderness of his touch wars the ferocity of his kiss.

"Fuck," he mumbles against your lips, his hands beginning to wander, molding you closer against him, his breath hitching as he clutches your hips. He pulls his head back slightly and you can feel his harsh breathing as he stares at you before crashing his lips to yours again.

The need grows stronger, almost primal, and you're backing towards the bed, gasping as his hands pull at your dress, nearly ripping it. Craving the feel of his skin, you do the same to his shirt, barely noticing the trail of clothing on the floor, too focused on his touch and his smell and the decadence of his kiss. He guides you down, swallowing your gasp as your bare skin touches the cool sheets.

Breaking the kiss with a harsh moan, he braces his hands on either side of you and lifts up slightly. He's panting, lips parted, and he gives a soft chuckle of surprise. "I didn't plan on this."

You lick your lips, still tasting him. And only craving more. "Neither did I."

He blinks, eyes almost wild as they dart from yours to your lips and back again. And all you can think—

Beautiful. Breathtakingly so. You know it'll never happen but the romantic inside you wishes you could wake up to his eyes every morning.

He leans down, and his kiss sends every coherent thought away. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, his hair softer than you thought it would be. His hands are rough but gentle at the same time, in your hair and trailing down your sides. Your name is a longing moan vibrating against your throat as you trace the muscles of his back.

"Lando," you gasp, arching beneath him.

"I know… I know." Hot breath at your ear, fingers digging into your thigh. Guiding your leg over his hip.

"Please." It's a soft moan.

"Fuck." His lips move to yours, his gasping whimper muffled.

The frantic need is still there but he's unhurried, as though he's trying to memorize every breath, every touch. When your hand flies out to grasp the sheet his hand follows, fingers threading between yours and gripping tightly. You're lost in the haze, sweat forming between you, sheets twisting. Ecstasy rises, peaks, and it's so sudden and delicious your cries ring out.

"Y/n." A desperate whine that only increases the bliss.

Rolling, twisting, arching. It's feverish and needy and so good so so good.

You both collapse, your hands in his sweat-damp hair. Panting, tingling, you wait for the awkwardness that never comes. His touch is tender, his lips gentle on yours before he's pulling away, murmuring that he'll get a towel. He's back before you can catch your breath, and by the time you can breathe he's kissing you again.

The sky outside is turning gray when you both breathlessly agree to get some sleep. You half expect him to leave, but he's there when you wake up, sleeping on his stomach next to you, his arm slung across your waist, his gentle snores telling you he's fast asleep.

And though you distinctly remember him saying he was going back to Monaco that day, he sticks around. Blushes and shrugs when you ask him about it over lunch, then suggests borrowing a friend's yacht for the night. The days bleed into the nights, a blurred span of time of sightseeing, swimming, and Lando.

When it's time for you to pack up to go home you feel a little bereft. But the vacation can't last forever. You've got to go back to real life, figure out how you'll live as a completely free woman. And he's got to get back to his life, jetting around the world and undoubtedly breaking hearts.

You exchange numbers and he promises to keep in touch, but you know you'll be forgotten before your plane takes off. You've been a pleasant distraction for his summer break, nothing more.

You're about to board when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. From Lando.

- You dropped your ring in my car.

As you stare at the words, you realize you haven't rubbed your ring finger in nearly a week. A picture appears on the screen, the ring – that he bought – resting in his palm.

- Hold onto it for me?

He won't. He'll give it away or sell it or take it back to the shop.

But, when you're back home and have exchanged texts with him and even a couple phone calls – yes I promise I contacted an advisor, I'm signing up for classes – and he lets you know his break is over and he's getting back to work, you cave and pull up footage of him in an interview.

He looks different on the screen of your laptop. Good, but different. And you can only focus on the necklace that's just visible under his (hideous really) orange shirt. When he leans, it shifts, and you see it.

Your ring.

"Are you still hung up on her?"

Lando's head snaps up at Max's question. "What?"

His friend gestures to the phone in Lando's hand. "That American?"

He feels his cheeks heat and realizes Max knows he's looking at your Instagram. "I'm not hung up."

Max just looks at him.

"I'm just checking on her," he mutters.

With a sigh, Max softens and sits next to him. "It's okay to like her, you know."

He huffs, his hand reaching to fiddle with the ring on his necklace. "She was just supposed to be a fling."

"But she wasn't," Max says after a moment.

Lando shakes his head. "I don't know," he whispers.

Silence lingers, stretches as his thumb hovers over your most recent post.

Then, softly. "Am I stupid?"

Max shoots him a look.

"For thinking it was special," he adds before his friend can insult him. "For thinking she thinks it was special."

"Was it special?"

He swallows hard, rolling the ring between his fingers as he looks at the post, a photo of a cup of coffee next to a laptop. Up past my bedtime parsing Austen. Liking it, he closes the app and locks his phone.

Was it special? Or was it just the great sex and no strings that had him thinking it was? At first, in those days immediately after you'd left, he'd only thought about the sex. How freeing it had been, knowing he wouldn't see you again and could let inhibitions go. But with each week that passed the sex wasn't the only thing he thought about.

Laughter and sunshine. Salty air and sweet conversation. Honeyed voice and understanding eyes.

He lifts his head, meeting Max's eyes. He doesn't have to say it. Max has known him for more than half his life. But he answers.

"Yes."

Taglist:

@maxlarens | @driverlando | @leodette | @forzalando | @captainreecejames | @d3kstar | @frenchyjuju | @irishmanwhore | @warrensluvr | @tpwkstiles | @mcmuppet | @eveninggstar | @noooway555 | @bookishnerd1132 | @skeleton-elly | @trisharee | @littlegrapejuice

[phantome29]

"No point in feeling down about it now Just let my feelings reach your heart"

[spikershoyo]

birthday special | lando norris x f!reader | smut | minors DNI!

warnings, tags, and notes: smut, oral sex (fem and masc), eating cake while getting your pussy eaten (lol), mentions of drinking, Lando having the tiniest existential crisis, fingering, happy birthday to the only boy ever <3

Lando groaned softly when his eyes opened in the morning, already knowing he woke up too early on a day off. But he quickly relaxed back into the sheets when he felt your warm body against his, head tucked into the side of his neck, he was content with laying there for a few more hours. He didn’t know that you were already awake, having looked at his peaceful, sleeping face when you had woken up. 

You waited a few minutes to shift, murmuring a soft ‘good morning, baby’ as Lando tightened his hold around you. He grunts something back in response, eyes still heavy from sleep. You peppered kisses over his neck, eliciting a soft sound from Lando, your hands tracing down his warm body, making the Brit squirm. “Your hands are cold,” He sighed, relishing in your kisses. “Happy birthday, Lan,” You whispered into his skin. 

