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flowersforbucky · 1 day ago

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either way, i'm going your way

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4k

summary: logan doesn't remember the last time he celebrated valentine's day, and he doesn't have any reason to believe that this year will be any different. then he runs into you, wade's neighbor, who happens to love the holiday despite not having anyone to celebrate it with.

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, sex in a public place kind of, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v, logan's pov, neighbor!reader, reader is afab, reader is described as being shorter than logan, no use of y/n, hints of grumpy x sunshine

this is my entry for @yxtkiwiyxt & @lubdubology valentine's writing challenge! thank you both for hosting this, i can't wait to read the other submissions ❤️

logan howlett masterlist

Logan has been alive for two centuries worth of Valentine's Days. He can count on one hand how many he’s actually celebrated, and he can't recall the last time he had a reason to even acknowledge the day.

To him, Valentine’s Days have always been just another Tuesday, or Thursday, or whatever day it falls on that year.

He hates how commercialized the holiday is thanks to the multi-billion dollar corporations that fill department stores with trinkets the second that Christmas is over. He hates all of the pressure and unrealistic expectations that come with planning the perfect date. And as much as he hates to admit it to himself, he hates that it's a stark reminder that he's just as alone in this universe as he had been in the last one.

Technically he can't say that he's entirely alone. Romantically? Yes. Sexually? Yes.

Physically, however, he’s lodged between a blind eighty-year-old cocaine addict and a ten pound living tumor - the latter of whom keeps trying to French kiss him.

Wade might be out with Vanessa for Valentine’s Day, but for Logan, this is any other Friday night – watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire reruns with Al and Mary Puppins.

Something about his current predicament makes him feel even more alone than if he actually were alone. Maybe it’s how unfamiliar and foreign this universe still feels in so many ways – he’s been here for some months now, but there’s some things that remind him that he still has a ways to go in terms of adjustment.

He'd never admit it aloud, but just maybe the fact that he can’t keep his thoughts from straying to a specific next door neighbor certainly doesn’t help. He hates to use the word crush at his grown age, but he can’t really think of a better word for it. If it’s not a crush, why else would he be wondering what your plans are for this evening? Why else would he feel the unmistakable, undeniable twinge of jealousy when he thinks of the mere possibility of you spending your night in the arms of someone other than him?

He has no one to blame but himself, and he knows it. He had the perfect opportunity to ask you out just last week, and he didn’t take it. The two of you were both taking the elevator up to your neighboring apartments when it broke down for the third fucking time in the last month. It took nearly an hour for maintenance to get it back up and running, and he couldn’t find the nerve to simply ask if you have any plans at any point during the time you were trapped in the fifteen square feet of space together. Instead, he awkwardly rambled about he had walked in on Wade and Vanessa in a compromising position the day before.

He cringes at the memory, tossing back another swig of whiskey when he realizes the bottle is empty. He sighs, earning a side-eye from Mary Puppins.

If this is how he’s going to be spending his evening, he should at least be a little intoxicated.

“I’m going to the liquor store,” Logan announces as he transfers Mary Puppins from his lap to Al’s before standing up from his position on the couch for the first time in hours. “You need anything?”

“Pick me up a couple of scratchers and a pack of Newports.”

Just her usual requests, then.

Logan throws on his leather jacket, dreading the cold and dreary February night but willing to face it for a bottle of bourbon and some cigars. He’s been out of those since yesterday, so a trip to the nearest convenience store is much needed, anyway.

The door to the apartment complex’s singular outdated elevator is sliding to a close when Logan hears a familiar, feminine voice call out.

“Hold up!”

Logan immediately pushes the hold button, freezing the door in place. A second later, you appear in the doorframe. You’re slightly out of breath, with a relieved expression on your face.

“Thanks,” you greet him as you lean against the wall of the elevator, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your plaid skirt. “I’m running late to my dinner reservations and really didn’t wanna have to take the stairs in these.” You glance down at the heels of the uncomfortable looking thigh high boots that you’re wearing.

Uncomfortable looking and hot, he thinks, before your words sink in. Dinner reservations – of course you’d have plans tonight. He feels a slight pang of disappointment (and jealousy, if he’s being honest with himself) at the realization, but he isn’t surprised.

“Well, let’s cross our fingers that we don’t get stuck in here again and that you make it to your date on time,” Logan says with a forced laugh and smile as he pushes the button once again to close the door, followed by the button that says lobby.

“Oh, no. Not a date,” you correct him quickly with a bashful grin. “Well, maybe. Is it considered a date if I’m dining by myself?”

“You’re going to dinner by yourself?” Logan asks, unable to hide the surprise in his tone. “Looking like that?”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What’s wrong with how I look? And what’s wrong with going to dinner by myself?”

“Nothing!” Logan begins to backtrack when he realizes how his questions came across. “You - you look great. I'm just a little surprised. Would’ve assumed that you had a date tonight is all—”

He trails off when he realizes that you’re pursing your lips together in an obvious attempt to hide a smirk. The mischievous glimmer in your eyes gives you away.

“I’m just fucking with you, Logan,” you snort with a playful slap to his arm. “I know it’s a little unconventional to take yourself out on Valentine’s Day. But I’ve always loved the holiday despite being painfully single, so I thought why not? Better than sitting at home and sulking all night.”

The corners of his lips threaten to twitch upwards at the words painfully single as he contemplates the rest of your response. He can’t help but admire your way of thinking. He was content with staying holed up inside the apartment and drinking himself into a stupor, but he can’t deny that your outlook on the holiday is far less depressing and boring than his.

“What about you?” you ask as the elevator comes to a stop with a melodic ding. You exit, looking back at him over your shoulder. “Are you on your way to your Valentine’s plans?”

He chuckles at the question. For a second, he considers lying to you. He considers telling you that yes, he is on his way to pick up his date right now, just so he doesn’t have to tell you the truth – that he’s on his way to buy bourbon, cancer sticks, and lottery tickets for him and his elderly roommate. But with his luck, you’d run into Wade tomorrow and he’d open his big fucking mouth about how Logan actually spent his night, and the thought of that is even more mortifying than telling you the truth to your face.

“Not unless you count making a liquor run as Valentine’s plans,” he sighs, averting your gaze as he opens the door to the apartment building for you. “The only thing I plan on doing tonight is listen to Althea scream at her game shows.”

You come to a stop outside of the apartment building, wrapping your coat tightly around your chest to fight off the chilly night air. There’s a peculiar look on your face that Logan can’t quite read – something between amusement and hesitation.

“You could have worse dates, I suppose,” you laugh.

“That’s true,” Logan agrees. “At least I have Vanessa to thank for a Wade free evening. But I’ll let you go, don’t wanna make you late for your—”

“Do you like Korean barbecue?”

Logan freezes, taken aback by the question. He snaps his mouth shut, realizing he’s staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

“Korean barbecue?” He asks lamely. “Don’t think I’ve ever tried it.”

He’s had barbecue. He’s had Korean food.. maybe? He’s been alive a really long time, he’s sure he’s had Korean food at some point in the last two hundred years.

But he can’t say that he’s had Korean barbecue.

A nervous looking grin appears on your face, and you cross your arms over your chest before taking a small step towards him.

“Are you hungry?”

••••••

All it takes is one look at the table that the host takes the two of you to for Logan to realize that he has indeed never had Korean barbecue.

You don’t appear to be the slightest bit confused so he assumes that the circular grill built into the middle of the table is normal, though he’s never seen anything quite like it in a restaurant before.

You giggle when you notice the curious expression on his face.

“It’s kinda like hibachi,” you begin. “Except instead of someone cooking it in front of you, you cook it yourself.”

Logan takes in the array of various meats on the tray to the left of him. You pick up a piece of what appears to be some kind of beef with a pair of tongs, and place it on the grill. It sizzles, and he watches as you add a few more pieces of meat onto the hot surface.

“Isn’t that kinda the whole point of going to a restaurant? To have someone else cook the food for you?” He asks the question as gently as he can, not wanting to hurt your feelings. He’s just happy to be here with you – even if he doesn’t fully understand the appeal of going to a restaurant to pay to cook your own food.

“It’s about the experience,” you explain with a shrug. “To be fair, when most people come to a Korean barbecue restaurant, they usually come with a group of people – hence the large amount of meat.” You nod towards the arrangement of the meats that have yet to be cooked.

“It’s a social thing. But all of my friends had plans with their significant others tonight, so…”

You trail off as the server places another tray on the table – this one covered in various colorful side dishes that he’s definitely never had before. He wouldn’t exactly describe himself as adventurous when it comes to trying new foods – for the most part, he lives off of ham and cheese sandwiches and frozen TV dinners. But he tried shawarma when he’d first arrived in this universe and ended up loving it, so he’s determined to try a bite of everything on this table.

“Sounds like it’s a good thing that you ran into me, then,” Logan murmurs when the server walks off.

You take your eyes off of the pieces of meat that you’re paying careful attention not to overcook, looking up at him through your lashes with a soft smile.

“I'd say that you’re right about that.”

••••••

Despite the breeze and the chilly night air, Logan feels perfectly toasty on the walk back to the apartment thanks to your tight hold on his arm and the wine that you had insisted that he try.

He'd learned a lot tonight – a lot about you; your hobbies and your interests. He’d learned all about Korean barbecue, and that he likes bulgogi and buldak.

Most importantly, he'd learned that he was stupid for ever being nervous about asking you out.

He feels at ease with you. He already knew he enjoys your company from all of the times that you’ve joined Wade’s movie nights and get-togethers – but he’d never been alone with you (with the exception of getting stuck in the elevator with you last week). Wade, Vanessa, Al, Peter, Yukio, and countless others always seemed to be present, making it near impossible for him to get to know you in the way that he’s wanted to since he first met you.

But now, with your arm intertwined with his and the scent of your perfume hitting him each time there is a gust of air, he knows that he is going to do all that he can to keep having moments like this with you.

“I have a question,” you state as the two of you turn onto the street where your apartment building is. Logan glances down at you in curiosity, but you’re not looking at him – you’re looking ahead, your teeth biting into your lower lip.

“What’s that?” Logan murmurs.

You hesitate, your eyes flickering up to him before quickly looking away again. “Did you actually like the kimchi?”

Logan can’t help but cackle, taken off guard by the question.

“That’s your question?” he laughs, thinking back to the spicy and tangy flavor of the fermented vegetables.

You come to a stop next to a streetlight outside of your apartment building, pulling your arm away from his to stand just inches in front of him.

“No,” you admit with a smirk. “Though I am curious about that, too.” You take a step closer to him, your chest ever so slightly brushing against his. He feels his breath catch in his throat at the way that your eyes twinkle in the glow of the streetlight.

“Last week, when we got stuck in the elevator together,” you begin in a low voice. He swears that your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second before meeting his gaze once more. “Were you nervous?”

He thinks back to his nervous rambling in the elevator, to how you looked so pretty that he found it difficult to hold direct eye contact with you, and to how it felt like half of his brain was screaming at him to ask you out and the other half was screaming at him to not make himself look like an idiot.

Yeah, nervous is accurate.

“That obvious, huh?” he sighs.

“Just a little,” you shrug. “But don’t worry. I was too.”

“Is that right?” Logan asks, trying not to give away just how happy the confession makes him. “And what about now?”

He doesn’t have to ask – he's standing close enough to you that your increased heartrate is easy for him to detect.

“Something like that,” you whisper, and before he fully process what’s happening, you’re raising up on your tippy toes to capture his lips in yours.

The taste of the fruity wine from dinner still lingers on your lips. He places his hands on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. Your hands cradle his face, pulling him down closer to you. The warmth of you is a balm against the brisk night air, making him feel like he can’t get close enough to you. You don’t pull away until you’re breathless, looking up at him with dilated pupils in the florescent street lighting.

“Do you wanna come up to my place?” you breathe, nodding your head in the direction of the apartment building.

“What? You don’t wanna come to mine and hang out with Al?” he teases, nudging you in the direction of the building’s entrance.

“As tempting as that sounds…” You trail off, following his lead.

The second that the elevator door comes to a close, his hands are back on you. He backs you up against the wall, his hands gripping your hips as you spread your legs enough to allow one of his thick thighs in between them. This time, he’s the one who kisses you, wasting no time in slipping his tongue between your lips. You whimper into the kiss, your tongue fighting his for dominance.

It isn’t until he pulls away for air and opens his eyes that he realizes the elevator has come to a stop. It couldn’t have been moving for more than ten seconds –

“Fuckin’ hell,” you groan. “Not this again.”

Logan looks at the panel of buttons to his left. Sure enough, the number reads that you’re still a floor beneath your apartments. He beats his fist against the elevator wall, as if that’s actually going to help the matter.

Still pinned between his body and the wall, you pull your cell phone out from an interior pocket of your coat. You quickly find the number for building maintenance in your call history, but it just rings, and rings, and rings.

“I could probably pry the doors open,” Logan muses as he begins to pull away from you. He thinks back to how it took maintenance nearly an hour to get the elevator back up and running last week, and knows that he wouldn’t have the patience for that now. The thought of having to wait even a fraction of that long to get back to your apartment…

“Let’s not do anything that could potentially put the elevator out of commission permanently, yeah?” You pull him back to you, grabbing his face in your hand and making him look at you. “I think that we'll be just fine right here for a while.”

There’s a mischievous look on your face. Before he can question you, you’re sliding down the wall until you reach the floor. You reach for his belt with your hands, making quick work of undoing the buckle and then the button to his jeans.

Oh.

All Logan can do is stare down at you in wonderment as you tug his zipper down.

“This okay with you?” you ask, but the look on your face says that you already know the answer.

He nods, his mouth suddenly feeling too dry to speak. He helps you shimmy his boxers and jeans down enough for his cock to spring free. He glances around the elevator, double checking that there aren’t any security cameras. Considering this elevator is ancient and doesn’t even function half the time, he isn’t surprised to see that there aren’t any.

You take the base of him in your hand, languidly massaging the length as you tease his slit with your tongue. You lap up the beads of pre-cum before easing him past your lips.

The sight of you on your knees for him is enough to have him twitching in your mouth. Add in how your soft lips and tongue feel working his length, and he knows he won’t last long like this.

You bob your head around him, gagging when his head juts against the back of your throat. You pull off of him, leaving a thick rope of saliva that trails from his cock to your mouth.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything prettier. He could spend hours looking at you like this.

But this isn’t how he wants to finish – in your mouth, before he’s even had a chance to make you feel good. So as much as it nearly kills him to do it, he pulls himself away from your sweet lips and yanks you back up by the tops of your arms. There’s the slightest hint of disappointment on your face, but it quickly disappears when he pushes your coat off of your shoulders and down your arms. It falls to floor, leaving you in still too many articles of clothing for Logan’s liking.

Later, he tells himself. He’ll get you naked later, in the privacy of your apartment, where there’s no risk of the elevator doors sliding open at any given moment.

For now, he settles for pushing the restrictive fabric of your skirt upwards, bunching it around your waist. He sinks to the ground in front of you, splaying his palms on your inner thighs and spreading your legs open for him. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the soft material of your panties, right over your clit. He feels shudder at the sensation, and notices the goosebumps that appear on the skin of your thighs.