Lando smiles at the low congratulations, murmuring a ’thank you’ before pulling you closer, turning you both over, and having you sit on his lap. Lando sighed with contentment, watching you with adoring eyes. Hair messy and his t-shirt resting over your frame, it’s better than anything he could have asked for. 

Your hands now run down his bare chest, touching and feeling the skin you had access to at any time of the day, Lando’s wolfish smile beaming up at you as his hands rested on your hips, sliding under your sleeping shirt and tracing over your panties. “Look at you,” He hummed, shifting your hips so that you moved over his morning wood, making both of you groan out in pleasure. Lando entertains the idea of sinking into you and sleeping through the rest of the morning, meeting up with his parents later, but you have something else planned. 

You slide down his lap and settle between his legs, planting your hands on his thighs as you gaze up at him. “Wanted to give my sweet boy something special on his birthday morning,” Lando’s dazed expression makes you giggle, his fingers gripping onto the meat on your hips. 

Lando takes a deep breath when he feels your lips around the tip of his cock, your hands having pulled his boxers down. He leaned his head back on the pillows, getting comfortable while fighting back the urge to buck his hips into your mouth. 

Morning head on his birthday sounded heavenly, it was more than he could have asked for. Lando doesn’t last long, quickly finishing in your mouth and pulling you back up to him for a kiss. 

You managed to begrudgingly get Lando out of bed, still lazy from his first birthday treat. There were a few moments when Lando realized he was turning 25, a very real, very adult age. While avoiding a midlife crisis, you got him to get ready so you could go visit his family, who had landed in Monaco last night so they could celebrate Lando’s birthday. 

Everything was perfect, all the people he loved gathered around for a nice brunch. His parents, brother and sisters, friends, cousins, grandparents, and you, the person he most loved. 

He laughed and had the best of time, getting a small cake so the people he loves can celebrate him, and even now at 25 he still doesn’t know where to look when they’re singing happy birthday to him. So he settles to look at you. 

Later into the day you and Lando had decided to go out clubbing with a few friends for some more adult fun, a few of the drivers from the grid coming out to wish him a nice one. 

Lando’s tipsy and he’s happy, happier than he’s been in a while. He gets to hold you and kiss you, be celebrated by you, and just have a good day. So when you both come back stumbling into your apartment, tipsy and gleeful, Lando is insatiable. Ever since you both grabbed a cab back home he’s been all over you, whispering dirty promises and sweet nothings into your ears. 

You’re hungry when you walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water, Lando whining for you to come to bed, wanting to have you undressed. “Baby, come on,” He sighs, bent over and leaning on the kitchen island, gazing at you. “Hold on, birthday boy, I’m hungry.” When you open the door to the fridge nothing looks too appetizing except for Lando’s birthday cake. 

When Lando watches you stab a fork into his birthday cake, he smiles softly, walking towards you so he can settle his hands on your hips. “Gimme some,” He murmurs as he pulls you closer by your hips. You fork into the cake and stab him a piece, feeding it to him with a smile. Lando hums at the fluffy and sweet taste, the buttercream frosting melting across his tongue. “Come here,” He whispers, lifting you so you sit kitchen island. Your eyes gaze into his, dragging down his body, admiring the chain that hangs low on his chest, the few buttons he left open on his dress shirt taunting her to take it all off. 

Lando’s lips quickly press against your neck, mouthing over the heated skin, licking and biting gently. A soft moan escapes your lips as Lando spreads your legs apart, settling himself between them. “Lemme have another bite,” Lando then whispers against your lips. Lando’s hands rest on the top of your thighs, waiting expectantly with a dazed smile. 

You both share a few more bites of cake before the Brit decides he wants to eat something else. Slow, deliberate kisses are pressed down your chest, your party dress having been pushed down earlier. When he reaches the heat of your core he practically moans, hungry for more. 

Your hands run down the nape of his neck, coming back up to play with his curls when he pulls your panties down, pressing his nose against your core and smirking, littering kisses over your inner thigh before practically making out with your cunt. 

“Taste so good,” Lando moans, your hips bucking up against his mouth, whimpers falling from your lips with ease. Lando hums and nips gently against your clit, making you jolt and hit him swiftly in the back of his head, causing a laugh from the man between your legs. 

Lando eats you out like a man starved, whining and thrusting into the air as he looks up at you, eyes hooded and nose pressed against your bundle of nerves. Your body felt like it was on constant overdrive, a wave of hot and cold washing over you. 

“Oh, fuck, Lan,” You moan out, the sound resounding a bit in the fairly quiet apartment, the only other sound being the squelch between your legs, Lando’s tongue doing wonders for your pleasure. “H-hey, I should be the one pleasing you,” You chuckle breathlessly, cheeks flushed and feeling a beginning coil in your stomach. 

“This is a pleasure to me,” Lando mumbles against your pussy, pulling back to lick his lips and dip two fingers, making your mouth open in a loud moan. “That’s it, pretty girl, I know you’re close,” He smirks, knees starting to ache from kneeling on them. 

With one hand in his curls and the other one gripping the edge of the kitchen island, your hips buck up onto Lando’s digits, your bottom lip trembling when he blows air against your core. “Please, please, lemme cum, Lan, feels so good,” You plead, eyes staring down into pretty green eyes, his smile widening as you beg.

“Come on, baby, cum on my fingers,” Lando says, lips quickly going back to suck on your clit while his fingers pump in and out of your runny cunt, his soft chuckles sending shockwaves throughout your body.

When pleasure overcomes you, a delicious coil unwinding in your stomach, Lando licks up into your pussy, relishing in the slick and cleaning you up. 

Lando stands up from between your legs and licks his fingers, crashing his lips into yours so you can taste yourself on his tongue. “So sweet,” He murmurs against your lips, one of his hands coming up to swipe at his birthday cake, finger dipping into the frosting before he presses the digits against your bottom lip, prompting you to suck the yummy buttercream off. 

“And that’s even sweeter,” Lando cheekily adds, a small giggle escaping him once you roll your eyes at him. 

Now as the night ends and you’re both in the bathtub, soaking in the bubbles, Lando realizes that this is all he could have ever wanted. Sure, the presents and the company were nice, but all he wanted was you, and his wishes were granted. 

The Brit relaxes against your chest, freshly cut mullet damp and sticking to the nape of his neck, his eyes closed as your hands rested over his stomach under the water. “I love you,” Lando says, “Thank you for today, it’s been really nice.” He smiled to himself, knowing that this would be one of the many memorable birthdays he had. “I love you too, baby,” You whisper back to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Happy birthday, Lando.” 

<3

[bright-and-burning]

Slow kiss, whatever pairing you want! — wiz

Oscar giggles, thready and high, and leans into Lando’s space to grab the joint back from his hands. He takes a breath to steady himself first, pull it together so he won’t choke on the inhale and embarrass himself, and settles into his spot, twisting to sit sideways.

Lando lowers his hand and sinks back into the couch they’re sharing. Oscar can’t look away, stuck on the spread of Lando’s fingers across the pristine fabric. He’s drawing designs in the fuzz with his index finger, everything else held stationary, like the only tendons connected to his brain are concentrated there.

Lando pokes Oscar’s side.

“D’you forget how to smoke?”

His voice is slurred, low and slow. Oscar drags his eyes back up to Lando’s face.

“Noooooo,” Oscar draws it out, reveling in the shape of his mouth around the letters.

He forces his limbs to cooperate. Draws his hand up, and pauses, thoughts loading in from far away.

“You ever-“

He stops.

Lando blinks, lids slow to lower and even slower to raise.

“Yeah?”

It’s more an exhale than a word, but Oscar sees the green light that it is.

“Y’ever shotgun?”

Lando’s finger pauses, halfway through writing Oscar’s name in the cushion. His nose scrunches up. Oscar wants to lick it.

“Fuckin’- what?”

“When you, like,” Oscar takes a hit, sits with it in his lungs for a moment. “And then you, y’know. Blow it in somebody’s mouth.”

Smoke escapes as he speaks, words made hazy and real.

Lando shifts forward, back into his usual state of perpetual motion.

“You mean blowbacks?“

“What the fuck. You just made that up.”

Lando twists to face him, faster than his eyes can track.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh!”

Lando rolls his eyes, giving in. Shocker, honestly. Oscar’d expected them to go on forever. The silence sits on his limbs like a weighted blanket.

Lando clears his throat.

“Nah.”

“Huh?”

Oscar’s head is heavy. He lets it slide to the side, leans his shoulder further into the couch.

“Never-“ Lando pauses, clearly searching for words. Oscar’s more interested in finding out what the sheen of sweat on Lando’s collarbone tastes like than predicting what he’s trying to say next. “Shotgunned, or whatever.”

Oscar stops calculating how weird it would be to lean over and lick Lando.

“You- never?”

“No?”

Lando sounds confused. Bemused, maybe.

Oscar hums. He wiggles his toes, testing his control of his limbs. Looks at the joint, cherry burning up, getting hot in his fingers, and makes a decision.

“Hold still.”

“Wha-“

Oscar swings his leg over Lando’s lap, faster than he thought he was capable of, and drags the rest of his body into center.

“Wanna try?”

Lando swallows and nods, head tipping back to keep Oscar in sight.

The joint’s nearly burnt down. Oscar shakes off a pang of guilt at the waste, and takes a hit, inhaling deep, making his chest tight with it.

He weaves a hand into the crown of Lando’s hair, and tugs until his mouth drops open.

Oscar leans in close, close enough for Lando’s breath to be a gentle puff against his skin, just far enough not to touch, and closes his eyes.

He exhales. Lando inhales, audibly shaky, and Oscar opens his eyes to meet Lando’s, pupils blown wide. Oscar’s skin feels lit up, electricity arcing across the paper-thin distance between their lips.

“Again?” Lando croaks. He’s looking up at Oscar like he wants to eat him. Or be eaten by him. Oscar can’t tell.

Oscar takes a quick glance at the joint and nods. He takes one final hit, a too-large inhale, and leans back to put the roach in the tray on the coffee table.

The air feels like molasses around him. Syrupy, thick and sweet. Just a little too warm to be comfortable.

Sweat prickles at the backs of his knees where they’re bent.

Oscar looks down at Lando, mouth ajar and eyes half-lidded, and feels like he’s swallowed the sun.

He leans in again, and exhales into Lando’s waiting mouth. Eyes wide open to watch him inhale and hold it.

Lando’s exhale lights Oscar up, like he’s blown on the embers in the pit of his stomach to start a bonfire instead of into his face.

Oscar closes the distance, suddenly desperate to touch, and kisses Lando.

Lando inhales sharply and wraps his arms around Oscar’s waist to pull him closer, hands hot like a brand even through Oscar’s shirt.

Oscar slides his tongue into Lando’s mouth, mapping all the places his breath has been that he hasn’t, and slows. The desperation cools, replaced with low-burning need, both too high for finesse or speed.

The world outside of Lando’s body below him and mouth on his disappears, narrowed down to nothing more than wet heat and the press of fabric against his knees.

It’s sloppy; lazily licking into each others’ mouths, breathing against each other.

Oscar could spend hours like this.

[queen0fm0nsterz]

miscellaneous ladies posting for chapter 4 of seafarers in honor of fox finally making an appearence where she does SOMETHING

[unicornpopcorn14]

Skk angst scenarios that live in my head rent free tho I have no time/courage to write them as a whole fic (Part 2):

Tw: Ptsd, implied/mentioned torture, panic attack symptoms, iatrophobia (fear of doctors)

Decided to put Chuuya through it this time . Enjoy :>

(1/2)

Chuuya wakes up from corruption the first time (after all the events of SB) and finds himself in a hospital bed.

His eyes are hazy as he tries to scan the room, blurred by anesthesia. It's all white, frantic shadows casting along. His own breath is loud, clouding the mask he's wearing. The urge to go back to sleep is strong, but he clings to consciousness, tries to make sense of things-

He chokes when he spots a figure in a white coat leaning over the bed.

It's a man- dark haired and soft-voiced. And because he can't see past the length of his arm, he's faceless.

The heart monitor's beeps are frantic and grate on his senses, and Chuuya can't even twitch. The oxygen mask has turned translucent, the clouds stiff and condencing faster than they should. He can't breathe- he can't-

"Chuuya-kun. You're in Mori's infirmary, my infirmary. There is nothing to fear."

The faceless figure says, and Chuuya wants to believe it, so he tries to squint his eyes, make out any features, but it's impossible with the heart desperate to beat out of his chest, the labcoat and latex gloves towering over him.

"Chuuya-kun, can you hear me? It's okay. You are safe."

He knows he should be. It's his boss, the man he'd pledged his loyalty for. He knows there is no reason for him to think otherwise. There is no threat of him getting dissected, torn up, burnt, or tied down like some monster but still-- still...

He's terrified, he's so fucking terrified and he can't help it.

~

←Part 1 - Part 2.2→

[apollos-boyfriend]

i need to be nicer to cpurpled (no i don’t) but i do realize that a lot of the time my characterization of him is very tainted by recency bias and his ln arc,,,,, he used to have a lot more self-awareness before that fucking duck

[withinthereeds]

The Mirror Man's Victims; a character study

Once again I have been plagued by the visions, this time about some characters absolutely nobody cares about.

This may get a bit rambly and include some speculation/headcanons, but that's just the nature of this sort of thing. Might also be a little image heavy as I toss up examples to prove my points. Putting it under the cut.