He hooks his index finger through the cotton fabric, pulling it to the side. He looks up to see if there’s any kind of hesitation on your face, but you quickly pull him to your center by the back of his head, erasing any doubt. He chuckles lowly, and flattens his tongue over your slit.

Your cunt tastes as sweet as the fruity wine from the restaurant did on your tongue. He eats you like he wants to get drunk off of you, alternating between soft licks through your folds and fervent kisses to your swollen bud.

He feels your legs quiver around the sides of his head. He supports you from below, letting you go all but limp above him. He glances up at you, your head thrown back in pleasure and your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

His name slips through your lips, your voice strained with desperation. He loves the sound of it, and wants more than anything to hear you keep saying it. He snakes one of his hands between your thighs, and teases your hole with the tip 9t his finger. You involuntarily sink down, nudging the tip of it past your entrance.

He groans against your clit at how fucking tight you feel around his finger. God, he can’t wait to be inside you. He pumps the digit, your walls already clenching around him.

“Logan,” you moan from above him. “I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he hums against your clit. “Let go. I got you.”

Your climax washes over you with a sharp cry of his name and Logan mentally prays that the elevator walls aren’t as thin as the apartment walls.

When you go still above him, he reluctantly takes his mouth off of you and stands up. His jeans and boxers are still bunched just above his knees, his erection painfully hard and his balls full. He wipes the excess of your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand, and then begins to stroke his own length in his fist.

“Do you.. wanna wait until we get back to your..?”

“God, no,” you exhale, and pull him to you by grabbing his flannel in your fists.

His lips crash against yours as he nestles himself in between your legs, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. He coats it in your juices and eases into you slowly. You groan into his mouth and he has to try not to cum on the spot.

You’re tight, and warm, and your walls flutter around him just right. He hikes one of your thighs over his hip, deepening the angle before he pulls almost all the way out. He rocks back into you, working up to a steady pace.

The small, confined space is filled with the sound of your body meeting his and the sweet noises you make that are music to his ears. You grip around him like a velvet vice and he knows that he isn't going to last long.

“Gonna cum, honey,” he warns in a grunt next to your ear. “Ya feel too fuckin’ good.”

He feels your walls pulse around him at his words and he can tell that you're just as close as he is. A few more deep thrusts that hit your cervix just right and he’s spilling into you as you cum around him.

When he’s empty, his movements cease but he doesn’t pull out. He nuzzles his face against your throat, pressing kisses to the soft but sweat-slicked skin.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to us,” you murmur in a borderline delirious voice. He laughs, pulling back just enough to press his lips to yours.

“Mind if I still come back to your place? I know we just…” He trails off, glancing down at where he’s still tucked inside you. “But I just realized I forgot to pick up cigarettes for Al and she isn’t gonna be too happy with me.”

You roll your eyes, and playfully push him away from you so that you can tug your skirt back into place.

“I think I can find a way to be okay with that,” you smirk. “If we ever get out of this fuckin’ elevator.”

not my favorite thing i've ever written by any means, i've been feeling really unmotivated to write and have felt kinda burnt out, but i still wanted to get this out before valentine's day bc if i didn't then i never would have finished it at all, lol. so i'm sorry it's short 😭 hope you still enjoyed

reblogs/comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading!

#klloveuary2025 #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan #logan x you #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett one shot #worst!logan #worst!logan x reader #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3

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raina-at · 2 hours ago

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Maybe this is an unpopular opinion, but I think the series' decline started right out of the gate in The Empty Hearse.

I have a few reasons for this.

Not explaining how Sherlock fell is all well and good because it's true, it's really not that important. But the whole thing with Anderson and the conspiracy theorists felt like they were mocking fans' speculations and altogether left a bad taste in my mouth.

There's another, less charitable explanation for why they never explained how Sherlock faked his death, and it's that they actually don't know themselves, and frankly, with how little sense it actually makes if you think about it for two seconds, that seems a likely explanation.

If their goal was to 'fix' Sherlock and John's friendship, I honestly think they failed. What you see is Sherlock mocking John's grief, then being impatient that John isn't over it after ten seconds, and then manipulating him into saying he forgives Sherlock because he thinks they're about to die. Sherlock never honestly apologises, takes accountability, or wins back John's trust. The rest of the series suffers from the shortcuts taken here, because John never truly trusts Sherlock again. The relationship remains broken, it's just superficially fixed. Just because John says 'I forgive you' out loud doesn't mean he actually does.

The torture scene in the beginning is incredibly manipulative, because it sets up 'Oh poor Sherlock suffered so much and John is a bit meanie for not forgiving him right away'. But how would John have even known? It's never addressed in the series whether John ever learns why Sherlock jumped, and what happened to him while he was Away.

Lestrade and Mrs Hudson instantly forgiving Sherlock makes it seem like John is being unreasonable for being angry for longer. They get over Sherlock faking his death in an instant, why can't John?

TEH is the start of Sherlock and John's dynamic getting a bit toxic, honestly. Sherlock's disregard for John's feelings, John still going back to him even though he's still so angry, Sherlock's inability to leave John alone to process his emotions in his own time, Sherlock's lying and his manipulation, Sherlock as the martyr who suffers to save John, who's 'ungrateful' because he doesn't know and didn't ask for the sacrifices.... it's all there from TEH.

Tl,DR: I agree that fixing Sherlock and John's friendship is more important than learning how Sherlock faked his death. But not even trying to explain made me feel like the creators didn't know themselves and were mocking us for speculating. Also if they were trying to fix Sherlock and John's relaitonship, they FAILED. It's still broken. It remains broken.

“You can’t spend 90 minutes explaining how he did it. Everybody’s very excited about it now but I guarantee everybody will forget about it as soon as it’s done because for us [the episode] was about restoring the friendship between John and Sherlock.”

—

Mark Gatiss on The Empty Hearse (x)

…Watching with pleasure as the smart storyteller goes to the core of the business.

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #mofftiss think they're so clever but they're not #it's not just the queerbaiting #it's how little some things make sense

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theminecraftbee · 2 days ago

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Pearl stops and stares once she gets to the front of the line at the Hermitopia Permit Office. She’s here to renew her ID, since she’s required to have a valid driver’s license for her mail carrier job she’s only recently moved here. Normal stuff, really. If it weren’t for the secret of why she’d actually moved to town, she’d have probably taken the license photo, filled out the paperwork, and left.

She is not here for a mail carrier job, and she can see things no one else in line can.

“I know, I know, I have a very beautiful face,” says the demon at the counter in the flattest affect Pearl has heard in her life. “Look, lady, there’s a line and I want to be on break, so if you’re going to sexually harass me or something can you hurry up and speedrun through doing it?“

She also doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“What?” she says.

“I mean, you’re staring at me awfully closely,” the demon says. “What am I supposed to assume? Surely you know that’s rude.”

“I’m not into men,” Pearl instantly lies for absolutely no reason.

“Okay? I don’t need to know that for your driver’s license?” the demon says.

“Right. Um,” Pearl says. She’s a little reluctant to hand the plastic sandwich bag she’d put her proof of address in over to a demon. If she’d just been a mail carrier and couldn’t See, it would be one thing, but she simply hadn’t been expected to come across the consequences of Hermitopia’s rumored hellmouth so immediately.

Or so…

The demon sighs again with an impressive amount of passive-aggression.

Pearl slides the documents to him. She watches as the demon gives everything several once-overs. He’s neither seemed to have noticed that she’s a psychic or that she’s a hunter. If anything, he seems to be trying his level best to avoid doing anything other than playing with several small desk nicknacks he has. One appears to be a magic eight ball shaped like a robot. Another appears to be a miniature game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. Yet another appears to be some kind of controller for the painfully inoffensive music the permit office plays.

Frankly, they’re all almost as distracting as the eyes that cover every inch of the demon’s body that isn’t wearing the permit office uniform. The eyes glow, faint and unsettling. They move as though on a higher framerate than the universe, giving a strange, out-of-sync effect with the way the demon otherwise moves. They make Pearl’s heart pound.

Hermitopia Hellmouth. It’s real. It’s real.

The demon gives her paperwork back. “You’ll be mailed a new license at some point. Here’s the temp. Have a day or whatever.”

“Thanks, er…” She squints at his name tag. It’s in deliberately small font. “Grian?”

Grian waves her off. “If my boss gets mad I’ll tell him it’s your fault I’m not meeting KPIs. Go away.”

“Your boss must be tough,” Pearl says.

There is a long, eerie silence.

“Cub would have Stared back. I’m not paid to bother. Learn to shield better. Next.”

Pearl stands still for a beat too long before stepping out of line, clutching her temporary license in hand. The worst part is that she has to wait for the permanent one, and they’ll only mail it to the physical address she gave them. That’s the thing about government-issued IDs; they care where you physically are.

She breathes. The world’s been overwhelming since she’s learned to See, but her new organization has helped a lot. Now, she has an opportunity to help back, here in Hermitopia.

Pearl owes nothing less than her best, presuming the demons don’t come to the address they apparently have in the night, now that they know she’s here, and she knows they are. She shudders, deeply unsettled. She knows she will not sleep tonight.

(After all, for a moment—a single, horrifying, terrible moment—those hundreds of demonic eyes had seemed kind.)

#hermitcraft #pearlescentmoon #grian #a bee fic #I DONT KNOW MAN SOMETIMES I AM STRUCK BY AU CONCEPTS #maybe I’ll come back to this at some point #anyway: demonic dmv time.

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stoatontoast23 · 2 days ago

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thinking about how if ouma's “nishishi~” was translated more directly, we would have an ouma who goes “neighhh!”

#why did they make him a horse girl #better yet why did they make him a horse girl and have it barely come up #do the other character just accept this nonsense?#and i'm aware it's a pun on his “king horse” family name but does that mean ouma in game is doing it on purpose for that reason...???#did he process what his family name meant and go “ok i am going to force myself to laugh like a horse for the rest of eternity”#actually now that i'm writing it down he would totally do that #kokichi ouma #kokichi drv3 #danganronpa #stoat won't shut up

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highvern · 15 hours ago

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Beggin' On My Knees

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, hint of angst, established relationship, biker! hoshi

warnings: pregnancy, impreg/breeding kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, praise kink, body worship, spitting, praise kink

Length: ~8k

Note: inspired by the Please, Please, Please MV. this was originally an idea for taehyung but alas my top freak took over again. something about biker/mechanic hoshi really is beautiful thank u @tomodachiii @haologram and @gyuswhore for keeping me sane

summary: After another run in with the law, you come to terms with the fact your friends might be right about your fiancé.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Even at your age, it’s somehow more embarrassing to buy pregnancy tests than condoms. You wouldn’t know since you’ve never bought condoms. That particular responsibility falls exclusively on your fiance after the few times in college when you snagged handfuls from the bucket inside the campus clinic.

You’ve bought a pregnancy test before. Not for yourself but for friends too embarrassed to walk into the pharmacy and publicly declare how active their sex lives were. Now you understand why they wanted someone else to do it. Why are there twenty different brands? Why do they require some high school employee to unlock the case so you can pick the one you want? Why are they so damn expensive? The anxiety you feel rivals the first time you bought weed sophomore year of college from some sleazy frat boy.

You’ve got the box resting on the bathroom counter, a timer on your phone, and the test just out of sight while you pace back and forth in the small space. The door is shut for no other reason than to isolate away from Soonyoung in the event he gets off work early.

You should call Soonyoung. He’d want to know, fight the urge to say something stupid like “I’ll try harder next time” when the tests come back negative and instead offer to pee on one in solidarity if only to lighten the mood.

You never understood when people say a woman just knows until right now because with each passing second the reality that those tests are going to be positive sink in. Despite the fact you and Soonyoung almost always use a condom and the times without them end with him coming anywhere not inside you. You just know it.

Each second ticks down like a bomb waiting to detonate.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your stomach twists. Surprisingly, you don’t dread it as much as you would have a year ago. But a million things a baby entails rush over you. Cleaning out the spare room upstairs, doctors appointments, daycare, clothes, school. Do you even know how to actually take care of a kid? One that belongs to you, who you can’t give back to their person when they get fussy or hurt.

Soonyoung was born to be a dad. He never hid how badly he wanted a family of his own, a family with you. He’s good with kids too. You’ve seen him with his nieces and nephews, your friends’ kids. The middle schoolers in your neighborhood come to him with broken bikes and scooters to be fixed, knock on your front door to ask if he can help them get their ball down from some tree. Even if he doesn't know what he’s doing he’d be there by your side.

As the initial shock washes away, the knots in your chest slowly unfurl. You can do this. Even though you planned your life down to the last detail, Soonyoung has a way of sweeping you into his tide. Engagement, marriage, house, babies. In that order. You’ve already got the house before he asked you to marry him and your wedding is only a month away.

After the worst of the panic settles into restless jitters, you leave the solitude of the bathroom. Soonyoung still isn’t home from work yet but it isn’t unusual. He’s been pulling more hours, shouldering more responsibilities since Mr. Lee, the owner, hinted at a promotion. Glancing at the clock, you guess he’ll walk through the door in two hours which gives you plenty of time to put together something to surprise him.

After a long shower, you burn time by cleaning up non-existent messes; you can’t sit still. The ‘surprise’ ends up being lackluster. Your weekly grocery shopping trip is tomorrow so the fridge is slim pickings for dinner and you make the executive decision to go out once Soonyoung is home. Some fancy restaurant neither of you can afford with tiny dishes designed to leave you hungry and stopping at the diner at the edge of town for a burger.

While the noise from the TV hums in the background, you scroll through internet searches on what to do when expecting. Doctors appointments, blood tests, advice on budgeting. It’s information overload but you’re giddy even with the stress.. Then you see it. A screenshot from one of your friends. No words, just a photo.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The longer you stare the quicker the realization becomes a reality. Soonyoung, your Soonyoung, the Soonyoung you’ve been waiting to get home, the reason for three positive pregnancy tests still on the bathroom counter, stares back. Or his mugshot does. A proud stain on the town jail’s website for everyone to see.

Storming out of the house, you notice Jeonghan’s car is gone from his own driveway. Hopefully he’s given your fiance an earful at the station already. If not, you’ve got plenty to say.

Whatever giddy happiness possessed you earlier is long gone, rotten disgust taking its place. How stupid do you look waiting for him at home while he’s gone and gotten himself locked up?

That stupid bike.

It isn’t the first time. That was the initial appeal back when you were a doe eyed freshman, finally out from under your parents thumb with more freedom than you knew how to handle. Soonyoung was the stereotypical bad boy with a taste for fast cars, working in a garage to your good girl persona who set the curve in all her classes. A few drinks at a run down dive bar landed you on his bike in some back alley, a hand under your skirt while he whispered the nastiest things you’ve ever heard. Then you returned the favor back at his apartment, riding him with enough vigor the headboard slapping against the wall sent his neighbors into a fit.

Then came the routine of Soonyoung picking you up from your dorms late at night, staying out until sunrise doing who knows what. He showed you off at street races, called you his girl in front of friends, and would take you out to the lake after winning a race and make you feel like a winner too.

It was fun.

Until the calls he’d been out street racing again wore down your patience as your friends’ giddy curiosity turned to embarrassment and ‘I told you so’s. It wasn’t enough to break your heart, but it tore your ego to shreds. They called him a loser and you defended him time and time again because you loved him. Because he promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He promised the last time was the last time. The time before that was also the last time and the time before and so on.