Note: for brevity's sake, I will be giving names to each of the children because frankly the names we know them as are entirely too long. The Boy Who Got Tall - Ricky The Boy Who Got Strong - Linus The Boy Who Got Forked - Casper The Humpback Girl - Destiny/Dess

First, the Setting:

Clearly this is a more modern time, in some form of urban area. I'd wager somewhere between the late 90's and early 2000's, going off of the kid's clothes (beanie, baseball cap, hoodies, etc). This contrasts rather starkly with the more rural setting of the previous comic involving the North Wind.

I have reason to believe this city is not inside the Nowhere itself. While the children do seem to be aware of an 'urban legend' surrounding the old building, Dess is the only one that believes in any danger. With the Sounds of Nightmares, we've been shown certain people may dream into the Nowhere and become acquainted with the monsters within, and it's not out of the question Dess herself has had night terrors such as those.

(the comment about the wind is funny, considering the last chapter was about the North Wind, but that very well may be a red herring. Even so, her conviction is strong. More on her later.)

An argument could be made about how is the Mirror Man in the real world in that case, which I understand. I have two counter theories for that though. Either the Ferryman himself brought him over as part of his trap, or the Mirror Man was never fully there to begin with. I'm more inclined towards the latter.

Notably he was already described as "the thing that wasn't there." And he isn't, really. He's in the mirrors, and he only reaches out of them without fully leaving them himself. Mirrors themselves are often described as portals or windows to another world, and I'd be inclined to think the Mirror Man's realm is sort of inbetween the Nowhere and the waking world, though it may have been tainted in some way and it's influence is severely limited outside the Nowhere.

Moving onto the children.

Ricky, The Boy Who Got Tall

Looking at him straight up, he is notably shorter than the others, and a bit more portly though the style doesn't make it that clear in most shots. I'd wager he's the youngest of the group.

His desires almost seem naive or softhearted in comparison to the others'. Reflecting a sense of self-importance, maybe?

(ha ha cookie fat joke so funny funny. rolling my eyes here)

Regardless. Ricky was also the one to argue with Dess about going into the building, and was the first to uncover a mirror. He takes the most initiative out of everyone in the group and is stubborn/pushy with what he wants, as if making up for a perceived inadequacy. However, he was also the one to help Dess with her plan to send the Mirror Man away (while Casper was injured and unable to assist).

(he also admits he was wrong, which is a nice touch)

Even with his rough edges, he shows the most consideration for what Dess feels, being the only one to stop and talk her into joining them inside, as well as the most concern for her wellbeing once things go to shit. He also promises to come back for her once they get help, and although Dess claims they never did, we don't know for certain how much time passed between the boys leaving and the Ferryman's arrival.

That being said, given the Ferryman's predatory nature, I wouldn't put it past him to manipulate her at her lowest point so she'd come with him to the Maw.

Linus, The Boy Who Got Strong

This one, we arguably know the least about, given his early removal from the comic, to put it lightly. He has very few lines, but we can infer a number of things from his actions, particularly his interactions with Casper.

He's shown being rather close to him, in the bluntest meaning possible. Working alongside him while Ricky is busy talking to Dess, having no qualms about personal space, and so on. He's also shown leading the way inside, next to Casper, and quickly follows up on Ricky's impulsiveness in uncovering the mirrors.

(note how they went in through the hole at the same time)

Moving on. The mirror's reflection showed him in a position of power. Building a "real castle," and sitting on top of it. Never to be picked on again. I'd reckon he views himself as king, or as the unofficial leader of his friend group. However he's not on top of the pecking order in his mind, so in a broader social scale I'd wager he's a Bully, but also a target for bigger bullies outside of his group.

(minor thing: is he throwing bugs at people? i cant tell)

I can't talk about him fully without bringing up his best friend's interactions with him. Onwards.

Casper, The Boy Who Got Forked

Props to this boy for being the only one in the friend group to have visible hair. Jokes aside, Casper seems to be sort of a two-faced cunt? In the beginning, he follows Linus' lead, yes, but also appears to be more put off by the place like Dess was, repeating what Ricky said to reassure himself. Once the mood lightens and they're enamored, he quickly falls into line, mirroring (hah) Linus and Ricky's sentiments.

(very much unrelated but why do they all have lighters... have they been smoking something on their past adventures...)

Anyhow, his desires, as shown by the mirror, are convenience, and not being alone. Getting his chores done early to spend more time elsewhere, presumably with his friends, as well as having more support for his "games." He calls it playing sure but it definitely looks more like he's bullying that kid. (kids?)

(note Linus is also part of his desires, while Ricky is not.)

After Linus is taken, Casper is somewhat reckless; approaching the mirrors to get changed back. The Mirror Man appears, and Dess barks at him to run.

He does not.

The Mirror Man grabs him, and so does Dess, pulling him in half. For the rest of the story, he is of few words and little help. Even after he was physically whole again, the mirror still held a massive part of him, I'd be inclined to believe.

This is largely speculation on my part, but his story is rather tragic too. Like Mono, he watched his best friend get taken away. But unlike Mono, he couldn't follow them. He couldn't save him. He's just a kid, after all, he doesn't have that same power.

Maybe the reason they were taking so long to come back was because he was having a massive breakdown over the loss of his friend, but who's to say for certain?

Destiny, The Humpback Girl

(sidenote: she appears to be wearing a hijab, or some other headscarf. interesting and neat.)

As mentioned previously, Dess is (rightfully) afraid of the building housing the Mirror Man, but how does she know it would be dangerous? Again, this is pure speculation as the comics were discontinued years ago, but now that we have the context of children slipping into the Nowhere through dreams, we have a potential reason for her fearful behavior.

Going back to what was actually said in the comic, is at odds with her friends. They don't take her seriously until it's too late, and they seem to have a history of shrugging her off (re: last week it was the wind). Despite this, she still risks herself for their freedom, and shows concern for Casper when he's hurt.

She was brave when she needed to be, and clever, more than her friends were, but she still slipped up. The mirrors never stopped being dangerous.

She risked herself again checking to see if the Mirror Man was dead, only this time she wasn't so lucky, as we know. He twisted her image, knowing how she perceived herself (re: mirrors always talked too much), leaving her to wallow in despair for her efforts.

However. The Mirror Man allowed her friends to change back. I doubt breaking the mirror he was looking through had any effect on Him specifically as it was only a window as we established earlier, so why did he let them go?

I have another theory. Dess was growing increasingly exasperated her friends, having been plagued by nightmares that weren't taken seriously, or being listened to at all. This whole experience was a trap for her, orchestrated so she'd be wounded and left behind, ready to be taken away. The Ferryman is manipulative and clever, it's possible he struck a deal with the Mirror Man to terrorize some children, allowing him to take one for himself as payment, as long as he left Dess alive and hurting.

closing thoughts: i think the ferryman should eat his own shorts. these brats and their dynamics have so much potential but i am likely doomed to scream into the void about them. maybe ill write something abt them myself lol

first time writing an analysis like this hopefully im coherent dsjknfdsjkfnjk. also my inbox is open to suggestions

[nyxi-pixie]

hello!! random question that hopefully isn't annoying!! when you say chuuya is contradictory as a character, wdym? I mean I know that but it's difficult for me to put into words so I'd like to hear what someone else has to say, esp as I've recently finished reading stormbringer!!

ty in advance hehe

ofc not love i am obsessed with talking about chuuya and will take all opportunities to do so🤩 also hope u enjoyed sb! its awful and wonderful and makes me insane!!

when i talk abt chuuya being contradictory i just mean that his traits are often in conflict with each other.

surface level hes arrogant, hes powerful and he knows it and plays that up (im always thinking abt his 'whats wrong? im just on my tippy toes😇' in fifteen manga), hes violent and he enjoys being violent, hes brash and loud and quick to snap.

but under that, youve got his self-blaming tendencies and a contentment with being used, and the isolation under his power that makes him resentful of it at times (when hes talking to hallucination sheep in sb: 'to hell with power, if i didnt have this skill id still be with you guys'), and he doesn't like needless death and has his own parameters for where the lines are rather than just being an amoral murderer looking for his next kill, hes quick and observant and patient and, sometimes, even quiet, small when the sheep are crowding him.

hes So Much of everything, even when those things are opposites, which is part of what makes him such a distinctly human character - and that in itself is more contradiction, that we spend so much time with his status as a human being ambiguous, when everything about him IS.

[metiredlr]

Dear DGM fandom I've actually gone insane after 251 I never thought we'd get anything Bookman Clan related this soon

[coff33andb00ks]

Luxury - LN

Part 2 of Hopeless Lando Norris x fem!reader (mentions of reader x Charles Leclerc) Summary: and if they call me a slut, you know it might be worth it for once Themes: none just sex Song: slut! by taylor swift word count: 3949 Warnings: smut, minors dni!, cheating, lando's a bad friend, charles is a bad boyfriend even tho he's not there, reader is a bad girlfriend, honestly the only decent person in this mini series is Oscar, unprotected sex, heaps of praise, and proofreading? we don't know her Notes: again I'm not condoning cheating (unless it's Lando) thanks to those that encouraged me to write this from reader's pov, although I got carried away with the smut. Soooo there's going to be two more parts to this to finish their story <3

You love Lando.

Because he's… Well, Lando. He's become your very best friend. You can talk to him about anything, whether it's work or the shoes you're thinking of getting or the book you just finished, he's always willing to listen. He commiserates over bitchy coworkers, encourages you to just get the fucking shoes, and questions the decisions of the characters you're in love with. He's always up for a game, even if it's three in the morning and he's flying out at nine. He doesn't complain when you show up and bake enough pastries and cupcakes to fill a supermarket, warning you not to tell his trainer when he sneaks a few.

And he makes you laugh. Only he can bring out the ugly snorting laugh that you hate, but you kind of love it because it makes him giggle hysterically.

It's Lando. You don't know how you survived as long as you did before he came, screaming with laughter, into your life.

So, when you began having doubts about Charles, there was only one place to go. You've lived in Monaco with your boyfriend for six months and still haven't made a local friend. Lando's there, and he takes one look at you and lets you in.

And here you are, hugging him after pouring out your worries over Charles' behavior. Because he made you laugh, like he always does.

"If he is cheating, he's a fucking moron. You're not even my girl and I can't find anyone that compares."

Lando's words give you pause and you stare at him. You're used to him cracking jokes. Even if you're having a bad day he never fails to make you cackle until you're crying and snorting – like he just did. This time, though, he's not joking. His eyes aren't dancing with humor, he doesn't have that stupid grin that's not a grin like he does when he's trying to make you laugh.

Your eyes dip to his mouth.

Suddenly, you want to feel his lips. You've felt them on your cheek. Lando is a clingy friend, so it's not new to be this close to him. He's always hugging you, kissing your cheeks, resting his head in your lap, leaning against you when he's drunk. But you want his lips on yours. You're not perfect, you've wondered more than a few times what it would be like to kiss him. Lifting your gaze to his eyes again, you breathe in.

"Lando," you whisper. You can hear the longing in your voice and see it mirrored in his eyes.

You both lean in, meeting halfway, and—

Fireworks.

His breath stutters against your lips, his forehead resting against yours briefly. "Y/n," he gasps. The fingers on your cheek slide into your hair and his lips are on yours again, fully this time.

It's gentle but wild, both desperate and calm. It soothes you and sparks a fire at the same time. Your hands cup his neck, hear his moan echoing yours as your tongues meet. The dance that's as old as time that has you craving more, your secret fantasies rising up while you picture his lips and tongue on your skin.

Lando's arm wraps around your waist and you willingly move closer, craving the tenderness and the heat. His mouth is still on yours and you settle in his lap, pressing as close to him as possible. He's the first breath of oxygen after being underwater. The first raindrops after a dry spell.

You never want this kiss to end.

You feel alive, and right now you can't think about what that means, you can only think of how invigorating this is. Pressing tighter against him you whine, feeling him growing hard in his sweats.

He tears his lips from yours with a gasp, eyes glazed with desire, his pulse racing beneath your fingertips. Digging his fingers into your waist, he presses his face against your neck, nuzzling and kissing. Breathing deeply, like you're his source of air.

"God, Lando," you whisper, wrapping your arms around him and letting your head fall back.

"Please," he moans, both arms around you now, and you can hear the faint whine in his voice. "Please, y/n…"

You nod, tugging on his hair and catching him in another kiss.

"Y/n," he whispers at the corner of your lips, and you can feel that he's holding himself back.

"Yes."

It's barely left your mouth when he's standing, holding you to him. You make a mental note to ask him when he learned to be graceful, because he always trips over stuff or walks into doorways. With your legs around him and your lips on his, though, he isn't, and you don't realize he's gotten to his bedroom until he's lowering you on his bed.

You drag him down with you, half fearful that if you break contact you'll think of a reason to stop. Or he will. And you can finally admit to yourself that you've wanted this for so long, now it's here you don't want it to end.

He moves up the bed, dragging you with him, kiss interrupted by his little chuckle. Pulling back a little, he cups your cheek and breathes your name. He stares at you, reverence bordering on worship, as though he can't believe you're there. "Y/n…" It's a whisper and a prayer and a plea and your racing heart twists and tumbles in your chest.

You say his name the same way, breath catching at the way he melts over you. The gentle wildness, calm desperation, is back, growing frantic while he seems determined to kiss you until you forget everything for him. His kiss grows feverish, breathless gasps whispering over your lips. His hands are everywhere, pushing and pulling at your clothes and you unknowingly mirror his touch, whining when he sits back and rips his shirt over his head.

His eyes are feral, branding each spot of your body he glances at. He squeezes your hips, dragging your shirt up with his blazing palms, his teeth catching his bottom lip as you arch towards him. Your shirt and bra slip away and he presses his face between your breasts, his breath pure fire. Holding you up, his lips whisper over your skin, hand clutching the back of your neck when his mouth closes over your nipple.