The parking lot of the police station is nearly empty this time of day; a few police cars and a handful of other vehicles. Otherwise, it sits deserted.

Jeognhan is waiting for you at the front desk, pretending to type away at something on the computer but you know better. You’ve done this song and dance too many times.

“What the fuck did he do this time?”

He quirks an eyebrow, sliding a clipboard with the usual paperwork your way as he speaks. “What do you think?”

You nearly rip through the paper from pressing the pen so hard as you sign. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Ma’am, language,” a young officer warns.

You’ve never seen him before and the stern look on his face pisses you off even more. His eyes widen in what must be fear because he scrambles back to the filing cabinet at the back of the room without speaking. “I didn’t know you had a new bitch, Han.”

Jeonghan takes his clipboard back before you can whack him with it. “Nope, that's still your fiancé. Chan, go get Soonyoung from the box.”

“Tell him I’ve got a hammer in the car for his balls,” you call.

“Please refrain from making threats inside the police station.”

Soonyoung has the sense to look afraid when he rounds the corner. He’s still in his work clothes, oil stained shirt and dirty coveralls, hair matted to his forehead. You can only imagine what he sees. Last time you picked up he’d still been drunk from a bar fight and you made him sleep on the porch with Jeonghan’s engine as an alarm clock. You’d been too tired to make threats, half asleep the entire time. This time, you feel on the verge of crying, throwing up, and exploding into a fiery rage.

You don’t wait for him while Jeonghan hands over the bag of Soonyoung’s belongings. Halfway to the car, he races to catch up without a word and goes as far as rushing ahead to open the driver's door for you. There’s a fraction of a second you contemplate speeding off before he can get into the passenger seat, let him walk home in the dark as punishment for being a dumbass. But you don’t. You want to yell at him for being a dumbass until your throat bleeds.

The car smells like motor oil and sweat with him so close in the passenger seat. You gag at the stench, rolling all the windows down to avoid vomiting. The last thing you want right now is to need him.

Under usual circumstances the silence hanging heavy in the air would be comfortable, familiar and warm with the golden hue of the sunset and the sound of cicadas not far off. The world holds its breath, but you don’t.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to find out you got arrested from someone sending me your mugshot?” you ask at the first red light. Soonyoung tries to answer but you cut him off. “No, you don’t. Because I’d never put you in that position.”

He grumbles out the window. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re better than me.”

“You think I’m pissed because I think I’m better than you? I’m pissed because you act like a fucking loser. I’m pissed because you’re a liar! You promised me you wouldn’t do this dumb shit anymore. YOU PROMISED ME. And I look like an idiot because I’m stupid enough to trust you.”

You wait for an excuse. Some honeyed platitude about how much he loves you and it being a mistake and how it’ll never happen again but Soonyoung offers nothing.

“What do you want me to say?” he asks.

You scoff. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Clearly!” you shriek, the vein in your neck throbbing. “Do you know how it feels to have my friends send me your mugshot? I’m at home tearing my hair out and you’re street racing some kid for kicks.”

“He wasn’t a kid—”

“I don’t give a fuck!” The edges of your vision scorch red, teeth gnashing. You’ve never been this angry with him. You’ve never been this angry, period. “Grow up!”

He’s lucky Jeonghan caught him and not one of the other officers hell bent on cleaning up the streets. He’s lucky you didn’t have to front bail money neither of you have, especially now. Instead of spending the weekend in jail, Soonyoung’s punishment is fixing whatever Jeonghan sends his way for the next month free of charge but it’s not enough, not even close.

The kill shot bubbles on the tip of your tongue but that last bit of self control keeps it under lock and key. This isn’t how you thought you’d tell him, nowhere close to the way the evening happened in your head before you saw that picture. You wanted to surprise him. Watch the way the news sunk in slowly then all at once. You remember the test you left on the kitchen counter for him to find when he got home before everything went to shit. The ember of rage flairs back to life.

“You wanna race so bad, go fetch!” You don’t think as you rip the keys to that cursed bike from his hands and chuck them out the window into the grassy median, gone in a flash. It’s only a temporary solution but it feels good. It’s the next best thing to taking a bat to his bike until there’s nothing salvageable.

Soonyoung sputters. “Are you crazy?”

Maybe. You’re absolutely toeing the line of unhinged. The car skids to a stop, tires burning against the asphalt. Thankfully the road is clear of any traffic.

“Get out,” you demand.

“What?”

“Get out. Get out, get out, get out!” You repeat the words over and over until he does what you tell him to. You feel the suffocating tightness in your chest signaling tears are seconds away.

“Baby, let's talk about this,” Soonyoung begs. He tries to reach through the window, he knows your weak spots too well. You snatch your hand away before he can take advantage.

“You can have this back!” You launch the diamond band right at his chest before taking off.

You get back home on autopilot. There are red lights and stop signs and other traffic laws you can’t remember if you followed but you’re in the driveway and barreling up the porch with shaky breaths. Guilt doesn’t cross your mind for a second. Soonyoung didn’t feel guilty for racing like a dumbass until he got caught, so why should you feel guilty for letting him deal with the consequences?

The urge to do something mean, not just mean but hurtful with the intent of seeing Soonyoung sick to his stomach, rears its head. If that’s what you wanted then mission accomplished. He saved for a year to buy that ring and you threw it in his face like it was nothing but cheap plastic. The ire from earlier rushes out of you like a deflating balloon. Your fingers itch for a cigarette but unlike your now ex fiance, you have to cut out all your vices. There’s no relief in pacing back and forth. There won’t be any solace inside the house either. You’re so tired. All the highs and lows of the day have drained you of everything. You don’t want to be mad or sad or anything anymore. You just want to go to bed and sleep off the entire day.

You want to leave but you don’t. You want to yell some more but Soonyoung will be at least another hour. There’s nothing to anxiously clean while waiting so you water the crispy plants on the porch while you wait.

Jeonghan’s cruiser pulls into his driveway across the street thirty minutes later. Still no sign of Soonyoung, not a missed call or text. You think to worry but he gets out of Jeonghan’s passenger seat and trudges your way.

He looks angry and tired. But your swollen eyes and splotchy face melts the furrow in his brows.

“I’m—”

You silence him with a blast from the water hose. Soonyoung takes his punishment like a man, standing completely still while you douse him from head to toe.

“I deserve that. Please, just listen to me—” He’s silent with another stream aimed at his chest. You feel some validation seeing him embody the way you feel: pathetic.

“Will you put the hose down so we can talk about this?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you huff, dropping the hose for him to clean up.

“Then I’ll talk and you listen.”

“No.” You head towards the door with no intention of letting Soonyoung inside. “Go sleep at Jeonghan’s, I don’t wanna be around you right now.”

“He already told me no.”

Jeonghan would take mercy on Soonyoung in this state; soaked to the bone with your engagement ring in his pocket.

You turn to face him. “I want you to get rid of your bike.”

Soonyoung stays at the foot of the stairs leading up the porch. He knows how you feel and he has the sense to look ashamed.

“You want me to sell Tammy?” he asks.

“I want Tammy to fall off a cliff into the abyss but that’s obviously not going to happen,” you seethe, blinking away more frustrated tears.

“I have a lot of good memories with Tammy.”

“What? The first time you got arrested? Or the time you fell off and broke your arm? Oh, I know! When you ended up in a ditch?”

“The time I asked you to be my girlfriend. And the time I won enough money to help put a down payment on the house. When—“

“It’s me or her.”

Does it feel juvenile giving your fiance an ultimatum between you and a godforsaken bike? Absolutely. But you’ve got a kid to think about now and the thought of Soonyoung missing their life because he’s too busy chasing the rush makes you sick.

“It’s you.” Soonyoung says it with finality but you don’t believe him.

“Then prove it.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Sell it. First thing tomorrow morning.”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m not selling my bike.”

“Then I’ll be sure to tell your kid their dad is a fucking loser.”

He blinks like the words don’t fully set in but your back is already to him by the time they do. Locked inside the house, you lean back against the door. You don’t want him to hear the crack of breath in your throat breaking into hot, wet tears.

“What do you mean my kid?” Soonyoung’s panicked voice comes through the door. “YN! Open the door!”

“Go away.”

His whispered curses slip through the door while he scrambles for the spare key hidden in the potted plant by the door. If you really wanted him locked out, you would’ve remembered to move it before he got home. Part of you does want him stuck as far away as possible. You don’t want to face him because you know he’ll kiss your tears away and that’s all you want right now. You want him to hold you, promise you everything will be okay.

The lock of the bedroom door clicks into place right as Soonyoung gets the front door open. You hear him downstairs, looking for where you’re hidden. You can plot his course in your head: straight through the living into the kitchen where one of the positive tests waits to greet him on the counter, then he comes racing up the stairs and outside the door.

He twists the doorknob with no success. “YN.”

“Go away,” you sniffle into the pillow. His pillow. You’re on his side of the bed, in one of his old shirts because even if you wish you hated him.

A dull thud against the door and a sigh signals his departure. You hear him shuffling back downstairs, but the sound of the front door never comes. The fatigue of the day takes over swiftly. Surrounded by the comforting smell of Soonyoung, you fall asleep until the smell of food wafts up through the vents. Not burnt but if Soonyoung is in the kitchen then it’s only a matter of time.

You creep down the stairs, careful to stay quiet so you can sneak back up without getting caught. Soonyoung’s body blocks whatever he’s organizing on the counter but you tell it’s a bribe from the sight of take out bags piled in the trash.

“What’s that?”

“Dinner. Do you want some?”

He’s got an entire pizza with garlic knots and cinnamon twists laid out like a feast. You watch him pretend to be nonchalant but he’s glued to your every move as you approach the counter and shove an entire garlic knot into your mouth, chewing with enough force to warn you haven’t forgiven him yet even though you're close to it. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Then we won’t talk,” he sighs into the base of your skull, fingers edging beneath your shirt for the comforting warmth of skin on skin.

“Don’t,” you say, but lean back into the warmth of his body despite yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

Sure he is. You know he means it. Soonyoung is always sorry but it doesn’t stop him from being a dumbass. But he’s your dumbass no matter how many fights you have.

He lets you eat, content to hide his face in your shoulder and his fingers warm against the waistband of your sweatpants. You hate crying and you hate crying in front of him – because of him – even more. The heavy silence of the kitchen and the love of your life clinging onto you like his life depends on it brings a fresh prick of tears. Once you start, you can’t stop. The tears keep coming as Soonyong maneuvers your face into his chest. His new, clean shirt turns into your tissue. You fall into him without hesitation.

“Are you really…” he asks quietly, dropping kiss after kiss against your hair while you wring out like a sponge.

“Do you think I’d lie to make you feel bad?”

“No. I just—fuck. You’re pregnant.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“How do you feel?”

You blow your nose into his neck. “Like I wanna punch my kid’s dad in the nuts.”

“He probably deserves that.”

“He definitely does.”

“And he deserves to sleep outside.”

“Yep,” you nod.

“But you still love him?”

“Of course I do, you big idiot,” you sigh, leaning back to look at him. Mistake. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” His brow presses to yours, face rounded out, soft cheeks that make you want to scream. Brown eyes shine beneath his lashes. Soonyoung knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t but things would be a lot easier if you did.

Soonyoung takes the silence as an admission, and when you don’t object he falls to his knees, pulls your shirt out of the way and presses his face into your stomach. “We should name it Donatello.”

“No.”

“Leonardo.”

“No,” you giggle despite yourself.

“Raphael.”

“You are not naming our baby after a Ninja Turtle.”

“Mojo Jojo Jojo.”

“No.”

“Thanos.”

“Stop!”

“You’re laughing?” Soonyoung gasps, rushing to his feet to pin your squirmy body between him and the counter’s edge. “I’m trying to have a very serious conversation and you’re laughing?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you love me.”

You nod, hiding back into his chest where it’s safe. “Yeah, I love you.”

The silence marinates between you.

“I’ll sell the bike, promise.”

“You’re not the best at keeping promises.”

“This time is different.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want our kid to grow up thinking their dad doesn’t worship the ground their mom walks on. Because I know she’s way too good for me and I’m lucky to have her.”

“I’m not too good for you, I hate when you say that.”

“You called me a loser.”

“I said you acted like a loser and I won’t take that back.”

He looks away. “That’s fair.”

The icy wall of hurt freezes back up but you’re too tired to drag on the fight any longer. “When I found out my reaction wasn’t ’oh he’s being stupid.’ It was ‘how would I tell our kid their dad missed their birthday because he got himself locked up.’ That’s all I could think about. Explaining to our kid over and over why you’re never there.”

The words rest like a wet blanket over his flame of excitement. He doesn’t want to be that kind of dad; the one who misses their child’s life for something as stupid as street racing. Who leaves you to pick up a broken heart time and time again, two broken hearts.

You’re at arms length, Soonyoung examining you like a puzzle he can’t figure out but wants to try anyway. You hate when he looks at you like that. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen and he can’t quite believe you’re real. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Shut up.” You hide the blush staining across your cheeks with another slice of pizza.

“You are.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I need you to be a good dad. And if you can’t then I’m not afraid to do it by myself.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Can I talk to it?”

“If you want to.” You don’t tell him that the thing growing in your womb curiously of him is the size of a pea and doesn’t have a face, let alone ears. You want to hear what his first words as a dad are.

He rucks your shirt up higher until it’s bunched beneath your breast, stomach on full display for him to bury his face into.

“Hi. I’m your dad,” he starts timidly. You bite back a smile at his earnestness. “I don’t usually make your mom this angry. Usually, she’s pretty happy with me.” His lips brush your stomach with each word, tickling them into your skin. “I hope you take after her. She’s smart, and she’s pretty. God, she’s so pretty. I remember the first time I saw your mom and I knew I wanted to marry her.”

You snort. “You did not.”

“Yes, I did,” he corrects. “We were at this bar. You’re not allowed to go there. Ever. Maybe when you’re thirty or I’m dead. But I remember seeing her when she walked in and I thought ‘that is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and if she talks to me, I’ll throw up.’ I still feel like that sometimes. Even when she’s mad at me. And then when I got the courage to talk to her, I didn’t throw up because your old man is cool.”

Your heart swells too big for your chest. The night you met him wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. You saw him across the bar, all blonde hair and ruby cheeks as he screamed with his friends. He did throw up the first time you talked to him. After an hour of riding him until it hurt, you melted boneless in his lap and he snuck away to the bathroom to toss the used condom. You faked asleep as he emptied his guts into the toilet bowl before crawling back to bed and begging for cuddles. Pure romance.

“So cool,” you tease.

Soonyoung laces your fingers together, nipping at your fingertips in protest. “Your mom is mean to me but it’s okay because I love her. You’ll love her too. I just hope you’ll love me.”

You fight the urge to cry, only a single tear streaking down your cheek before stopping. “They’ll love you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Because I love you and I’m very smart. Remember?”

“I did say that, didn't I?”

You hum in agreement, pulling him up your body to nudge his nose along yours.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let him shower you in gentle touches, his hands smoothing up your sides. Soonyoung traps you between his body and the counter, his lips sweeping over your chin, your jaw, your covered chest. That’s when you feel it. “What are you doing?”

“Apologizing.”

“Feels a lot like your penis to me.”