Crying out his name, you clutch at his shoulders, squeezing your legs around his waist. He licks and sucks, slow but needy, tightening his hold each time you tremble. Each tiny motion sends narrow flames of desire coursing through your veins, gathering in the pit of your abdomen, twisting and curling like his tongue, until you feel the ache of need. "Lando… Please, Lando…"

You're grinding against him, able to feel how wet he's making you, and you know he can feel it too when he moans harshly and releases your nipple. He shifts, groaning low in his chest as his cock presses against you. "Shit, baby…"

He guides you back down, lips crashing into yours, and his hands tremble as he briefly fumbles with the button of your shorts. His breath fans over your cheek and he deepens the kiss, both of you whining when he pulls back again. Dragging your shorts down your legs, he stares into your eyes, balling them up in his fist and flinging them over his shoulder.

"You're so beautiful," he says softly, staring at you in awe.

The way he said it, coupled with the look in his eyes, made you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth. There was something so heartfelt about the compliment that you felt the unexpected sting of tears.

Lando's fingertips trail over your skin, lips moving silently as he traces the dips and curves of your hips and thighs. An ode to you that was unheard but understood. He swallows hard, closing his eyes briefly before raising his eyes to yours again. Leaning down, he gives you a tender kiss. You cup his face then drag your hands down, memorizing his chiseled form, and when your fingertips reach the waistband of his sweats he hums, gently catching your wrists and guiding your hands above your head.

You gasp for a breath as he rains kisses down the side of your neck, scattering them over your chest, his destination clear when he moves lower, nipping gently at your skin. You lift your head slightly and find him staring up at you, eyes greener than usual. He's so beautiful it takes your breath away.

He hooks his thumbs in your panties and drags them down, scattering worshipful kisses down to your ankles. His lips slide into a playful smile and he lightly tickles behind your knee, grinning when you squeal. The brief lightheartedness eases the tension and you're able to breathe, but the foggy haze of passion doesn't fade one bit. It only increases as he gently spreads your legs, his eyes still on yours.

He's still staring up at you when his tongue drags up your slit, and maybe he kept staring at you but you couldn't be aware, your head falling back with a lustful moan at the sensation. You hear him swallow, his appreciative moan vibrating against your core. He does it again, delving deeper, a soft hum pulsing against your clit.

"Fuck," you gasp, feeling his grip on your thighs tighten when you tried to squirm.

"Lemme take care of you baby," he murmurs. Swirling his tongue over your clit, he teases over and over before giving it a noisy kiss. "You're so wet for me, y/n…"

You force your head up, breath catching because he's still staring up at you. Eyes locked, you can't look away, hands gripping at the sheets while his lips sweep along your slit. The ache inside you only grows, almost painful now as he lifts his head, lips glistening. He licks them slowly and you're in awe at the look of bliss on his face.

"Fuckin' knew you'd taste good," he murmurs before settling more firmly between your legs. He's gentle, hands making their way to your hips while he nuzzles and kisses your clit.

"Please," you whine.

He hums, somehow managing to look innocent, and you watch his eyes darken. Kissing your clit again, he pulls it between his lips, his hand sliding from your hip. Your back arches, his name a ragged moan as his finger teases your entrance and his tongue settles on your clit.

You want to know how he got so fucking good. How he knows what you like when you've never discussed sex with him before. And you think he may be a mind reader because he seems to know just what you want. He keeps his tongue on your clit, licking gently but rapidly, two long fingers inside you, curling and stroking slowly. You're gasping, trembling, hips jerking, heart hammering, still unable to look away from his eyes. The moans of his name turn into whines then whimpers and you feel your body tighten, pussy clenching around his fingers, your breathing stuttering and stopping completely when he curls them deeper, steadily rubbing your spot, and—

"Lando!"

You're cumming, harder than you thought you would. It takes your breath away and you're consumed by exhilaration, your vision going black then exploding with a galaxy's worth of stars. It's too much but you never want it to end, your voice breaking as you cry out to him.

You blink and try to catch your breath, weak but still wound tight. And he's there, softly licking you clean, murmuring sweetly while he crawls up, hands gentle on your trembling body. Shaking hands grab at his biceps and you feel tears on your cheeks when his fingers brush them away.

"It's alright, love," he whispers, lips brushing yours twice before he kisses you tenderly. He curls over you, almost protectively, his voice gently praising you. "Breathe, darling, it's alright…"

"Jesus," you hiss when you can finally speak, blinking rapidly to get your bearings.

"You're so gorgeous when you cum," he murmurs, tracing your cheek with his thumb. His eyes are so soft, practically glowing with admiration. Staring at you as though you're the source of everything good in his world. "You're always beautiful… Like, bathed in sunlight beautiful, you know?" He closes his eyes briefly, breathing slow as his lips return to yours in a kiss that leaves you weak. "But right now, right here…" He sighs. "You're breathtaking."

And you feel breathtaking. Stunning, gorgeous, beautiful, adored, worshipped, all the adjectives you'd use to describe the leading women in the romances you read. You never want to not feel this way again. "Lando?"

"Hm?" He's still staring at you like you hung the stars.

"I need you." Your arms still feel weak but you run your hands over his shoulders, leaning in for a slow kiss while your fingers trace down his sides. Long, languid moments pass while you kiss, so caught up in the feeling of being cherished you're distracted, enjoying the soft suppleness of his lips on yours. His palm cups your neck and there's a subtle change, your breath quickening as his mouth slants over yours. Nudging the waistband of his sweats down, you hear his soft hum, miss the touch of his hands when he reaches down to push them off, his hands bumping into yours when you both reach to ease down his boxer briefs.

He breaks the kiss with a little laugh but it dies as your hand cups around his cock. And the sound he makes is the sexiest sound you've ever heard. It's a gasping, whiny moan, and suddenly you need to know the sounds he'll make when he's inside you. Stroking him, you stare into his eyes and see the question burning. You nod, reluctantly letting go, anticipation stealing your breath as he nudges your thighs further apart. He sits back, lightly clapping and squeezing your thighs.

"God, you're hot," you say without thinking.

Lando smirks, squeezing your thighs again. "You think so?"

You roll your eyes. "Fuck's sake, look at you," you tell him, sweeping your hands through the air to indicate… him. Tousled curls, lean muscle, golden tan. You blink, focusing on the necklace he's wearing, lips parting in surprise.

It's the one you gave him for his birthday last year. You don't know why it makes you feel all soft and mushy inside to see him wearing it now. He's worn it plenty of times, but seeing it on him now, on a day you know he didn't plan to see you… It means something to you.

"You can take a photo if you like," he says.

Giggling, you're half-tempted to take him up on the offer, but he shifts, and his cock glides along your slit and your need is back in full force. "Later," you whisper, hips rolling upwards.