“That’s a part of the apology,” he whispers, the weight of his cocky heavy against your thigh, harder with each controlled grind. “Can’t believe I knocked you up and I never even came inside of you.”

“I can. You talk about kids so much I bet you manifested this.”

“You want it though, right?”

“Yeah.”

You’re lifted onto the countertop, legs spread around his hips. He’s got one hand wedge between your ass and panties to keep you close. “Do you think I’ll be a good dad?”

Not the conversation you thought would happen while you’re tugging his shirt off and working at the tie in his pajamas pants but you humor him.

“I think you’ll be a great dad.” You kiss him gently. His lips, his nose, his cheeks that round in your favorite smile. “If you stop getting arrested. How are you gonna ground Michaelangelo if you keep getting in trouble too?”

“She’s gonna be too smart for that. Just like her mom.”

“Oh, it’s a she now?”

“I’ve got a feeling.” He nips at your throat, a sweet flick of his tongue to soothe the sting. “Back to me coming inside you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Gonna take it all for me?”

Your chin tips back to provide more skin for Soonyoung to mark up. “Want it.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he heaves. You’re trapped between a hand against the crotch of your panties and one pawing at your ass like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“Take your pants off.”

An amused breath warms your throat. “Someone’s bossy”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you to take your pants off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shirt gone, sweats pooled around his ankles, Soonyoung stands in nothing but a pair of tenting briefs and the thin chain you gifted him a week after he placed that band on your ring finger.

“Wow, who knew you'd be such a DILF.”

His cheeks tinged pink from the complement. “I’ve been a dad for five minutes and you’re already trying to hit on me.”

“We’re engaged, doofus.”

“Speaking of.” He snatches his pants off the floor, digging through the pockets until a familiar ring appears. “Don’t take this off again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He catches your chin between his fingers, pining you in his gaze. “I don’t care how angry you are with me. When I asked you to marry me, I meant forever.”

You can count on one hand the number of times he’s used that tone of voice with you. Soonyoung doesn't get angry often; at least, not with you. The last time he talked to you like this was when you wandered on the wrong side of town late at night, alone and drunk without a way home. You were pissed about a grade and wanted to do something reckless like every other kid at your university got to. Luckily, Soonyoung found you before trouble could. He used the same tone to chastise you for an hour about how stupid you’d been.

But he isn’t just mad at your antics. He’s scared too. You look at him — really look at him for the first time since this morning when you kissed him goodbye before work. Red eyes, lip bruised, not from kisses but the way he chews it when he’s anxious.

“I’m sorry.” You pull him back, arms wrapped so tightly around his torso he probably can’t breathe and you both like the certainty of it. The tension in his shoulders softens like candle wax but he doesn’t let go.

There’s still the matter of damp underwear and his boner. You want him, the gnawing aching way you always want him. Between your legs, stroking your sensitive spots to life over and over again until you beg for mercy he’s too eager to deny.

You nose against his cheek, adoring kiss after kiss against his skin until mouths meet. Soonyoung slips his tongue between the seam of your lips. You feel it the way down to your toes. On instinct, your hand trickles down his front, wedged tight between your bodies to paw at the fabric. A few dry jerks is all it takes for him to unravel.

“Wait,” Soonyoung gasps, hips rutting into the tight squeeze.

He keens with another tug, neck flushing a pretty shade of pink. The linoleum bites into your knees before you mouth over his underwear for a taste of what's to come. You suck the head through his underwear before leaning back to tease him with a kiss.

“Bedroom.”

“Didn’t think I’d see the day you’d refuse a kitchen blowjob,” you snicker.

Soonyoung doesn’t laugh. He pulls you back up into a bruising kiss, biting at your lip until you’re sure it’s bruised. His hand gropes down your ass, fingers tight to your entrance from behind. Whatever he wants like this you’ll agree to.

“Want you on my mouth.”

You’d kneel over his face right here on the kitchen floor if he wanted. But knowing your fiance, his sights are glued to whatever fantasies boil beneath that blond hair of his.

You race up the stairs, Soonyoung hands heavy on your sides. His thumbs press into the bare curve of your hips. Your clothes fall until just your underwear remains. You want to turn around and mount him on the steps but the second floor landing is close enough you don’t get a chance.

Soonyoung flicks all the bedroom lights on, eager to see every part of you as you crawl up the bed on all fours in nothing but your underwear. A few years ago you wouldn’t dream of sex with a lamp on let alone the overhead light but years of his utter devotion to your body and wanting to watch you get off like it’s his very own miracle gave you confidence. He looks ready to jump out of his own skin at the doorway. You glance over back and arch your spine a little more, ass higher in the air for his viewing. You might just finger yourself like this to see him suffer. You’ve done it before.

You stretch out, naked chest on display. “Are you coming?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Unconsciously, he palms his cock and approaches the side of the bed, pulling you into a kiss with a heavy lick of his tongue.

It doesn’t take much to drag him on top of you, dick hot to your thigh, perfect to rut against. There’s too much Soonyoung to think of anything else. His hands pinning you in place, his breath fanning across your chest as he suckles across the slope of your breast, thighs surging between yours in a dry hump you can’t help but beg for more of. His hips stutter when you do.

He follows the same playbook you did earlier; fingers trailing to the wet patch of your wants, mouth following closely. You’re in for a treat when he’s on his knees like this. He wants to tease you the way you did him but Soonyoung isn’t committed to denying you anything, he wants to rake you over hot coals by giving too much.

Your hands eagerly hook beneath your knees, legs spread wide before him like a feast..

“Taste so good,” he rasps with a soft suck at your clit. “You’re so hot.”

Even with the barrier of your underwear each lick lights you on fire. Soonyoung moans a lewd melody, lost in his own paradise. Your thighs twitch with each gentle prod at your entrance, folded away by his shoulders so he can touch as much as he wants.

The promise from earlier lights up your brain. You twist a tight grip in his hair, pulling hard enough to detach him from your body. Lips wet, eyes blown, Soonyoung tries to dive back down until another twist of your nails makes him wince.

“Call Jeonghan.”

His mouth may be gone but his fingers circle your clit in the way that makes you whine. “What?”

“Call. Him,” you command.

You snatch your phone from the end table, forcing it into Soonyoung’s grasp. He still doesn’t understand what you’ve asked.

“Sell him the bike right now.”

“Now?” He looks down at your pussy still on display, underwear soaked in spit and arousal.

You nod. Soonyoung knows better than to argue. He’s back in your good graces but only just, the promise of shipping that infernal bike off to someone else keeping him afloat.

Your body throbs for release, for his mouth to go back to work instead of whispering into the phone when Jeonghan answers.

“Two grand? Bullshit! There's at least…” he trails off.

You’re not going to stop just because he’s busy. You grab your breasts, taunt nipples visible between your fingers. Clad in a pair of sticky panties and nothing else, you’ve reduced him into a stuttering mess. Any other night he’d already be smothering himself in the wetness. You can see the urge in his gaze as he swallows loudly.

“Four,” Soonyoung counters. His face twists between wanting to argue with the neighbor, brows furrowed, lips in a heavy pout, and watch in awe as you suck on your own fingers before pinching at your chest again.

You’ve got him distracted with a hand between your legs, pushing your underwear out of the way to flash him exactly what he’s earning. Flushed and wet, the smell of sex hangs in the air.

“Thirty-five,” his voice cracks as you spread your legs wider, pulling his hand right where it belongs.

Soonyoung bats your hands away, fingers twisting through your heat. A gentle prod at your entrance like he hasn’t mastered your pussy enough to make you stupid and strung out with a few touches. There’s no way Jeonghan can’t hear every pleased sigh, the wet noise echoing from your pussy, the annoyance in Soonyoung’s voice as they barter back and forth.

Soonyoung leans over and spits where his fingers disappear, making you jolt with the force as he does it again. You nearly ask him to spit in your mouth just to see his eyes bulge but the opportunity disappears with the sound of Jeonghan’s cackle through the line.

“Fine, three. I’ll give you the keys tomorrow.” He ends the call, forces your hand out of the way, and eagerly makes up for the minutes lost.

Both of your hands find the soft strands of his hair to hold him in place. Your feet plant on the bed beside his wide shoulders, allowing you to hump his face pathetically only to be welcomed with a grunt. The rip of fabric registers right before what was once your underwear is left stretched across the middle of your thigh.

“S-shit, don’t stop.”

His fingers spread for his tongue to lick between. You punish him for such a dirty move with a harsh pull of his hair that he loves more than anything. Soonyoung does what he does best: groveling for your forgiveness. You’ll give it to him like always. But you both want him to work for it; it’s better when he does.

He spreads your legs wider, gives a pleased grunt when you hold him in place and grind into his mouth.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant; vision blurry, body on fire.

Soonyoung moans into the sloppy mess of your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips, wedging another finger between the two already ruining you.

“Oh god—there.”

Your thighs crush his head but he forces them up and open, pinned in place. The tender glow of the end escalates into a scalding burn as it rips through every muscle. You clench so tight around his fingers he can’t move them more than a tight curl. When you cry at the overstimulation he finally rests.

“Did you just—”

Pins and needles ripple through your muscles and all you can do is nod. Once the initial shock fades, there’s a smug twitch of his lips. He catches your foot and pins it before you can kick him.

“Shut up.”

“Have I told you how much I think about you being pregnant?” he asks, watching your every move.

You shake your head. His fingers keep working in gentle strokes, the wet noises quieter than before but loud in your ears.

“It’s a lot,” he grunts. “Fuck, you’re gonna be so sexy.”

“I’m not already?” you half laugh, half gasp. The spark of arousal already demands more so you rock your hips down despite the sensitivity.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“But I’m not sexy?”

“Don’t pick an argument with me right now, please,” Soonyoung begs.

“Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about coming in you until you can’t take anymore.”

“Then I’ll be sexy?” you goad.

“You’ve always been sexy.” He punctuates the compliment with a kiss to your left hip bone. “Beautiful.” Another on your right. “Gorgeous.” One on the plush of your thigh. “I love you.”

He folds you in half, knees to chest like you possess the flexibility to stay there, ankles cuffed in his hand, lips hot on the back of your thigh.

“We should fuck on the bike one more time,” you tease.

“You want me to defile the mother of my child on a motorcycle?”

You moan at his words. You want him to come wherever he wants, as many times as he can. Until he can’t anymore. To feel nasty and used however he sees fit. You want him on top of you, behind you, bending you over every surface he can until you’re shaking.

“You’re about to defile me right here. W-what’s the difference?”

Soonyoung curls the fingers inside you tight, eyes glued to the way you heave before answering. He fucks into that spot that makes you his puppet and all you want is to ruin him the same way he ruins you with the slightest touch. “You said I should stop doing things that’ll get me arrested.”

You choke on another tease as he sucks on your clit, tongue coaxing pathetic sighs right out of your lungs. He could do this all night. He’d be happy to. Soonyoung grips you tighter as you squirm away. It’s too much. He knows it and that’s why he loves it so much, knowing he can make you cum hard enough to scream.

“Are the cameras still broken at the garage?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, already knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Then you can defile me at your place of business, over the bike. Just like old times.”

“No condoms.”

“How else are you gonna stuff me full of cum?”

Soonyoung groans, pushing your legs wider as his hips rut into the mattress. “Wanna come inside you.”

“Then get up here and do it.”

You’re soaked between the legs, sensitive and swollen. Soonyoung settles into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing his cock into the wet mess of spit and arousal. Your body acts of instinct, hips tilting until he slips between your walls.

“Oh my god.” He laps at the swell of your breast. “‘S okay?”

“Yeah, they don’t hurt yet.”

The sharp edge of his teeth leaves lines across your skin while he sucks at your chest until your spine breaks in half. His fingers keep firm pressure against your clit. Sloppy but enough to keep you pulled taunt. You’ll come a second time if he keeps it up.

“Oh my god,” you echo.

Soonyoung likes to fuck hard. Hard enough you feel like all your seams are splitting, just shy of shattering your limit. Now’s no different but there's a new edge of caution. Even with his hips flat, inside you until nothing is left to give, he tangles your fingers together and pins them over head in the pillows.

You push your body against his, needy and pliant. Blind want acting as a guide, your ankles lock around his waist. It feels so much better than all the other times he’s fucked you like this; knowing the risk of him coming inside no longer counts and he can do it as many times as you ask.

The slap of your skin against his fills the room, grunts and pathetic whines passing between mouths with narrowed vision. Nails biting into his shoulders, you flutter tight, trying to pull Soonyoung deeper even if he’s snug to the hilt. Stretched full beyond belief.

“More,” you beg. Frantic. Needy. All those feelings Soonyoung can incite with the barest of touches and a look.

He rises back on his hands, lighting up with each pathetic whimper of his name. “More what?”

If you had the brain power you’d knock the stupid smirk off his face. “Fuck me.”

“I am,” Soonyoung taunts.

“Breed me.”

“Already h-have.” Soonyoung looks like he wants to laugh but he sinks as much weight as he can into his hips, rhythm clumsy but it’s so good you don’t care. “Fuck, such a good girl. Aren’t you?”

You clench around him. He isn’t the most inspired with dirty talk but he knows your buttons, loves to press on your praise kink when you least expect it.

“Say it.”

“I-I’m,” you stutter from his fingers finding your raw clit. “I’m your good girl.”

“My pretty little wife,” Soonyoung gasps. “Perfect.”

Every bit of praise adds a drop in the bucket, chest tightening until it explodes without permission; shredding through your veins. Your teeth sink into his shoulder. Hard enough to bruise as you cry, “Soonyoung.”

He doesn’t stop for your orgasm, not for a second. You asked him to breed you and it’s his sole purpose until you’re both satisfied. “G-gonna come.”

“Want it, want you to come in me,” you sob.

Soonyoung grabs for your hair, a gentle tug with enough force your eyes open to find his.

“Want it?” he pants, tilting your hips to fuck deeper. You nod with limited room thanks to his grip. “Then take it.”

The sticky heat you’re accustomed to on your skin stains your insides for the first time. There’s no way you can go back. Not after knowing how right it feels to have him fill you. You shiver beneath his weight, nerves twitching from the idea of him doing it again. Immediately.

“Love you, love you, love you…” Soonyoung chants into your skin, lips slipping over your throat with each breathless gasp.

You roll down into the nasty feel of cum and cock, the minor relief not nearly enough. Not with the idea of sucking the combined taste off him rearing its head. But Soonyoung collapses with a point flex of his thighs to stop your motions.

“Holy fuck,” he shudders. “If you let me do that sooner, we’d have ten kids by now.”

You’re flustered at the idea. “Do you think my vagina is a baby rocket launcher?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“How romantic,” you snort. “Give it a few months and I’ll be so hormonal you won’t touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“Is that what you think?” he hums, face still hidden in your neck like he’s too exhausted to move except to lap at the dip in your throat. A subtle grind reminds you of his cock still wedge in your guts, stiff like he didn’t come hard enough to see stars.

It’s hard to think that after so many years together, this is the biggest love rush you’ve ever experienced. The urge to keep him wrapped in your arms for as long as possible brings tears to your eyes.

Soonyoung pops over your face after the first sniffle, terrified. “Are you crying?”

“No.” You swipe at the tears. “Shut up.”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, failing to hide his amusement.