"Yeah?" He smirks again, eyes flicking from your face to between your thighs. His hands slide up, thumb whispering over your clit as he leans over you, his other hand gripping the pillow by your head.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you spread your legs wider, meeting his eyes as his cock slowly pushes into you. The stretch pulls a whine from your chest and you hear his gasping moan. He bites his lip but it doesn't muffle the whimper as he sinks into you and you arch, the sound almost sending you over the edge.

"Shit – fuck," he gasps, clutching tightly at your thigh.

"I know baby," you whine, digging your fingers into his scalp.

"Knew you'd feel good," he whispers between noisy kisses, holding your thigh against his hip as he presses as deep as possible.

"You feel better," you pant. It's like he was built to fill you, and when he's over you like this you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, thrilled that it's racing as fast as yours. It's almost perfect, the way he feels in and over you, but you need more. Your body craves all of him and you whisper a plea, feeling a shiver ripple through him.

He begins to move. Slow and tender, holding your thigh and cupping your neck. Breathless, almost sloppy kisses between echoing gasps and whines and moans. Your nails drag over his skin and you revel in the way he practically whimpers your name. His room is soon overheated, sweat beading on your skin and he inhales sharply, dipping his head to lick it from your throat then leans back, fingers dragging down your front.

You arch into his touch and it leaves goosebumps in its wake. So good. The words echo over and over in your mind, falling from your mouth like a fervent mantra.

"Look at you," he moans, resting his hand on your lower abdomen. "You're being so good, taking all of me."

"Fuck," you whisper, shocked that the phrase has you clenching and dripping around him. If he keeps that up you know you'll cum again—

"C'mon." It's a low, breathy groan. "Work for it, baby."

You grab at the sheets then at him, needing to feel his skin as you begin to roll your hips. He matches your pace, his hands keeping you steady when your back arches and you cry out his name.

"Yes, just like that," he whispers.

"Lando—"

"I know, I know…" He leans down, nipping at your bottom lip then kisses you, and you can feel his neediness. "You feel so good, y/n—"

"Gonna cum," you whimper, clutching at his sides then his back, your hips jerking now. Your head falls back, the heat in and around you almost overwhelming and in the split second before you break you hear him whimper.

He wraps his arms around you as you arch off the bed, holding you to him, his hips moving steadily, his voice coaxing you – let it out, baby, let me hear you. You shudder and scream, panting when he drags you upright with him, lips crashing against yours while he holds you. "Don't stop," he begs, an edge to his voice, and his hands slip on your skin, grasping tight enough to leave bruises. "Give it to me again, love."

"C-can't," you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck. And even though you say it you move, trembling and panting, stars blinding you.

Or maybe it's just the pure desperation in his eyes.

"Yes you can," he murmurs. One hand slips between you and there's giddiness in his smile when his fingers strum your clit and you let out a shout.

"It's—" You curl your fingers in his hair, feel the sweat, hear his heavenly moan. And words you never thought you'd say tumble from your mouth. "It's never been this good – I love it."

His arm tightens around you and you feel his cock twitch inside you. "Me too," he whispers, other hand dancing up your spine and cupping the back of your head, his fingers still steady on your clit. "Love it, y/n."

"Don't stop," you beg, rocking harder in his lap.

Lando whines softly, tongue darting over your lips. "You're gonna make me cum."

You slow, enjoying his little growl. Invigorated by his eagerness, you have a split second of panic because he's not wearing a condom but it's immediately forgotten, your toes curling as his fingers rub harder. And for a nanosecond you imagine being pregnant with his child. "Lan…"

"Need it. This. You." It's nonsense but not really, mumbled against your lips, his eyes drifting closed. "Love it. This…"

"You," you breathe.

His eyes snap open and he gasps, panic flashing then disappearing when you nod. "Not supposed to."

"Can't help it," you moan.

He hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. "D'you want to not?"

"No," you cry.

He kisses you, guiding you back down, and it's bliss, it's heaven, it's pure ecstasy, it's everything it's supposed to be. Euphoria wrapped in blazing heat and vivid light. He's whimpering and moaning against your lips, hips flush with yours and straining, and another orgasm crashes through you at the feel of him cumming, his body your new temple, his name your new prayer.

When you can breathe again you wait for the awkwardness. The weirdness. But it doesn't come. He's still tender and sweet, murmuring even more praise. His hands are gentle where they'd been rough, his lips soft on your cheeks. When he pulls away there's a mutual hiss, and you see the smirk of pride when he looks down to see his cum trickling out of you.

"You can take a photo if you like," you joke, watching his cheeks darken as he grins at you.

"Don't tempt me." He leans to give you another kiss. "Be right back."

You nod, humming as he drags the covers over you before he leaves. He goes into the bathroom and you lie there, surrounded by his scent, feeling his sweat dry on your skin, body still tingling from the best sex you've ever had. You sigh, wondering when the guilt will creep in.

It doesn't yet but you know it will eventually.

Lando returns, washcloths in hand, and you're both silent while he clears the drying sweat from your body, eyes locking when he gently cleans your slit. He flings the cloths towards the bathroom and sits on the edge of the bed, fixing the duvet over you.

"Y/n?"

You sit up, recognizing the vulnerability. It's rare that Lando's like this. He confesses to weaknesses but rarely ever bares them, and it almost breaks your heart, hearing the worry in his voice. Waiting for him to speak, you watch his fingers pleat and twist then smooth the fabric of the duvet.

"What happens now?" he whispers, slowly lifting his head at the same time as you.

"I don't know," you admit.

He nods, swallowing, and looks away.

"I'll go," you say. Because you can't do this. You can't be awkward with him. Better to just pull away even though it's too late for that. Ripping the bandage off will leave a scar but it's for the best. You'll only hurt him more if you stick around.

You're nearly off the bed when he finally speaks again.

"Stay." It's barely a whisper. The sound of him stretching across the bed is louder, and his fingers grasping at yours are loudest of all.

You know what will happen if you do. You can't even let yourself think of what's already happened, how you're no better than the boyfriend you allegedly love, or how everything has changed.

"I meant it," he says, his voice stronger now.

You look from his hand to his face.

"I wanted this. But… I need you." His voice shakes a little but he says the words and you know how much it means that he's doing this.

Lando doesn't discuss his feelings. Ever. You asked him once and he shrugged, eyes shuttering as he'd explained he'd been hurt too much before. Turning your hand, you let your fingers twine with his.

"I wanted this." He draws in a shaky breath. "I know I wasn't supposed to, but I…"

You wait, knowing he has to work through it. He hates for anyone to put words in his mouth. So you give him the time, unconsciously pulling your legs back onto the bed.

"I like this." He gestures to the twisted sheets. "More than I dreamed I would. But… I love us, y/n."

"I love us too," you whisper.

His sigh trembles the air around you. Looking at your joined hands, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. "Stay."