“I’m carrying your child, sorry my hormones are all over the place.” You bat his hand away unsuccessfully, leaning your cheek into the comforting warmth of his palm. “We’re ready for this?”

“I mean, I was planning to knock you up on our honeymoon anyway,” he shrugs, lips soft on your hairline. “Do you have any more of those tests?”

“Why?”

“I wanna see what’d happen if I pee on one.”

“Nothing.” You push him off, rolling onto hands and knees with your ass in the air, face buried in the pillows. “Now, fuck me again.”

Soonyoung pushes the head of his cock through the mess of cum leaking out before sinking back inside with a grunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

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msfbgraves · 2 days ago

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Hitler promised to annex land that "belonged" to Germany in his worldview. He did it with parts of the Czech Republic, Trump is doing it with Greenland, Canada, Panama.

Hitler promised to 'clean Germany up' taking out "undesirables." He went after political opponents, the disabled, and the queer community first. Trump has already vowed to jail Hillary Clinton, he's going after immigrants and trans people and he has taken away all federal protections for anyone not straight, white cis male - the DEI program.

Hitler wanted women out of the workforce and universities. Again, Trump has gone after the whole Department of Education, rescinded labor protections including, but not limited to, women. And you've all seen the tradwife bullshit. Abortion was illegal, but people he felt were not allowed to reproduce were sterilised. Trump has had Roe vs. Wade overturned, is coming after birth control. Keep an eye out for sterilisations!

Hitler had people put in detention camps as early as 1933 (Dachau). Trump has immigrants put in a detention camp (Gitmo).

Hitler established a new police force outside of the regular one. One of the things they were heavily involved in were raids to round up 'undesirables'. Hitler's was called the "Secret State Police", Gestapo for short. Trump's is called ICE.

All government officials who were not in the Nazi Party and therefore loyal to Hitler were sacked. This was called "Gleichschaltung", which means something like "Pulling a lever to put us all on the same track" (German words contain multitudes). Trump is urging federal government workers to voluntarily resign and threatening layoffs for those who do not. So he can replace them to those loyal to him.

Hitler put the Constitution out of practice by declaring a state of emergency. Trump has not disbanded Congress, but now, through Elon Musk, controls all the Federal money, which honestly amounts to the same thing. Hard for government to act without funds.

To my knowledge, Hitler did not halt cancer research because why tf would anyone do that? Trump did because all the nasty doctors told him people were dying everywhere and that drinking bleach was wrong. This Trump called "Fake News". Every fact that contradicted Hitler was declared to be the work of the "Lügenpresse", or "Lies' Press/Liars' press".

Hitler wrote it all down in a manifesto called "My struggle". Trump's is called "Project 2025". I would tell you to look Hitler's work up but I am not allowed to do that because the ideas and policies in there are said to be calling for crimes against humanity and may not be legally spread. You're not even allowed to read about all the things Trump is saying and doing before your very eyes because the thought of it constitutes a danger to humanity. So in lieu of that, and if you cannot find a heavily annotated official copy where every other sentence basically goes "this is wrong and a crime against humanity, don't do this, ffs", you could watch CNN. And read project 2025. Hitler meant every word and enacted policies to put everything into practice. There is no reason to assume Trump is any different with Project 2025.

"But Trump is not openly antisemitic!" No, but he is anti Muslim and a eugenicist. Trump is not socialist! No, indeed! Under Hitler, a lot of poor people actually got richer! (Those he didn't round up, detain or kill immediately.)

So all in all - in the very beginning, Hitler can even said to have been slightly better for the economy than Trump!

There is more - there's censorship (TikTok, Twitter) and banned books.

But yeah. Hitler did much the same as Trump, he just chose another scapegoat!

So yes, look it up, and look up how people resisted, and watch foreign news. You're lucky a lot of it is available in English. BBC, EuroNews, Austrialan state news, New Zealand state news, Canadian state news, Al Jazeera. Your own news can be affected by censorship from Trump. Those outlets are not.

Yo, correct me if I am wrong please, but didn't Hitler rise to power because he promised to fix the German economy and people really liked that so they looked past everything else he was doing??? Like exactly what's happening in America right now???

So many people said they voted for Trump, put a truly evil person in power, because he said he'd fix the economy, and a little voice in my head is going, "Isn't that what happened with fucking Hitler??"

But I've seen no one point that out so maybe I'm miss remembering???????

#history #us politics #Still not taking my own advice #But ffs there are tuberculosis outbreaks and planes crashing #This is not limited to the States

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sossolei · 2 days ago

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different people in my hogwarts reality

DISCLAIMER: my experience with these people is probably not gonna be the same as your experience. if you don’t already know, this is a Hogwarts uni. this is really fucking long. ANTIS DNI !

HARRY POTTER — I had to start with the absolute icon himself. Before I shifted, I didn’t actually think much about Harry but he’s genuinely the funniest person I’ve met in this reality and that one. He’s sassy asfff and very much a sponge to the emotions of people around him. Every time he sassed me, I would give him an eyebrow raise and make a face and he legit started making the exact same face when I would sass him! He’s very handsome but he hasn’t really noticed, like girls will flirt with him during breaks or after his quidditch games and ( depending on what they say ) he’s lowkey weirded out. I think that’s why he likes Ginny cause she’s very straightforward from what I’ve seen and although she doesn’t have a crush on him at the moment, he wants her sooo bad it’s embarrassing.

His rivalry with Draco is deadass just a sass off. “Who can be sassier” is their game. When Harry is really beating Draco in their sass off, Draco brings up grades every single time. It’s his favorite thing to bring up because Harry usually just sucks his teeth and changes the topic lmaooo. He could really kill someone with his words and idk if it’s his inner James or going to public school in the UK but he plays dirty, trust and believe. Ironically enough, he doesn’t have many or any problems with Mattheo Riddle. I’ll get into it later but he was weary of him for a while after the chamber of secrets was opened ( which I was not there for ) but from my understand Harry just kinda keeps his distance from Mattheo and they don’t interact much.

Random spitfire of what I remember: his hands are BABY smooth, his glasses are flat from the side because he sat on them, he considered getting contacts but the thought of digging in his eyes genuinely makes him shiver and he doesn’t like talking about it or other people talking about it, he either doesn’t get embarrassed easily or he gets so horrified by such small things. Example: he wasn’t embarrassed about stepping in god knows what when he was walking through the grass cause “he can just change his shoes” but one time he was getting complimented so much after being sweaty from quidditch practice and he ate his dinner and RAN back to his room. He buys his clothes at least one size bigger “just in case.” He’s kinda short haha. He’s never gotten a cavity before but he wants a gold/silver tooth to “look cooler.” And he’s a real gossiper. He can hear everything people say and he’ll immediately run to Hermione and Ron like a kid in a candy store.

HERMIONE GRANGER — If this is a safe space…me and Hermione are not friends, I fear! I tried to be her friend after me and Harry got a little closer but she’s too judgmental for me personally. She’s not someone who gets things to naturally work out for her, she has to plant a garden if she wants flowers to bloom or she’ll be left with a dead garden. Only reason I know this is because of our divination class LMFAO, I read her astrology chart and those are the words I remember Treylawny saying and I think it describes her well in this reality. The best way I can explain this better is to use Harry as an example. He’s has a hard life but it’s like, if his house blows up, seeds will fall in the soil, the rain will fall during the night, and in the morning he’ll have a blossoming garden. That is not Hermione! Harry is lucky and unlucky at the same time but she’s someone who has to work for everything she wants.

I mentioned in my first post about Hogwarts that she has a curl routine, I don’t know what she uses because we’re not close but you can just tell she got a better routine and a curly cut. Her hair reaches her upper arms and has slight volume and little to no frizz ( rare for curly hair ifykyk ). She’s very pretty and even Draco said if she didn’t have a stick up her ass, he would try to date her and I can definitely see that happening but I already asked her and she shut me down so fast.

Me: “You and Draco are always going toe to toe on your exams. Maybe this can be a little academic rivals/enemies to lovers, you know?👀”

Hermione: “😐 My enemies will never be my lovers, and especially not Draco Malfoy of all people.”

Me: “✋😟🤚”

RON WEASLY — He has wavy/curly hair in this reality! Idk why actually, I didn’t script it in or anything but all the Weasleys have great hair! Fred and George have longer neck length wavy hair and Ginny’s hair is down to her waist, not as wavy as the boys but still gorgeous. I am known for having bad memory but Ron is known for having absolutely SHIT hearing! This mf can’t hear anythinggggg.

Me: “Yeah and then we went to the bathroom and saw a rat!”

Him: *gasp* “You went to the three broomsticks and saw Jack? That bloke from Ravenclaw?!”

Me: 😐

I’m convinced it’s because of the twins cause I feel like I need a goddamn microphone for him to hear me. During assembly’s or anything related to standing in the front of the great hall to speak, Ron always zones out because no matter who’s up there, he will come up with a new sentence. We’re not as close as me and Harry but since he’s usually with Harry, I don’t mind him tagging along and he likes me…I think. He asks me a lot of questions about America and Americans in general and the overall viewpoint in the UK is that America is a super mystery that everybody wants to visit. Veryyy stark difference from the way Brits in this reality view America. Before anyone asks, yes he could be popular with the ladies IF he wasn’t so up and down. Girls will show interest in him but if Hermione was nice to him that day, they’re getting rejected. If she was mean to him that day, he’ll talk to the girls for a while but then ultimately end up right back at Hermione’s side. Idk what their situation is but I know she has him on a LEASH and I love that for her!

DRACO MALFOY — The infamous reason people in 2020 started shifting to Hogwarts in the first place LMFAO. He’s not as bad as what I’ve heard from other peoples reality, but can I just say, I am not someone who has ever been a people pleaser i don’t give a damn if it took me two or three years to shift here, you’re not gonna talk to me crazy. Draco tried pushing me around ( verbally ) ONE time and I shut that shit down so incredibly fast, I knew I was meant to be a Slytherin. The sorting hat is actually much more accurate in this reality when it comes to putting people houses cause everyone’s a little bit older, but you can always ask to be in a house ofc, and the only “lackeys” Draco has in Slytherin, are people who asked to be in there. Trust and believe, no slytherin in their right mind is letting wannabe Viserys Targaryen use them as a stepping stool, puh-lease.

Draco doesn’t man spread. This is random but he literally will force people’s legs closed if he sees them man spreading cause he thinks it’s classless😭 His only friends are people that won’t let him push them around, he lovesss a challenge and being challenged in general and will take genuine offense to being given things easily ( this doesn’t apply to material items lmao ). I would say his personality is definitely more mature than the movies, he’s more reserved but not in a shy way. He makes fun of people behind their back but will still say it to their face if they confront him. Girls will usually pamper him and compliment him a lot and those are the girls he keeps around just for an ego boost, but someone like Astoria Greengras is his ideal woman. She’s the reason I found about the people that run around the castle for exercise because she does it! He told me he likes her because she’s like him if he’d chosen a different path ig you could say?

Their families are very similar but she chose to be kind and have that “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all” kind of attitude that he respects. She’s very disciplined and patient, not mention DROP DEAD gorgeous. His best friend ( even tho he says he doesn’t have one ) is definitely Mattheo and Blaise. To me, he’s pretty chill, he just quippy.

THEODORE NOTT — Ugh this man is gorgeous y’all. Facially, he’s Lorenzo Zurzulo, of course. I have/had the PHATTEST crush on him. He’s the definition of a nonchalant dread head, he’s very mellow but once he gets alcohol in his system he’s an entirely new person. Idk if this is a childhood trauma sort of thing or just the way he is but he has the mentality of “I’m not gonna speak unless I’m spoken to” or unless he has something to say. He finds Draco to be annoying sometimes but they’ve also known each other since they were literally like five so he’s definitely seen him through all his phases lmaoo. His face is LETHALLL let me tell you. He has the craziest peripheral vision of anyone I’ve ever met, like he already has 20/20 vision but he can see anything out of the corner of his eye, it’s freaky. Anytime someone says something crazy or he sees something weird, he’ll make such an expressive face and it’s the only time you’ll see him show lots of emotion. He reminds me of Harry in that sense.

Girls and guys love him but you already knew that LMFAO. He is actually Italian in this reality, just British-Italian and you can hear it in his accent. Draco and Blaise know Italian too. He only ever drinks water or alcohol?? Strange to me but whatever. He’s supperrrrrr tall I don’t know exactly but it definitely adds to his intimidating aura. RBF is his middle name. People don’t usually approach him romantically tho. Most professors like him but the ones that don’t usually don’t like his father. Mattheo told me they both vowed to never be death eaters because “getting another man’s face on your arm is too intimate.”😭 I say have/had a crush on him because he can be naturally flirty and sometimes it’s nice, and other times it’s not so I’m kind of up and down on that. Love him tho. He excels at most of his studies and he still hasn’t decided if he wants to choose his own career path or listen to what his father wants.

MATTHEO RIDDLE — MY LOVEEE AHHH. I know scripted him in but I didn’t expect to love him so much, he’s literally my best friend and the person I tell everything to! In this reality, his mother was a halfblood who had intimate relations with Voldemort and lied to him about her blood status so she could get closer to him. Clearly it worked! But Voldemort was furious when he found out and literally hunted her down until she went to Dumbledore for help and told him she was pregnant. He hid her away for a while but ( according to the story Mattheo was told ) something went wrong with the spell and death eaters knew where she was AND that she was pregnant AFTER Voldemort had already killed Harry’s parents. Because Voldemort was struck down, death eaters went looking for her in his place, Mattheo’s mother induced an early birth at a muggle hospital and gave Mattheo to her muggle grandmother with the help of Dumbledore again, before they ultimately found her and killed her. This is the condescend version of what I was told, believe me, me and Mattheo stayed up talking about this till the sun rose and I still have so many questions but so does he and I don’t wanna pry.

Onto his personality, he puts up this tough guy persona cause yk, he’s Voldemort’s son, but he’s pretty bubbly when he’s comfortable with people. He came into Hogwarts with an alias surname but his true name was revealed after the chamber of secrets so he doesn’t have many friends😭 I was told he used to be very popular amongst all the houses before that tho. He definitely doesn’t mind now but he is aware of everything so he tries his hardest to be kind…ish? The professors love him, they think he’s really funny and they can tell he’s constantly putting his best foot forward despite the obvious. McGonnagall actually switched her favoritism in this reality, she’s very protective and “motherly” towards Mattheo more so than Harry and sometimes when he has a free block, he’ll just sit and talk with her about whatever.

No he does not get into fights guys💀 He has threatened it for sure, but he would never actually put his hands on anyone. Again with the reputation thing, it’s not a bear he ever pokes lol. The farthest he takes it is just being loud about certain things. For example if someone walks by him and they stink, he will say out loud, “Oh my days, you’ve never washed your ass, have you?!” It embarrasses all of us but he’s just saying what everyone’s thinking. Me and Draco are his best friends but he’s lovessss Blaise, like he’s #1 Blaise fan and very proud about it. Blaise can’t do anything wrong in Mattheo’s eyes, Mattheo will ride or die for Blaise, even when I ask why he just smiles and is like “Idk man, I just love him.” Blaise thinks it’s funny but it’s been hell for him since I introduced them to gay humor, sorry king.

BLAISE ZABINI — THE MAN HIMSELF. Now if you guys thought anybody on this post compares to attractiveness and romantic attention with Blaise??? You thought wrong. Everyoneeeee loves Blaise, and I really mean that. He’s really close with Cedric Diggory and those face cards together are soooo lethal. He’s very encouraging and outgoing, he always wants to know what’s going on in the world whether it’s muggle or wizard related. He doesn’t have any prejudices towards any house or blood status and he just naturally exudes such calming energy. He’s a Taurus #twin. He doesn’t drink, ever. He’s never drank or done any drugs and is very strict about that. Sometimes he can be too blunt, especially when someone is asking for advice but I feel like he’s just real?? Draco will be like “ugh I haven’t had time to train this whole week” and Blaise will say smth like “why are you telling me when you know the solution yourself?” Motivation speaker, he is. I’ve never seen his mom but the boys say she’s foinnneeeeee ( not the word they used lmao ) and i wanna meet her so bad, like I just know she’s a baddie frfr.

PANSY PARKINSON — My wife y’all, everyone back tf up. She’s similar to Blaise in that she’s very blunt but she does know when to soften the blow, so to speak. Her aura is soooo alluring? Idek how to describe it but she’s extremely magnetic, not just visually, but also when it comes to getting things her way. If she hasn’t studied or done well on an exam, she’ll be like “It’s okay, I’m going to pass anyway/next time” AND IT ENDS UP HAPPENING! Top tier manifestor, idk what she does but I need it. Most fan fictions and stuff paint her out to be kind of boy crazy/Draco obsessed, but she’s a gorgeous girl and she knows she doesn’t need to do much of anything to attract male attention. The way she said it to me was “I’ve been getting male attention since I was 14, I don’t care for it at 19.” Her and Draco did date for a while when they were first years but they both said they never kissed during that time and when they finally did, it was so weird, they just decided to remain friends. There’s lots of rumors surrounding their breakup to this day, but neither of them care. Ugh shes so beautiful, I miss her.

OTHER PEOPLE SPITFIRE

Fred and George — Never spoke to them personally, they complimented my hair one time tho

My roommates — Me and Pansy share a dorm with these other two girls Penelope and Merida ( yes like the Disney movie😭 ) and they are so silly I love them! Merida is one of very few muggleborns in Slytherin, only because most muggleborns are scared away from the house by others but that girl is FEARLESS. She picks up insects with her hands, even rats sometimes, she doesn’t give a FUCK. Penelope is the clumsiest person I’ve ever met, sometimes she scares me cause she’s always covered in bruises but she says they don’t hurt so…sure!

Dumbledore — You guys remember in 2020 when some people said “this person knew I shifted here!” Dumbledore gives me that vibe sometimes, even though I know he doesn’t know. He just has this aura of “I know something you don’t” which is why most people find him off putting.

Marietta — Yo, fuck this bitch. I didn’t even know she was in the Harry Potter universe until I shifted back to my current reality and searched her up. FUCK her. Oh my god, she’s a Ravenclaw and she doesn’t fucking like me, and I don’t even know why and she had the audacity to rant to Mattheo about me while she was drunk talking all this shit, thinking he wouldn’t tell me??? Go straight to hell. I hate her to this DAY, I don’t care.

Neville — I could cry I love Neville. He has braces rn😭 and he looks so cute😭 I first talked to him cause I need help with Herbology and he’s soo patient, thank god. I accidentally revealed too much tho cause I asked him directly for help with Herbology ( obviously bc I already know he’s good at it ) and he was like “How do you know I’m good at Herbology?” I was gagged🧍‍♀️.

McCormic — last person cause this post is rlly long but he has a whole possey of dick riders, I swear. They all just walk around the halls or parties, waiting to find a girl to go bother. I only bring him up because I genuinely need to share this interaction.

Context: I’m sitting in the Great Hall a little before lunch when most people hadn’t arrived yet, just catching up on some reading for my next class.

Him: *sits down next to me* “Hey, you’re the um- American, right?”

Me: “I have a name”

Him: “Oh? What’s your name?”

Me: 😐😑😐 “I think you already know my name, McCormic, what do you want?”

Him: “I don’t want anything. Can’t a man just sit with a pretty girl once and a while?”

Me: “I don’t think the pretty girls boyfriend would appreciate it.”

Him: “Boyfriend? I don’t see a boyfriend anywhere.”

Me: *points behind him to an unsuspecting Theo walking towards the table*

He chuckles like this a fucking hallmark wattpad movie, stands up to size him up ig? and is IMMEDIATELY humbled because Theo is too tall for his own good. He looks at me, looks at Theo, sucks his teeth and walks away without another word.

Theo: “What’s his problem?”

Me: Who knows🤗

Anyways, #IhateMcCormic and his annoying ass friends, I hate that girl Marietta, everybody else is cool and my next post is gonna be about things I’ve implemented in my life that have helped me shift. BYEEE<33

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifters #shifting antis dni #shifting community #shifting diary #shifting storytime #shifting motivation #shifting to hogwarts #shiftingrealities #shifting to harry potter #hp shifting #solinhogwarts⚜️#solshifts🔅

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purinfelix · 24 hours ago

Text

you're no good for me, but baby i want you - n. riki ✶⋆.˚

summary: after growing tired of his constant teasing you made up your mind not to give Niki anymore of your attention, but you should've known that he wouldn't let you go that easily - and is willing to go to desperate measures to get you just to look at him ──── delinquent Niki x class president reader || sfw but a little suggestive, kissing/making out, so much tension like so much, enemies to lovers sorta? || w/c: 2.7k

a/n: okay i'm trying to get better at writing longer fics/ones that actually have closure bc looking back i realise i kinda always leave u guys on cliffhangers LOLL - also i rlly tried to avoid making this too cliche given the trope i hope it worked !!! actually really like this one so i hope it doesn't flop rip

‘Bad boy’ felt too cliche - at least for your liking. You preferred to refer to Niki as what he was, a delinquent, a troublemaker, someone who skipped most of his classes and spent the rest dosing off or arguing with the teacher. But no matter what you called him you were sure of one thing, he pissed you off.

To be honest, you had absolutely no interest in the sorts of things a student like him got up to in his own time, but it was the fact that he insisted on dragging you into his business that irritated you the most. You weren’t sure why exactly he kept targeting you, maybe it was because he just wanted to mess with the class president or because you seemed like an easy target to him - whatever reason he had didn’t make it any less tiring though.

Skipping classes was one thing, but his constant breaches of uniform code meant that you were running out of warning slips - and patience. It didn’t help that whenever you did, he would only look you up and down with an amused smirk, brows raised as if daring you to continue telling him off - which only worked to make you stumble over your words.

That’s why you had made the decision to stop giving him anymore of your attention, and the most recent time you had seen him sporting his signature look - no blazer, dress shirt half unbuttoned and several silver earrings, you chose to ignore him. You simply walked past him in the hallway without so much as a passing glance, hoping it would tell him to stop wasting your time and causing trouble.

Little did you know, he would misinterpret your signs to mean the exact opposite.

The next morning when you were waiting at your desk you heard a wave of hushed murmurs coming from down the hall, and couldn’t help but feel partly responsible. A loud thud sent the classroom door flying open and a couple of his friends filed in with amused grins - and it was only when Niki followed them in did you see why. Not only had he gone and messily bleached parts of his jet black hair, but he now donned a piercing straight through his right eyebrow which, judging from the pink tinge surrounding it, was both brand new and self-made.

You were unable to stop your neck from craning as your eyes followed his figure, watching as he sauntered over to his desk in the back corner of the classroom, threw his books onto it and sat down. The expression on his face showed that he couldn’t care less about being there, but his eyes trained on you as if waiting for you to make a move.

You hated that he knew you so well, because before you knew it you were out of your seat and at the head of his desk, arms folded with a stern expression on your face. You can’t remember exactly what you said but it must’ve been harsh, and loud enough to summon the attention of almost the entire class, and your teacher who stormed into the classroom shortly after to tell the two of you off. It must’ve also been harsh enough to earn the two of you an after-school detention, which was your very first - though it clearly wasn’t Niki’s.

So that’s how the two of you had ended up alone, in an empty, hot classroom - waiting as the minutes of your detention ticked by agonisingly slowly. Irritated was an understatement. It was taking every ounce of self-control you had not to turn around and punch Niki right there and then. You kept your fuming to yourself, at least for now though, while you worked silently on an assignment, determined to at least make good use of being stuck here for the next hour or so - even if it meant spending it in a tense silence.

Niki didn’t seem to share the same sentiment, having sat himself in the chair right beside yours and kicked his feet up on the desk, twirling a pen in one hand as he hummed softly to himself. You were trying your best to ignore him, and he was trying his best to make that very difficult.

“What are you working on?” he asked curiously as he leaned in over your shoulder.

“Just an assignment,” you shot back curtly.

“Ah of course, what a goody-two shoes,” he scoffed as he sat back.

“Rather a goody-two shoes than a good-for-nothing delinquent,” you mumbled under your breath, though not quiet enough to escape his ears.

“A delinquent? Is that really what you think of me?” he asked in faux-offence, “I’m hurt.” You turned slightly, just enough to see the dramatic pout he had formed across his lips, his brows curving upwards and his piercing going with it.

“Whatever,” you huff, feeling both irritation and exhaustion rise in you, “it’s your fault we’re here in the first place anyways.”

“Oh yeah, my fault that you started a petty argument.”

“Your fault for dyeing your hair that stupid colour and getting that piece of metal jammed in your face!” You cry out, fully facing him now as you felt your face burning hot, “I mean seriously, all I did was ignore you once, and you go ahead and did something ridiculous like that?” Gesturing to his piercing and new hair, you can’t help but feel even more infuriated at the sight of his smirk which only grew as he watched you from half-lidded eyes.

“What makes you think I did it for you?” He asks teasingly, and you suddenly feel your bravado begin to crumble - he’s right, who are you to assume that?

“Well, I-” you stutter, but he interrupts you.

“Well maybe I did,” he laughs softly, “that depends on whether you like it or not.”

“That is so besides the point, Niki,” you whine, “it’s against uniform policy.”

“Oh c’mon, you think it’s a little cool,” he taunts, and you turn back around in your seat, chewing your bottom lip as you’re determined not to give him a response which you’re sure will only fuel his ego.

You sit in silence for a bit, and you can tell he’s watching you carefully in the way he leans in, keen eyes trained on your expression - almost as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking. But that’s a challenge even you’re struggling with right now.

He’s the one to break the silence again. “I am sorry about getting you a detention though, that wasn’t what I meant to do.” You blink in disbelief because for the very first time, he sounds almost as if he really means what he’s saying.

“Is that an apology?” you say, gasping to show your surprise, though this quickly dissolved into a soft laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it get to your head,” he sighs, “I just couldn’t sit here and watch you sulk for the next hour.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself, feeling the tension between the two of you melt away at his apology, just enough for you to want to keep talking to him - even if it means neglecting your homework, for now. Your eyes move over his face, his sharp jaw, his eyebrow piercing glinting under the warm classroom light.

“Did it hurt?”

It’s a stupid question, you know, but it’s the only thing you can think to ask as you fiddle nervously in your seat. If you’re being completely honest, you do think it’s cool, you’ve always thought his piercing were cool - and right now you want nothing more than to reach out and feel them for yourself. But your common sense stops you.

“Well, duh,” he scoffs, sitting back in his seat as his eyes fix on yours, “figured a smart-ass like you would’ve been able to guess that.”

“Just asking,” you grumble defensively, though your curiosity urges you to keep talking. “If it hurt, why’d you do it?”

“Well, you like it, don’t you?” He asks, “that’s all the reason I need.”

You’re tempted to tell him off again, but something about his tone catches you off guard - it’s oddly earnest, and he says it with such a simplicity that makes you really believe that maybe he’s telling the truth and you’re unable to find the resolve to spoil this moment

“Can I feel it?”

He’s almost as shocked by your request as you are, and even as it leaves your mouth you’re unsure entirely why you’re asking it. His eyes widen in a way that you can’t help but find a little cute, even as you’re struggling to process your own thoughts.

“Sure,” he replies, a little too quickly, almost as if he had been waiting for you to ask him that, but can’t believe you actually did. You turn in your chair to face him, your arms coming up awkwardly to bridge the distance between you both but it’s clear you’re still too far.

You’re about to lean forward more in your seat to reach him, until you notice his hand coming down to grip the leg of your chair and it isn’t until you feel yourself moving and hear the faint screech of the legs against the floor that you realise that he’s pulling it - pulling you closer to him.

Once you’re close enough he stops, though his hand doesn’t leave the back of your chair, instead resting there as if trapping you in with him as he leans down as that his face is level with yours. You try not to overthink the way your knees are touching, or how this is your first time seeing him this close and how he’s even better looking up close. Carefully, you bring your hand and pray that he doesn’t notice the way it trembles, as your thumb grazes his thick brow gently. Even though you wish he didn’t, he keeps his eyes open and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as your fingers close around the small metal ball.

“It’s cold,” you mumble, not sure what else to say to fill the air between you two.

“It’s metal,” he says matter-of-factly, letting out a small laugh at your fascination with it.

“You didn’t need to to do this just to get my attention, you know,” your eyes focus on the piercing as you speak, unable to look him in the eyes when admitting something that feels like a confession.

“I had to get you to look at me somehow.” You’re again amazed at how he can say such earnest things with such a serious face, and even as you look away you know his eyes are on you.

“Most people would’ve just said hi or something, not put a brand new hole in their face,” you sigh, fingers moving to tuck a stray strand of bleached hair behind his ear.

“Well most people wouldn’t be here now with you touching their face, so by my standards my plan worked better.”

“Did that plan have to include getting me my first-ever detention?” You ask in annoyance, though you can’t help but laugh softly at his simplicity.

“Well, not at first,” he admits, “but at least we’re alone, hm?”

“Because you need me alone to talk to me?”

“No, because I need you alone to do this.”

You’re pretty sure if you weren’t already leaning towards him you would’ve fallen backwards from the forceful way his lips crash into yours - and if not from that then the sheer shock of just that. Luckily for you though, he already has an arm snaked around your waist, keeping a hold of you and pulling you closer.

It shocks you though that, despite the initial force, Niki’s kiss is gentle, almost as if he’s easing you into something he knows you’re struggling to accept. He’s experienced, that’s for sure, but you can tell in his movements that he’s holding back from pushing you any further.

You don’t even realise it but your hands are cupping his face, caressing his strong jawline and pulling him closer to you. You open your mouth to talk but the only noise that comes out is a breathy gasp and if you weren’t so caught up in the feeling of his hands in your hair you might’ve stopped to feel embarrassed about how desperate you sound for him right now.

“Niki,” you mumble against his lips, unsure of what to do as you feel your mind struggle to comprehend what’s happening.

“Want me to stop?” he says in between heavy breaths, and even though it sounds like a taunt you know him well enough to know he’s being serious.

You shake your head in response, but decide to have a little fun of your own while you can. “When have you ever cared what I think?”

“Oh, you have no clue,” he hums in a low whisper as he leans back in.

“And when have you ever listened to what I’ve told you to do?”

“You’re right about that,” he smirks, pressing his lips to yours again, this time with the reckless abandon you’ve come to expect from him - almost as if he was waiting for your permission to let go. You thought you would’ve felt a little predictable, pathetic even, for having fallen so easily into his trap and giving him much more than just your attention at this point. But from the way his hands roam your body, grasping for more of you as he whines against your lips you smile to yourself at the realisation that really, he’s the one who’s fallen into your trap.