[popponn]

i'm this close to opening discussion whether (is it possible that) kaiser is a playboy or not

[sailorshadzter]

MY VERY FIRST MAOMAO X JINSHI PIECE.

i write this without any knowledge of what comes next (im only watching the anime!!)

hopefully it doesnt feel terribly out of character. im sure ill continue to write for them as the season progresses. anyways!!!

She wakes from a dream of violet eyes and whispered pleas.

The moment between the world of sleep and awake is a long one, but she comes out on the other side, her foggy brain aching fiercely. It all comes back to her then, like a tidal wave of memories, forcing her upright in her bed, ignoring the pain of it all to look around, to take in the familiar sight of her very own room. That’s right… She thinks, hand to her head, the bandages there reminding her of what she had endured. Lord Jinshi… She thinks of the man she had saved, wondering as she had in that very moment just why it had been him and not someone else in that ceremony. 

“Maomao! You’re awake!” 

The voice breaks into her thoughts and she turns, seeing Suiren standing there in her doorway, holding a tray in her hands. “I must tell the young master,” she says at once, turning and dashing from the room at surprising speed. What Maomao does not yet know is that Jinshi has rarely left her side since the incident occurred, having spent many hours at her bedside, until he was forced to rest himself by Suiren and Gaoshun. 

Left alone once more, she pushes away the blankets, drawing up her hem so she can inspect the wound on her leg. It’s been stitched, she can tell, and bandaged well enough she supposes- it does not ache, she finds, unlike her head which even at these slight movements hurts her in such a way that she wishes she were dead. Having been struck hard by a man twice her size and nearly crushed by a falling altar, she wonders if this was the best of the outcomes that could have occurred. 

“Maomao.”

She turns once more, injury forgotten in the moment it takes for her to meet gazes with the young man in her doorway. Lord Jinshi stands there, a look on his face she’s never seen before, save for… Now she remembers. The way he had looked in that moment, when his hands had so unceremoniously cupped her battered cheeks, his violet eyes wide and unwavering. He had been worried about her, but in a way he’s never been worried before. “I’m glad to see  you awake,” he continues, coming closer into the room, surprising her further when he drops into the chair that has remained empty at her bedside. “How do you feel?”

Maomao blinks, hands curling into fists atop her thighs. “Fine,” is all she can muster, turning away. 

If he knows she’s lying, he doesn’t speak of it. “I had the best doctor I could find to take care of you,” he says next, thinking of the strange, yet kind man that had come to stitch the girl’s wounds, to tenderly apply a salve to her bruises, leaving behind powdered medicines for her pain and recovery. He had insisted on leaving right away, but not after Jinshi watched him press a kiss to her forehead, like the father he was. “Since you could not take care of yourself.” He smiles and she lets out a soft chuckle, though the effort leaves her somewhat winded. “You need more rest,” he insists next, gesturing for her to lay back, which she does, even more surprised when he himself tucks the blankets back around her. 

“Lord Jinshi…” She speaks his name but he shakes his head, silencing her with a simple shake of his head. 

“You saved my life,” he says next, as if this explains it all- what he doesn’t say is he was frightened that she’d sacrificed her own to do it. He doesn’t say that he’s never been more frightened, more worried, in all of his life. He doesn’t say that carrying her to this bed was the worst, yet best, moments of his life- to have her so close, it was wonderful, but not at the cost of her well being. He can still recall the warmth of her body, the softness of her, the surprise of how someone with such a strong tackle could weigh so very little… “I owe you.” 

“An ox bezoar,” she reminds him, not forgetting his promise, even now as she sinks back into sleep. Jinshi laughs, patting her on the head. 

“Yes, an ox bezoar,” he says, watching as she slips back to sleep, where she so rightfully deserves to be. There would be time to talk, time to understand, in the days after she’s healed. 

For now, all he would do was watch over her and wait, praying for her return to health.

[bright-and-burning]

jendo nation how we feeling

[queen0fm0nsterz]

After weeks of writing, I can finally announce that I am writing a new story! 

I’ve seen so many Thin Dad AUs, so I decided to try my hand at a Lady Mom AU! I’d say it’s more of a character study turned into fanfic, but aren’t all my fanfictions like that at this point... Let me know what you think! 

[priscirat]

thoughts on Shizuku’s relationship with everyone in l/n ?

(expand for words on thoughts)

THE MAIN POINT. the main point. shizuku is SO so grateful for leoneed and what they bring for shiho.

it is shown repeatedly thru stories that she asks each of them to look after shiho because she KNOWS she knows how happy they make her and how theyre a place that shiho can always come back to (the same way that she Is for shiho but she doesnt believe how important she is for shiho)

a part of me believes that ofc it is due to How shizuku is ofc. but shizuku never got to connect in such ways to ppl before highschool and airi and more more jump. she mentions that Already before being an idol ppl were put off by the 'gap' of her looks and personality so i always saw it as her being extremely lonely.

so when she sees that her younger sister Also has the tendency to be put away from her peers due to her personality. can you imagine how relieved she is when she sees three fellas always coming towards shiho and growing up with her. she actually so often mentions how glad she is that shiho is making friends when she hears that kohane and minori are ALSO friend with her later on. so leoneed being there for so long. my god she loves them. her little stars.

for each relationship separately now. First i want to state howwww badly i want prsk to Actually put more text in their relationships. we get bits here and there but its mostly from mouth to ear situation so i HOPE. that they get to actually hang More. anyway.

ichika. #pure heart class sweep. both have this very earnest way to be. especially to their relation to their skill and how they keep pursuing someone in hope to fine their own shine. i will say it for each one of them but. shizuku is so fond of her for that. i wish we got them to be more often together bc the comedy of them being a Bit too earnest in some situation would be Extremely funny.

saki. oh the heart in their sleeves girlies. i often think about how shizuku Also in some way was affected by their whole separation and how not seeing saki around while the three others were there. man. but they both love so so much the people dear to them and don't shy from telling and showing them and seeing them team up for shihos bday let me say Easily that it isnt the first and last time it happened. definitely think theyre the ones who might have the closest relationship.

honami. u ever think about how both of them were under this pressure of fitting the image that others had of them. and i truly. truly cant imagine the catastrophe that would happen if shizuku Learned about it. anyway. the. so much. caring. silent supporter. relearning Herself. they got so much in common and their moment in the same committee together where they got to. learn more about shiho in their own way. theyre so so sweet.

i think it is so extremely sweet that you can see a bit of shizuku in all three of them. little shiho mentions how much she admires and look up to shizuku. current shiho still does even if shes shy about it <3 but since her sister was such an important pillar of her life i think it tracks that all of her closest friends do reflect a lil bit of her in some way.

ie : ln are shizukus little stars. she keeps going to their rehearsals to bring them treats and cried when they formed their band and she keeps crying when she sees them grow on stage.