This sense of control is what finally calms your mind, even if it still struggles with just how ‘wrong’ all of this sounds against how right his lips on yours feel. The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway however forces you to tear yourself away from him, though his hands don’t leave your body as you strain to figure out who it might be.

“Shit, it’s the teacher,” you say under your breath, pulling away from him to smooth down your skirt. Niki clearly doesn’t care, but still lets out a soft sigh as he hangs his head, leaning back in his chair.

“Tomorrow,” you continue suddenly, “I want the eyebrow piercing and the bleached hair gone.” You know you’re being harsh, but you also know that, given what just happened, you can’t afford to be nice.

“Wh-” he says suddenly, looking at you in disbelief, “I thought you liked them though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say firmly, “they’re still breaking like ten different uniform rules.”

“Just when I thought I’d finally broken your guard down,” he groans.

“Well, they’ve served their purpose already, haven’t they?” you taunt lightly, bringing a hand up to swipe at your bottom lip which you can feel is a little plump from him biting it. His eyes watch attentively as you do, and he lets out a soft laugh followed by a nod in agreement.

“You’re right,” he exhales, “but now I’m thinking if I keep them in I might keep getting lucky.”

“Niki,” you sigh.

“I mean, maybe if I had a reward for following rules I might feel more motivated,” he hums, looking away as he feigns innocence.

You pause, thinking to yourself for just long enough. “I’ll be studying in the library after school, maybe if you do as I say I’ll let you join me.”

“Studying? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll be there,” he laughs, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile - one that you can’t help but share even as the same teacher who gave you both this detention comes in to tell you you’re free to go.

You watch as he swings his bag over one shoulder coolly, tossing you his signature smirk - only this time, it doesn’t just annoy you, it lingers, sticking to your thoughts in a way you don’t want to admit. Because you know you should be mad, you should roll your eyes and remind yourself that he’s still the same infuriating troublemaker. But as he walks away the only thing you find yourself wondering is if he’ll actually show up tomorrow, and worse, if a part of you wants him to.

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willowsnook · 3 days ago

Text

an experiment pt. 2

lando norris x reporter!reader

pt. 1 here

tags: @sarx164 @wildflowerrsszz, @jaematthews15, @opastries81 @armystay89

---------------------------------------------------------

You hadn’t been back to F1 since that Austin race but as the IndyCar season ended, you got assigned to cover the rest of the F1 season. So here you were in Qatar, currently watching a colossal disaster by McLaren which in your mind, pretty much secured the win for Max even though it wouldn’t be official until Vegas.

The yellow flag killed Lando’s race, and as much as you wanted to rag on him, you really didn’t think it was much of his fault. He was one of the last ones in the media pen and you were late to getting over to him, so you joined as some other reporters started asking questions.

What does this mean for your championship race against Max?

Why didn’t you slow down at the yellow flag?

How do you move forward from this?

You could tell he was miserable answering the questions and about mid-way through Andrea joined him, causing Lando to straighten up. You felt a wave of irritation when you saw the man, which confused you. He was friendly and always open with the media but it was something about this season, how he seemed to be almost less supportive of his drivers that rubbed you the wrong way.

“Y/n,” Lando called your name, sounding defeated. “Anything?”

You chewed on your lip for a second before turning to his team principal.

“Actually a few for Andrea, if you don’t mind?”

Lando looked relieved as Andrea smiled, turning his attention to you.

“It seems like every other team in the vicinity warned their drivers about an upcoming yellow flag, did your pit wall just miss it?” You asked and he blinked in surprise. Lando gave you a curious look while Andrea started to answer.

“Well, it all happened very fast,” he started but you cut in.

“Was it any slower for any of the other teams?” You asked.

“Well he had it flash on his steering wheel as well, so I think we were all slow to react,” he answered, shifting the blame onto Lando. You tilted your head.

“Are you going to appeal the penalty?” You asked and he shook his head.

“No, there is no reason to,” he said firmly, eyeing you warily. Lando looked deflated at his answer and you felt your heart clench. “Why would we?”

“I think that Max Verstappen could get out of his car and punch another driver in the face and Christian Horner would have a binder of documentation ready to defend him in an appeal,” you said, earning a laugh from the other reporters around you. “So you aren’t even going to do the minimum of just filing?”

“That’s not how we operate,” Andrea finally said and you clicked your pen, putting your notepad away.

“Clearly.”

A little while later you were sitting in the hotel lobby, having a drink while writing up your recap when your phone pinged.

LN: thank you

You didn’t reply, you didn’t want him to get any ideas that you were friends, but it did make you feel good to hear.

“Can I sit?” Someone asked and you looked up to see Oscar standing by your table.

“Sure,” you said, giving him a small smile.

“I saw the clip from you and Andrea,” he said casually, and you met his eyes over your laptop. “I hope it helped Lando.”

“What do you mean?” You asked. “I wasn’t doing it to be nice, I just don’t think he was the one to blame.”

"Right," Oscar said with a knowing smirk. "And I'm sure your fierce defense of Lando had nothing to do with what happened between you two in Austin."

You froze, your fingers hovering over your keyboard. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Oscar leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Come on, y/n. The whole paddock knows something went down between you and Lando that night. The tension between you two has been different ever since."

You felt your cheeks flush as you closed your laptop. "It was nothing. Just a... misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding that involved you leaving his hotel room at 3 AM?" Oscar raised an eyebrow.

You gaped at him. "How did you—"

"I have my sources," he said with a wink. "Look, I'm not here to judge. Quite the opposite. I’m happy with what you did and can only hope it gave him so kind of break from beating himself up.”

“He’s been sensitive this season,” you said and Oscar nodded, agreeing.

“He’s having a hard time with all the noise,” Oscar said. “But it will get better.”

—-----------------------------------------------------

The new relationship you had with Lando quickly deteriorated after you published a blog recapping the battle for the world championship. You wrote the truth: mental mistakes and team instability were the main factors for Max to keep his lead and win. Journalism wasn’t the business of feelings and you couldn’t understand why people didn’t get that.

LN: Seriously?

Y/N: Seriously, what?

LN: Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I’m talking about.

Y/N: If this is about the article, I don’t see the problem.

LN: You don’t see the problem? You basically called me and my team a disaster.

Y/N: I reported the facts, Lando. That’s my job.

LN: Your “facts” make me sound like I threw the championship away.

Y/N: I never said that. I said mental mistakes and team instability played a role in Max winning. That’s not an opinion. That’s reality.

LN: Oh, so I’m just mentally weak now? That’s what you think?

Y/N: That’s what the results show.

LN: Wow. Good to know how you really see me.

Y/N: It’s not about how I see you. It’s about what happened. You made mistakes. The team made mistakes. That’s part of racing.

LN: And instead of backing me, you wrote that.

Y/N: Backing you? I’m not your PR rep, Lando. I’m a journalist. My job isn’t to make you feel better about a bad race.

LN: No, your job is apparently to humiliate me in front of the whole world.

Y/N: Oh my god, don’t be dramatic. If you’d won, I’d have written about that too.

LN: But I didn’t win, did I? And now all anyone’s talking about is how I “crumbled under pressure.”

Y/N: If you’re upset about the narrative, prove them wrong next season.

LN: Right. Thanks for the support.

Y/N: Lando be for real

LN: No, I get it. Journalism isn’t about feelings, right? Guess that means ours don’t matter either.

Y/N: That’s not fair.

LN: Neither was that article.

Y/N: …

LN: Have a nice life!

Y/N: Lando for fuck’s sake

LN: Message read.

What you quickly realized, in the aftermath of that article, was that you had never published anything that critical of Lando before, even if it was valid. So you were a little surprised when your social media started blowing up from his fanbase. The nastiest things you could ever imagine were messaged, tweeted, and posted about you. Fans found your personal accounts, pulling pictures to make fun of you. Making fun of and invalidating your career, saying you only got where you were because you slept with coworkers. Somehow your phone number got leaked and you immediately had to get a new phone. Fans were blowing up at ESPN, sending constant emails, demanding you be fired. It was insanity.

As much as you wished you could pretend that this didn’t bother you, you were terrified. Terrified that someone would find where you lived, terrified you would get fired. You were a confident woman, but how many times could read the same hate comments over and over without starting to believe it.

The week after, your boss called you into his office and you probably would have been nervous if you weren’t so dead inside. You took a seat opposite of him, not saying anything as he looked at you in concern.

“I’m placing you on personal leave,” he said and you met his gaze.

“Am I in trouble?”

He scoffed, “of course not. That article isn’t even close to some of the shit this company has written over the past couple of years. But I’m worries about you. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I haven’t,” you admitted, looking down.

“You are a good reporter but you need a break. Go somewhere to relax and don’t take your phone. The shit they are saying online about you in heinous, I’m sorry that you got caught up in it.”

After thanking your boss for being a good human being you left the office and immediately booked a ticket to go back to your hometown.

Lando’s POV

Lando was back at McLaren HQ after the season and was happy to see the Arrow McLaren drivers there as well.

“What’s up guys,” Pato said, greeting both him and Oscar. “Congratulations on the championship.”

“Thanks man,” Lando said and the three of them spent a little while catching up.

“You guys had your testing week a couple of weeks ago right?” Oscar asked Pato who nodded. “Did you see y/n?”

“No she wasn’t there, she’s on personal leave for the rest of the year I believe,” Pato said and Lando’s interest perked at that.

“Taking a month vacation, not very professional,” he commented and both boys snapped towards him; Oscar with a look of warning and Pato with a look of fury. “What?”

“She’s not on vacation asshole,” Pato shot at him. “She was placed on personal leave because of your fucking mob.”

“What are you talking about?” Lando asked and Oscar looked at him with a little sympathy.

Pato shook his head in disbelief. "You seriously don't know? After that article she wrote about the championship, your fans went absolutely insane. They've been harassing her non-stop for weeks - death threats, leaked personal information, trying to get her fired. It got so bad ESPN had to put her on leave for her own safety."

Lando felt the blood drain from his face. "What? No, that can't be right. My fans wouldn't do that."

Oscar placed a hand on Lando's shoulder. "Mate, it's true. It's been all over social media. Some of the stuff they've been saying is horrific."

"But... but I never told them to do anything like that," Lando stammered, his mind reeling. "I was upset about the article, sure, but I'd never want..."

"It doesn't matter what you wanted," Pato said. “But I mean look at the way you two have publicly treated each other, it’s not crazy for your fans to think that you hate her.”

“Have you heard from her?” Lando asked quietly.

Pato shook his head, “Not personally. She’s good friends with another Indy driver, David, and he’s been hanging out with her for the last week. According to him, she’s thinking about not coming back.”

Lando’s heart dropped hearing this.

Later, when he was back in his hotel he pulled out his phone and logged into Instagram for the first time in months to post something to his story.

“After not being on social media for a while, i’ve been made aware of constant harassment towards y/n. If you are part of the mass group of people attacking her online, know that you are no fan of mine. Y/n is a talented reporter who has done nothing but report facts and fair analysis of F1. I am disgusted by the responses of my “so-called fans” towards her. Get a fucking life.”

Y/N’s POV

You were curled up on your childhood bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone when a notification popped up. Your heart rate spiked seeing Lando's name, but you clicked on it anyway, curious what he could possibly have to say after weeks of silence.

As you read his Instagram story, a mix of emotions washed over you. Part of you felt vindicated that he was finally acknowledging the situation. Another part felt angry that it had taken him this long to say anything. And a small, traitorous part of you felt touched by his defense of your work.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Pato: "Did you see Lando's post?"

You sighed, typing back: "Yeah, just now. Too little too late though."

Pato replied quickly: "Maybe. I don’t think he knew, though. He seemed genuinely upset when I told him what was happening."

You knew that he wasn’t on social media much so it did make sense that he wouldn’t have known. Your phone buzzed again, and you looked down, expecting to see Pato’s name.

LN: I bought a ticket to Austin, I need to see you.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader

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can-i-make-image-descriptions · 6 hours ago

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[Image IDs: Text reading: I have known Elon Musk at a deep level for 14 years, well before he was a household name. We used to text frequently. He would come to by birthday party and invite me to his parties. He would tell me everything about his women problems. As sons of highly accomplished men who married venuses, were violent and lost their fortunes, and who were bullied in high school, we had a number of things in common most people cannot relate to. We would hang out together late in Los Angeles. He would visit my San Diego lab. He invested in my company.

Elon is not a Nazi, per se.

He is something much better, or much worse, depending on how you look at it.

Nazis believed that an entire race was above everyone else.

Elon believes he is above everyone else. He used to think he worked on the most important problems. When I met him, he did not presume to be a technical person—he would be the first to say that he lacked the expertise to understand certain data. That happened later. Now, he acts as if he has all the solutions.

All his talk about getting to Mars to "maintain the light of consciousness" or about "free speech absolution" is actually BS Elon knowingly feeds people to manipulate them. Everything Elon does is about acquiring and consolidating power. That is why he likes far right parties, because they are easier to control. That is also why he gave himself $56 Billion which could have gone to the people actually doing the work and innovations he is taking credit for at Tesla (the reason he does not do patents is because he would not be listed as an inventor as putting a fake inventor on a patent would kill it and moreover it would reveal the superstars behind the work). His lust for power is also why he did xAI and Neuralink, to attempt to compete with OpenAI and NeuroVigil, respectively, despite being affiliated with them. Unlike Tesla and Twitter, he was unable to conquer those companies and tried to create rivals. I fired him with cause in December 2021 when he tried to undermine NV.

Elon did two Nazi salutes.

He did them for five main reasons:

He was concerned that the "Nazi wing" of the MAGA movement, under the influence of Steve Bannon, would drive him away from Trump, somewhere in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, rather than in the West Wing which is where he wants to be. He was already feeling raw over the fact that Trump did not follow his recommendation for Treasury Secretary and that the Senate also did not pick his first choice.

He was upset that he had had to go to Israel and Auschwitz to make up for agreeing with a Nazi sympathizer online and wanted to reclaim his "power" just like when he told advertisers to "go fuck yourself". This has nothing to do with Asperger's;

There are some Jews he actually hates: Sam Altman is among them;

He enjoys a good thrill and knew exactly what he was doing;

His narcissistic self was hoping the audience would reflect the abject gesture back to him, thereby showing complete control and dominion over it, and increasing his leverage over Trump. That did not happen

Bottom line: Elon is not a Nazi but he did give two Nazi Salutes, which is completely unacceptable.

N.B. For the few whining about my post "sans connaissance the cause" and either trembling about my having shattered their illusions about their cult leader or thinking I am defending Elon:

I. My point is that he is transactional rather than ideological;

II. That being said, I am not defending him or his actions, just explaining them and confirming that he did, in fact, do two Nazi Salutes if anyone had doubts or believed the doctored footage of Taylor Swift doing the same thing to normalize what Elon did;

III. At some point, it matters to a few people if one is a Nazi or if one acts like one. My father was a Holocaust Survivor. 32 out of 35 of his family members were murdered by the Nazis. My mother's grandparents were murdered in Auschwitz;

IV. After Elon tried to manipulate NV's stock in 2021, I fired him with cause, and he was unable to exercise his stock options. In the aftermath of the Nazi Salutes, I told both him and his wealth manager to fuck off. Any remaining friendship between us ended with the Nazi Salutes. He is blocked on my end and I am pretty sure I am blocked on his;

V. I did not share what he told me in confidence. I just happened to know him extremely well, the person, the aspirations and the Musk Mask;

VI. I know who I am, have no desire to be famous and give exceedingly few media interviews. I prefer to work in obscurity and let the work speak for itself. I am certainly not envious and would definitely not want Elon's life, including living in a bubble and having to make one outlandish claim after another and manipulate the public, elections and governments to shore up my stock and prevent the bubble from bursting. Unlike Elon, I am an actual scientist and inventor and I am not pretending to be someone I am not like a fellow who got his BA in Econ at 26 all of a sudden pretending to be an expert in mechanical engineering, chemistry, rocket science, neuroscience and AI and keeping the people actually doing the work hidden and paying people to play online games in his name to appear smart and feed his so-called "Supergenius" Personality Cult—the "Imperator" has no clothes, and he knows it. I am just very disappointed in what happened to someone I had a lot of deep admiration for and the first person to found out about my concerns about his behavior was always him;

VII. He is the one who betrayed a number of his friends, including Sergey, and, given his actions, many other people who believed him and believed in him. I have no sympathy for this behavior, and at some point, after having repeatedly confronted it in private, I believe the ethical thing to do is to speak out, forcefully and unapologetically, whatever the risks may be, so as to not be part of the timid flock remaining silent while evil is being done, including propping up far right governments around the world in part to deregulate his companies and become the first trillionaire and otherwise to "rule the planet"—he knows Mars won't be terraformed in his lifetime and he really wants his planet. No joke... Ethics matter. People matter. The truth matters.

I took down Descartes (through the Cambridge Declaration on Consciousness) and I am definitely not afraid of a so-called inventor whose greatest invention in his image.

I will not be silent. You should not be either. I am a sovereign individual, and so are you. I stoop up to bullies, and am stepping out of the dark to do it again.

Stop working for him and being exploited by him. Sell your Tesla and dump your Tesla stock. Nikola Tesla was a great, creative and courageous man who led with ethics and by example and he would not have wanted for his good name to have been used by him and would agree with my principled stance. Sign off of "X" which is boosting far right propaganda, and of your Starlink as well. He is a complete cunt who doesn't give a shit about you—only about power. Just ask Reid Hoffman. He only wants to control, dominate and use you—don't let him and cut him and his business out of your and your loved ones' lives entirely. Remember he is a total miserable self-loathing poser, and unless you are too, he will be much more afraid of you than you should ever be of him.

He will probably come after me, and I am completely fine with that. I am a self-made multibillionaire with an armada of lawyers—literally—and most importantly, I know who I am and who I stand for, the people and their freedoms, whatever happens. He can send his dumb Proud Boys and Oath Keepers after me and they will be butchered on sight. Either way, I would rather die with honor than live as a coward.

"Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented."—Elie Wiesel, Holocaust Survivor and Nobel Peace Prize laureate /End IDs]

#i made an image description

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persicipen · 2 days ago

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𑑛 “IMPULSE” ﾉ SUNDAY. HONKAI STAR RAIL

fem reader ﾉ words 2.5k ✘ master-servant but not in a kinky way. unless… sleeping with your boss. lowkey office romance. secret relationship. reader is a chambermaid. mentions of appearance — makeup, short dress, pantyhose. sunday has some controlling tendencies. overstimulation. crying from pleasure. cumming inside. petnames — angel, dove, sweetheart ﾉ rewritten ✘ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

“I would prefer if you refrained from visiting me at this hour until further notice.” His voice is tired and unusually drags each syllable as if to prolong the time before uttering something he doesn’t actually want to say.

His divine silhouette of ashy whites and delicate plumes slumps on the armchair as he tries to regain at least an ounce of energy — futile, only making him more aware of the mental exhaustion of the passing day. His head still hurts, even though it has been going on for days now.

A few steps, and he notices a movement behind him, hands slowly unbuttoning the tight collar from around his neck and undressing him carefully in complete silence. A feather falling could have easily made more noise. The sigh he exhales is out of relief mixed with a dash of fatigue after sitting up properly. The soreness spreads along his body as you unwrap him from the layers of fine fabrics that hug him gently.

“Thank you.”

The only answer you deliver is a soft smile of appreciation towards his gesture.

He looks over your side to check if no one else is near his bedroom to listen, then pulls you by the arm across his lap, resting your foreheads together with his eyes shut. You two spend several seconds in silence, simply feeling each other’s breaths getting calmer and bodies relaxing with every moment shared like this. Your delicate fingers start moving up his chest slowly as if examining it for any anomalies; when finding none, you take it upon yourself to embrace him tighter in response.

On the contrary, Sunday caresses your head just above the scalp until eventually lifting your face with a finger under the chin. Your eyes meet halfway, burning with lust — unspoken since morning yet unsatisfied even during lunch break, where he tried relieving himself before taking a quick nap in bed.

He lets out a few weak chuckles, thinking about how hard he should try avoiding any contact today, not letting anyone suspect anything, before giving in to the impulse.

The taste of your lips leaves nothing behind except wanting more, despite knowing exactly how much it already affected you two — physically and psychologically alike.

“This is precisely why I requested you not to come here… I need to reclaim composure first, but with that exhaustion and your presence, it’s impossible.”

Your expression softens after hearing his confession, also catching his muscles relax; the grip loosens as you move away slightly from the position above his crotch. He rests against the velvet chair once more while trying to compose his thoughts after admitting a weakness towards something trivial and simple — in comparison to politics-related problems.

There were many reasons he couldn’t stop himself from continuing.

“Mr. Sunday, I’m here to help you with anything and everything. Just so you can rest enough to welcome another day with your mind at least slightly less troubled… alright?” you speak in hushed tones, voice calm but determined.

All traces of previous worry are wiped out as he exhales deeply before answering your question. He smiles again — tired but sincere.

“Yes.”

At this point the atmosphere shifts immediately once again, making things less serious than a moment ago between the two individuals, now more than just employer and employee. You resume by unbuttoning the shirt on his torso completely, revealing his pale skin underneath before pushing off the material completely to the sides.

With his chest exposed to cool air along with the robe sliding down onto his lower back, he leans forward, kissing your forehead.

A string of soft pecks going up from there along the bridge of the nose toward the mouth, leaving it just outside of reach, teasing you like this when you were sure he would continue straight away to your lips…

You shift nervously on his lap, overwhelmed with tension and his closeness, causing the entire scene to unfold right under your own gaze yet unable to do anything about it, too shy of the difference between your statuses.

Sunday knows how much power he holds over people… including you. Whenever you end up sitting on his legs for extended periods — especially lately since it’s been happening more frequently these past few months. A sight that brings immense pride to his heart. He continues his gentle assault by dabbing kisses across your eyelids, slowly one at a time, before lowering them all over your face, lingering there longer than usual each time around before reaching your earlobes once more for one last kiss.

A tingle shoots through your spine upon his warm breath, tickling your sensitive spots as he speaks next.

“Do you trust me?” the question itself seems harmless in contrast to how your body reacts whenever it’s spoken directly against your jaw; you shudder involuntarily after every word, goosebumps rising because of his sultry tone.

“Yes, absolutely…” Your response comes almost automatically. No hesitation, followed by his silent chuckle.

“And if I say that you should listen to what I command tonight, then what? Would you grant my every wish until tomorrow morning?”

As the intensity increases dramatically, you swallow the lump in your throat. Sunday’s body language is somewhat threatening, but at the same time so gentle and calming, unlike previous occasions when dealing with clients or rivals during negotiations… It’s inviting you, luring you into his open arms.

“W-what do you wish me to do, then?”

His hand reaches to cup your face, turning towards himself for one more look before taking advantage of an opportunity presenting itself before his very eyes — he captures your mouth after closing the distance between them quickly.

Your eyes widen momentarily while struggling against the sudden surge of electricity coursing throughout your body while feeling completely trapped when he cuddles you by your waist. He nibbles with care at your bottom lip before biting, teeth scraping over it.

There is a certain taste in his saliva; bittersweet yet addictive as it mixes inside your mouth. Unable to protest when his hands sneak behind you to hook the short dress up enough to grip the softness of your ass firmly. He uses force on your rear to rub up against his cock harder than moments before as you find yourself losing grip on reality until it hits that you won’t escape anymore… You will spend the rest of the night fulfilling his desires.

After all those years in his service, you learnt to submit quickly — but you wanted nothing else more than this, either.

After you separate from each other, panting hard, Sunday cups your face one last time before whispering into your ear.

“You’ve always done the best job helping me cope with stress in such wonderful ways.”

A compliment given so sincerely contrasts with his fingers dipping from behind just to tap your pussy through the sheer fabric of your pantyhose, making you jolt back, startled as you grab tightly onto his shoulders, whimpering softly as heat rushes across your cheeks.

“M— Sunday, ah…”

Before you even realise, he’s already grabbing the nylon and tearing it apart, ripping down along the seams with ease. Then he places a finger right at the top of your heated folds. He drags through them back and forth without applying any pressure whatsoever, causing your insides to convulse with excitement. Your legs tremble on each side of his hips, dragging your weight against his clothed erection that still hides beneath grey slacks; bodies locked together while the fabric becomes damp in an instant.

He laughs huskily as you look down in shame between your bodies — an attempt to hide your face away from his gaze while biting back moan after moan. Before reaching up underneath the dress, Sunday moves his hand away, brushing his fingertips across smooth skin. To your surprised gasp, his touch lands upon your clit, pressing there to spread tingles in small circles around the sensitive pearl.

“Open my trousers in the meantime. Touch me first, just for a while, and then ride me, okay, dove? Let’s continue from there.”

You fumble with the zip, drawing it down to reveal his needy cock despite trembling fingers. He guides you to grab the shaft between thumb and index finger, sliding up and down smoothly even with pre dribbling down already. You two synchronise your motions after a while.

“See, isn’t this much better for us both?”

You nod weakly, eyes rolling back as he slips easily into your slick entrance. The sounds of squelching are soon replaced with rhythmic slaps from below each time you sit down, bouncing atop his length. Your walls are wet, swollen, squeezing every inch out as you buck yourself up until only the tip remains inside, forcing breathy sighs from him each time you connect with him again.

“Just like that, angel, just like that,” he guides you whilst gripping your hips forcibly. He knows exactly what makes you two crazy, but he enjoys pushing the limits of your patience to the breaking point until nothing else can be done except him taking the initiative. “Ah… hold it right there. Yes, perfect.”

His back arches deliciously every time you stop for a second because it’s too much to handle.

It’s unbelievable how much your dishevelled state can affect him when he usually tries keeping his emotions in check — never letting anyone see through any cracks even if one did appear, no matter how insignificant it appeared on the surface. But the fact of having you in complete obedience on his own lap, whining and shaking from the pleasure he is providing — it’s exhilarating.

The sensation of your warmth wrapping snuggly around him entirely brings him the utmost satisfaction. To see you lost in bliss, caused exclusively by him alone, is a delight on its own.

Sunday’s thoughts go rampant at times like these. The logical part screaming inside his brain to stop, saying this shouldn’t happen with an employee working under him… however, every instinct tells otherwise as you dwell on pleasure, trying your best to not disappoint him with the faltering tempo. There is no break between bounces, and just like a puppet on strings, he pulls the strands leading your body towards the release desperately needed since your last meeting.

His fingers dig deeply into the flesh of your butt, making sure that nails don’t graze the skin too much. You deserve much more than a mere slap or spanking session; you deserve proper treatment, especially now after showing how willing you are to serve him.

So he picks up the pace himself, holding onto you and guiding every single move effortlessly, even in this awkward position where you’re forced to cling to him like a lifeline. Your lips clash in frenzied kisses until the air runs out, but he refuses to relent, drinking every bit of saliva dripping out of your mouth and tasting sweat mixed along with it as you struggle to keep composure.

“Please! Please, Sunday, it’s too much…”

Your fingers claw into his shirt, leaving red irritated marks behind. Nevertheless, he grins smugly with one last stroke upwards, causing your pussy to squeeze tight against the base again while feeling tremors passing throughout the core before stopping altogether. He lowers your body in one quick movement, sitting you right on his cock until your orgasm subsides.

He exhales, burying his head in the crook of your neck, kissing tenderly all over. You stay tense for a long while, simply melting in his arms, completely spent. Slowly regenerating strength as he strokes your hair, soothing aching muscles until you relax again.

“That’s right, dove. I love it when you do it… just for me to see. Can you take some more? Please, at least until I finish, too?” Sunday murmurs tenderly between each peck pressed across your jawline.

You hum lazily, nodding again, albeit somewhat reluctantly compared to the previous agreement, but consenting enthusiastically enough.

He starts moving slowly, drawing slow circles inside your pussy.

“Yes, yes, like that…” you respond, leaning more on him with each thrust. He nibbles your neck lightly as a reward for such positive reactions.

As minutes tick away, he gets impatient once again. Your hands tighten around his open shirt, pulling him close enough to bite and lick every piece of skin visible. The amount of pleasure building inside becomes almost unbearable as he drives you insane, forcing you to accept how weak you feel at this moment.

You shudder from head to toe when his fingertips brush along the sides, causing the whole body to tense up. Hearing your whimpers, he hushes you lovingly.

“I know you can. Just one last push. Come on.”

And so he does… not stopping.

He pounds ruthlessly into your soaked cunt until there’s no more air left inside your lungs as you pant frantically while trying to not collapse right away; bodies locked together intimately, your hands desperately grabbing onto shoulders until knuckles turn white from the strain. He’s doing the same around your hips, using a soft force to press every single inch of flesh against flesh.

“There you go, sweetheart, you can do it. You’re almost there… Just one more second.”

With that sentence said, Sunday flips your body forward and lies back comfortably in the chair, shifting you up and down a few inches until he finds the ideal angle. He pulls your hips down hard on his cock as he slams his pelvis upwards at the same time, causing loud moans to erupt from your throat along with high-pitched noises.

Tears begin to stream freely, trickling off your chin with each rough thrust while rubbing sensitive spots that leave you writhing, desperately trying to hold off any sort of response. The urge to let it all go builds stronger as he continues the incessant rhythm with barely enough pause between strokes to let you breathe before diving right back in again.

He groans loudly before ramming into your pussy again and again. Until he eventually clears the pent-up frustration, cumming rope after rope into your fluttering heat.

This triggers the follow-up from your side, reaching a peak soon after him. Your muscles contract erratically while remaining frozen above him, eyes squeezed shut tightly as you wail throughout the release, bucking hips on him, milking his cock out of every drop. You feel his cum coating your core, making everything throb and slip inside; every little goosebump on your skin burning.

By the end of it all, you fall motionless upon his chest; completely exhausted yet fulfilled, and still leaking from his twitching shaft, which softens gradually within the depths of your body. Sunday peppers kisses around your neck after cradling your tired form.

“Well done, my sweet dove. I’m proud of you for staying with me through it all.” He whispers before gently wiping away your tears and removing all traces of makeup from your cheeks.

The gesture feels natural, as if he’d been doing it all the time in secret before this point.

#writing.#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr smut #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday smut

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